#from these chains and become so warm and full of joy and love

[dent-de-leon]

can you imagine being Essek and watching this tiefling on a total power trip turn into a 10 feet tall--incredibly ripped??--god and kill the boy you're catching feelings for?? And brand you with some kind of evil cursed hivemind magic you're worried might corrupt you forever?? This thing that your friends swear was once family, but all you see is something monstrous and otherworldly and tearing himself apart at the seams, screaming when all their loved ones call out to him??

Just. the way it must have felt to see Lucien go from that to. Just the most sweet and affectionate little tiefling. Gentle and curious and so full of joy and wonder. He's got the brightest smile and warm eyes and this mischievous playfulness. He runs off at first--startled, scared. But then once he's calmed, the first real word he says other than Empty is Love. And right after that he calls out for his Magician, for this man who did everything he could to save him, held him close and kissed him so tenderly on the forehead--

And Caleb throws his arms around Essek and Veth and just watches the Nein all descend on Tealeaf and embrace him amidst laughter and tears and Molly's starting to smile again and Caleb's so so happy just to see him finally alive and.

In that moment, Essek understands why they came all this way--

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO �� JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[touchyluffy]

part one

after your first kiss with luffy, everything becomes much more intense. luffy becomes addicted to you and he has no shame in showing it.

he never leaves your side and is always touching you in some way, whether that be his hand holding yours, his head in your lap as he takes a nap on the sunny, or his feet touching yours under the kitchen table. if you're working around the ship, suddenly it's captains orders that you come cuddle him immediately. whenever you dock on a new island, the captain grasps your hand and pulls you off to explore the lands together, and if you can’t keep up with his fast pace run, he tells you to jump on his back, and then he’s off running again laughing as you cling onto him for dear life.

he will compliment you bluntly and genuinely and whenever it comes to his mind. there are no long monologues of love from him, but there is always honesty. he will just call you beautiful in a way that's just a fact. because it is a fact, he knows you're beautiful just like he knows the sky is blue.

he's constantly asking you 'to do that thing with our mouths' and after the 10th time of getting weird looks from those around you, you have to tell him it's called 'kissing' and then that becomes his new favorite word. he's addicted to the warm tingling feeling of your lips touching his. literally you’re chained up with your other crewmates captured by the foe that luffy decided to fight, and he stretches his head towards you with his lips puckered. in the middle of dinner, while eating his second servings, he kisses you with crumb covered lips. whenever you come up with a solution, he jumps on you and peppers your face with kisses. he can't stop himself.

he's extremely protective over you - physically and mentally. if you two are ever separated by an enemy, you can expect him to raise hell, he quiet literally drives himself and whomever is around him crazy worrying about you (once the enemy pirates reunited you and luffy, albeit in handcuffs, just so he would stop asking about you). it's not that he doesn't believe in your strength, he just knows what it's like to lose someone he loves and he will not lose you. he won't stop until you're safe at his side again. he's also protective of your peace and happiness, so anything that makes you uncomfortable (like perverted jokes from your skeleton crewmate) you can expect him to have an issue and he will swiftly put an end to it. this happy go-lucky captain knows when to lay down the law when need be.

he's your number one supporter. every time your bounty goes up, he folds it up and keeps it in his pocket to show everyone - friend or foe. he's so proud of you. whenever you take out an enemy his eyes light up in stars and he cheers loudly. when you two fight together and you land a punch he'd get so excited that he'd forget about the fight entirely and just wrap his rubbery arm around your waist three times and pull you in for a kiss. whenever you say he will be king of the pirates, his heart swells with joy and pride because he knows you'll be right there by his side. or in his lap. either way.

he loves to see you smile and will do anything to keep you happy. when you're upset, he'll be a clown. if you get sick, he'll search far and wide for a medicine to cure you. when you say you miss him he packs a picnic bag and find a spot on the beach for you two to have a moment alone together, it's a much appreciated gesture even if he eats all the food, he makes it up to you by reaching for a few flowers when you aren't looking and presenting them to you with a big smile. this is when he realizes that you like when he gives you gifts so expect to have a shelf full of things he brought for you - flowers, pretty stones, or other little trinkets from islands.

he's not concerned with labels, he just knows he wants you and only you and he wants you to want only him too. and you do. luffy doesn't keep secrets from you, you know exactly how he feels about you and that he's loyal to you to the end. not even the most beautiful warlord could catch his eye because you're all he sees. there isn't a "what are we" conversation (at least not while you're on your adventures together) because the label doesn't matter, you two just know.

he no longer likes to sleep alone at night, saying he can’t handle not touching you for hours. you don't put up much of a fight when he comes to your bedroom because cuddling with your captain has become your addiction too. plus there’s nothing sexual in his request he just loves to be by your side. you love to fall asleep with him and he loves to wake up with you, it’s a perfect match he says with a grin that makes your heart melt.

so yes, he's addicted to you and truthfully he sees nothing wrong with it.

[vvinirl]

bucky. b

fluff

bucky barnes arrived in wakanda under the cover of night, his mind a chaotic mess of memories and triggers implanted by hydra. the wakandan air felt fresh, a stark contrast to the dark and cold places he had been before. he was here to be freed, to finally break the chains that had bound his mind for so long

bucky was escorted to the research facility where shuri awaited, accompanied by a team of scientists. among them was you, a dedicated scientist specializing in neurological rehabilitation. you had been working with shuri on various advanced technologies, and your expertise was crucial for bucky’s recovery

“welcome, sergeant barnes” you said with a warm smile, trying to put him at ease. “we’re here to help you”

bucky looked at you with wary eyes but nodded, trusting that wakanda, a place of unmatched technological marvel, might finally bring him peace

the first few weeks were intense. shuri led the efforts, using a combination of technology and traditional wakandan methods to deprogram bucky’s mind. you were responsible for the one-on-one sessions, a crucial part of his mental recovery. these sessions involved talking through his past, helping him distinguish his true memories from the ones hydra had implanted

at first, bucky was resistant. his trust in people had been shattered long ago. but your patience and kindness slowly broke down his walls. you listened without judgment, providing a safe space for him to express his fears and frustration

furing one session, bucky looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “why are you doing this for me?” he asked

you smiled softly. “everyone deserves a chance to be free, bucky. and I believe you have the strength to overcome this”

as the weeks passed, the bond between you and bucky grew stronger. you found solace in each other's company, your shared moments becoming the highlight of your days

you discovered that beneath his hardened exterior, bucky was kind, thoughtful, and fiercely protective of those he cared about. he, in turn, admired your intelligence, compassion, and unwavering determination to help him heal

one evening, after a particularly grueling session, you found yourselves sitting under the stars, the serene wakandan night sky providing a moment of respite

"thank you" bucky said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "for everything. i don't think i could have made it this far without you”

you smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. "you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, bucky. and i'm honored to be a part of your journey”

the day finally came when the results of your and shuri's efforts bore fruit. the final sequence of codes that held hydra's control over bucky's mind was neutralized, freeing him at last

as the realization dawned on him, bucky turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. "i'm free" he whispered, as if afraid to believe it

you nodded, tears of joy glistening in your eyes. "yes, you are"

without thinking, bucky closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. the world seemed to fade away as you held each other, the connection that had been growing between you culminating in this perfect moment

as you pulled back slightly, bucky looked into your eyes, his gaze intense yet tender. "i couldn't have done this without you” he said, his voice filled with emotion. "you mean more to me than you'll ever know”

you smiled, your heart full. "and you mean the world to me, bucky”

with that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. it was a promise of new beginnings, a testament to the love that had blossomed between you during his journey to freedom

in wakanda, under the watchful eyes of the stars, you and bucky found not just healing, but a future filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities

months after bucky’s recovery, you and bucky were living peacefully in wakanda. the serene environment allowed your relationship to flourish, and soon, you discovered you were expecting a child. overjoyed, you planned to share the news with bucky after his mission to help captain america

but then, everything changed. thanos arrived. his forces overwhelmed the avengers, and the snap wiped out half the universe. bucky was gone, disintegrated into nothing right before your eyes. you were left alone, heartbroken, and pregnant

determined to bring bucky back and ensure a future for your unborn child, you joined the Avengers in their fight against thanos. with a fierce resolve, you used your scientific knowledge and wakandan technology to support the team. every battle, every challenge, you faced with the hope that one day, you would see bucky again

years passed and your son james was born. he grew up in a world without his father, but you told him stories of bucky, of his bravery and kindness. the fight to reverse the snap continued, and with each passing day, your determination grew stronger

the day of the final battle arrived. the avengers assembled, ready to face thanos and his army once and for all. the fight was brutal, but you fought with a ferocity fueled by love and the promise of reuniting with bucky. when the moment came, and iron man made the ultimate sacrifice, the snap was undone

and then, there he was. bucky emerged from the chaos, alive and whole. tears streamed down your face as you ran to him, your heart bursting with joy. he saw you, and a smile spread across his face as he opened his arms, pulling you into a tight embrace

“i thought i’d lost you” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion

“i’m here,” you replied, holding him tightly. “and there’s someone else you need to meet”

after a few days with repairing all the damages made by thanos and tony stark’s funeral, you brought bucky back to your home

bucky nervously entered the home and was instantly met with a little boy

“bucky, this is james” you said, your voice trembling with happiness. “our son”

bucky’s eyes filled with tears as he knelt down to embrace the boy. “james” he said softly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry I wasn’t there”

james hugged him tightly. “it’s okay, daddy, mommy told me all about you”

as you watched bucky and james together, your heart swelled with love and relief. the battle was over, and your family was finally reunited

the future was uncertain, but with bucky and james by your side, you knew you could face anything

[melonba11s]

Dependent (Lawrence/MC Fic)

Several months ago I uploaded an incomplete version of this fic. Now the full version is here, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked.

