#the desperation and pure devastation of their souls

[messiahzzz]

i have seen several posts around that addressed how discouraging gale from taking the crown of karsus is “keeping him from realizing his true potential.” that tara is merely upset at his choice, instead of being utterly devastated at the loss of her little love. that it’s not a bad ending per se because to get there he didn’t need to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls in the process. gale isn’t continuing the cycle of abuse either, he still appears to love tav and does come back for them to offer them ascension. he wants them to be equal, so it can’t possibly be an unhealthy dynamic, right?

but what of gale himself, his own convictions, values, and everything he holds dear? everything flawed and human that shaped him into the person he is?

player: are you saying you want to ascend? claim godhood?

gale: no, not like that. i don't want to join them. i want to better them. a god's powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

gale’s motivation for acquiring godhood is that he will able to aid mortals in a way no other god has ever done before. he won’t hide behind pretense nor require blind devotion of his followers. he will understand and be able to empathize. he wholeheartedly believes that he will be different - he will act.

gale: [..] the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

gale believes that by becoming a god he will kill two birds with one stone: aid mortals and acquire enough power to quash any of his insecurities and enemies in the process. that by ridding himself of every perceived flaw he'll finally feel like he will have enough to offer - maybe, just maybe he'll even be content. his flaws are merely holding him back from becoming the best version of himself, and by ridding himself of everything fallible, he will be whole. maybe this is what all of his suffering has led up to. maybe the orb chose him. maybe the reason he had to endure all the pain, isolation, and excruciating loneliness was so that he could realize that he was meant for something even greater. after all, power feeds ambition. and what is more powerful than a god? his convictions were certainly naive, he possesses enough knowledge to know better. don't get me wrong, part of him definitely wants to spite mystra a lil. but his intentions at that time were mostly pure. a reflection of his self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy.

player: this is wrong, gale. that power will corrupt you, even if you can seize it.

gale: it won't, i swear to you. it's merely a tool - a means to an end.

once we meet gale at the party in his new godlike form, it is apparent that even with all the power at his fingertips, he has reached no greater knowledge about himself. his insecurities are still as present as before, he merely is less subtle in his compensation - repeatedly highlighting his grandeur and how dull life on faerun is compared to the wonders of elysium. it is also genuinely crushing to see how little he thinks of himself even now.

gale: i was nothing. a drifting dust mote of a wizard, abandoned by my goddess, my powers lost, my reputation destroyed. and look at me now. i'm their proof.

any perceived dismissal of his Greatness™ is met with immediate disdain.

gale: a bold decision to treat a divine being with such cold indifference.

nodecontext: aloof, annoyed you weren't impressed with him

gale: you mortals do love to live dangerously, don't you?

nodecontext: the slightest hint of a threat - you've probably made an enemy here today. or at least, you've lost a friend.

he is still desperate to impress. emphasizing what an honor it is that a new-born god chose to bless their little soiree with his presence. gaze upon all his divine glory! gale has now become the embodiment of everything he criticized about the gods. his original intentions and plans are discarded and long forgotten. he assuages his erstwhile companions by telling them to simply pray to him, in case they should ever require aid. if they're lucky and their ambition pleases him, he might even deliver.

player: what does the 'god of ambition' offer to his followers?

gale: i 'offer' them nothing. i inspire them to seize their destinies for themselves.

player: interesting, so you help mortals help themselves?

gale: precisely. though that isn't to say i'm averse to the odd bit of direct encouragement.

gale: [..] my aims are set a little higher than offering cursory blessings to just any half-decent spellcaster.

gale: regardless, ethical quandaries are more the remit of my mortal devotees. they do love to talk, and faerun is starting to listen.

aiding "any half-decent spellcaster" is unbefitting of his status. he isn't concerned with questions of ethics and morality either. deeming such matters beneath his divine capabilities.

once gale has ascended and established his domain, what remains of the gale we knew? what of his mortal heart?

minthara: your ambition is not cruel, but you fear that if you indulge it, you will lose yourself in the mysteries of the weave and unravel the world.

minthara: you are afraid of so many things, and it is that fear that keeps you true to yourself.

gale did lose himself and ultimately became one of his biggest fears. considering that his existence as a being of pure ambition leads him to constantly seek out greater heights, it isn't farfetched to believe that raphael's prediction will indeed come true.

player[astarion]: ambition? finally, a god i can get behind...

gale: i assure you, this is merely the prelude to a far grander vision. elysium's in for something of a shake-up.

all that remains of gale is a thin veneer of the person he used to be. what he presents is a hollow echo of the old gale. he does retain some of his mannerisms and quirks, but he is definitely a lot colder and more condescending. if his personality already changed that drastically after a duration of only 6 months, what will he inevitability turn into when he has eternity at his disposal?

essentially, you are aiding gale in the eradication of himself. eradicating everything about him that made him into the loveable, charismatic, awkward, kind, buoyant person he was. everything about him that he perceived as defective, flawed, and lesser-than. before, his hubris was merely an expression of his own discontentment and low self-worth, but now he is hubris incarnate. all of his worst qualities have been amplified.

gale: i am ambition incarnate. as indistinguishable from that most potent sensation as mystra herself is from the weave. and word is spreading.

nodecontext: palpable, almost unsettling excitement from him - hint of megalomania

he put his trust in tav, trusting their judgment and relying on them to nudge him in the right direction. after all, they had plenty of opportunities to show him that they are an ally worth following and confiding in. but in the end, the prospect of what he could be, the things he could give them, the enemies he could yet conquer, won over the desire to simply accept him and help him rebuild a life on solid ground. tav denied him the unconditional love he craves most out of their own selfish desires.

tara: you were looking out for him. i expected better of you.

as i've already mentioned, gale desires nothing more than to be seen, accepted, loved, and valued. having a partner who wholeheartedly supports and believes in him is enough to make him feel content. most importantly - he just wants to live. to enjoy life with everything it has to offer. his ambition can’t be quenched because he hungers still. believing that only by acquiring more power will he finally be enough and reach said acceptance.

we see in his good ending that his own contentment was even able to influence and (temporarily) sate the orb's ever-present hunger:

gale: [..] or perhaps the orb's hunger was fuelled by my own, and my contentment influences it in much the same way.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

it is devastating that he doesn't reach the same feeling of fulfillment if he chooses to pursue godhood, and is instead compelled to continuously surpass his own accomplishments. not being granted rest or reprieve.

gale: i achieved everything we hoped i would, and still i'm not good enough for you?

gale pursuing godhood isn't evidence that he "has been evil all along" or that he "just waited to be unleashed" either. we can't diminish tav's influence in this outcome, they are after all an extension of the player. able to steer every companion toward a path of redemption or to enable them in their worst traits. fandom has already established that by letting astarion ascend you are actively supporting him in becoming the very thing he despises most, putting your own ambitions and idea of what you want him to be above his healing, this is no different.

tara: the gale i knew wasn't like this. he recognised his mistakes. he was contrite. all he wanted to do was live.

tara: unfortunately, he fell into company that turned his gaze towards foolishness. yes, i mean you.

player: gale is his own man, tara.

tara: false. he was mine. though now he belongs only to his own pride.

yes, the epilogue cutscene is beautiful and there is something bittersweet and romantic about his love for tav being one of the few emotions that remained a constant throughout the past 6 months. he didn't need to come back for them, but he did cause he loves them still. no matter how warped his definition of love may be now. while it is abundantly clear that tav ranks lower on his priority list than they did before, his commitment remains.

gale fears isolation, hoping to never return to the time when he was hopeless and alone, stuck inside his tower. by heading in this direction he is once again creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

tara: [..] if i pretended you hadn't turned tail on every lesson you set out to learn, i'd have no right to call myself your friend.

morena may as well have already resigned herself to her son’s death. elminster partly blames himself. for his lapse in judgment, as well as being the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place. mourning the kind, bright-eyed boy who cried at the scorched roses in his neighbor's garden. tara won't be here anymore to care and look out for him either. he has lost his oldest and dearest friend, the one who witnessed his downfall from grace and never left his side. who believed him to be the finest mind AND the finest wizard she's ever had the pleasure to know. who was certain that he’d find a way out of any crisis no matter the circumstances. ...and if tav declines his offer to ascend with him? what does he have left?

gale: yes, i am rather radiant, aren't i?

tara: don't flatter yourself, gale. you've debased yourself in ways i could never have fathomed.

tara: goodbye gale, i hope the heavens are worth it.

gale’s godhood ending deals with the loss of humanity, the loss of oneself, and everything one holds dear. it is a devastating and bone-chilling narrative. it is a tragedy.

gale: i hope you don't think less of me. great ambition should not come at the expense of what you already hold dear. i see that now.

if gale could see himself, he would be horrified at the losses he deemed necessary to get here. he would be horrified at what he’s become.

[tokeposts]

⁀➷ FALLEN | BAKUGOU

pairing. Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Reader

warnings. character death, violence, blood, greif, survivor's guilt, truama, hurt/no comfort

genre. angst, soulmates au, canon compliant

notes. ouchie this one kinda hurt 👎🏽

1K | Amid the chaos of war, your unspoken bond with Dynamight has always been enough— until the moment you see him fall.

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The battlefield stretches all around you while smoke twists in the air, thick and suffocating, coiling itself around your throat like a noose. The stench of burning flesh and debris settles into your skin, an imprint of death you’ll never trully be able wash away. Your body is screaming, muscles torn and bones grinding against each other with every move, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that’s carving its way into your chest.

The heroes, your friends (what’s left of them at least) are scattered across the ground battered and bruised too. If you listened closely you could hear the ragged breaths of those still clinging to life, their bodies curled up like paper crumpled under a careless hand. You are not any different— torn open, limbs heavy, every breath a jagged knife in your lungs, but none of that matters.

Not when you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

Bakugou stands amidst the chaos, a force of nature even now, even as the world collapses around him. His explosions light up the gray sky, a desperate blaze of light against the dreary rain. You've always admired that about him— the way he moves, as if he’s made of steel and pure determination, every blast a declaration of his existence.

But something’s wrong. Something horrible, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

He's still fighting, still charging forward like he can tear the war apart with his bare hands. But his moves—they're frantic, faster, too fast. He's pushing himself too hard, beyond his limits, like he's racing against the clock, against the inevitable. His explosions are growing stronger, more desperate— sparklingly devastating— but it comes with a cost, one you can feel in the hollows of your bones.

You scream his name, but your voice is swallowed by the storm of battle. It rips from your throat, raw and shredded, but he does not turn around.

He does not stop.

Despite the gaping wound in your side, the blood seeping through your clothes, painting the ground in your wake. Despite the universe screaming at you to rest, to lie down, to simply pause.

You can't. You won’t. You’re running— legs moving dragging in the dirt faster than your mind can keep up with. It’s like being caught in a dream where time moves too slowly. You can’t reach him, and every step makes you feel that much further away.

You’ve been tethered to him for as long as you can remember— an invisible red string stretching between you both, tangled in childish arguments when you were five, in unsaid words when you were 13, in the fire that intertwines your souls.

Soulmates.

You both knew it long before the words could be spoken, though you never dared to voice it. Maybe from fear? Pride? Who knows. But you’ve felt it deep in your core since the day you met, a pull so strong it made the world tilt around him.

And now, with each step you take, that string feels like it’s fraying.

Shigaraki's monstrous form surges from the smoke like a nightmare come to life, his limbs distorted and twisted, swinging toward Bakugou like a scythe cementing his fate. Time stretches thin, your breath freezing in your throat.

Your scream rips through the silence in your head, but it’s too late. You watch it happen— frame by frame, the universe mocking you with its cruelty. Shigaraki’s blow lands— dead center— and Bakugou’s body flies, the sound of impact thunders, tearing the sky apart.

Everything stops. He lands in the dirt, his eyes wide, the fierce determination flickering out like a candle’s flame.

The world crumbles around you, but it doesn't matter anymore. The war, the heroes, the villains— they all disappear, fading into white noise as you collapse beside him. You are too late, a mantra that replays in your head over and over and over. You hit your knees, pain shooting through your bones, but you don’t care. You’re shaking, hands trembling as they reach for his face, his chest— anything solid, anything real to anchor yourself to this moment, to make this stop.

"Katsuki," you whisper, your voice thorns against your throat.

He doesn’t move. His body lies still, too still, and there’s blood— so much fucking blood— pouring from his wounds, painting the ground in crimson. Your hands press against his chest, trying to hold it back like you can turn back time with your will alone, but he's slipping through your fingers like sand, like the life draining out of him.

“Katsuki, please,” you sob, weary and desperate.

His eyelids flutter, just for a moment, his crimson gaze locking with yours. And in that fleeting second, he’s still there. Your Bakugou, the one who burned too brightly, the one who never stopped fighting, never stopped living like he was invincible. His lips part, like he wants to say something, but no sound comes out. His hand twitches, just barely, and you grab it, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

There was supposed to be more time. More moments. More chances to say the things you were both too scared to admit. To yell, to scream, to love him, to tell him you were soulmates in every damn sense of the word.

His eyes shake, and his grip weakens.

"Fuck, Katsuki, no," you plead with him, leaning down until your forehead presses against his, your breath ragged and hot against his cooling skin. "Don’t you fucking dare."

The words fall into the void, swallowed by the silence of the dying. There’s no answer, no spark left in him.

The weight of it crashes down, crushing your chest, your heart shattering into barbed pieces you’ll never be able to put back together.

He’s gone.

Your everything— ripped from you, stolen by this war.

And the world, the entire universe, your red string feels like it’s collapsing around you. The battle still rages on, distant explosions and screams filling the air, but it all feels so far away. All you can do is hold him, cradling his broken body in your arms, feeling the warmth slip away with every passing second. Everything has stopped, everything is ending, and all you’re left with is the hollow, unbearable ache in your chest where he used to be.