Contains: Description of rot, amputation, mutilation. Gender Neutral MC who has a vagina, Lawrence.

Morning was coming. You had been up all night. Not that you had much of a choice anymore. He controlled most of your life now, from what you ate, what you did… How you looked. You laid on your side, staring at the remains of what had once been working limbs. 

Skin twisted and fused over exposed bone and muscle, not unlike the gnarled roots of an old tree. Pushed and forced to bend to the will to the rest of the forest around it, or in this case, to the will of Lawrence’s crude stitches and strange salves. You couldn’t remember much from when he took them, only that smile on his face as he looked down at you. You thought for sure you would die. Visit the river and allow yourself to float away as he described. 

For a while you had found yourself wishing that you had died that day, blood pooling out of your severed limbs and flooding the floor around you. Warm but cold, you could still feel it lapping at your bare skin if you did not keep your mind occupied enough. You had moved past those feelings of wishing you were gone though. You had spent so long mourning the things you would never do again, from the mundane things such as holding a pen or snapping your fingers, to the joys of life such as petting a friendly cat or cooking delicious food. 

You had been depressed, and it had annoyed Lawrence. At first he had tried to help you feel better, you remembered the flower crowns he’d clumsily made from poppies, his favorite flower, the chains of clover he’d make out in the woods and bring in to dress you in. Gentle kisses on your eyelids, assuring you that you looked beautiful. 

You hadn’t felt beautiful though. You’d felt broken, a waste of space. And soon enough he grew sick of trying to comfort you. 

“Forget it.” he had said one day, showing you the delicate bird skull he had found in the woods, covered in moss. You had barely lifted your head in acknowledgment of his waxing poetics over the beauty of the thin bones. And his bitter tone had sent a shiver up your spine, and instantly, dread had filled your stomach. 

You had upset him. So you had struggled to sit up. 

“N-No! Go on!” Desperate, you whimpered in pain as you attempted to move towards him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” the apologies kept falling from your lips, like the petals from a cherry tree blossoming in spring. And with each apology, your world closed in around you until his apartment was all that was left of it. Upsetting him felt far worse than anything else in the world now. 

 Lawrence would bring you bits of the outside world that was now alien to you home. Food, Flowers, Plants, Bones, sometimes little gifts. On his days off, he would go to the forest to work on his art. 

His art… You had not been spared from becoming part of his artwork. Or at least, what had once been you. Lawrence hadn’t put those delicate fingers and lovely red strings of muscle to waste. You remember cringing and letting out a strangled sob when he first showed you the photos. What had once been your arms and legs had been broken and manipulated into crude poses, sticking up from the dirt and reaching for the sun and stars, a macabre flower. 

Eventually though you began paying attention to his words as he showed you the pictures he took. His art was different from anything you’d ever seen in a museum. Unlike a Van Gogh painting, which remained the same no matter how much time passed, every minute, every day, every month contributed to his pieces. 

You now asked to see the photos when he would return from the woods. Greens and grays adding themselves without being asked too, creeping across the skin like spilled paint. Maggots and beetles, forever moving, ensuring that the piece would never remain the same from one second to the next. Skin falling slipping and falling from now purple toned muscle, exposing pale bone that glowed in comparison to the dark colors surrounding it. 

    And how happy he looked when he’d bring out his phone to show you the photos, the shine in his eyes as he explained what had happened, what had been added by the earth to the art now. So you asked to see more, to see other pieces. If you could be so bold though, none of his other pieces compared to what he had made with you. Animal bones and flesh could only do so much, after all. 

But Lawrence wasn’t here right now. Your only source of human contact was gone more often than not. He worked a night job, and slept during the day. Thus you had grown used to sleeping during the day and staying awake all night, waiting only for him to return. And as content as you became to sit and wait for him, you still became restless. You could still remember the day, a few months ago perhaps? You’d had enough, no matter how much it hurt, you needed it. You needed to move, you needed agency. 

You had rolled yourself off the bed with a sharp whine of pain as you hit the floor. You laid there for what felt like hours, preparing yourself. Then you moved your left arm, resting part of your weight on it. It hurt, and you let out a sob. The pain would have to come second though. Tears flowed freely, though you kept yourself as quiet as possible, so as not to disturb Lawrences neighbors. Eventually you had managed to balance yourself on all fours, shaking, panting, choking on your own breath. 

You crawled around in circles slowly, leaving a trail of tears and spit as you kept going, telling yourself that it would hurt for a while. And that’s how Lawrence had found you, about to collapse, still moving, your stumps mottled with bruises, eyes puffy and red, mouth dry.  You were so immersed in your own mind that you didn’t notice him until he spoke, his voice louder than usual.

“What are you doing?” he had been angry, lifting you up easily and setting you on the same chair you had sat in when he first brought you home. You couldn’t explain yourself sufficiently to him, he couldn’t seem to understand how much you needed to move. 

“You’re never getting out of here. You’re mine.” he growled, his face close to yours. 

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t.” You kept repeating yourself, still in tears, but now those tears were from the knowledge you had hurt him, made him angry.  No matter how many times you said those words, you had not convinced him that you were not trying to leave. So for a time he had forced you to drink some strange tea before he left, leaving you there unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breath. 

When did he begin to trust you? You thought hard back through the past. When he had first stopped making you swallow his bitter mixes, stopped tying you to the bed so you couldn’t roll off, stopped attempting to control your movements. Your thoughts were interrupted by the jiggle of a key. He was home. 

You slid yourself off the bed with practiced ease now, making your way across the floor, but also making sure you were out of view of the doorway in case someone was passing by. They wouldn’t understand either of you. They’d try to separate you both. You’d never see Lawrence again, a thought too painful to dwell on for long. Only when you heard Lawrence close the door behind him, and the harmony of clicks as he locked the door back up, did you make yourself seen. 

Moving as fast as you could across the floor, you lifted yourself onto your hind legs, pawing at his leg and whining, looking up into those stormy blue eyes as he smiled down at you. 

“There you are…” he mumbled, setting down his bags as he got to his knees, running a hand along your back, as if you were a cat he had taken in off the streets. He nuzzled his cheek against yours, pulling you close, his hug more like a vice grip. He buried his face into your hair, which had grown long over the months, running his fingers through it like a wind blowing through overgrown grass. He was inhaling your scent, the familiar musk of his apartment, the spiciness of the homemade medicine he would apply to your stumps, the ever so faint smell of fake lavender from the cheap shampoo he used on you. 

“I got you a gift…” his voice was soft, as he dug through one of the bags he had with him. “Don’t laugh… It’s stupid but, when I saw it in the machine, I thought of you. I figured maybe you’d like it.” 

He had stuffed it into the bag, crushed and folded to hide it from others view. But you could tell it was soft, fluffy even. He dug his hand into the soft fabric, pulling out a large, floppy rabbit. It was anything but natural, a bright blue, an expression more human than animal on its flat face. Unlike anything Lawrence would ever like, something he would never usually bring into his home. But he did, entirely for you.

“I love it!” you instantly dove into it, almost kneading it with your forearms as you nuzzled it with your cheek. Something to hold onto as best you could as you waited for Lawrence to return. “Thank you so much, I love it so much.” you repeated those words yet again. A practiced repetition. One that ensured Lawrence and comforted him, letting him know he made the right decision. You stopped your cuddling of your new toy though and fell still as your stomach growled, loudly. 

Lawrence fumbled around suddenly. Whenever you gave signs of needing something, like food or water, he would always rush to find the thing you needed. Scared of watching you wither away like one of his plants would if he were not attentive enough. 

“Dinner, that’s right. Uh.” He rustled through his bags. Lawrence didn’t keep much food in the house, he once told you that it all seemed to rot way too quickly. Much of the food you consumed thus, was either convenience store fare or fast food. Though you remembered fondly the time he had splurged a little, and gotten take-away from a family restaurant down the road. 

“I uh, got us some hamburgers today.” He held up the familiar brown bag, grease starting to soak the bottom of it. “Let me just, get us some plates and cut yours up for you.” 

He stood, hurrying off to prepare the food. At first, Lawrence had insisted on hand feeding you, something he still enjoyed doing now and then. But eventually, he allowed you to feed yourself when able too. You didn’t find it humiliating at all, crouched on the floor, eating off a plate like a dog, unable to wipe your mouth or pick things out of your teeth. Entirely dependent on him when you ran into something as mundane as that. 

Just the way he liked it. You watched patiently, from your spot on the floor as he prepared the food, carefully cutting your hamburger up into bite size chunks. As he set it down, the sloppily stacked ingredients fell apart and toppled onto the plate. It was becoming less like a sandwich and more like some housewives weird casserole. 

You didn’t mind though, there wasn’t much you could do about it, and in the end, it would taste pretty much the same. Unceremoniously, Lawrence dumped the fries next to them, before covering them liberally in ketchup. 

“Here you go.” he said, his expression soft and welcoming, the same he had when he watered one of his plants. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch as he patted your head, relishing in the affectionate touch as he set the plate on the floor with a soft clink. 

Lawrence wouldn’t mind if you just began eating right away, but you still liked to wait for him to settle down next to you. Lawrence didn’t really eat to enjoy things, rather, he ate to sustain his physical body. 

“Starving is a really painful way to die. So is thirst.” he had said once over a package of cup noodles. He did like spicy stuff though, and he was almost abusive with hot sauce and peppers. You glanced over at him as he sat next to you, holding his own food in his hand. You didn’t need to look though, just sitting near him you could smell the “Extra hot sauce, add Jalapeno”, ordered in a quiet, monotone voice. 

As it always was, eating was a messy affair. At first, you had felt gross, feeling sauce, grease and crumbs stick to your face. The embarrassment of sticking your tongue out, trying to lick it off. Bright red as Lawrence held your face and gently dabbed at it with a napkin. 

You no longer cared, you reasoned with yourself that there was no shame in having help if you couldn’t do something. You could feel Lawrence’s eyes on you as you ate, messily using your tongue to help pull food into your mouth as your lips pushed it away. 

Mealtime wasn’t really a period for bonding with Lawrence, as it might be for families or couples, so you finished eating as quickly as you could. You never finished before Lawrence though, having hands made eating so easy after all. 

You sat patiently as Lawrence began wiping off your face, using a familiar napkin that he had this time, gotten a little damp under the faucet. It was relaxing, like a little massage, and you found yourself getting a little drowsy from it, despite the chill of the water. 

“All done.” You gave a small squeak as Lawrence lifted you. No matter how many times he did it, it was always a shock. You had nothing to grip him with, no fingers to curl into his clothes, no limbs to wrap around him. You were completely at his mercy, he could so easily drop you. 

You evened your breathing though as he held you snugly against his chest, rubbing his cheek against yours, taking in your scent again. You could tell he was in a mood, one of his moods that would always end in the same thing. 

You wriggled in place as he sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under your combined weight. You obediently moved your head as Lawrence moved down to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. His lips brushed against your pulse like a petal lost in the breeze, in contrast to his fingers, curled like the gnarled roots of an old tree gripping to the cliff it was perched on. Though in this case, that “cliff” was your hips. 

One of those hands eventually moved though, choosing to dance over the scarring of what was left of your legs. 

“Have you ever noticed…” He breathed quietly, tracing over the jagged uneven skin, “how when you’re injured… the surrounding area becomes so much more sensitive?” His tracing turned into slow strokes, and you found he was right. 

Each slight force of pressure sent tingles up your spine, and you bit down a moan as his hand warmed the area. 

“You’re hyper aware of any kind of sensation in the area…” He cupped the end of your thigh, circling his palm over it as if he were polishing it. You were so focused on his ministrations, how they sent hot flashes across your body, that you didn’t notice his spare hand sneaking down between your thighs. 

You let out a helpless mewl as he slid his hand over your underwear, pressing against your clit. 

“It feels similar, doesn’t it? The intensity of it.” He pressed, stroking over your folds at the same pace he did over the remainder of your leg. 

“Y-Yeah, it does…” You whispered, nodding. You could feel his erection, pressing through his sweats, against your back. Lawrence’s touch always got you aching for more so fast, you twisted around as best you could. 

“H-Hey, calm down, I’m sorry-” his apologies were cut off as you clumsily smashed your lips against his, writhing against him. You could feel yourself slipping off him, so your kissing became more fervent. Lawrence eventually came to his senses, shaking off the shock of your boldness, to grip your hips, pull you up his lap again, return your kisses. 

He wasn’t a very good kisser. He was nervous, never quite getting as into it as you would. He preferred his lips to be touching other parts of your body, such as your shoulders or stomach, rather than your lips. But he continued, and played along, because he knew you liked it. 

Distracted by kissing him, you barely noticed him grab your underwear, sliding them down with ease. You really wished you had hands, fingers, too curl into the waistband of his sweatpants, to pull his throbbing erection out with. To show him just how eager you were for him as well with your body language. 

Instead you were forced to let him lay you down on his bed, licking your lips as you stared up at him. Your arms instinctively moved to hug yourself as he pulled his sweatpants down, but the only thing that happened was the useless waving of your stumps. 

Stumps that before had the ability to hug someone, hold onto them, stroke their hair. Tears pricked at your eyes as you recalled again everything that you would never do again, what you would never be able to do for Lawrence. 

“Don’t cry…” Lawrence whispered, a hand reaching forward to stroke your face. He steadied your jerking movements with a hand on your thigh, spreading you open easily. 

Your eyes darted down to his cock, watching it twitch a little under your gaze. You figured what they said about tall men having bigger dicks had to be true, and even now, his size intimidated you. If you still had a forearm to use you’d insist on comparing the two. 

While his movements before were slow, meticulous, Lawrence always got impatient once he was finally out of his pants. He always felt more comfortable in less clothing, and him being more comfortable tended to lead to him being more frenzied. 

You bit your lip as he lined himself up, finding the right angle. He was panting softly, eyes squinted in concentration as he slid himself in. You were again reduced to small mewls, not wanting to startle him with a loud noise. Your eyebrows were furrowed as he pushed his way in, your walls flexing and pulsing around him. 

Getting used to his length always meant there was the first confusing, conflicting feelings of uncomfortable stretch, and how he’d rub against all your right spots. No matter how wet you were, it would always take a bit of time. 

Lawrence was fully hilted in you now, you could feel his pubic bone grind against your clit. He adored sinking himself all the way inside you and holding you in place, feeling your muscles twitch, the vibrations of your breathing and heart beating against his most intimate flesh. 

It always allowed you that precious time to get used to his length, shifting under him and moaning until- 

“L-Lawrence… p-please…” you began to beg for him to move. You never had to beg for long though, as much as you knew he enjoyed having power over you, you being dependent on him… You knew he’d always give in and give you what you wanted.

“Yes, of course.” he groaned, pulling himself out of your comfortable warm insides. He could never stay out for long though, snapping his hips forwards again to embed himself in again. 

You were at his mercy, no way to grab onto anything, as he quickly settled on his usual, fervent pace, pulling himself out nearly all the way before filling you up to the brim again. How his dick hit all the right places coming both in and out. 

Lawrence leaned against you, pinning your already mostly immobile body under him, moaning in your ear. 

“You’re so warm…” he groaned. “I can feel everything… the way your blood rushes through your veins and causes your flesh to swell, how soaking wet you are, all for me…” his words fell off into a groan as he gave a few harsher thrusts.

“You’re my own flower, I can unpeel your petals at anytime and make you bloom…” A hand dug into the back of your head and hair, pulling it up from the bed as you moaned. You were getting so close, wound up. 

“You’re such a tease, really… The way you coil up and contract… hiding yourself from me…” He was rambling now, something he usually did. And you were hooked onto his every word. 

“But I know you’re secrets… if I just… hit… the right… Spot…” You were shaking, panting, gasping for more. He was focused now, hitting your G-spot over and over again. Your stomach was tightening, a wave of emotions passing through you, thighs shaking, until-

“You’ll unfurl and show me your beauty…” he grunted, listening to you let out a cry of bliss, back arching to press against him while your head fell back against his grip, spreading yourself out for him. Lawrence managed a grin, his face soaked in sweat, before he hunched over, letting out a low moan. You felt his release spill inside you. 

You both stayed still for a moment, Lawrence liked staying inside as long as he could, feeling your walls contract around him as he grew soft. How he liked the feeling of pulling his limp cock out of your sensitive folds, how you always gave a small gasp as he came out with a small “pop”. 

“... I love you…” You mumbled softly, staring up at the ceiling as he buried his face back into your neck, planting those light kisses again. 

In your half awake state, you caught yourself thinking deeply again… Lawrence’s language equated you to a flower… You remember what he said once. 

Flowers are liars… They put on a colorful display to trick insects into helping them, either to reproduce or to eat. 

You were quickling nodding off, still feeling his lips on you, as they moved down to your collarbone. 

Was Lawrence letting himself be tricked by you? Or… was it more like a deer grazing in an open meadow. Your colorful display which helped you live, now letting the buck pick you out from the grass, devour you…

[squarebracket-trickster]

Find the Words tag

THANK YOU to the following fantastic humans (and others in human disguises):

@sam-glade, whose words for me are honey, fruit, tea, bread and young, old, new, used.

@tabswrites, whose words for me are find, blink, break, fear.

@writernopal, whose words for me are ache, mortal, ancient, divine.

@captain-kraken, whose words for me are need, lost, soft, bite.

@autumnalwalker, whose words for me are please, space, surprise, melancholy, unassuming.

@gottestod-writes, whose words for me are mother, green, fold.

@sarandipitywrites, whose words for me are warm, need, again, why.

@awleeofficial, whose words for me are shock, love, clock, colorful.

I think I'll tag (no pressure, of course): @forthesanityofstorytellers, @mundanemoongirl, @crowandmoonwriting, @ijustwritehonestly, @aziz-reads, @nacricissa (again hehe), @silverslipstream, @full-on-sam, @sender-paulson, and @starbuds-and-rosedust

I love when the people I tag @ me and/or link back to my post. I love it when you reblog my post with questions, compliments, words of encouragement about my WIP, or even no comment at all. But please make your own post to complete this tag. Please do not turn my post into a reblog chain.

Thy words be: silver, gold, daylight, evening

Actual Find the Words below the cut because... this uhhh... this is going to be loooooong...

Honey and Again

Agnes, is a joy, full of stories and deep laughs, an energy sweeter than the honeyed and white-sugared pears that pulls me every now and again from my musings and drags the slightest of smiles to the corner of my cheek.

Fruit

After our meal a pageboy brings a plate of breney to our table – hard, unleavened bread dipped in a fruit compote of currants, dates, and pine nuts steeped in red wine, vinegar, mace, and sandalwood.

Tea - alas, nothing.

Bread

Is Prince Philip the kind of man who buries his nose inside a loaf of white bread, fresh out of the oven?

Young, Need, and Mother

"[...] Have his son, do away with him while the boy’s still young and needs his mother to manage his inheritance, and… don’t get caught.”