Just like that, the war takes more than it ever should have.

It takes him.

taglist: @beckixwsm @jkovlr

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[mbruben-stein]

How would Tokyo Revengers react to their girlfriend s/o taking a hit for Emma and dying instead of her.

A/n / warning: Note this is kind of going to be really sad headcanons. I am just warning you all before you read this. This is going to mention death and is going to be really sad.

Mikey:

Mikey's heart shattered into a million pieces as he watched his beloved Girlfriend s/o take the fatal blow meant for Emma. The sound of the metal baseball bat striking against their body echoed in his ears, sending a wave of agony through his entire being. In that moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion as he rushed to their side, his hands trembling as he tried to hold onto them, hoping against hope that they would open their eyes and smile at him once more.

But as s/o whispered their final goodbyes, Mikey felt his world come crashing down around him. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he clutched onto them desperately, unwilling to accept that they were gone. He could hear Emma's sobs in the background, her grief mirroring his own, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from s/o's lifeless form.

In a daze, Mikey tried to shake s/o awake, his voice cracking as he begged them to come back to him. But the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he collapsed to his knees, his heart aching with a pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. The loss was unbearable, the guilt of not being able to protect them weighing heavily on his shoulders.

As he looked up at the sky, tears streaming down his face, Mikey vowed to avenge s/o's death. He would make Kisaki pay for taking away the light of his life, and he would ensure that s/o's memory lived on in his heart forever. But for now, all he could do was hold onto the memory of their love, a love that had been tragically cut short.

The last words he said to his S/o who was dying in his arms: "Stay with me baby. I can't bear to lose you. Please, don't leave me. I need you... I love you."

Draken:

Draken's world came crashing down the moment he saw his girlfriend s/o lying lifeless on the ground, a victim of Kisaki's ruthless attack. His heart shattered into a million pieces as he knelt beside her, desperately trying to wake her up, to hear her voice one more time. But she remained still, her eyes closed, her body cold.

Tears streamed down Draken's face as he cradled her in his arms, unable to accept the cruel reality of her death. The pain in his chest was unbearable, aching with the loss of the person he cherished more than anything in the world. He couldn't understand why she had to be taken from him, why fate had been so merciless.

As he looked at her peaceful face, memories of their time together flooded his mind. The laughter they shared, the moments of pure joy and love they experienced, all now tainted by the devastating loss. Draken felt a deep sense of guilt for not being able to protect her, for failing to keep her safe from harm.

In that moment of grief and despair, Draken made a silent vow to avenge her death, to make Kisaki pay for the pain he had inflicted on him and on his s/o. He would not rest until justice was served, until he could find some semblance of peace in a world that had turned dark and cruel.

And as he held her lifeless body close to his chest, Draken whispered words of love and sorrow, promising to always remember her, to carry her memory in his heart until the end of his days. He knew that he would never be the same without her, that her absence would leave a void that could never be filled. But he also knew that he would honor her memory by fighting for a better future, by ensuring that her sacrifice would not be in vain. And with that determination burning in his soul, Draken rose to his feet, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, fueled by the love and loss of the one he had lost.

The last words he said to his S/o who was dying in his arms: "Stay with me, please. Don't leave me alone. I can't do this without you. I love you more than anything. Fucking fight, don't give up on me now. I need you. Please, stay with me."

Takemichi:

Takemichi's world shattered into a million pieces when he witnessed his beloved Girlfriend s/o take a fatal blow meant for Emma. The sound of the metal baseball bat hitting her body echoed in his ears, haunting him with the image of her falling to the ground. His heart clenched in agony as he rushed to her side, desperate to save her, but it was too late.

Tears streamed down his face as he held her lifeless body in his arms, his mind unable to comprehend the cruel reality of her death. The pain of losing her was like a dagger through his heart, leaving him gasping for air as he struggled to accept the harsh truth.

Takemichi's determination, usually unwavering, crumbled in the face of such a devastating loss. He felt lost, alone, and broken beyond repair. The guilt of not being able to protect her consumed him, filling him with a deep sense of regret and sorrow.

As he mourned the loss of his s/o, Takemichi vowed to carry her memory in his heart forever. He would never forget the sacrifice she made for Emma, and he would honor her by fighting for a better future, one where such senseless tragedies could be prevented.

But deep down, he knew that his world would never be the same without her by his side. And as he lay awake at night, haunted by memories of her smile and her laughter, he whispered her name into the darkness, longing for her presence once more.

The last words he said to his S/o who was dying in his arms: "I love you more than anything in this world. You've brought light into my life, and I'll carry your love with me forever. Thank you for being my everything. Please know that you'll always be in my heart."

[circeyoru]

Angelic Doctor _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Disguised Angel!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

You tried. You really tried. You ignored that blood-red colour his soul had and tried to change him, maybe even turn it into a lighter shard so he could be redeemed or saved in some other way. But there was a reason why that blood-red colour was such a dread to Angels like you, it was dreaded for the known reason that that mortal was an evil person. One that was barely forced to do evil, unlike those with criminal parents or cultists led down a wrong path. No, no, no. These people were the ones who picked their fate and enjoyed it

You had thought Alastor’s kindness and caring persona shown to you would help you persuade him to turn over a new leaf, but he merely favoured you and that was that. No benefits for you to take advantage of that would change the dark person he was

Alastor noticed your advances. Was it to get him into Heaven? Dear, you are so pure and adorable! Words can’t describe it! He was doomed to Hell the moment his shock turned to excitement at his first kill which was his father! Instead of getting him to Heaven, he wants to bring you down to Hell with him

He thought that spending the remainder of his time on Earth with you was enough, but it wasn’t. The more he spent his time with you, the more he wanted to keep you to himself. A darling just for him and his interest only

He started small, asking you out on days off or break time, taking you to visit local cafes he thinks are good or needs a companion to go for those pair offer deals. Then it started to grow, he’d take you to work, walk you back home as he insisted that the streets were dangerous since the cops had yet to catch that deadly killer, even wait for your breaks to come so that he could have a meal with you. He knows you’re a busy person, being a doctor that everyone relied upon and trusted and all that goodness

Originally, he thought your goodness and kindness were a facade to draw people in or a way to earn people’s gratitude towards you. Yet in his time with her, you remained constant, sure there were moments where you let out some steam and vent, but otherwise you were the perfect opposite of him. This just solidifies his fear that the two of you will be apart after one of you dies, forever

In a desperate attempt, he tried binding your soul to his so that even when you die first and go to Heaven, the moment he dies and is dragged down to Hell, you’ll join him. Vice versa

That when he found out you’re not even human. You were a literal Angel

You were made aware of Alastor’s attempt since your angelic powers activated themselves in the middle of the night while you were peacefully asleep. Your wings were summoned and your hair turned white as your halo appeared over your head. At the foot of your bed, you found Alastor with a spellbook of some kind. Around your bed was the setting of some ritual

Betrayed by your kindness, you rushed out of Alastor’s manor that he offered to you during the Great Depression that brought so much suffering. In a twisted turn of event, your time was up and your opportunity came in the form of a lightning shock. Thus, your return to Heaven after your journey on Earth in the city of New Orleans

Alastor barely had the time to compute the failed soul binding, then there was your angelic self, but the most devastating realization was your death. Of course, he knew you weren’t dead, but you’re as good as dead because he would never see you again. You’d be above and he’d be below. He’d never be able to contact you. Never

In a fit of uncontrollable rage and despair, he went on a murder spree. His clean-up getting more and more sloppy until he was cornered and killed by the pack animals that were called the loyal friends of humans

Note: A bit short, but that's all I got. I've seen a lot of Angel!Reader oneshots or headcanons or imagines and had to do one myself. It was fun but a bit short compared to my other ones ╚(″⚈ᴗ⚈)╗

P.S. I have no idea where you guys come from! Thanks for the support!! ( ´•ᗨ•`)っ ♡

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

[sweetdreamsbuck]

napping on the couch together if you feel so inclined 🥺💖

I'm here

bucky x f!reader (gif not indicative of reader description)

w.c: 2.5k

a/n: Col, this strayed far from what it was originally meant to be, but I couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoy it<3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

Bucky’s never been one to be overbearing, in any way.

Protective and doting, certainly– never so that his attentive means of care made you feel anything but cherished, supported, grounded.

Your Bucky.

Meeting you, loving you, allowing something so priceless into his world, has changed everything for him. There’s a burning need to be the one constant in your life that knows you. To be the man who can take the pressures of the world from off of your shoulders with ease, weaving himself around every twinge of sadness, eclipsing all murmurs of insignificance and unrest, until all you know is the weight of his breath shouldering your heart.

“You listenin’ to me?” it’s not a question he ever finds himself asking, but tonight, his girl’s exhausted. Completely drained. And she came home with the wind knocked out of her lungs and harrowing sobs strangling her light.

Those familiar knuckles, vibranium and oh-so purposeful, stroked along your cheeks while rosy concern emanated from the swells of his own. Bucky finds it necessary now– their delicate dance of outlining the shape of your nose, smoothing the lines of distress and the tremble of your lips resting against his muscles– they’re the culprit of what coaxed your eyes shut in mere seconds.

His hands wield so much power– fragile, firm, thrilling tenderness you weren’t sure existed anywhere else outside of his touch. Impossible not to surrender to, falling deeper and deeper under his protection. But it’s purely selfish now how desperate Bucky is to touch you, to quell every fiber of worry or unease with the brush of his palm. He lives for the moment your body relaxes under his care, all tension and pain evaporating within the caress of his love. “Someone ready for bed?”

His voice is a whisper, a warm and honeyed heaven blanketing every inch of you. How a man of his size embodies the breeze of gentle winds rustling through blades of grass, well. You never have to wonder.

A fearsome beauty to behold, otherworldly– Bucky shines, burnished and ethereal; all of the terrifying Angel you know him to be.

The patter of freezing rain and rough winds plaguing the windows reminded you of how safe you were inside the life you shared. After all the isolating thoughts, after all the feelings of restless insignificance swimming round and round between your ears– Bucky’s here, soothing it all. Erasing any lingering struggle to find your footing, leaving nothing but the ghost of worshiping lips with husky whispers of how proud he is of you, how desperately he loves you with indescribable devotion rushing from his soul.

Each stroke, each breath, each kiss that danced along your skin echoes the sentiment of words Bucky’d shower you with until the day his heart stopped “Oh my sweet girl, I’m here.”

Crying had never felt so safe than while enveloped in his arms, strong hands soothing long paths along your tense back, lips falling protectively against your temple. He touches you as if you're the very thing that lights the sky; his words are hardly enough to prove how much of a miracle you are. Because to him, you are.

His miracle.

His pink lips barely leave your skin as his words sink in– a devastating touch each inch and scar of your being knows; Bucky’s kiss is final. And it lives within each curve, each insecurity, each smile, each ugly secret he knows took all the trust in the world to let him see, loving them enough for the both of you and then some– “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Bucky’s lips brand the words permanently, in absolution with tremors of his vigorous desire to be everything for you. “I got you. Whatever you need, let me,”– you need him, always.

Tonight hadn’t been any different. After what felt like hours of being shielded by his unwavering tenderness, of sobbing into his chest so rawly Bucky swore he felt his heart shredding in two, trying his hardest to catch all of you and never let go– resting your eyes for a moment against his stomach seemed to be just what you needed. Your head shook against thick muscle, his relaxing fingers slowed at your hairline, “N’am not, not tired. Just keep talking.”

Cool metal etched silent promises down to your hip, his piercing gaze staring at you with that look– the one that says he’s perfectly intent on staying like this, loving you, holding you until the messy and unforgiving world made a bit more sense. He needs it more than you most of the time. And then he’d get to hold you some more; knowing the overwhelming emotion he felt every time he looked at you was at peace within your veins.

“Really?” that deep voice crooned, playful, “‘Cause I think, you’re fallin’ asleep on me.”

Work had been hell the past few weeks while feelings of being alone were at an all-time high. Between wrestling with self-doubt, a workload that had somehow weaseled its way into your life and into the nightmares that kept you tossing and turning, all of the yelling and berating that shook you to your core because of mistakes that were entirely out of your control– of course. It was impossible not to.

You were falling asleep on the gentle thing you could never, ever, get enough of immersing yourself in. The one thing that proved time and time again, you could never be alone while Bucky still had air filling his lungs.

And maybe that’s why it’s so effortless to do so. The one thing that saw all of your broken pieces, the sharp edges you felt would threaten even the strongest– Bucky saw them, could paint them all by name like the scars marring his own body. He held them so tenderly, cherished each piece of you that you deemed burdensome so fiercely; nothing about you was a burden. Bucky admired all of you, desired all of you with a fervent need. It made your head spin, it made you feel whole.

“I’m not, just wanna hear your voice. Promise, I’m awake.” Bucky could hardly find it in himself to blink, not when your lips spread in a sweet smile he hadn’t seen in weeks. So small, so muted compared to the brilliance that nearly brought him to his knees every damn time he was in the presence of one. But it’s yours. “Please…”.

It’s weakening, mesmerizing, the bruise you leave with every display of your love. The serum only makes a man so strong; he’d never get enough of the way you wounded him.

Bucky gleams, and if you weren’t so spent, you’d see the air of ease filling his chest, the expanse of his shoulders quaking with reprieve.

Just when you thought you’d known everything there was to know about being seen, guarded by your very own earth angel, his hand closed around yours, tugging it gently to rest against his sternum. Bucky closed his eyes, leaning down to rest his nose within your knuckles. Inhaling, pulling you apart by the very seams and mending all at once– it seemed almost silly, how necessary his lips feel claiming the skin of your fingers, but your body felt the sensitive accusation of his kiss tenfold, “Even here. I’m here, too.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that blurred your vision if you tried.