Old

Frail old man is not exactly how I would describe Ieuan. Old, yes. But he has set us a grueling pace.

New

The morning dew begins to collect on the leaves and woodland becomes colder, wetter with each new fall of rain.

Used and Again

“I won’t be used again.”

Blink

If I had blinked I would have missed the flash of silver in the moonlight.

Break

His eyes flick to my face and lock with mine. I break first.

Fear

I can’t keep the fear from my eyes.

Ache

The earth is raised around the tree and remains thankfully dry where I sit and nurse the aches in my legs and feet.

Mortal - alas, nothing.

Ancient - ah, yes! My favourite line in the whole WIP so far!

The land rises and falls like the shoulders of a giant that ripple as he wakes from an ancient slumber; and from deep between the dips in the hills, where the river beds are still dry from a long summer, comes a groan so low and so deep it cannot be heard but felt keenly, a shiver in the bones.

Divine and Find

By some divine grace I find the energy for it all.

Lost

“Perhaps the assassins got lost on the way here? [...]"

Soft

“Afternoon,” I tell him, though by the time he wakes the daylight has gone soft with the early evening glow.

Bite

But I have to bite back the urge to suggest he watch.

Please

“Aldis, lady?” Henry says, “please let me gut them.”

Space

But there is another small room off the hall – the drawing room, a more private space than the parlour, meant for the women of the house and their family to converse.

Surprise

The man grunts in surprise and grabs me by the sleeve.

Melancholy - alas, nothing.

Unassuming - alas, nothing.

Green

The hills flatten, the evergreens give way to deciduous trees, the forest turns from rich green to gold and red, and far ahead the spires of Aubemote Castle pierce the golden sky.

Fold

“Did you get something for yourself?” I ask him as I fold over the hem of the left sleeve of the kirtle.

Warm and Find

The air is warm and windless and smells only of salt if you take the time to find it.

Why

“Luck has gotten me this far. Why not?”

Shock

“So you’ll have to get over the shock of seeing a lady in her kirtle.”

Love

Henry hesitates. An unfortunate thing for a man who refuses to fall in love with me.

Clock - alas, nothing.

Colourful, Again, Old, and Young

The tents thin again, they are smaller now and less colourful, and the men around them are older and younger, thinner and smaller.

Phew! That took a while! 'twas much fun though! I love the way this tag game forces me to pay attention to sentences I otherwise wouldn't notice, and I love what it can reveal about my little idiosyncrasies. Apparently I like the phase, "bite back" a lot. Didn't know that about myself haha.

[charismaofobedience]

HELLO. i am cheren is here is why you should vote for Tomoe Hiyori (ohii-san for the intimates) on the @enstars-sexyperson-polls. ♡

also accidentally a eden propaganda in general

Let's start this our with the basics.

Have you ever read Eden lyrics? Exactly. They do not stray away from being explicit and teasing the listener with their songs. This can be felt through many of their songs where, yes, there are less explicit songs... Whenever they decide to toy with us, the listener, they go all in. They know they are powerful and sexy and won't stray away from it, they want us to be affected by them. They want you to join them in their game and fall from paradise alongside them, after all, as stated in Trap for You, with just yourself surrendering to them, you will become their prisoner. Eden is fully aware of the sheer sex appeal of their songs and doesn't hesitate nor hold back from going all in whenever they perform it, just look at their latest songs! The fact Eden is a unit built upon the concept of a sexy unit is undeniable, even for those who aren't their fans. It is also shown through their choreographies, who could forget how iconic trap for yous release was in enstars history? Idol games history, even? And this is not even starting to mention all of their hips movements shown in various songs (faith conquest, the genesis). Eden's choreographies and vocals are the definition of sexy and enticing, capturing the audience into their own garden of Eden.

Now, let's step back a bit and talk more about our member of focus here: Hiyori Tomoe.

Hiyori Tomoe is, undeniably, hot. He has insanely high charisma and is able to charm all of those he meet through a way or another. Even if he is confident, narcissistic and loud, he is still kind and compassionate about those he loves and cares for, going as far as to calling the rest of Eden his family. And even through that kindness, he still is bossy and commanding, fully aware of how pretty he is, flaunting his looks and talents. Hiyori is flirty and charming with most people he is familiar with, going from fellow unit members to others he cares for, and this is what makes him stand out from others... Hiyori is hot, yes, but he's also sexy.

There's a very clear distinction between being hot and being sexy: how they present themselves with sexy being a more subtle version of the word hot, and Hiyori has mastered the two. Hiyori can be hot by smirking at the camera and tilting his head in a teasing manner, but he is also fully capable of a warm smile and a inviting, enticing pose. He can be hot by being bossy and demanding of others, but he can also be sexy by caring for others and giving them treats. This duality makes Hiyori a clear outlier from other enstars characters where few can also fall onto both categories, with Hiyori being great at both. Of course he can get cards with more exposed skin and flirty expressions, he's in Eden and confident on himself after all, but he's also fully capable of being seductive by using suits who, instead of showing his skin, hug it tightly as a way to show his figure and offering us gentle, inviting smiles.

His duality personality-wise is also a great factor in making him sexy. Hiyori may present himself as bright, happy and full of life on everything he does, aiming to please those watching him on stage, and he is in fact all of that! He always brings joy to those who call for him, there is a reason why he is called Eden's sun, but we also have to remember that he's not only that. Hiyori is also brave and commanding, maybe even more so than Nagisa himself. He wants things to be done his way and will get angry if it doesn't go as he planned, shouting at others when he isn't getting the attention he deserves... Hiyori knows his worth, and he will always try his best to not let others words affect him on that. This confidence is attractive, even with his sometimes bratty attitude. The faith conquest card also shows a very good usage of chains and belts, tying it all of with a choker.

And in case one is a fan of more direct approaches... Fear not, for we have a card showing one of his entire legs, stomach, shoulders and arms. While not being the only one where his stomach is exposed (my city), Hiyori is far from afraid of showing skin and this card helps prove that, behind all those cards where he's in suits and hiding skin, he's also fully capable of exposing it. On this card he is also meant to represent a mermaid, and do you know what species have constantly been used as a symbol of seduction, attractiveness and enticement through ages, sometimes even causing others ruins? Exactly.

As we can see with his expressions in various cards too, not only does he has a range, but one thing is always constant: his eyes are inviting. Hiyori wants you to join him in whatever it is, always with warm eyes and seducing gaze. Hiyoris whole presence is inviting and he won't hesitate on giving everything he can to make sure others will join him.

So, this is why you should vote for Hiyori Tomoe!!! Finishing this all off with a compilation of moments where he's seen winking (with some probably even missing) and showing just how sexy he truly is. Stan Hiyori Tomoe 2023 ♡

[fenicenera83]

∞MARIUS & THORNE∞

-Thorne loves stories, especially those of mythology, and of the ancient gods. So a little for fun, at first, he went to Marius with a large book of Nordic myths. Marius and Thorne spent the following nights talking and comparing notes on the collection of that book. Marius read aloud, in his low, warm tone, and Thorne listened, eyes closed, lying with his head resting on Marius' legs, as he imagined the wonders Marius' voice told him. And after those first few nights, whenever Thorne could, he went to find Marius with a new book for him to read. Marius was truly happy, to be able to spend time with what had become his greatest friend, and together, in that stolen time, it became even more clear to both of them, how much that unexpected meeting, so long ago, had been a true blessing.

-Marius had begun to notice that someone was leaving small wood-carved figurines on his desk. Not every day, and not on a regular basis, but the small, delightful figurines always appeared. It could be an eagle or a wolf, a small soldier with a shield, or a maple leaf. Each time it was different, each time more elaborate, as if the hand that created them had begun to relearn a lost art. It may have seemed a strange thing indeed, and even Daniel and Armand had witnessed that incredible little phenomenon, had been intrigued and a little troubled by it. Both were taken aback by the idea that Marius knew who was leaving them. Marius denied it with a smile. Then one summer evening, Thorne appeared at Marius' door with tears of joy in his eyes. A finely wrought chain of silver hung around his neck, two pendants hanging from it. Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens twinkled in the candlelight, thought and memory, that was their meaning. Marius knew it was Thorne who left those delightful wooden figurines, which he had placed in a glass case, on display in his office. Happy and proud to share the beauty and skill of his best friend. The ravens of Odin thought and memory perfectly encapsulated the core of their wonderful friendship, which is why Marius had chosen them for Thorne.

-Marius and Thorne had developed their own unique and special way of greeting each other. Different each time, but full of respect and dedication. Sometimes when Marius passed by engaged in something, and noticed Thorne near the path he was to follow, he would approach and place two gentle taps on his broad chest, Thorne would grin and rest his forehead on Marius'. Sometimes Thorne would notice Marius from afar, engaged in something or with someone, and look at him with a smile, when Marius' eyes then met his, Thorne would wink at him and Marius would laugh and shake his head. Sometimes Marius would stop, while he was engrossed in something, noticing Thorne, and approach to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a smile. Thorne, surprised, would respond by hugging him, and Marius would laugh, and allow himself to be hugged. These small gestures were their language, when they could not talk, or had to go about their respective chores. No matter, they always found a way, and a moment, to tell each other that their friendship was always in their hearts and thoughts.

[enchantress-of-words]

1.

Ara is born. Her mother is crying, her father weeps tears of joy on his knees, and the woman who helped deliver her is smiling in the corner. There's four of them in the small apartment in one of many streets of Kagark. It's warm, and it smells of blood and sweat and joy. The wind howls outside, spreading the news - it preaches the birth of a Symbol. The spirits hold their breath.

Ara is small in a room full of love, and she cries for air and for her mother's arms.

2.

Ara looks at the skies and sees a storm.

She's fourteen, and she doesn't remember her father, nor her mother. She doesn't remember the warm room or midwife's happy smile.

Mother Madeleine barks at her to stop daydreaming. Ara sighs and continues sweeping.

Up in the skies, the spirits watch her every move. The wind-wolves hide in the trees, and the Great One smiles on his throne.

3.

Ara is sixteen. Those who see her think of a fairytale.

Ara is small and fragile and quiet. She knows the woods as a palm of her hand. She loves storms and dreams of skies.

She finds a cave with two statues inside. The statues open their eyes and come alive.

4.

Ara is sixteen, and she finds magic.

The elf-brothers lead her to one of her kind, and she tells Ara to look in the Mirror (the mirror of truth, the mirror of risk, the mirror of change).

The Mirror is surrounded by golden water which rises and swarms around Ara as she looks in her reflection, as she stares in the eyes of Elderfather, as the spirits chant and sing. It hurts, the pain burns her from inside out. Her bones melt, her muscles dissolve. Ara screams and falls into the water.

She wakes up with wings and new fire burning inside her.

5.

Ara is sixteen, and Ara is a dragon.

She roars in the skies, she rises high and falls back down. Her dragon form looks majestic, her human body becomes taller and stronger. She learns how to fight, she studies libraries, he looks as Ramin enchants metals in silence.

Ara is sixteen, and Ara feels more alive than she ever have.

6.

Ara is seventeen, and the School calls her.

She goes on the road. She meets a girl chosen by Wind himself. That girl is bright and loud and annoying, but in a good way. Ara loves her.

They trust eachother. They fell asleep in eachother's arms once - it was cold, and Ara was warm, and Nomi didn't care for personal space.

Ara loves Nomi's hugs. (She was never hugged before.)

7.

The School calls another one, a boy chosen by Water himself. They find him - he is wounded and scared, and he doesn't remember how he got there. They accept him as their own.

They sleep in a pile now, limbs interwoven in a monstrosity of a hug. Ara feels nice.

Ara feels safe.

8.

Ara is seventeen. The School sends them away.

They meet a spirit tired and battle-worn, a spirit who looks like a man, a spirit so dangerous both heaven and hell chase him.

Thuar looks at Ara and he sees a Symbol. Ara makes a choice and lets him lead her.

9.

Ara is seventeen and she is dragged deep below the surface, deep below the core of earth.

She remembers chains and tears and pain.

Ara is seventeen, and Ara is but a shell of what she was.

Thuar manages to escape. He carries her out from Stranger's realms and brings her to dwarf-folk and to elven-king - by chance.

Ara can't remember her name. All she feels is pain and fear and a trembling of her own body.

10.

Ara is eighteen.

She sits at her bed in the dwarven fortress. Ara is eighteen. She looks at her hands, bandaged and scarred.

Ara is eighteen. She grits her teeth.

Ara is a Symbol. Ara has a job to complete.

~§~

taglist: @ink-fireplace-coffee @original-writing (ask to be added/removed)

[gerogerigaogaigar]

Wire - Pink Flag

This one is revolutionary. Wire were doing things in 77 that most bands wouldn't be trying for at least a couple of years. Punk moved so fast I. The 70s that it's a blur to track the evolution of the genre. By the time the first punk albums were being released in 76 the genre had already peaked for many first adopters and by 77 we were already seeing the first wave of post punk. Wire were definitely amongst those bands Ex Lion Tamer, Three Girl Rhumba, are very post punk. But they weren't content with just doing one thing where a lot of the album is very traditionally punk there are also a lot of songs that would hearken towards hardcore punk like Pink Flag and 12XU. 106 Beats That feels like a prototype noise rock song, Strange could easily be mistaken for some sort of British grunge, Fragile is basically the blueprint for alternative rock. I feel like you can divine a person's preferred punk subgenre based on their favorite track from this album.

Joy Division - Closer

Slightly more gothic than Unknown Pleasures and no less bleak. The more obviously personal a project becomes the closer it gets to unreviewable. This is Ian Curtis's suicide note. It sounds like a suicide note. Reading interviews about the recording sessions is harrowing. "We'd go to rehearsals and sit around and talk about really banal things. We'd do that until we couldn't talk about banal things any more, then we'd pick up our instruments and record into a little cassette player. We didn't talk about the music or the lyrics very much. We never analysed it." Bernard Sumner once recalled. This album is amazing but thinking too hard about it kinda terrifies me. I don't want to review Closer.

Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets

After departing from Roxy Music Brian Eno decided to make the weirdest, most unpredictable piece of art glam he could. By far the most theatrical thing in his discography and one of few that is still tethered to the rock idiom, if only barely. Here Comes The Warm Jets is full of off beat vocal delivery and wild guitar tones. It will flit between rock n roll riffs, manic guitar solos courtesy of Robert Fripp, and hazy droning bits that are early predictors of shoegaze. And through it all Eno delivers vocals in the most off kilter cadence possible shifting from Frankie Valli falsetto to warbled crooning. This is kind of the final form of glam rock, you can't come back from it only move forward.

Sam Cooke - Portrait Of A Legend 1951-1964

Okay, I've been pretty hard on greatest hits so far but I'm gonna give this one a pass because most of Cooke's best works were originally released as non album singles. Sam Cooke's ability to absolutely nail the doo wop sound while also amassing a rock and roll fan base is amazing. He may be the crossover artist of all time. Cooke's biggest hits are without a doubt some of the catchiest songs of all time, I don't know whether I'm gonna have Cupid, Chain Gang, (What A) Wonderful World, or Another Saturday Night stuck in my head, but tomorrow morning imma be living with one or more of those on repeat.

Al Green - I'm Still In Love With You

I've talked about Al Green before and things haven't changed. He's one of, if not the, greatest vocalists of all time. Like all of his albums from this era it shows off his incredible range, going from low to falsetto with an ease that baffles me. It's unfortunately sandwiched between my two favorite Al Green albums so I definitely overlook it, but it's definitely worthwhile.

KISS - Alive!

KISS is potato chips. Is it high quality? Is it good for you? Who cares that's not why you eat potato chips. If you want some extremely stupid music about drinking, fucking, and the vague concept of 'rocking out' then this is the best your gonna get. It's high energy fun. It's camp. The best part is that this was released before their smash hit album Destroyer so you get all the early songs with good blues riffs and guitar solos instead of the dreadfully boring Detroit Rock City or, god forbid, Beth. This is so obviously the best KISS album.

Bill Withers - Just As I Am

Withers' debut leans more towards a folksy gospel feel than Still Bill's funk soul flavor. While I think it's less dynamic overall Just As I Am has plenty to offer. The hit, Ain't No Sunshine is a classic, and Withers turns the mediocre Beatles hit Let It Be into an amazing gospel number. But to me the biggest things this album has going for it is Grandma's Hands, a song that is just so beautiful.

ABBA - The Definitive Collection

Oh wow another greatest hits. I don't know if this is a hot take or not but I really like ABBA. I think they have like six albums that would be great choices for this list spot. At the very least ABBA, Arrival, Voulez-Vouz, and The Visitors are all fantastic albums start to finish. No need to pick out the hits and package them all together.

Neil Young - Tonight's The Night

When Young made On The Beach he poured despair into it, but only seemingly as a distraction from the even more profound despair that was Tonight's The Night. While recorded before On The Beach it was not released until after. The album is entirely about the death of two friends of Young's, Crazy Horse member Danny Whitten, and roadie Bruce Berry. The intensely personal nature of this album is apparent from the bleak lyrics, stripped down production, Young's constantly faltering voice, and even the album liner notes which state "I'm sorry. You don't know these people. This means nothing to you." When I was dismissive of On The Beach that was because this album exists. All the melancholy and anguish of On The Beach is just residue from Tonight's The Night. This is one of music most sincere and pure expressions. The fact that the entire rest of Young's discography is not rendered irrelevant by this album is nothing short of a miracle.

New York Dolls - s/t

I am once again positing a potential starting point for punk rock. The combination of glam aesthetics with the 50s rock and roll musicianship is one of the more obvious influences on the evolution of punk. Very extremely silly lyrics are coupled with riffs that are basically all ripped from Chuck Berry songs. The result is an album with a constant manic energy that's as fun as it is infectious.

[foragingstamps]

untitled#31

does the sun ache in its loneliness; does it know the depths its light reaches? can it recognise the specks of planets that orbit it, encircling like sharks, but never nearing its flesh; never knowing its taste? what does it think, in the gallows of space, where all is tightly wound, yet so far away? for what does it meditate? does it know we call it 'sun;' does it know it has a name? does it know how it warms my skin, and thaws bitterness, and melts sorrowful chains?

how can any celestial body, any object that roams the universe, feel—knowing how desperately alone it is? an observer that cannot touch lest it is destroyed; that loves but can never embrace? to touch is to ruin; to let unfold an irrevocable devastation of change. two comets colliding may become something beautiful, or something strange, or ugly; but it will never be the same. though every body that has ever existed has remained in uniform solitude, it knows one day it will become something else. the sun will collapse into its own weight, the earth will become a hellscape, a nebula will take shape. something magnificent will come out of a brutal end, but i wonder if it will grieve its fate. if love is a worthy sacrifice for the soul; to let it be warped and bent and manipulated; to recognise itself in another's frame, and to be brutally torn from its shape. to look at all the yesterdays and see a stranger where they used to be—both themself and a lover, both perception and face. how dangerous it is to submit yourself to the calloused, cruel hands of affection; to assume safety in its soft cradle, only to be hollowed in its absence. it takes, and you take, and you love, and you have fun, and you are grateful, and you are ashamed, and full of hate. the joy means nothing without the pain. maybe that is the point; to know the catharsis and the torture and the fleeting bliss of a mortal love. to look at the stars and know that this is the only time we'll know this place; to recognise how rare and fragile our world is. to risk transformation, and to grow terrified yet unafraid; to search for love again even while facing dismay, because there is a burning passion in our hearts that must be shared and conveyed. we will all be betrayed by endless tomorrow, yet through it, eternally saved.