There’s a lilt, always, pleasant and solid in his sigh when his eyes meet yours, your nerves buzzing from the way he always breathes you in vying for more. Vibranium tickles the tears under your eyes with adoration, a confirmation, he’d let you pretend you’re not falling asleep, that you really wanted to listen to him ramble on and on– so long as he gets to wound you, too.

That’s all you’ll ever need.

Your body knows, even on the cusp of sleep it craves him. More him, always more. His warmth, his support, the irresistible smell of his skin that always comes before relief. It slowly shifts, uncurling itself from the dip of the couch and closer to where Bucky’s fingers concealed your own.

His hands revel in that, it’s all they itch for; guiding your frame closer until your body collapses with deliverance, lashes teasing against his skin while your breathing slowed even more.

His eyes certainly never risk closing when you burrow further into his chest, hiding that exhausted pout within the shadows of his neck just above rough scar tissue. How could he miss even a second?

The echo of your heart mirrored the air puffing down his neck with every exhale sighed and it’s a revelation. Bucky revels in how perfect it feels to be wanted, to be trusted so deeply by the person who fills every color of his life with undying affection. He takes none of it for granted, especially not the soft hums the most distracting lips fall to adorn his throat with.

And then they melt on his skin, the featherlight promise of Bucky’s miracle resting against his pulse, again and again and again– it’s hardly his fault a shiver eases down his spine. Those damn lips. He’ll never be able to find language to express to you how good it feels, how addicting you are.

He’d do anything for you, be anything for you.

“Alright, sweet girl,” those strong hands wrap around your waist, plush lips greeting your eyelids with a dynamic song that sings I’m here. It’s okay to let go, let go, sweet girl. Let me love you. You’ve heard it countless times– have felt it endlessly since the first moment you invited him in behind those towering, frightening walls of your heart. But it’s soft, orchestrated with vulnerable direction, scruff-laced harmonies whispered against every inch of you, ostinato declarations of desire with a certain timbre only you know the key of “I’ll take care of you, just let me love you.”

“You’re gonna have to hear all about my perfect girl, but I can do that. Jus’let me hold you right.” The couch pillows already share the imprint of your body pressed up against his, of countless hours of entwined limbs and thick muscles sheltered within your arms. Yet, it always feels new, a different welcome each time, somehow more familiar than the last.

Bucky rearranged you both lying with his back nestled in the cushions, cradling you right atop his heart. “She’s so bright, the smartest.” Long fingers lifted under your chin, catching your eyes in their fight to stay open.

“And she’s the kindest soul, swear she’s made of stars.” He couldn’t help himself; that breathtaking glimmer washing so peacefully over your face, the trying lift of your mouth; he smoothed the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before placing a kiss just under your nose, “beautiful,” on the plump of your cheek, “so, so beautiful,” on the corner of your mouth, “precious”. Bucky’s lips meld so softly with your own, your breath tasting of surrender, of bliss.

A sniffle slipped out, once then twice. “Strong. So damn strong,” a third time is when your body followed through with its fate, shaking slightly against him.

The way he holds you, knows you, worships you, leaving no room for questioning the torrents of emotion he treads– it’s maddening. Bucky walks with the years of his own pain, yet bleeds with the certainty of just how easy it is to love you, to devour you whole with the joyous bruise of being loved in return.

“Shh hey, hey…what?” he worried, rubbing a calloused thumb from your quivering lip all the way to your creased forehead.

“What what?”

Forced bemusement of his concern rumbled delightedly beneath you, “You’re okay,” his nose bumped against yours, lips following, “but what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” Bucky’s nose wiggled down to behind your ear, peppering quick pecks on the skin there until you were squirming.

You giggled– oh god you fucking giggle and Bucky’s ruined. It erupted, and he felt it everywhere; goosebumps, swirling until they bled so potent beneath his skin. Nothing else could matter more than the promising sound of the home he’s allowed himself to live in.

“I don’t know,” he feels it in your eyes– so telling of the devotion Bucky deserves– honest, and they can’t seem to get enough of the curve of his nose, the freckles that dance along the high points of his concerned features. Those serene, startling blue eyes. Always seeing you, always longing for you.

Home. Your Bucky.

“I’m just so tired.”

Bucky would relive every moment he’s endured to always know what it feels like to be loved by you, to be clung to in your most vulnerable of states, with glazed-over eyes tormented and drowsy, to know of the rapture that exists in holding you tight until the air drowning your lungs is full of his love, of soothing breaths. To nurture you, accept your feelings and emotions with open hands, however they may present themselves.

He wants it all. Just you.

Bucky could only pull you closer, breathing you in as plump lips gently lay on your forehead, resolute arms embracing you with reverence.

He clears his throat, ready for you to listen, “Sometimes, I wonder how I got here. You know how special this is to me? The light of my dreams, so damn comfortable in my arms. Did’ya know that? Used to dream of you,” his knuckles swiped away the remaining wet trails from your face, calloused fingers softly spidering along your shoulders.

“Really? My Bucky?”

My Bucky– god he could burst.

The flush spreading along his cheeks hardly phased him, he nestled his nose against you further, nodding.

“Didn’t ever get to see you, but I know it. Had to be you, watching over me. Better than I could have even imagined. Sweetest damn eyes, hurts my chest a little just thinking about going a whole lifetime without ever knowing them. Prettiest heart in the whole world, you save me a little more every time I look at ya. When I get to hold you. You have no idea what you are to me.”

Me? your tongue attempted. It comes out as more of a yawn, already asleep.

“All I ever needed. Lucky bastard I am, huh?” Bucky hates how the world seems to take your compassion for granted, walking all over your kindness as if it’s expendable. It’s not. Not even a little bit. God only knows the serenity it’s granted him, of the fresh air it’s offered Bucky to live within each day.

“You’re the first thing I’ve had in a long time. And you make me feel whole, capable. I could be myself, learn to, at least. Not… disappear. Could never do that, not now. I have years to make up for, a whole life to live. A home to get back to at the end of the day. And I got the sweetest thing in the whole damn universe to love. You got no idea…”

A questioning whimper of his name rumbles against his throat, safe and asleep in the soundness of his chest.

“M’right here, sweet girl. I got you.” Your Bucky, he thought.

The rain kept pouring, the night remained dark and chilled, but all Bucky could focus on was the heart beating warmly against his own. He counted your breaths as they landed safely within his black and gold shoulder– the only metal that would ever know the enormity of what a miracle you were– just as his eyelids drift closed.

<3

“M’right here, sweet girl. I got you.” Your Bucky, he thought.

The rain kept pouring down, the night remained dark and chilled, but all Bucky could focus on was the heart beating warmly against his own. He counted your breaths as they landed safely within his black and gold shoulder; the only metal that truly knew the enormity of what a miracle you were; just as his eyelids drift closed.

<3

[midnight-talescape]

𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓁(𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝓍 𝒪𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 5: Tentacles

This is like the sequel to something I planned on doing on day 15 for Zestial. So like it’s implied you fuck Zestial before.

This will usually end here, IF IT WASNT FOR THE FACT THAT TUMBLR DELETED MY ENTIRE STORY BECAUSE I EDIT THE ENTIRE THING AT ONCE!

Warning: Tentacles, mention of past relationships with Zestial, he also kinda bit a chunk out of you, but its more cannibalistic then vore so uhhhhh…. ooc etc, etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 3.9kish

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Alastor look down in disgust at the overlord trembling below him. He had expected him to beg for mercy, or perhaps fight back.

But to his surprise (and confusion) the overlord simply gripped the necklace around him tightly as he desperately repeated someone’s name.

Curious and intrigue, he didn’t say anything only watch as the Overlord have a mental break down. When no one showed up after a few minutes, he fell limp onto the ground, defeated and more devastated then he ever was when Alastor beat him.

Deciding he have had enough of this nonsense, he walked toward him, ready to add a new voice to his radio when he started laughing and looked at Alastor with pure hatred in his eyes.

“Just you wait…” he croaked out, “…they will come for you… oh I can already tell they will love your soul…”

Alastor cracked his neck, suddenly interested in what this pathtic excuse of a overlord have to say.

“They?”

“They will come for your soul Alastor… they always do when they find someone interesting…” the Overlord mumbled out before laughing maniacally and collapsing onto the ground,

Scoffing Alastor reached out his hand and crushed the overlord, not even bothering to add his voice to the radio.

What a waste of time.

As he walk out from the alleyway he didn’t see a butterfly appearing where the overlord was at.

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Fuck!

Alastor swore under his breath as he struggle to stand. His usually immaculate suit now tattered and torn around the edges.

His composure finally cracking as he felt the suddenly very real threat of dying for the second time.

He stare at the pack of canine overlords, as he try to figure a way out of this… peculiar situation.

He’s sure there’s a way out of this situation.

These dumb mutt look like they share a single braincell, he just need to get away and then he can torment them another day. He just need to escape maybe he can strike a deal—

Do you need help?

Alastor's head snapped around at the soft voice, his red irises narrowing as he tried to pinpoint the source. He could sense the presence, but the words were almost inaudible, like a whisper carried by the wind.

Help? He started laughing at the word, a low menacing sound that echoed through the alley as he straightened his ragged coat. Attempting to maintain some semblance of his usually immaculate appearance. I'm the radio demon. I don’t need help, my dear.

He swiped at a hound, sending it flying back, blood spilling from its maw as it crashed into a wall.

If you say so.

You quiet down again as you watch in silent. Only asking again when Alastor was thrown into a wall a few minutes later.

Are you sure? You might be strong, but you’re still new to hell. I can help you for a price.

Alastor pushed himself off the wall, he hated being in this vulnerable position, the thought of losing to a bunch of lowly hounds was infuriating.

He sneered at the thought of needing help. He was accustomed to making deals, but he held the power in those situations. This time the roles seemed to be reversed, leaving him at a disadvantage he was unaccustomed to.

But he knew better than to turn down an offer when he was in a tight spot. He turned his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the voice's owner.

A price, you say? he repeated, a dangerous edge to his voice as he stared at the hounds, And what might that be, hmm?

Your soul.

You paused before deciding to explain more, knowing how bad it sound out of context and you do like him.

He’s the most entertaining soul that has showed up in hell in years after all, and it will be a shame if you couldn’t have him.

I collect soul as a… hobby? I will lend you my power and you will have your freedom. You can request anything you want, and in return all I ask is for your soul to belong to me.

Alastor's eyes widened slightly at the audacity of the request. He laughed, the sound mirthless as the hounds growled at the noise, uncomfortable with the way he’s acting.

"My soul?!" he scoffed, his voice booming through the alleyway, "You expect me to hand over my soul for your help?"

He eyed the hounds, his mind racing with potential outcomes. If he agreed, he would be at the mercy of whoever came for his soul, but if he refused, he could die right here, right now. He could feel his power waning, his body growing weaker with each passing moment.

“Very well,” he decided, a devious grin playing on his lips as he faced the hounds again, “I accept your offer.”

You smiled before a whirlwind of butterflies appeared and time stopped as they materialize to reveal you standing next to him.

“Do we have a deal?” You asked again, holding out a beautiful crystal that glows with power as you patiently waited for him to accept,

Alastor looked at the crystal, the power emanating from it practically vibrating against his skin.

"Deal."

He reached out his hand, his eyes never leaving the crystal as he took it, feeling the power coursing through him. A wave of energy spread through him as his wounds started to close, the tattered edges of his coat mending and leaving him in his pristine attire once more.

As the deal was agreed upon, the contract bind you together. The crystal turning a brilliant shade of red as you collected his soul, and your power travel through his body in return.

It wasn’t long before time started flowing again, a content sigh escaping you as you place the crystal back in your body, not noticing the way the canine overlords was looking at you as though you were a lost and forgotten dream.

His eyes flicked towards the canine overlord, noticing their gaze wasn’t on him but you. Something about their look sent a chill down his spine.

“Do they… know you, darling?” he asked, taking a step closer to you.

"You remember us, don't you, my lord?" the overlord asked, their voice a low snarl filled with something almost like desperation. "You wouldn't forget your servant who had serve you so loyally, right?"

You look up, tilting your head in confusion, trying to remember if you recognize them from anywhere, “Do I know you guys?”

The overlord let out a whimper at your word, "You used to own our soul... you were the one who gave us purpose..." Their eyes shone with a desperate plea, as if begging to be remembered, to not be forgotten.

“I don’t remember. Beside I must have already return you guys soul…”

You stared at them your eyes blank and continued with a almost cruel calmness, “…then that mean you guys no longer entertain me.”

Alastor watched you closely, a sly smile creeping onto his face as you confessed you didn't remember the overlords. He could practically taste their despair, and it sent a shiver of satisfaction down his spine, the corner of his mouth curling upwards into a wicked grin.

The overlord let out a guttural wail, their voice filled with a mixture of anger and hurt, "No... please my lord... we can still be useful to you!"

Alastor took a step forward, his demonic form beginning to shift as he feel his new power. His antlers growing larger, and his coat turning a darker shade of red.

“There will be no need for that, i’m afraid.” his laughter ringing out like a dark, twisted melody. “You won’t be making out of this alive.”

You stepped back to watch the fight, the destiny of the canine overlord was not your concern.

The second you release one’s soul, they are no longer under your protection.

Alastor turn around to look at you, his voice a low growl, "I'll make sure to put on a show you'll never forget."

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That was almost a hundred years ago.

Ever since then you had kept in contact with him, even though the interaction was far and few in between.

Only really showing up when you felt bored and wanted to see him.

Or in this case, injured and hurt.

Alastor's eyes flickered open, the first thought to cross his mind was that he was still alive. He was so sure that death had finally claim him again.

He let out a groan, the sound amplifying throughout the room, and he wince. There was a dull ache behind his eyes, but other then that all his injury was healed.

"My lord..." he manage out as he sit up, his voice hoarse and weaker than he'd like.

You look up from your book when you heard him calling for you.

“You’re awake.”

Walking over you furrow your brow in annoyance as you inspect the now healed injury on his chest.

“I’m not happy, Alastor.” You lean down as though to make a point, your hand slowly brushing across his chest, “I don’t like my property broken.”

You ignore the way his body froze at your touch, the way he tremble as though being burn by your hand, yet he couldn’t bring himself to move away from your touch.

“You know you could have called for me right? Our deal said you can ask me for anything as long as I still own your soul.” With a little force you push him back onto the bed, your voice fill with something akin to caring but it was not for him,

Your annoyance was directed at the fact that he, who you see as yours was hurt. And not at the fact that he, himself as Alastor was hurt.

And that ignites a sense of anger in him.

It was always like this.

You will show up, save him or fulfill his wish before leaving him. You treat him like one will treat a pet, a prize, a thing, you can dispose of at any moment.

Your eyes will fill with something one will mistaken for love when you look at him, if it wasn’t for the coldness, the emptiness, deep inside.

You don’t love him.

He knows that, and he doesn’t care if you love him, that wasn’t part of the deal, and he wasn’t a pathetic demon that crave your affection.

He won’t be like that overlord he killed all those years ago.

“Are you okay, you’re a little quiet. I’m pretty sure I healed all your wound.”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice strain and clip. “Just feeling a little… out of sorts.”

He avoid your gaze, the thought of you tending to his injury, taking care of him, stirring something within him that he refused to acknowledge.

You nodded your head before zoning out again, unsure of how to proceed.

You have never been good with people, even when it comes to interacting with the souls you own.

Just as you started considering leaving, Alastor's hand shot out as if sensing your thought. His clawed hand digging into your wrist before he can even think, tugging you back against him.

“You’re leaving already, my lord?” he asked, his voice cold and a hint of disappointment he tries to hide under his mocking smile,

He didn't know why it was so disappointing, and he didn't want to admit it, but it was. He felt a sudden desire, to keep you in the room, and this aroused an unfamiliar feeling within him. Almost like... longing.

You were his jailor, his owner, and yet he still wanted more, the very thought was preposterous to him and something he never thought will happen when he made the deal.

“Do you… want me to stay?” You ask hesitantly, unsure of why he’s acting this way,

Alastor’s breath hitch, his mind at war with his heart. He’s actively fighting the urge to pull you closer, to wrap his arms around you, to demand, to beg that you never leave his side.

"If you're offering so easily," he manage to say, desperately hoping he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he felt, "then who am I to refuse?"

He watch silently as you sat down next to him, in a almost obedient way. You’re a walking contradiction, your power limitless, and god know how many souls under your command. Yet you seem almost innocent in a way, just listening and following whatever people ask you to do.

Like a lamb that simply follow without question.

Like he can ask you to do anything and you will simply look at him with your pretty eyes before following along.

Quiet.

Obedient.

Like he was your master and not the other way around.

His tongue lick across the back of his teeth, as a hunger arise in his body at the thought. His thumb carefully running over your pulse point, feeling the thrum of life beneath your skin.

"You know, my lord," he started, his voice low and hungry, "for a powerful entity, your wrists are awfully delicate."

He couldn’t help it. He want to trace his tongue across your skin, to feel your racing heart, to make you shiver and yearn for more.

“My power… they come from emotion and not physical strength, even though I don’t feel them myself.” You answer truthfully, only instinctively struggling a little as you felt his body temperature burning your skin,

His hold was unrelenting, his thumb never stopping its gentle, teasing strokes. "Emotion," he muttered under his breath, the word sounding like a curse.

He'd never been one for emotions, he'd shut them down long ago, and it had served him well.

But now here he was, burning with want, with desire, with the need to feel more, to have more.

He lifted your wrist to his lips, his breath ghosting over the delicate flesh, warm, enticing, before his lips brushed over your skin, and he let out a satisfied hum, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You said I can ask for anything right?" he murmured, his grip on your wrist never faltering.

“Yes. Anything you wish for, and anything you may want.” You looked into his eyes, “A little… perk for my favorite soul.”

He couldn’t help the please chuckle that escape him upon hearing you confirm his word, reveling in the fact that he was your favorite. His tongue flick out to taste you, the smallest hint of desire seeping into his actions.

"What if I say I want to taste you, my lord. To know what it feels like to have you under me, to hear you beg as I fuck you senseless." He lean in closer, his voice a velvety purr against your ear, "I want to stuff you so full with my cum, you can do little but let me abuse you, my lord. Will you still fulfill my wish then?”

Your eyes widen at his crude words, a difference to how he usually act and your calm facade finally cracking.

“I-if that is what you wish—“

Without waiting for you to finish, he was already pulling you against him. His lips crashing down on yours, rough, hungry, and demanding as his tongue slip into your mouth before you can react. His body pressing against yours, lust pulsing through him.

He let out a growl as you whine, your eyes now filled with tears as you gag softly on his tongue.

He'd been watching you for decades, watching your detached expression, wondering how it would feel to crack your hard shell and make you come undone.

And now he was getting what he desired for who knows how long. He was unraveling you, making you cry and make sounds that no one else have ever heard.

After a few minutes you finally broke apart, a silver strand connecting you before breaking apart.

His heart gave a sharp thump at the sight of you, lips red and puffy, eyes dazed and lost, a far cry from your usual self. His fingers trace your lips, his eyes filled with an odd, heated possessiveness.

"Yes," he whisper, his voice hoarse and deep. "This is what I want, my lord."

Grabbing you, he pushed you onto the bed, pinning you beneath him. His teeth sank into your neck, biting with a fervor like he want to eat you alive.

To swallow you whole, to make sure you will always be with him and him alone.

To make sure that you won't look at anyone else the way he wish for you to look at him.

His eyes danced with dark, intense hunger as he watched you struggle to keep quiet, your efforts to remain silent just fueled his lust even more.

With a snap of his fingers, tentacles sprang to life from the shadows, their black forms slithering and reaching for you eagerly. Tugging and ripping your clothes in a ruthless fashion, leaving you bare and expose.

One long tentacle slithered up to wrap around your wrists, pinning them above your head. Another snaked around your thighs, forcing your legs apart, spreading you wide open. Leaving you completely at his mercy, and it fill him with a sense of satisfaction.

You struggled a little, uncomfortable with the tentacles wrapped around your body, but quite unfortunately used to it.

If you had a nickel every single time you got tied up by a soul you own.

You thought distracted as you remember the only other soul who had the audacity to ask for such a… outrageous request. Only focusing again when you felt a cool tentacle probing at your wet pussy trying to get in.

The probing tentacle slid against your wet folds a few times, slickening itself with your nectar before pushing past your tight entrance, sinking deep inside your body. Your body instinctively clenching around the foreign presence.

"Mmm, you're so tight, my lord,"

His eyes glint with lust and sadistic delight as he watch his tentacle play with you like a doll, the only sign of his arousal being the large bulge forming in his pant.

The tentacle wrap around your thighs tug at your leg. Forcing you to arch your back, to give it better access to your now vulnerable body.

“H-haaa…” you gasp weakly, your body trembling as you try to hold still, tears falling from your eyes as you felt the tentacles pounding against your cervix.

The sight only spurring on his dark desires, he decide he like making you cry, liked the contrast of your soft tears with your normal demeanor, the way you looked so helpless, so overwhelmed, so undeniably his.

"Such a good girl, taking it so well," he cooed, his voice dripping with sinful satisfaction.

The tentacle inside you curl and shift, pressing against your cervix with each thrust, as if trying to force its way deeper into you, to claim you completely. The pressure and pain from the tentacles only making you clench tighter around it, creating a delicious friction that sent waves of pleasure through his body.

"My lord," he moan, his voice thick with lust. "You're so beautiful like this, all bound and at my mercy. Your tight little cunt gripping me so perfectly."

Two more tentacles slither up to your breasts, wrapping around the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing the supple flesh.

One found your nipple, pinching and tugging at the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

“D-don’t be so r-rough… haaaa!” Your body spasm as you try not to scream when a second tentacle saw its chance and slipped into your ass, “N-not at the same time—“

His eyes gleam with sadistic glee as he watch you squirm and gasp beneath his ministrations.

"Oh, but I think you like it, my lord" he purr, his voice dripping with dark dark desire. "You're being such a good girl, after all."

The stretch in your bottom half painful, but it only seem to make your body produce more nectar, coating the plunging tentacles and easing their way further and further into your body.

Alastor drank in the sight of you, bound and helpless, stuff full of his tentacles, your face a mask of desperate pleasure and pain bliss.

He knew you were on the edge, could feel your body tensing, could sense your impending release.

"That's it, my lord," he croon. "Cum for me. Cum on my tentacles like the good little fuck doll you are."

"N-no… wait..t-too much…” you wail your voice rising in pitch, as your body tremble uncontrollably.

With a final thrust, the tentacle break into your womb, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You wail again, your voice raw and broken before a tentacle slammed into your throat. Your body spasm as your pussy clench and flutter around the tentacles buried inside you.

Drool escape the corners of your mouth, tears streaming down your face, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as the tentacles continued their relentless pounding, fucking you through your climax, pushing you past your limits.

The tentacles showed no mercy, plunging into your abused holes over and over, the wet squelching sounds filling the room, your pussy gushing around the thick appendages, creaming them with your release.

Just as you were about to pass out, you felt a warm, viscous fluid gush into your stretched, pussy, the tentacles pumping you full of their essence before abruptly withdrawing, leaving you empty and aching.

Alastor gather your limp form into his arms, holding you possessively against his chest.

"Mine," he rumbled, the word a dark promise, a declaration of ownership.

He stroke your hair, his touch almost gentle, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking he had just subjected you to.

"You did so well, my lord," his voice a soothing caress. "Such a good girl, doing all you can to fulfill my wish…"

“S-shut up…” you groaned out, something you would have never said if it wasn’t for the fact that your body was so throughly fuck by him, “D-don’t expect me to agree to this again… you’re too rough… even Zestial is gentler then this…”

Alastor's eyes flashed with a dangerous rage at the mention of another male touching you, his grip on you tightening.

“Zestial, my lord?” He repeated softly as you nod dazedly confirming your word, his hand rubbing small circles on your back his voice getting dangerously soft, “Are you saying you let him fuck you as well?”

“Who else has had the… honor of fucking you stupid my lord?” He asked his teeth extending as he nibble your neck,

“O-only him and you…” You answered not recognizing the danger you was in,

The thought of another demon touching you, claiming you, filled him with a burning rage. But he quickly tamped down on his emotions, "Only me and Zestial, hm?" He mused, his fingers tracing over the marks and bruises littering your skin. "Well, then. I suppose I'll have to work harder to leave a more... lasting impression."

You screamed when Alastor bit down on your neck and tore out a piece of your flesh. Gulping it down, savoring the taste of your delectable flesh before licking away your tears.

“Shhhh… don’t cry… you taste so good, my lord…”

As you start to calm down, the wound on your neck healing and leaving behind unblemish skin again. He snap his fingers, and more tentacles slithered out from the shadows, their black forms coiling around your limbs again.

"Tell me, my lord," he murmure, his lips brushing against your ear. "How many more can you take before you break?"

[milliesfishes]

Would you ever write something where billy and his girlfriend get taken by rivals at the same time? They hurt her in front of him to get him to tell them what they need to know and he’s so angry.

౨ৎ꣑ৎboth you and billy are kidnapped౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Voices echoed through the expanse of the mine, making every word spoken sound like a haunted prayer. The only other sound was of water falling drop by drop from the ceiling, eroding Billy’s mind.

He shifted where he had been unceremoniously tossed to the ground, the ropes binding him fraying in a way that didn’t loosen them but dug at his skin. Maybe the reddened marks in their wake would fade with time, but the memory would remain.

You were in a similar state, if not worse.

Passed out cold, they had thrown you aside rougher than he, and you were caved in on your side, hair strewn over your face like the leaves of a willow tree. Every breath you drew was so faint that the strands didn’t even flutter.

Billy felt another wave of shame at the sight of you, the sorrow and guilt blinding him. He had been foolish, reckless to come back to you. But like a man dying of thirst stumbling upon an oasis, he had crept through your door and dropped to his knees, forgetting that he was covered in the dusty skin of the desert, and that he'd been on horseback for hours. All he knew then was you, reveling in your relief and happiness that he was home.

If you'd been plucked right out of Eden you wouldn't have been more perfect. There had never been a soul so sweet, and he'd never had a love so pure and untainted. You quickly became his center, his gravity that held the world in place. He had been so desperate to love in his earlier years, seeking women who made everything spin faster. That was how he thought it was supposed to be.

Instead of a whirlwind, a hurricane, you made everything stand still. And now all the horrors of living were overpowered by light. He saw all that was good and beautiful clearly. He saw that you were the best and most beautiful thing there was.

You, with your laugh like wedding bells and smile like gold. Billy always touched you as though you were made of butterfly's wings, as if you were a mirage that would vanish under his fingers. He was utterly devoted to you; the only way you should be loved in his opinion.

Though you opened his world to be clearer, it was still tumultuous. He was dodging the law at every turn, chin nearly permanently fixed over his shoulder. Normally he wouldn't have cared. But with you at stake, the most precious thing in the world? It was devastating.