[theblackphoenixwritings]

∞MARIUS & THORNE∞

-Thorne loves stories, especially those of mythology, and of the ancient gods. So a little for fun, at first, he went to Marius with a large book of Nordic myths. Marius and Thorne spent the following nights talking and comparing notes on the collection of that book. Marius read aloud, in his low, warm tone, and Thorne listened, eyes closed, lying with his head resting on Marius' legs, as he imagined the wonders Marius' voice told him. And after those first few nights, whenever Thorne could, he went to find Marius with a new book for him to read. Marius was truly happy, to be able to spend time with what had become his greatest friend, and together, in that stolen time, it became even more clear to both of them, how much that unexpected meeting, so long ago, had been a true blessing.

-Marius had begun to notice that someone was leaving small wood-carved figurines on his desk. Not every day, and not on a regular basis, but the small, delightful figurines always appeared. It could be an eagle or a wolf, a small soldier with a shield, or a maple leaf. Each time it was different, each time more elaborate, as if the hand that created them had begun to relearn a lost art. It may have seemed a strange thing indeed, and even Daniel and Armand had witnessed that incredible little phenomenon, had been intrigued and a little troubled by it. Both were taken aback by the idea that Marius knew who was leaving them. Marius denied it with a smile. Then one summer evening, Thorne appeared at Marius' door with tears of joy in his eyes. A finely wrought chain of silver hung around his neck, two pendants hanging from it. Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens twinkled in the candlelight, thought and memory, that was their meaning. Marius knew it was Thorne who left those delightful wooden figurines, which he had placed in a glass case, on display in his office. Happy and proud to share the beauty and skill of his best friend. The ravens of Odin thought and memory perfectly encapsulated the core of their wonderful friendship, which is why Marius had chosen them for Thorne.

-Marius and Thorne had developed their own unique and special way of greeting each other. Different each time, but full of respect and dedication. Sometimes when Marius passed by engaged in something, and noticed Thorne near the path he was to follow, he would approach and place two gentle taps on his broad chest, Thorne would grin and rest his forehead on Marius'. Sometimes Thorne would notice Marius from afar, engaged in something or with someone, and look at him with a smile, when Marius' eyes then met his, Thorne would wink at him and Marius would laugh and shake his head. Sometimes Marius would stop, while he was engrossed in something, noticing Thorne, and approach to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a smile. Thorne, surprised, would respond by hugging him, and Marius would laugh, and allow himself to be hugged. These small gestures were their language, when they could not talk, or had to go about their respective chores. No matter, they always found a way, and a moment, to tell each other that their friendship was always in their hearts and thoughts.

[umichenginabroad]

Eating & Drinking my way through Prague

Dobrý den! 

This past weekend, I stayed in Prague and had my friend Morgan come and visit me! As I have been in Prague for 8 weeks and have had many visitors over that time, seeing Prague Castle, although beautiful, has become quite repetitive. I have mastered the art of the 2-day Prague itinerary, but I was itching to show my friend something that was also new for me! 

This is where my love for trying new food comes into play. Over the past few years, I have been running an instagram account @sheeeeats (shameless plug - check it out). This is where I document all of my food experiences and it has helped me figure out that one way I love to explore a new city is through its restaurant scene. Luckily, Morgan was on board with my plan of going on a food-tour of Prague. 

When she first arrived, we headed over to New Town. This part of Prague is the historic center of modern Prague and is filled with cafes and stores, and most importantly, Kantýna. Kantýna is home to one of the best burgers I’ve ever had. On top of that, they had the softest puffy bread in a delectable vanilla cream custard.

After walking up to the top of Prague Castle, walking past Lennon Wall and over the Charles Bridge, it was already time for our next meal! I took Morgan to Lokal, a chain of Czech restaurants that always has the longest line out of the restaurant. Luckily, with a reservation, we got to try the amazing food for an even more amazing price. Beef tartare, Talián sausage, fried cheese, and 2 Pilsners (Czech beers) later, and we were stuffed for a whopping $32 total. 

Traditional Czech food is often bland and boring, but these items were absolutely delicious, and definitely kept us warm on the cold walk home!

The next morning, we started our morning off with brunch in Old Town. The Prague half-marathon was happening that morning, so a lot of the streets were closed to cars which made walking through the streets much more enjoyable. At breakfast, we decided to share pancakes, which is one of the smaller things in life that gies me lots of joy, and get our own egg dishes. The highlight of this meal was my iced dirty chai latte. One thing I’ve learned from being abroad is that iced coffee and drinks often don’t exist. So, whenever I find one, I immediately know that it will be a great day!

After brunch, we walked through the Jewish Quarter and did a tour of the many synagogues that Prague has. There is so much Jewish history in Prague and it's incredibly well preserved, which makes the experience incredibly moving. My favorite part of the tour was the Spanish Synagogue. Not only is it beautiful, but it’s right next to a Cathedral, which highlights the diversity of religion that Prague had before WW2. 

After our tour, we headed to the Prague Beer Fest. Although I’m not a huge fan of beer, the Czechs drink an average of 150 liters of beer per capita annually. This means that they are the biggest beer consumers in the world. Because of that crazy fact, I’ve been trying to dive into the beer culture while being here. This event was so fun as it had different beers from all over the Czech Republic, but also a bunch of countries around the world. 

We were pretty tired and beer-ed out after this day that we went home to hang out before our next meal. Obviously, we still made our way to our sushi dinner in Old Town. This was by far one of the best meals I’ve had since being abroad. We got udon noodles with chicken and a bunch of different sushi rolls, sashimi, and nigiri. 

At the end of this trip, it’s needless to say that I was full and happy. We managed to see a bunch of the highlights in Prague, while also exploring a bunch of new restaurants. All of these restaurants were on streets I had never seen before, so this was a really fun way to explore Prague and try a bunch of different restaurants! 

Emily Walker

Computer Science & Engineering

[imfantasticbelieveme]

I was so glad when I saw that more people make the comparison between Damian and Shaoran.

But that then got me to think on my favorite trop when in comes to my shaosaku ship, now applied to damianya...

And it is that, once Damian gets over his tsudere tendencies or that he wholeheartedly admits he likes Anya, then, it becomes impossible for him to said no to her.

I adore when the sunshine part of my ship is begin spoiled rotten by everyone and the same applies for Anya, after everything that happened to her when she was even younger, she rightfully deserves her papa and mama spoiling her, as well as her best friend and boyfriend.

So yeah, my head is full of scenarios in which people on Eden see Anya ask Damian for something stupid, in the way that she could get it herself like, a bag of peanuts or to simply walk her to the next class, and everyone thinking that cold and reserved Damian is going to tell his girlfriend to just get it herself but, BUT, they could not be more far away from the true. Damian is over the top in his way to meeting Anya's requests.

His girlfriend wants a bag of peanuts? The very least he gets it the most expensive, imported and delicious ones there is. They quickly became Anyas favorites and since then Damian always has lots of bags around just for her.

His girlfriend wants to go to the movies together? He rents the whole damn theater just for them and has a whole marathon of Spy Wars projected.

His girlfriend wants to walk together to the next class? He is always, ALWAYS, already there waiting for her outside her classroom to walk her to the next, handholding and princess carrying at the ready depending on what she would like at the moment. And yes, he is going to princess carry her if she wants to, thank you very much, after the last time that Anya fainted right in front of him (they were in a crown, she was overwhelmed by everyones thoughts) and he was scared out of his mind, he never wanted to see her laying on the ground like that, it killed him, so he damn well will be carrying her around if that was what his peanut wanted.

His girlfriend didn't feel like eating? (her head killed her that day, her powers were growning and she didn't have the energy to eat herself) He would spoonfeed her, in front of the whole cafeteria, he didn't care. He would arrive at the cafeteria with his girlfriend princess carried in his arms, his friends and Blackbell already securing a table and with a cold bottle of water ready for Anya, he would gently deposit her in her seat (the side that has her back resting on the wall, so she can rest there) and ask her, on the softest voice possible, his tone gentle and his eyes concerned and loving, what would his princess like to eat? He would then go and come back in a heartbeat and, without question or hesitations, he would spoonfeed her.

Anya was childish at heart no matter how the years passed and it was one of the things that he loved about her, it just made her more cute. She wanted for both of them to wear matching necklaces? They both now have the others name on gold in a really expensive looking chain. And no, it didn't even was under their uniforms, it was over them, for everyone to see, the gold really brought out the shine on their stellas so it was an even nicer sight and it really filled him with joy wherever he would see his name hanging on her, and it would fill him with warm whenever he would see her name on him.

You cannot talk bad about Anya, you cannot be mean to Anya, you cannot look wrong at Anya, because he would find out, and he would remind you of your place. She is his world, and he has more power than anyone on that stupid school and if anyone tried anything on his girlfriend, on his peanut, on his princess he would make them pay. And the price would be very high.

They were the power couple of the school, the fastest students to ever become imperial scholars, and people were scared shitless of Damian just for the look he would have on his face whenever he would think you were so much as looking wrong to his girlfriend, and besides... They have seen Anya on P.E, she was beautiful, but she was scary strong, her boyfriend was scary protective and her parents were scary in general.