You became his twilight lover; he only revealed himself to you once the sun's eyes were firmly shut. Days were spent in solitude, far away from his true home in a woman he selfishly thought he could have. Memories became gentle kisses in candlelight, caresses in hurried passion. Billy knew he should stay away if he gave a damn about your safety. The raw, desperate need for the feeling of you wrapped up in his arms overpowered that.

And now he'd gotten you into this. His reputation had dragged you to a corner of the earth he had hoped you would never know. Unable to tear his eyes away from your limp form sprawled across the ground, your dress ripped to expose your collarbone and shoulder, all he could think was of how bold it had been for them to take you both.

They had followed him. A rival gang with more boots than brains, still able to track him right to the doorstep of his sweet girl. Billy was aware of this possibility every time he came to see you, but he naively thought every time that the universe wouldn't punish two lovers during what little time they had.

Mere hours later he'd been hit over the back of the head, awaking to a pain in his crown and the sight of you beside him, listless. No gun at his hip, no way of knowing where he was. A panicked feeling had arisen in him. What had they done to you while he was out cold? What horrors had they inflicted on the only person he wanted to protect?

You hadn't screamed once. It was more eerie than it would have been if you had. The blood on his face was uniform at this point, and he wasn't sure if it was yours or his.

Leaning over, trying to shuffle through his bindings, he whispered your name hurriedly. Any sign of life out of you. Anything. Oh what wouldn't he give? "Baby...please..."

You were like a doe felled by a bullet, lying limp and broken. Billy twisted under the ropes, searching for a loose end. It was eating him from the inside, being so close to you when you were suffering and being unable to hold you.

He had always regretted your first kiss. It was the catalyst for all of this, for him pulling you down to the depths with him into eternal doom. You were the epitome of good and he was a guilty sinner. Of course a man like him would fall for you. It didn't matter how much he gave you. It didn't change the fact that your one fault was loving a man who didn't deserve it.

Bootsteps drew him out of his thoughts, and he instinctively shuffled closer to you. As if his body could do a single thing for you right now.

The leader of the gang- a mustached man- crouched to look Billy right in the eye. He quirked his eyebrows toward you, giving a low whistle. "Ain't lookin' so good, is she?"

"Let her go." The words flew out of his mouth against his own volition. Billy was well aware of how pathetic that made him appear. But his baser instincts were grabbing hold of him, chief among them the need to keep you safe.

Breathing a laugh that was more like a scoff, the mustached man shook his head. "You know the deal. Tell us where your buddies 're hidin' and you both go free."

Even though it wasn't the first time he'd heard these words in the past hours, Billy felt a pang in his chest. He looked up at the man with hardened eyes. There was no way in hell he was betraying the Regulators. Convenient or not, those men were his brothers. They'd fought against the tide of Lincoln County, forged a bond that couldn't be fabricated. He didn't care if they never found out it was him who betrayed them- he would know.

The mustached man seemed to read his mind. His lips turned slightly upward in an unpleasant way, and he got to his feet, dusting himself off. Grinding his boot in the dirt, he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Thought you'd be smarter 'n that, Kid. You ain't gonna like what you've done."

Before Billy could question him, the man bent suddenly, yanking you to face upwards, so your weakened eyes were facing him. To his horror, a knife was pressed to your throat as you struggled feebly, a pained whimper drawing from your lips.

Eyes widening, Billy's feet became a tangled mess as he tried desperately to get to you. "Fuckin'...bastard...you-!"

"All you gotta do is tell me where they are," the mustached man said calmly. His tone was too casual, too light. The knife made its way down your collarbone, past your breasts and down to your stomach. "D'ya think sugar's gonna spill out 'f her veins 'nstead of blood?"

Had his hands been free, Billy would have torn him apart limb from limb. Touching you, his girl with such intent was an unspeakable sin. Your dress was exposing your full left shoulder, falling dangerously close to your breast.

"Billy," you whispered, voice edging on a cry. Your hands were gripping the man's arm around your neck, chest rapidly rising and falling as your breaths became panicked. The sound of your voice made him nearly break.

Merely glaring at your captor, he kept his lips sealed. The chances of what he was doing being nothing more than threats were high. Your outline was shaky, and your lids squeezed shut, head turning to the side as you appeared to brace for the impact of the sharp blade against you.

The man grazed the knife along a torn patch of your dress, right against the exposed skin. He stared at Billy, as if with his eyes alone he could get him to confess. "Last chance, Kid. Tell me where they're hidin'."

He's bluffing. "No chance," Billy bit.

The awful sound you made as the man began to twist the knife against you would haunt Billy for the rest of his life. You clawed at the mustached man but he, numb to your resistance, paid you no mind. The image of you in pain sent a wave of alarm through Billy, and the tension built up in his body until he was saying, "I'll tell you!"

You were discarded to the ground, the knife clattering along with you as the mustached man swooped forward, eyes disgustingly eager as he nodded, encouraging Billy to continue. "Where?"

"The..." Oh he hated himself. "The house past the glen up north. A day's ride from here."

With a satisfied smile that made Billy sick, the man slowly rose. He kicked the knife toward him, saying, "Cut your binds. Ain't nobody gonna stop ya from leavin."

He retreated into the shadows briefly, and when he returned he was holding Billy's gun belt, revolver still sheathed in it. Holding it up tauntingly, the man said, "One last thing, Kid. If you or your girl ever come back to Lincoln we'll have a noose waitin' for ya." The words loomed threateningly over Billy's head. The mustached man tossed the belt in his direction. "If you know what's good for ya, you'll stay away."

With that final awful sentence, he turned away, engulfed by the darkness once more.

Billy scrambled for the knife, dragging it forward with his boot and somehow grasping the handle. The blade ate at the ropes, every cut injecting energy into his veins. He worked the knife upwards until his wrist was free, and then his elbow. Now he could reach the knots at his waist. Shrugging off those bindings, he made quick work of the ones at his feet, seizing his gun belt and slinging it haphazardly around his waist before crawling hurriedly over to you.

Touching you lightly, unsure what you would allow him to do, Billy waited with bated breath for any kind of response. "Baby...oh my sweet girl..." he carefully rolled you over, examining the mark the man had left on your stomach. It was bleeding, miniature pearls of blood beading on the slitted scratch. Even though it was hardly a wound, Billy still was horrified by it.

Using his sleeve to staunch the blood, he ran his other hand over you, checking for any other injuries. Bruises littered your skin, dust and dirt caked over your usually soft skin. Your eyes fluttered open as you weakly looked up at him. "Billy..." Soft though your words were, they held a world of hurt and pain. They hadn't even bound you...what had they done when he was out cold?

"Shh, I've gotcha," he whispered, carefully sliding his arms under your body.

You whimpered, shaking your head. "You...you told him where they are..."

"I didn't tell the truth," Billy said softly, looking into your eyes. He positioned his hands to support your body. "They moved from that spot a long while back." Your limbs reacted to his movements; arms sliding around his neck, knees bending slightly. "Alright...'m gonna stand up, mkay? Here we go..." Billy carefully got to his feet, taking care not to stumble and frighten you.

"What's happening?" you mumbled, face right against his neck. Billy rubbed your side, kissing your forehead.

"Shh," he murmured, beginning to move forward. "We're gonna get outta here. Gonna find somewhere safe where we can be together."

"Not going home?" you asked in a small voice. His heart broke in two, the strain of your obvious discomfort weighing on him.

"No," he admitted, squinting in the darkness. There was a flicker of light close at hand, and he pointed his steps in that direction, sure it was the exit. "We're gonna go somewhere else, darlin'. Somewhere safer."

You were too weak to argue, and so you settled for resting your head on his shoulder. He was glad you were resting at least.

Billy would rather dig his own grave and be buried alive in it than ever put you at risk again. You and him would be putting as much distance between the two of you and those who'd kidnapped you. Their malignity was sickening, and it cut into the divinity of holding you. Now he did it in a protective frenzy.

The dot of light turned out to be at the top of a crude stone staircase, and he climbed it carefully, mindful of you in his arms. The whole time he was wary of any attackers, but the space appeared empty.

When Billy ducked under the makeshift doorway, emerging from dusty captivity, he caught the last of the sun's rays sinking behind the rolling hills. Peering around for any sign of danger, he noticed a lone horse a few yards away, grazing. It was fully saddled, tied to the branch of a tree.

Boot and hoofprints in the dirt suggested a speedy exit. Billy hadn't even heard anybody leave- he'd been too focused on you. he wasn't sure if the beast left behind was an act of kindness or a warning to get away as soon as possible. He decided not to question it.

Billy spared a glance at you, making sure you were still lucid before he began to walk to the horse. He hoisted you up on the saddle first, hooking his foot in the stirrup and pulling himself up. You were positioned in front of him, nestled between his thighs, back against his chest where he wanted you.

In his element now that he held the horse's reins, Billy secured an arm around you, ducking his head to kiss your temple comfortingly. You turned slightly to look in his eyes, a look of fear and uncertainty combined in yours.

He held your gaze, determined to stay strong. Oh, how quickly he'd forgotten before. Billy lived for you. You were the lone reason he kept going, the only reason he had any hope of heaven. Throwing aside his previous regrets of loving you, he resolved that if trouble was going to follow him, and by circumstance, you, he would always get you out of it.

Billy smoothed your hair carefully, pressing a gentle kiss into it. The ineffable feeling overtook him, and he suddenly remembered why people fell in love. Even after danger's daunting shadow, he was set alight by the simple knowledge that you were his. He'd surrendered himself to you long ago, under the whim of your heart and soul.

Tugging on the reins of the horse, he spurred the horse into action, every new step a promise to you.

We're going to be okay.

[dyadicjustice]

can u do like a hazelxreader best friends to lovers

like they’ve both been secretly in love with each other and pining for years but were too scared to say anything (and maybe smut if u write that but if not that’s totally good)

ooooh let me see what magic i can work, bestie. aged up the characters to be in college, so rockbridge falls high is now rockbridge university. unfortunately no smut this time because i am awful at it 😅 but i hope you enjoy this little blurb instead

ao3 link for if u prefer to read there :)

At 11:30, Professor G's class let out without anyone having learned anything actually in the syllabus. But for you, there wasn’t much room in your mind for history lessons anyway. You were too distracted by Hazel sitting next to you, scrolling on Twitter and excitedly showing you every adorable cat meme she came across. 

You’d known each other since the 3rd grade, and it was safe to say that some things never change— especially not your love for one another as best friends. At least until the end of Senior Year, when you’d started to realize that change was inevitable, and you’d fallen hard for her.

You’d been overcompensating these past couple months. You’d purposely try to fly under the radar, so she wouldn’t notice you pining or the countless lingering looks and lip biting. Desperation was heavy in your bones, settled deep in your core. So when you finally return to your shared dorm, she asks, “Seriously y/n, it seems like you’re not even here most days. What’s going on?”  

You know you can’t lie to her. You can’t lie to those dazzling grey eyes, so warm and sweet and sincere. So you sigh and admit, “Are you ready to receive some potentially devastating information that could change the state of our friendship forever?”

She blinks and lets out a quiet chuckle, “Uh, no promises, weirdo. What’s up?” 

“Hazel, I’m being serious. It’s like... important,” you whine.

She hikes an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor, taking a beat to take in your features. She’s suddenly fully aware you’re uncomfortable when you start to wring your hands a bit. To calm your fidgeting, she slips her hands in between them and intertwines your fingers. You feel her sweet gesture start to soothe you, like when puppies snuggle up to you to help you stop crying.

She whispers, “What’s wrong, bean?”

Your eyes start to water at the nickname. “You have to promise you won’t get upset”, you choke out.

She wraps her arms around your neck in a comforting embrace, and whispers in your ear, “I promise. You can tell me, only if you’re comfortable and ready.” And her considerate nature makes you want to cave and sob right then and there.

“I love you, Hazel. But, I also… I just… I’m in love with you.” You can’t even meet her eyes out of pure embarrassment. You feel her fingers snake beneath your chin, and she gently tugs until you’re looking into her eyes. She stares into yours, into your soul, really. She whispers, “y/f/n, I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say that for years.” You both giggle. You joke, “That’s such a fucking relief because I would’ve shat myself if you rejected me.” 

“I could never reject you, bean! Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “But I am curious, when did you realize you felt that way?”

You sigh, “Honestly? I knew I was sure when we went to Senior Prom together, so 6 months maybe? But I also would say, I’d felt something since we were like 10. I just hadn’t realized how deep my love was back then.”

Hazel murmurs, “You made Prom Night so magical. You looked lovely. Not to mention, you just had this magnetism to you that had everybody staring. I was fighting the urge to kiss you the entire evening. It was hardest during the slow dance.”

You admit that you had felt similarly, explaining, “It was hardest for me to resist when you had that little bit of whipped cream stuck on your lip when we went to Denny’s after. I wiped it away with a napkin, but I wish I’d just gone for it.” 

You stare up at her lovingly as a subtle silence emerges between you, your eyes scanning her features before dropping to her lips. Without saying a word, you crash your lips together. Hers taste like… well, like nothing and like everything at the same time. Just chapstick and love. 

And it’s not your first time kissing a girl by any means, But you can already tell it’s your favorite after only ten seconds. 

Hazel pulls away, breathless, “So just to be clear, what does this make you and me?” She smirks.

You hold her cheek with one hand and hook the other around the back of her neck, scratching the back of her head. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes flutter. You reply, “Horny, Hazel. It makes us really fucking horny.”

She smirks, “Maybe we should… do something about that. Your place or mine?” She dopily wiggles her eyebrows. It’s made even more ridiculous by the fact that your beds are just feet away from each other.

You shoot back, giggling, “Yours. I don’t wanna fuck up my sheets right now.”

She scoops you up bridal style and sets you down on her bed. Those months of pre-season training for rugby had made her insanely strong despite her short and lean figure.

She kisses your forehead and replies, “Whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”

[piracytheorist]

Season Finale, woe is me T_T

Where did time go. It feels like yesterday that the first trailer for the season dropped.

AND THIS EPISODE DARES START WITH YOR HUMMING THE LULLABY

How dare they. Did I ask to be emotionally destroyed like this Yes I did

Bond is so happy to go for a walk with Loid! And Loid isn't exactly reserved with petting his huge dog is he.

I love how heartbroken Bond was over Anya saying she wasn't coming. He even looked back at her as Loid walked him to the exit.

It actually impresses me that Loid is training Bond right out in public, talking to him about where to bite and how much to make sure the target doesn't get too injured. I guess he doesn't expect the SSS to frequent a dog park?

I love the little pat Loid did on his leg to call Bond back. And then of course pet his head :)

Poor Franky's putting up with so much from Twilight, and he doesn't have to. I hope Twilight appreciates that at some point. I'm sure he hasn't developed feelings just for his family.

Sweet cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

Franky talks about how Bond may have associated training with his trauma from getting experimented on, and it sounds like brand new info to Twilight. I guess, despite how much his spy training has scarred him, Twilight has a hard time connecting "having bad memories about something" with "not wanting to engage with that something". After all, he'd spent who knows how long telling himself that he hated children because they're incomprehensible to him, and not because children crying reminded him of his own desperate times. After all, it's easier to do his job and keep training hard if he refuses to accept how soul-crushing that job is, right?

Damn, I got sad again. Because I imagine post-reveal Loid and Yor asking Anya why she chose them, and she says that she thought they were cool, and Loid has a RealizationTM that no he's actually very messed up and it's very sad that this little girl imagined that this devastating way of life could actually look cool to someone from the outside.

Not to worry, there's more angst I'll pull out of nowhere down the road!

Franky calling Loid out for not knowing how to relax and have fun >>>>

I love how after Franky left, Loid and Bond looked at each other like idiots. Old habits die hard, and an entire cruise of Loid trying to relax and have fun wouldn't be enough to break them, I guess XD

She's like "If I can't get real stars might as well fake some" Poor Yor continuing to clap happily even while Anya's origami star fell from her chest XD it taught her how to properly apply tape I guess, for later...

Pretty much everyone around them is wearing winter clothes, even Loid is wearing a turtleneck and a heavy coat. Why are those children in such light clothes eating ice cream? The boy on the left we even see later is wearing shorts

Guess an ice cream was an easy kind of snack for a kid to feel bad about dropping XD

Sweet Bond! He's imagining Loid praising him and telling him he's glad they adopted him, and all while Bond is wagging his tail 😭😭

This family is just four lonely creatures desperate to be wanted (even if Twilight is very far from accepting that) aren't they ;_;

Ice cream goes RIP and Bond has his (probably) first experience of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Look at him he's so 🥺

Later in the episode, Twilight goes all strict with himself for a laugh. Here though, he actually expresses distress and guilt for Bond ruining the kid's ice cream. He could have gone for a simple "I'll buy you a new one" without showing that much emotion in his expression and voice. In the manga he even has a typical "cold sweat lines" expression.

Or however you call that.

I don't know, maybe it circles back to any "starving war orphan" trauma he may be trying to tell himself he doesn't have...

I'm just saying, he was very expressive here, and he didn't have to. It wasn't a conscious choice.

Bond is really such a good boy. Every time he acts on his visions is to help someone else. From something as trivial as dropping a snack to something as important as saving someone's life, whether they're a kid, an old man, or a puppy, Bond is truly a very empathetic and caring creature.

However, the silly music playing over the vision of the old man getting hit was... a choice XD

Yet another example of the anime putting details to help the narrative: the old man is hunched, making him short enough that the corner of the wall/fence to his side is actually covering him. Which makes the biker not seeing him make sense, since he was behind the fence and appeared at the last second.

I actually felt shivers with the tone Twilight used here. Bond's behaviour is making no sense and is actually a first.

But also, Bond is probably only now realizing that unlike Anya, Loid cannot read his mind and cannot see his good intentions. He knows Anya would jump for joy for what he did, but since two of his efforts to help were met with reprimands, he's hesitant to try again because his trauma rears its ugly head and he fears he'll get kicked out. He probably doesn't understand that Loid doesn't know anything about his special powers, and so he can't let Loid's reprimands pass by him unaffected.

It's a bit similar to how he probably connects bad food with bad intentions, and thus fears that Yor will be mean to him, since she makes such horrible meals.

And so he allows the woman to get bird poop on her, but he jumps to action when he realizes someone's life may be in danger of the fire.

And first, I know we talk about how strong Yor is, but can we for a moment talk about how Loid held back this absolute beast of a dog?

Like, Loid allowed him to carry him around twice, but when he felt things got serious, he actually had no issue holding him back. It was only when Bond looked legitimately scary that he let go.

And that was... a shock. Have we ever seen Twilight like that before? Cause he genuinely looks like he hesitated out of fear... and maybe realizing that no, this time Bond is actually dead serious.

Bond probably didn't know what he would be looking for once he stepped inside the burning building. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who thought that that "Daisy" was a child... but maybe Bond is more attuned to scents of other dogs, especially little ones that need help, so he could find the puppy amidst all the burning smells.

Badass Loid saving his doggo!

Loid doesn't hesitate to run in after him, either. Even the idea that Bond could be rescuing someone is enough for him to take that risk. I love how, after two attempts of what Loid thought was Bond attacking innocent people, he still believes Bond would have a good reason to run into a burning building and runs after him to help.

I mean, you also ran into that building to save your - for all you know, disobedient - dog, so maybe it's the pot calling the kettle black XD

How sweet is he, though. He really doesn't believe in reprimanding someone after the fact - Bond running into fire was dangerous, but it helped save an innocent life... and Twilight's priorities are very clearly shown in that reaction!

I love how man saves dog, dog saves man, and then Twilight is like "Wow your nose is incredible" because of course he can't think of another explanation, and Bond's affirmative borf there sounds like "Yeah sure, buddy. It's my "nose" alright."

Even though it's only Bond with him, Twilight uses "Twilight voice" as he assesses the situation, and "Loid voice" when he talks to Bond. Is this him putting on a mask... or feeling a little more comfortable around Bond?

I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO TILL THE END OF THE NIGHT

That was so badass! But then!

Miserable creature

Exactly how much water was in that bucket to make Bond's entire massive fur soaking wet XD

This is both so wholesome and, me being me, so fucking heartbreaking at the same time. Like, the other guy let himself laugh his heart out at how Bond looked, but Twilight barely allowed a single sound out of his mouth that he couldn't control. And again, angst is my wont, so it really ruins me that he's not even letting himself laugh over something ridiculous, because he can't let his emotions show... even if it would be totally understandable for him to laugh at that moment.

I mean, as I said, he showed genuine distress when Bond caused the boy to drop his ice cream, but he stopped himself from laughing even when the other guy next to him was laughing too. As in, he allows negative expressions when it's appropriate, but not positive even when it's appropriate and understandable.

I mean, he has been smiling at his family and looking at Yor like the besotted simp he is... but he doesn't realize just how much of his real feelings pour through his face, exactly because he hasn't realized said feelings. Wet Bond was a much clearer example of something funny, so he knew that laughing would be a loss of control...

Anyway what I'm saying is it's sad. He shouldn't feel he has to repress his own laugh like that.

Kinda sad the anime omitted this still-trying-not-to-laugh expression Loid has as he sees Bond sniff around.

Bond's voice adafhgdsfdgfdgd

Arsonist guy is watching sneakily from a corner while wearing a hat that has "Fire" written on it.

Dude couldn't have been more suspicious if he tried.

Pretty sick how he got even more excited at the idea of someone dying from the fire, when he heard the woman say how Daisy was still trapped inside.

Vigilante Bond! Arsonist guy takes out his knife and tells Bond to not be disrespectful of humans and my dude you're the one setting people's lives at risk and having a blast about it

We haven't seen Twilight in such action in a while, have we! Ngl it was kinda, uhm... 😳😳

LOOK AT HIM! So proud of his doggo 😭😭

He then says how it would be bad if either of them were in the news... and you're reminded that this is fictional but still pretty accurate 60s-70s so Twilight has really avoided getting any picture of him published. But also Bond could indeed be recognized by any of the scientists... and it's actually sweet how Twilight cares for Bond's secret not getting out. He helped Bond with his "revenge" and now he's acting to protect him from getting targeted again.

I love how Bond fears he'll get reprimanded for biting the arsonist's leg and not arm... when in the beginning Twilight very clearly said he can bite either a leg or an arm XD

BUT THEN

He tells Bond how "someone" will be sad if anything happens to him (Bond), (and we get a sweet af montage of Anya and Bond having fun together), how Bond is first and foremost a part of the family, how his working duties should come second and he should look after himself...

Oh it's gonna hit him like a brick wall when he realizes the exact same things apply to him 😭

SHUT UP AND LET THE BESTEST BOI LOVE YOU 😭

He's not gonna tell anyone, promise 🥺

And he ends with a promise to go to the dog park the next day so that Bond can have some long overdue fun. Yeah definitely a very detached, cool-headed spy who only cares about the mission not destabilizing. Sure.

The anime did offer us some extra stuff, though!

I love one (1) gremlin

I actually saw it as a knife, too XD

I love her.

I fully expected to see the paper puppets (or whatever you call those) fall apart like Yor's victims' bodies do XD I was not disappointed XD

Anya is still working on accepting that her mother is not very capable of not sprinkling "murder" on anything in her life XD

Loid isn't wearing his coat when they return...

I am amazed that they've had Bond for, how many months has it been now? And yet neither Loid nor Anya had ever seen him wet.

Anyway, Loid appeared back without his coat because his excuse was that someone had sprayed water all over them, so he took it off XD

But where is his coat even XD

Her heroes!

And of course Loid doesn't know Anya knows about the puppy rescue, so he's not that affected by the "Stella" and is instead going like "Yo but could you get going with earning those stars already". He's not used to getting recognition for his hard work and he's not about to start... yet...

The closing montage was so sweet! Especially with the holidays around the corner, it was very fitting to see the children having fun and relaxing, Yuri being very NormalTM, Nightfall and Franky having dreams for the future, and the Forger family having their celebrating dinner!

I love them so much.

And thus, the season has ended, and this anime only will start wondering how her Saturdays will pass from now on :')

I am thinking of doing more crack recaps, finishing my character screen time project, and probably starting on some fics... but for a very specific reason, the completion of those will have to wait until the next season ;)

This was a wonderful season! I may have rewatched every episode almost three times, but I do wanna do a "recap" full rewatch of the season at some point, and share my overall thoughts. I certainly have a lot of time on my hands for that XD

[aphroditelovesu]

A Son for a Son

— summary: Lucerys Velaryon's death left you devastated and you knew you would do anything for Rhaenyra and to avenge him. Even at your family's expense.

❝warnings: mention of death, threat, revenge and angst.

❝ 🐉 — lady l: just a little drabble with angst, it takes place after Luke's death. After seeing the season 2 trailer, I felt like doing something and I hope you like it!

❝word count: 700.

You were there when Rhaenyra, your best friend and your sister, received the news of her son's death.

Of the death of Lucerys Velaryon.

You saw all the emotions flash across her face. Disbelief, sadness, anger and mourning. You witnessed it all, your heart heavy at the death of sweet Luke. You loved that boy as if he were your own son, so sweet and so pure.

He didn't deserve to have an end like that.

Your heart was heavy with the pain of loss, while anger boiled over not having been able to stop it. You felt suffocated by sadness, but a cold fury pulsed in your chest, an unbearable mix of emotions that slowly consumed you.

You couldn't stand staying in the Dragonstone hall, you needed to leave that place. Walking through the rain, each drop confused with your tears, and each thunder echoed the storm that was your state of mind. Dark clouds swallowed the sky, reflecting the internal storm that raged within you.

It should have been me instead, you thought. You should have gone to Storm's End and tried to gain the Baratheon's support.

You couldn't believe that Aemond would have been able to murder Lucerys. Although you were always aware of the conflict between the two, especially after Luke took out Aemond's eye, you never thought he could take revenge like that.

You had known Aemond since he was a baby, always taking care of him when Alicent asked and now he had murdered your nephew in cold blood. You knew it wouldn't end there, that there would be revenge.

Rhaenyra would never accept her son's death without taking revenge. Your heart ached and felt even heavier when you realized the consequences that would come from this.

You shuddered as you remembered Daemon's cruel words, "An eye for an eye and a son for a son."

The echo of Daemon's words reverberated endlessly in your mind, like sharp shrapnel piercing your soul. The "eye for an eye, son for son" echoed like a distorted mantra, a merciless promise of revenge that tore at your heart, already dilapidated by sadness. Each syllable carried the weight of an imminent threat, an unsustainable burden that consumed you.

There was nothing you could do to stop it, though. Viserys' death left the Seven Kingdoms fragile and the dragons danced. Anguish enveloped you like a dense fog, leaving you aimless, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Fear mingled with you distress, knowing that seeking justice would only fuel the cycle of pain and destruction.

The feeling of helplessness enveloped you like a dark veil. You relived the moment countless times, desperately trying to find a way out, an action that could have prevented the tragedy. But Viserys's death seemed an inevitable fate, a cruel twist of fate that threw the Seven Kingdoms to the brink.

You felt like a powerless spectator in the face of greater forces, trapped in a power game in which you were just a fragile and insignificant piece.