Once, a boy have tried to kiss Anya, she didn't want to of course and she made it very clear, he has been very offensive and inmediatly started to tell her that it was not as if Desmond was going to keep playing with her forever, that she just looked easy and that was it, that it was that why Desmond was around and nothing more. Needless to say, he made her cry, he didn't even finish his next sentence before Damian had him on the ground, appearing out of nowhere, punching the lights out of him, Damian didn't even got in trouble, because not 10 minutes later the Forgers were on Eden scaring the shit out of the school with Becky having everything the idiot that made her dear Anya cry on record, and a treat to the school that no one ever reputed out loud, the students just watched the Forgers get out of the board office with murder in their eyes and a dark aura surrounding them, getting to Anya who was begin hugged by a Damian with the same freaking aura and making everyone sweat, as if waiting for the verdict of God to know if their school was going to be closed or what? At the end, both parents calmed down when they started to talk to their daughter, looking at her softly and telling that she didn't have to worry about that lowlife (their literal words) ever again. Everyone gave a collective breath of relief when Anya gave the smallest of smiles to the her parents in return. Why? Because just then, her parents murder vibes fully disappeared and her boyfriend looked more like he was contemplating how to make her smile become bigger rather than planning to burn the school himself.

So yeah, just, stay out of Anya's bad grace.

[earlgreydream]

lover of mine.

| winter soldier!bucky barnes x reader | angst | fluff |

lover of mine.

/When I take a look at my life/And all of my crimes/You're the only thing that I think I got right//I watched the world fall from your eyes/All my regrets/And things you can't forget/Light them all up/Kiss them goodbye/

“You loved him once. You can love him again.”

“I never stopped loving him. That’s what you don’t understand.” 

The fellow Avengers had watched the world fall from your eyes, the joy draining from you with every headline that involved Bucky. Not only had he changed, but you had too. You became completely enthralled with your missions, pouring every waking second into the Avengers. Because if you thought about anything else, you would break. 

Steve begged you to take breaks, begged you to take time off. You insisted you were fine, never wanting to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want to think about the newsreels of Bucky-- the winter soldier-- wielding machine guns. 

You couldn’t bear to see the love of your life slaughtering people.

“I’m not picking up Parker from school... He’s in high school, he doesn’t need me to pick him up! He can take the subway! Or use his webs!” You snapped at Stark, who stared at you impatiently.

“You need to rest. This is how you’re filling your afternoon.” Stark was insistent, and you shook your head, grabbing the keys to a Tesla. 

“Steve?”

“Go, Y/N.”

You sighed and went down to the garage, driving uptown to get the teenager from school. You parked outside of the high school, leaning against the hood of your car while you waited. 

You never got used to the modernity. You were like Steve and Bucky. You’d been alive in the 40s, and frozen like they were. Luckily, you’d fallen to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of Hydra. You’d managed to stay safe with Steve, and become an Avenger, not suffering Bucky’s fate. 

Before the war, you and Bucky had been married. The memories in your mind of dancing in the kitchen, jazz bars, drive-ins, and reading the Hobbit when it came out, were all raw. Before he was deployed, there was a wedding.

You’d been surrounded by flowers and your friends, celebrating the love of your life. Steve was the best man. You’d left the ceremony with Bucky in his yellow vintage car, going to the coast for your honeymoon. 

You remembered the beach house, and running in the sand with your young husband. It was perfect back then, before Hydra got their hands on him. He was loving and gentle, the kind of man who danced with you in the kitchen and brought you flowers. 

You remembered when he’d gone off to war. You wore his dog tags, and hung a flag in your window. You’d kissed him goodbye, tears blinding you as you tried to focus on the silver eyes that were full of adoration and love. You remembered when Steve came back, and Bucky didn’t. 

There were so many memories of crying in Steve’s arms, and falling asleep with him beside you. Even when you’d moved to Stark Tower with him, even after becoming an avenger decades later, you still slept beside him. He’d listened to you sob for Bucky a million times; Steve had witnessed a lifetime of your heartbreak. 

You remembered waking up from being frozen, and finding out who James Buchanan Barnes had become. 

“Y/N?!” Parker’s cheerful voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he came bounding down the stairs of the high school. 

“Hey kiddo. Stark sent me to get you.” You stood up off the car and hugged him. He waved goodbye to his friends and got in the passenger seat. He immediately started chattering, and you welcomed it, appreciating the distraction from the deafening silence. That was why you were fond of Parker, he was easy to be around, and he was always happy to fill the silence.

“Let’s go to Starbucks!” He announced as the two of you drove back to the tower.

“Are you joking?”

“No! It’s on me.”

“It’s on Stark,” you smirked, and Parker broke out into a wide grin.

You and Peter walked into Stark Tower a half hour later, chattering and laughing. Parker was the only one of the Avengers who cheered you up, and he never made you feel bad for not wanting to talk about Bucky. He was bubbly and warm, and always made you laugh. You were giggling at a story from his school as you went upstairs to the penthouse, unaware of what you were walking1 into.

You nearly crashed into him, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Y/N!” The voice was so familiar, and yet, you thought you’d never hear it again.

You were suffocating. The air was ripped from your lungs, and you couldn’t breathe. It felt like the earth was swaying underneath you, everything shattered. 

Steve ran to you as you passed out, and Parker caught you with a shout before you hit the floor. He knelt on the marble, your head in his lap, and Steve shouted for Banner, who came running to follow you to his medical lab.

“Stevie, what’s wrong with her?!” Bucky demanded, and everyone looked at him. 

“It’s the shock of seeing you.” Steve admitted, and Bucky looked like he was going to break. 

“I’m better now, I’m no longer the...” he couldn’t even say it, his eyes anxious and frightened.

Bucky had spent months trying to free himself of Hydra’s psychological bonds. He was free now, motivated by the thought of coming home to you. Bucky had waited years. Now, he was home, and the second he said your name and laid eyes on him, you’d panicked and blacked out.

Steve attempted to comfort him, and even Parker, the boy he didn’t know. They tried to explain to Bucky that you were just in shock, but his heart broke. 

“I took care of her, Buck. She still loves you, she always has. Just give her some time. Seeing you like that...”

“I know,” Bucky breathed. 

Everyone left Bucky alone with you, giving you privacy. He sat beside the bed where you were asleep, Banner assuring everyone that you were fine, you had only fainted.

He watched you. Bucky hadn’t watched you sleep like this since the 1940s.

He was suddenly back, leaning in the doorway, the soft light pouring behind him as he drank a cup of coffee, taking in the sight of his sweet wife sleeping before he went to work. You’d glow in the golden light of the morning, your face peaceful and serene. It was so intimate back then.

Bucky sat up as you stirred, familiar eyes slowly opening. You didn’t know where you were at first, your mind running through events. You’d picked Parker up from school, stopped for a snack, and came back to the tower. And seen your husband.

You sat up suddenly, and he put his arms out, one made of vibranium. His eyes were soft, full of love, not the empty steel you’d seen on the news. Your name fell from his lips, desperate and anxious.

You jerked away at first, startled by the reality of what was happening. You were frightened, alone in the room with your husband. You scrambled back against the headboard, trying to put distance between you and his outstretched hands.

You were about to scream when you realized he looked just as frightened as you. You slowly sank back against the headboard, slowing your breathing as you stared at him.

“James?”

“It’s me, doll. I’m home.”

You didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but it felt like hours. The two of you stared at each other, and when you finally decided he wasn’t going to hurt you, you gingerly moved toward him.

“I’m free from them. It’s just me, it’s not the winter soldier anymore,” Bucky’s voice was soft, and you blinked back tears.

“It can’t be you. You were gone.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“I’m back now. I came back for you. I’m never going to hurt you, or anyone else again.”

“James-”

“I’m not a killer anymore.”

The plea broke your heart, the shattered boy begging you to believe him, begging you to take him back. Tears slid down his cheeks, terrified of your reaction.

“James, I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Bucky felt like he’d waited a million years to say it, and the words spread through you, filling your empty soul.

You wanted to fall into his arms, to hold him close and feel him again. You wanted all of it to happen instantly, but that’s not how it was. You needed time, time to adjust, and time to trust him again before you returned to your husband fully.

You reached out to touch his arm, and he noticed the wedding ring wasn’t around your finger. His eyes flitted up to yours, and you pulled the chain from around your neck that hid beneath your shirt. It held his dog tags, and your wedding ring. Relief flooded Bucky, and you offered a the slightest hint of a smile.

“What happened?” You asked, cautiously running your fingers along the vibranium.

“I lost my arm when I fell from the train. Steve told you?”

“A bit... you fell, he didn’t know what happened after.”

“Can I touch you?” Bucky spoke gently, understanding your hesitation and being patient.

You nodded, and his hand slowly lifted to your face, fingers brushing over the curves of your skin. You laid your hand over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. He cried softly, a smile crossing his face as he felt you, promising it wasn’t a dream.

“Bucky, we need you for a meeting.” Stark leaned into the bedroom, hours later.

“Stark, now?”

“I’m sorry. Y/N will be here when you get back.”

“I’ll wait for you.” You promised, and he nodded, the words falling heavy between you.

Bucky followed Stark out, and you sat on the bed, processing the day. Bucky had quietly explained the Hydra brainwashing, about how he was held captive in his own mind. You believed him, but it would always be hard to shake those memories of him on the news.

“Hey, we didn’t mean to just drop this on you.” Steve came inside, sitting down on the mattress.

“You couldn’t have kept from me that my husband was suddenly free and home. Is he really, though? It is him? He won’t kill me in my sleep?” You asked, and Steve gave you a sad smile.