When you closed your eyes, you could hear the screams of pain that Rhaenyra let out upon hearing her son's death. And Daemon's promise of revenge.

You were powerless against it. You couldn't help her or Aemond. You couldn't do anything, not when you were just a pawn in the middle of a war to come.

But you when you thought you would never see Lucerys' sweet smile again... You knew you would support Rhaenyra through anything.

Memories of Lucerys' enchanting smile echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of what was at stake. Supporting Rhaenyra meant choosing a side, a loyalty that required personal sacrifices. That required you to sacrifice a side of your family that you remembered so fondly.

You would always be there for her. Even if it meant that innocent people would have to suffer. After all, you were at war.

At war against your own family.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to cry, knowing that your choice was made. They would pay for what they did to Luke. You would be sure of that.

You smiled pitifully. Indeed, an eye for an eye and a son for a son.

[zarasu]

Romantic bingqiu with queerplatonic liushen and eventual queerplatonic bingliushen, pretend relationship

---

When Binghe is in the abyss, Lqg gets into a bit of a conundrum.

Political peak lord reasons make him have to find a partner, as quickly as possible. Seeing his friend strangely upset about him, Sqq goes to reassure him that he could get any girl he wants and gets an awkward confession instead that Lqg, in fact, isn’t interested in anyone either romantically or sexually and probably never will be. Sqq, bro that he is, makes a suggestion. They’re going to pretend to be a couple so Lqg doesn’t have to get together with anyone that would have expectations. 

This goes surprisingly well. Lqg visits Sqq so often that he might as well live in the bamboo house too and no one doubts that they’re a couple. They get along well after a few initial hiccups and quickly grow very fond of each other until they’re inseparable. 

After almost two years of all that, Binghe returns from the abyss and, through the power of communication and Lqg’s bluntness, makes up with Sqq and returns to Qing Jing Peak as a disciple, miraculously recovered from death.

At this point, Binghe doesn’t feel entitled to his Shizun’s love, so when he finds out that Liushen are “together”, he quietly accepts it even though his heart breaks a little.

Several months pass that look somewhat like this: 

Lqg goes on hunts, brings Sqq back interesting things and is overall very content with his life. He also expects Sqq to eventually get together with the disciple he acted like a grieving widow about for so long. He’s secure enough in his relationship with Sqq to know that it won’t change that much, even when Bingqiu happens.

Sqq is ecstatic that Binghe is back and that he has somewhat forgiven him. He can’t stop touching him and making him spend time with Sqq and squeezing as much time and attention out of Binghe as he can while wondering why he still wants more. He’s also very confused as to why he keeps getting upset when Binghe talks too much to any girl or is out of his sight for more than two hours. Lastly, Binghe seems strangely down, but Sqq is sure it’s just the lingering trauma from the abyss. He also keeps the fact that his relationship with Lqg is purely queerplatonic a secret, partly because he barely even remembers these days that they’re pretending to be romantic and partly because he doesn’t want to betray Lqg’s trust.

Meanwhile, Binghe is devastated every time he sees Liushen being tender or comfortable with each other and more or less depressed the rest of the time. He looks at Sqq yearningly 16 hours a day and cries into his pillow every night. He hates Lqg with all of his soul, but can’t even find that much fault with him except that he doesn’t cook or clean for Sqq and that he doesn’t flatter and admire Sqq enough and that he isn’t jealous enough and does Sqq even feel loved??? 

He goes through a whole arc of cooking and cleaning for Sqq before he realises that it makes him too sad to do that when Sqq will never return his love. He also decimates three entire demon clans and the demon realm is weeping and desperately trying to find Binghe a bride so he’ll calm down.

It all comes to a head when Binghe decides he can’t take it anymore and packs his little rucksack to leave Qing Jing Peak. He only gets halfway down the mountain before Lqg catches him in the act and confronts him because: Is he going to abandon Sqq? Does he not love him after all??

Binghe tensely tells him that he doesn’t need to worry, Binghe isn’t going to try and steal him from Lqg. He was just about to leave.

Lqg replies that he better get his butt back up there and explains the situation to him.

Having his worldview rearranged, Binghe quietly goes back to the dorms and takes a few days to process the information. Lqg and Sqq are together but not romantically? Not even sexually? Binghe isn’t quite sure how someone can be with Sqq in a purely platonic way but he’s prepared to accept it. It takes him a while, but eventually, he reaches the conclusion that: if he has the chance to be with Sqq as long as he accepts that Lqg is going to be a part of their life too, he’s gonna take it.

Meanwhile, Lqg has told Sqq all of his confrontation with Binghe and Sqq is highkey panicking. What if Binghe hates him now for being gay for him? Probably gay. Admittedly, likely gay. What if he’s disgusted with him?? He wavers between going to talk to Binghe about it and avoiding him at all costs. 

In the end, it’s Binghe who confronts him and they have a long talk that ends with them snogging on the floor, Binghe crying, and two emotionally constipated love confessions.

It takes some time, but the three find a way to fit together. Bingqiu are unbearable the first while and Lqg goes on many, many hunts to not hear anything he doesn’t want to hear. But, eventually, Lqg returns to being a frequent visitor and even spends the night there now and then. Binghe grows… fond… of Lqg. He supposes. At least somewhat. Lqg thinks Binghe is a little strange, but he’s Lqg’s now, so that’s alright. Sqq can be a bit strange too. Bingqiu are still unbearable, but what can you do? In the end, they’re happy in their own way, all three of them.

[misslovasstuff]

Imagine laying your head on Sanji’s chest as it rises and falls, accompanied with the fast rate of his heartbeat. You close your eyes and wrap your hands around him, pushing yourself closer to his embrace. Then, you’ve met with the most gentle hands that caress your face, his fingertips tracing your skin and forming heart signs without even noticing. His chin rests on your head whilst his other hand rests on your waist, a simple touch of his sends your body to paradise, feeling such tranquility and warmth that even if you were found in the middle of the ocean while being lost, it wouldn’t compare with the happiness you have when you’re in Sanji’s arms, especially after a tiring day for both of you.

He’s your comfort and you’re his salvation. As you’re slowly drifting off to sleep, a kiss on the forehead makes you smile.

“Precious, - he whispers, running his fingers through your hair while moving them away from your face. - my precious love.”

Imagine having a picnic with Zoro where you’re sitting on plain grass near a river. The trees are on full bloom and the sun decided to shine more than ever today. You two have found a nice shade where you’ve sat and brought out snacks you’d prepared.

The silence between you is comfortable, short glances are exchanged but both of you are too shy to keep that eye contact and actually express your feelings.

When you lay your hands back, one accidentally touches Zoro’s who immediately reacts by looking at you with widen eyes and a small blush on his face.

“Sorry.” - you apologise with an awkward smile to which he shakes his head with a reassuring smirk:

“If you wanted to hold my hand you could have just said so.”

His serious demeanour shatters when you grab his hand, placing a kiss on the palm while holding eye contact. It was quite intense for the swordsman who did not expect such boldness from you.

You’ve never seen Zoro so flustered. He tries to hide it but there’s no escaping your curious eyes that pulled him in, the ones who lure his soul and guide him towards you.

There is a soft gaze, even softer hands that approach to cup your cheek as he looks lovingly in your eyes, glancing at your lips.

Was this man stupid? He was amidst the most stunning view where the river kissed the horizon beautifully and the leaves of the trees played a serenade above you. There were hectares of colourful flowers, each special in scent and a warm breeze that brought peace. And yet amidst all this, he decides to look at you, stare at you, observe every detail that might have escaped him.

Zoro adores your pure eyes, the way you look at him like no one else, with such gentleness and love. He craves your touch, your melodic voice that whenever calls his name, it sounds like an angel guiding him home.

“Zoro…” - you call him and his heart skips a beat. His body is frozen in place as he’s cupping your cheek and it’s not helping that you’re desperately looking at his lips.

“You’re… - he manages to say, letting out a cough to clear his throat. - … so pretty…”

You widen your eyes at his statement as his hand reaches for some strands of hair that he puts behind your ear.

Surely, this man is not stupid. He’s simply in love.

Imagine Luffy finding you got hurt by the enemy. He doesn’t realise that you almost died, stayed bleeding for hours and the immense pain your body went through… he doesn’t know, until he finishes his own fight and gets back to find you in Chopper’s arms.

He’s devastated. Luffy screams and shouts with hope that you will wake up and answer him.

Chopper on the other hand keeps reassuring his captain and pushing him away so he could begin to cure you, but Luffy’s worry is too much for him to handle.

He grabs your hand and rests his forehead on it.

“Why…” - he whispers, anger building up in him. Your hand falls off his grip when Chopper takes you away. Luffy hates it when he feels like he has no control, no say when it comes to you getting hurt. He doesn’t know how to help. If it was the case that he could give his life in exchange for yours, he would, within a heartbeat.

The ship is awfully quiet, everyone waiting for updates regarding your health. However, Chopper had been with you for hours now and he hasn’t gone out his room.

Naturally, Luffy is growing impatient. His crew mates have already attempted to stop him multiple times from entering the room where you were getting treatment. Now, he doesn’t wait anymore and rushes through, opening the door only to widen his eyes at the sight.

Chopper is by your side and you’re sleeping, all bandaged and treated. Our cute doctor gives a nod to his captain, reassuring him that you’re going to be alright.

Luffy smiles and sighs in relief, approaching you slowly and Chopper gets up and closes the door after he leaves. Everyone else looks assured and finally get to relax after such stress.

Your Luffy sits on a chair near your bed, grabs your hand and kisses it while holding it between his own. His eyes are only on you as he imagines the pain you must have gotten through. Luffy clenches his teeth and curses under his breath but then, a sound from you gets his attention.

“Luffy…” - you call him in his sleep and he tightens the grip he has on your hand.

“I’m here, you don’t have to worry anymore.” - his voice calm and collected, Luffy caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and smiles.

The sun begins to set and he’s still there by your side, watching over you. During that time he refused invitations to eat or drink anything. His hand never let go of yours even when he slowly drifts to sleep. This man refuses to leave your side and no one could get him to do otherwise.

He felt some sort of guilt, and we as humans know how much of a cursed feeling that is. It eats you inside and keeps telling you that it’s your fault over and over again until you believe it and blame yourself for everything. Luffy feels surrounded by darkness that even his dreams have turned into nightmares tonight, that is up until you regain consciousness and notice him by your side, sleeping.

A gentle smile appears on your face as you pat his head, trace his face with your fingers.

“My captain, - you whisper to him. - protecting me even when I’m sleeping.”

Luffy smiles as if he heard you, his face seems more peaceful since the sun had finally come and deleted all the darkness surrounding his mind, that was you.

You were the happiness and joy of his life, pure sunlight that warmed his heart whenever you smiled at him. He was your whole sky where you found reassurance and peace. Luffy had become the man whom you trusted and loved the most, someone who loved you immensely and wasn’t afraid to show it everyday.

Your mind plays memories of you and him which give you a bashful expression on your face.

Although powerless, you manage to get up and lend a kiss on his forehead before laying down again and holding onto his hand, waiting for the morning to come where you could listen to his voice, look into his eyes and witness that smile of his that unarms you completely.

[skayafair]

Hell Circles

Alright time for a soul-crashing post!

When I saw Edwin curling down on the floor in that room in Hell, trying to be as quiet as possible and not even trying to run when Charles found him, my mind faltered.

We know Edwin escaped Hell. So why did he look like he gave up? He hasn't been there for as long as the first time, I think even with hell's no-time he should have been able to feel this.

I explained it to myself in 2 ways, they aren't mutually exclusive and are both pretty painful to think about.

It was just this devastating to end up in Hell for the second time, and Edwin clearly didn't expect for anyone to come for his rescue. So his resilience and resolve weren't as strong as the first time or, rather, he felt broken by this sudden developement and didn't manage to bounce back from it yet (again, it wasn't very long this time). The boiling point of "I WILL get out of here again, everything be damned" wasn't reached yet. (As you can clearly see, I have no doubts whatsoever that he WOULD HAVE done this eventually, just after much more trauma and suffering. I'm so glad Charles came before all that.)

This is a psychological cycle. I often go through a similar one so I couldn't help remembering it. When you run as fast as you can and try your best to no avail until you're out of all the resources to go on, and so you give up. Curl up in the corner and hope the outside world won't notice you, give you some respite. The future seems bleak or non-existent. You give. up. It won. And then over time the inner battery charges, or the desperation reaches its breaking point, so you grit your teeth and get up. And run and try again and again and again. "Impossible just means try again". I thought Edwin must have went through similar cycles time after time. The first time he was dragged into hell, then the second. After every couple of "deaths". The worst thing about it is that while real life has at least one escape (not recommended but as a last resort it's at least always there if everything becomes too unbearable), Edwin has none. His only choice is either to tremble in the corner forever (and who said the doll-spider won't notice him even so?) or to run and be torn to pieces. Forever is a very long time. Only with running there's still this very thin, very subtle hope to escape, so in a way this choice is unavoidable. Oh, right, Edwin actually has another possible escape - into madness can you tell I'm fond of loveraftian horror. Locking himself up in his own mind might help, although I'm not sure it would have been effective enough. And honestly I'm glad he wasn't this broken after all.

So yeah that was fun to realize :')

Also Edwin doesn't handle change well, as we know from Charles' words. How jarring (beside the obvious) was it to be tossed from one demon to another? I bet the "punishment" changed, too. It must have felt devastating to figure out the way of handling one and get more used to it, more mentally stable, however horrible it might be, - just to be thrown into a completely new situation.