“It is. He’s traumatized, he won’t be the same as before the war. But it’s not the winter soldier, it’s Bucky.” 

You knew it was true. You knew the man before you, his heart and his soul, and you were going to grow to know his mind again.

You were curled up in bed, Steve beside you on the other side of the large mattress. 

“Stevie? Y/N?” you heard a soft voice from the doorway, and you sat up in the dark. You had trouble sleeping, and you were awake when he came in during the middle of the night.

“Bucky?” 

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come here,” you whispered, moving over in bed, closer to Steve, who was waking from the disturbance. You didn’t fear Bucky, especially not when he looked so frightened and upset.

You lifted the blanket, and Bucky got in on the other side of the bed. You pulled him to you, silently wrapping your arms around him. You felt Steve against your back, leaning over to place his hand on Bucky’s arm, smoothing over the skin slowly to comfort him. 

“You’re okay now, it’s over, my love,” you whispered, settling between the warm bodies.

Your head rested on Bucky’s chest, and you realized how long you’d spent waiting for it. You felt his lips press a kiss to the top of your head, and Steve bury his face into the back of your neck, needing to be close.

[hercleverboy]

the year of goodbyes

spencer reid x gn!reader

masterlist

summary ↠ over the course of a year, Spencer says goodbye to three people— and hello to one.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ takes place in s11, talk of Alzheimer’s,  

word count ↠ 1.8k

massive shoutout to my beloved @ellesgreenaway for beta reading and encouraging me to finish this piece— india you are my actual saving grace

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” — Paulo Coelho

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

He knew it all too well, the familiar look that was cast over peoples features, how their eyes got glassy and lips twitched as they prepared to tell him that they were yet another person who would leave him behind— like so many had before.

But their choice of words was always different. He noticed a sort of pattern, when it came to people walking out of his life. They tended to dance around the words, never exactly saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

First, it was his father. He’d watched him pack a suitcase full of things, spit angry words at his mother and then turn to him, his son— placing his hand on his shoulder, mumbling a few cowardly words and that was that. Spencer no longer had a father.

(‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to look after you anymore.’)

Second was Gideon, who never actually said goodbye in person (and Spencer couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.) Instead, he left, wrote words down on a page and then addressed it to him.

(‘Spencer, I knew you would be the one to come down here.’)

And again, with Alex. Not a goodbye, not in the formal sense, but Spencer’s heart ached with how he knew what this was— he recognised the look on her face and knew that once again, he would lose someone he loved.

(‘You know, Ethan would’ve been a lot like you.’)

Everyone in Spencer’s life started to feel temporary. There one minute, gone the next. He wished that meant that he cared any less for them, or that it hurt any less when they left.

Of course, that was never the case.

His mother’s mental state had been deteriorating rapidly, and nothing— not anything that Spencer’s big genius brain could think of — was helping her.

When he visited her, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. He recognised the look of confusion on her face when he’d enter the room, ignoring how his heart squeezed painfully upon realising that his own mother no longer remembered him.

It would take her a few minutes, but eventually the confusion would disappear and she would give him a smile, greeting him with open arms and warm words.

It was a different kind of leaving, but she was leaving him all the same. She wasn’t physically going anywhere, but, mentally?

He saw how she was deteriorating, he argued with countless doctors and medical professionals, exhausting every book and resource he could find— just hoping he could come up with something.

But, no.

He found it a little ironic. He was the boy wonder, the resident genius of the Bureau’s elite behavioural analysis unit, a smartass who had endless amounts of knowledge.

He always had the answer, always had the solution.

Ironic— because the man who was supposed to know it all, had no clue how to protect his mother from a disease that would inevitably take her from him.

It wasn’t something he would ever come to terms with, it was never something he would accept. He knew how it was going to go, the doctors told him as much.

The day would come that he would walk into his mother’s room, and those vacant eyes would never gain clarification. Her confusion wouldn’t pass, and she would no longer recognise him.

Spencer dreaded that day.

He feared it, even. 

Because the day he lost his mother would be the day he lost himself. 

*

When Catherine Adams’ file came across Spencer’s desk, he thrusted all of his agony over his mother into the case. It was why he decided that he would be the one to take her down in the restaurant, why he insisted that she wouldn’t perceive him as a threat. 

Oddly enough, Spencer found himself intrigued by her. Perhaps, he simply enjoyed being intellectually challenged in such a way.  Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in the darkest parts of himself, he liked the attention, got off on being able to outsmart her. 

He was smug when he managed to trick her into getting into the back of the police van, under the guise that he’d found her father. (After all, she was ‘just another girl with daddy issues’.) 

It was only when Cat gave him a grin, one that contrasted with the tears that slipped down her cheeks, that Spencer felt uneasy. 

He crouched down in front of her, whispered a small, “Goodbye, Cat,” before getting up and leaving the van, feeling a weight on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe. 

Again, it was a different type of goodbye. One he was of course relieved about, because with it brought the promised safety of Penelope, now that Cat was behind bars. Although, alongside the relief, there was a sour aftertaste. 

It was what led him to take a moment, sitting down on the swings in the park, hands trembling slightly as they grabbed the chains, swinging gently in a slow rhythm that he hoped would calm him down. 

The last words Cat had said to him played over and over in his head. 

“In twenty years, you won’t remember my name. But I’ll remember yours.” 

At first, Spencer assumed she was referring to how after a while, Cat would simply blend into the sea of seemingly never-ending unsubs who all tried, and failed, to outsmart the team.

It was only later that Spencer realised she was instead insinuating that he would succumb to the same disease as his mother— forgetting not only those that he loved, but the ones he hated too.

*

Spencer’s best friend was going to be a father. 

The team were gathered in the waiting room, eagerly awaiting news, when Morgan came out with a smile on his face. “It’s a boy!” 

Pure, unbridled joy burst throughout the room, with Spencer lurching forward to wrap his arms around him, laughing and giving his congratulations. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat and pushed away the thoughts that swirled around his mind. Deep down, he knew what would inevitably happen, but that moment wasn’t the right time to think about it. 

It was late in the evening when Derek Morgan stopped by Spencer’s desk. Before he even looked up from his paperwork, he knew where this conversation was going to go. When he did look up, it all but confirmed it— he saw the sad smile on Morgan’s lips, and watched how his eyes glossed over.

He said nothing though. Instead, he smiled and chuckled as Morgan gushed over his newborn son. His smile got even bigger when Morgan handed over the birth announcement— Hank Spencer Morgan.

Although he knew what was coming, he knew what decision Morgan was going to make, he expected nothing less from his best friend. A man who had grown immensely in the years he’d known him, going from a real ladies man to someone who would give up his job in order to be there for his family.

Morgan placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips. “Kid, listen. Here’s the thing..”

“I know.” Spencer whimpered quietly, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. I know. And I understand.”

He watched Derek Morgan walk away, sniffling as he willed the tears to keep at bay. He watched his best friend, his brother, walk away. And it hurt, God it hurt. But he was so proud of the man that Morgan had become that he pushed aside the hurt, reminding himself of what he knew to be true.

Everyone left eventually. 

Spencer feared that one day, he would look around and find that he was truly and utterly alone.

*

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Spencer was making his way through the FBI Headquarters, up to the BAU floor. He stepped into the elevator, his coffee mug in one hand, and his other resting over his satchel. Just before the door closed, he heard someone call out. 

“Hold the doors!” 

Spencer reached a hand out, pushing the doors back open. 

You scuttled into the elevator, looking over to the male next to you with a smile. “Thank you for holding the doors. I’m already running a little late for my first day.” You explained, reaching to press the button for the fifth floor, watching as the elevator doors closed again. 

“The fifth floor? The Sex Crimes Unit?” Spencer asked curiously. 

You nodded. 

“It’s your first day?” 

“Yeah, I moved here for the job a couple of weeks back. It was an incredible opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.” You expressed, and Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile in return. “I’m presuming you work here as well?” 

He nodded. “I’m in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a floor up from you.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least I have one friend in the building, if it turns out my new team hate me.” You joked, glad when Spencer let out a little laugh. 

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. You seem very likeable.” 

You grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. You looked over at your new friend, flashing him a nervous smile. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave as you left the elevator. 

After a long day of paperwork (and thinking of the pretty person he’d met in the elevator), Spencer gathered together his things before getting into the elevator. It stopped on the floor below, and when the doors opened, he smiled at the sight of you. 

You looked up from where you’d been looking down at your phone, mirroring his grin. “Hey! It’s you.” 

“Yes—yes, It is, me.” Spencer replied, cringing awkwardly at his nonsensical response. 

You only laughed quietly at it, entering the elevator. 

“How was your first day?” He asked, only to be polite. 

You seemed surprised that he’d asked, but answered nonetheless. “It was good! Turns out my team don’t hate me. Or at least, I don’t think they do?” Your voice raised in question, making Spencer laugh a little. 

“See? What did I tell you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

You leaned over, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

“Spencer.” 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer. For the second time today.” 

Spencer smiled shyly, hands delving into his pockets as the elevator dinged. The two of you stepped out, looking at one another with timid expressions. 

“My car, it’s that way.” You pointed to the other end of the car park. 

“I take the subway.” Spencer responded, wishing he could find a way to make you stay a little longer.

“Well, have a good evening, Spencer.” You beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes!” He responded a little eagerly, sighing inwardly before clearing his throat. “I mean yeah, sure that- that’s cool.” 

You giggled quietly, waving goodbye before turning toward your car. 

Spencer blushed the whole way to the subway station, biting back the smile on his lips at the thought of you. 

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer. 

But you? 

He had the feeling that you were going to be a very permanent part of his life, and he didn’t mind that in the slightest. 

*

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