Let's add insult to the injury, shall we? Look at the corridors Edwin was kept in. The greenish hue, the dim light that makes even the most spacious halls feel claustraphobic. It feels heavy, weights on your mind. There are no windows, no outside, forever. It's suffocating. This place is a pure torture on its own, even without demon doll head spiders.

All in all, I didn't like Edwin much when I first started watching, but after completing the series and rewatching on top of that, I admire him. To go through all these horrors and get out of them is worth that on its own. But Edwin retained his kindness, compassion, moral compass and a will to help others in need. He didn't grow callous, didn't lock himself away emotionally from the world fearing to be hurt again - at least not completely, not even close. I really didn't expect to come to respect and admire a teenage series character like that.

This show has a heart in it, it's living and beating and big and kind, and its characters reflect that in full.

[dindjarindiaries]

Breakable Heaven - Chapter 10: Breakable Heaven

summary: The summer comes to an end, forcing you and Din apart—and leaving you to hope the galaxy has a different plan for you.

warnings: mild smut, sexual references, parental trauma, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: M

word count: 4.541k

previous ⟸ masterlist

chapter 10: breakable heaven

There’s not much left to the summer after your ultimatum is set, and both you and Din try your best not to spend what time you have left mourning something you haven’t yet lost. It proves difficult, though, as you feel the weight of it on your shoulders every time you meet his sweet, brown gaze. There’s a light that hasn’t appeared in the golden flecks of his eyes ever since you came back to the covert that day.

When Din’s training, you spend time with your Mandalorian family. You play with the foundlings and teach them everything you know, hoping that at least one of them will play the role you intended to fulfill within this very covert. You also absorb your time with Zena, who took the news of your fate just as poorly as Din—if not worse.

When Din’s not training, every moment is spent right by his side. There’s nothing else you can do than take advantage of every last second you have together. Each day is spent taking walks and imagining the future after your time in the Imperial Academy, and each night is spent memorizing his lips, his body, and the pure feeling of him wrapped up entirely in you.

One day, you won’t have that anymore; you won’t have him. That day is tomorrow.

You’re already thinking about this as Din’s mouth continues his beautiful exploration of your own, as if he and his tongue are trying to memorize you in the same way you have him. You don’t want to be thinking about your doomsday, though. You want to focus on the perfection that’s him with you, one body, heart, and soul for the last time in a long, long time.

Just not forever. Please, not forever.

“Please.” You say the plea aloud, hoping Din will take it for a cry for pleasure rather than a result of the desperate ache in every inch of your bones for him to never leave you. You wouldn’t be opposed to having as much of him now as he can manage.

“Always.” Din’s response is simple, strained from his own ecstasy and certainly his own emotion, but it carries a weight that goes unsaid. His forehead’s against your own, sweat coating his skin and yours—but it’s better than tears, which have been more and more common these nights. “You will have me always.”

You want to reassure him of the same, to remind him for the umpteenth time that you’ll find him as soon as you’re freed of your service, but you can’t manage the words. The mixture of pure pleasure and vast devastation is so dangerous you can’t speak. Only incoherent strings of panting breaths and gentle cries can escape, so you try to reassure him by raking one hand through his hair and the other over the skin on his back. Maybe the marks will go deep enough to leave him with this reminder of you.

Din’s gentle with the way he holds your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his own as he searches your gaze. “Use your words, ner kar’ta.” He swallows hard, and you hope it’s from pleasure, but the desperation in his eyes and the slight glaze of unshed tears tells you otherwise as he offers the same plea as you. “Please.”

“Always, Din.” You say his name as reverently as you can manage, never once straying from his gaze so he can sense your severity and deep meaning. “You…” you hiccup on a breath, hoping it’s a pleased gasp rather than a sorrowful sob, “will always have me, too.” You use your grip on his hair to bring his lips back to your own, wanting to taste them like this one last time as you whisper your next words upon them. “Par an ca’nara.” For all time.

That’s when you both break. No longer is sweat the only thing shared between your faces, as tears fall while the love between you rises. The knot within you breaks loose, one of pleasure and one of devastation, shattering you like splintering ice as you tremble from the physical and emotional ramifications of this last high with him. Din’s the very same, though it happens moments later, evidence of a strength you’ll always admire.

The distance won’t matter. This may have been one summer, but that’s all you needed to know what you want your forever to look like. Having to leave him, and the family that comes with him, hurts more than any physical wound ever could.

Din holds you tight as he lays beside you, letting you seek the refuge of his slick neck as you wrap yourself around him. You can’t bear to be even an inch away from him. You want to cling to this moment, to this very feeling, and never let it go. He has to know that.

“I can’t let you go.” The words are nothing short of pitiful as they fall from your swollen lips, your voice muffled by his warm skin. You pull him tighter at the mere idea of leaving.

Din lets you as close to him as you want to be. “Then don’t.” His words are soft, and much more composed than you expect them to be. His lips press a kiss to your head. “Hold onto me no matter how far apart we are.”

You furrow your brow, ashamed by the way the dark hole of defeat is consuming you. “How?”

Din takes a gentle breath, one hand running over your bare back as the other secures your head in place against him. “The stars brought us together for a reason, cyar’ika.” The wisdom you’ve come to adore so much fills his voice as he whispers to you. “No matter where we are in the galaxy, we’ll be looking upon the same stars.” His chin rests upon your head. “Keep them close, and you’ll have me close, too.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and release a breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “Promise?”

Din nods. “Promise.”

You refuse to cry, now, instead breathing in the scent of him and letting it relax you enough to seek some kind of rest in his arms. “I love you.”

Din gives your head another kiss. “I love you, too.” He repeats his promise from before. “Always.”

Somehow, you manage to sleep, and for once since you returned to the covert, it’s not fitful. But it’s not the sleep you’ve been worried about. It’s the morning, and that dawn has now broken.

Din helps you get ready and makes sure you’re fully packed before he takes you to say your last goodbyes. You earn an embrace from everyone: Zena, Paz, the foundlings, and all others you’ve grown close to. Cabur offers one last Keldabe kiss and dries your tears for you, and even the Armorer taps her golden helmet against your forehead.

Din’s grip on your hand is tight as he escorts you out of the covert. Each step towards Scespa’s landing zone feels heavier and heavier, and the silence between you and Din is even heavier somehow. There’s nothing either one of you can say to make this any better. This is the last time you’ll see each other until stars know when.

When you arrive at the landing zone, you see the Imperial shuttle waiting there. Only a few others are preparing to board it, with their family and friends wishing them farewell in a way that makes you sick. You look around for your parents and feel your chest burn with an unprecedented rage as you spot them amongst the others.

But at least there’s a bright light even amidst that darkness.

“Drinna,” you breathe the Twi’lek’s name as you tug Din forward with you. Drinna meets you in the middle, holding you close to her as if you’re her own. In a way, you are, and you don’t fight the tears that soak the fabric of her shirt. “Thank you for coming.”

“I had to, darlin’.” Drinna holds you tighter. “I had to.”

When the two of you finally pull away, she cups your cheek and reveals a bittersweet smile. You muster the courage to offer her a smile of your own. “Thank you for everything, Drinna.”

“You don’t have to thank me, honey.” Drinna kisses your forehead. “Just stay strong in there.” She pulls away and holds both your hands. “Okay?”

You nod, offering her another watery smile. “Okay.”

Drinna pats your cheek and turns her attention to Din. She sets her hands on his shoulders and faces him with severity. “Find ‘em.” She gestures with her head to you, her lekku bouncing on her back as she does so. “You understand? As soon as they’re out, find ‘em.”

Din nods with determination you don’t miss. “Yes, ma’am.”

Drinna returns his nod. “Good.” Drinna gives you one last embrace before she pulls herself away, and you know she’s only turning her back on you to walk away because she won’t be able to leave if she doesn’t do so.

Your gaze slides over to your parents, and you scowl as they try to make an approach. In a subtle move that says enough, Din steps in front of you, as if he’s challenging them to come any closer. They stop, understanding the threat—but not without narrowing their eyes. Din escorts you over to the checkpoint and he stays with you, his hand in yours, even as they gather your information and secure you for transport.

This nightmare is finally becoming real, and all you can do is hold whatever part of Din you can until the last possible second.

At least your parents have left, now. They had waited until you were officially checked in to do so, further proving how little they actually care about you and your future. You scoff to yourself at the thought of it.

“All right, cadets,” the Imperial officer who checked you in announces. “It’s time to board. Say your final goodbyes.”

Your heart drops into your stomach as your blurry eyes focus on your feet. Din’s free hand holds your chin, easing your head up to look at him again. He glances over his shoulder at the Imperial and quickly whisks you into the shadow of a nearby vessel, keeping you concealed from sight as he lowers his voice for only you to hear.

“Listen, cyar’ika.” Din holds your face between his hands, his intense brown gaze searching yours. “You play along as you have to, and as soon as you’re able…” he pauses, releasing your face to reach for a pouch hanging from his belt, “you buy your freedom.”

You furrow your brow, confused as Din sets the pouch into your hands. “What do you mean?”

Din glances down at the hefty pouch. “You take these credits and you buy a ship that’ll get you to the Rebellion.”

You look at him like he’s crazy. “Buy a ship? I…” You consider the weight of the pouch in your hands, your eyes doubling in size as the realization falls upon you. “No, Din.” You shake your head. “I can’t accept this.”

Din closes your fist around the pouch with his hands. “It’s yours.” He nods at you, his brow furrowed in severity.

“Din…” You search his gaze, trying to find the words that are lodged in your throat. “This is for your ship, to see your homeworld.” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as you study the pouch in your hand. “I can’t take that from you.”

“You’re not taking anything from me.” Din holds your face again, his forehead resting against yours as he nods. “I’m giving this to you, and all I ask in return is that you do me the honor of protecting you one last time by following these instructions.”

You study him, overcome with emotions of sadness, disbelief, and pure affection. “Why can’t I buy a ship and come right back here?”

Din shakes his head. “We both know why.” He runs his fingers over your lips. “Your parents will know you’re here. Even if we try our best to hide you, they’ll find out. This is a small town.”

You take a deep, trembling breath, hanging the pouch on your belt and holding his face just as he does with your own. “Promise you’ll come find me as soon as you can?”

Din smiles, a warm gesture that temporarily relieves every ache in your body as he nods. “I promise.” He brushes his lips over your own. “But don’t let the covert and I hold you back, ner kar’ta.” Those golden flecks appear in his eyes for the first time since you first gave him the devastating news. “You go chase your dream of helping the rebel effort with your remedies.”

You tilt your head, stuck between two feelings at his sweet words. “It’s not a dream if you’re not there.”

Din shakes his head, but his smile remains. “That’s not true.” He kisses your forehead. “Because you, ner cyare, are so much more than just me.” He nods to reassure you further. “You never had a problem with the prospect of my Creed. I’ll never have a problem with you dedicating yourself to this noble cause.”

You don’t know what to say. There really isn’t anything left to say. With these words, Din is proving to you the true depth of his love for you. He’s not letting you go to a fate your parents resigned to you, nor is he letting you retreat into the safety of the life he’s shown you.

Din is encouraging you to follow the life you have always wanted for yourself.

You kiss him, the gesture desperate yet achingly passionate as you taste him one last time. This is home to you, the warmth of his mouth on your own and each movement you make being equally matched with his own. It’s suspended in time, but it’s also not long enough, and you only pull apart when the Imperial calls out your last name in warning.

“I love you, Din.” The words are like a vow as you say them without tearing your gaze from his. “I love you so much. Always.”

“I love you too, cyar’ika.” He runs his knuckles down the side of your face, adding one last kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll say it again the next time I see you.”

Your lips wobble, but you fight the emotion this time. You hold Din’s hands and squeeze them tight, doing the same to your eyes as you force yourself away from him. Each step you take is a large stride, the only kind you can manage to fight the urge to run back into his arms. If all goes well, you’ll sneak off the shuttle on its next planetary stop for recruits, and you’ll use Din’s credits to buy a ship there.

Now, all that’s left to do is focus on the stars and count down the days until you see your beloved again, a man who’s so much more than a simple summer fling.

⋆˚✿˖°☾𖤓⋆˚✿˖°☾𖤓

You smile as you bid your customer farewell. As soon as they’re out of sight, you sit back in the chair behind your booth and let out a quiet grunt at the slight ache in your knees from standing for so long. All that running around the Rebellion’s various bases to help the wounded really took its toll on you.

But you wouldn’t trade that time for anything. Or, perhaps, maybe only one other thing.

You force yourself to acknowledge the ache in your chest that’s been ever-present since the day you left Scespa. It’s only slightly dulled with time, but you know it’ll never fade. There were promises made that day that have yet to be fulfilled, but you feel no ill will. This is a big galaxy, and the secrecy you were sworn to in the Rebellion no doubt made your discovery difficult.

He’s moved on—at least, you hope he has. You gave up on any hope of trying to find another love long ago. Your love of helping others has been enough to fill the void.

This isn’t what’s on your mind, though, as you continue to sit and neaten the booth in front of you. You keep catching sight of the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, the children who laugh with their parents and the parents who can truly enjoy their children being safe and sound.

This planet was occupied by Imperials until the Rebellion effort, now the New Republic, eliminated the Empire’s threat. Now, these families are finally free to be out and about, something you’ve been fighting for ever since the beginning.

You take the ramitrol from the display and put it away. Thankfully, it’s gone untouched. At least this planet is reducing its share of blaster wounds, and that alone is progress you’re happy to see, no matter how much it might hurt your sales.

You set the jar down and widen your eyes as you come face-to-face with a giant brown of brown-black eyes. Pulling yourself away just a bit more, you observe more of the little creature. They’re no taller than your boot, and their green ears are petal-shaped in a way you’ve never seen before. They coo in interest at you, their head tilting as a row of tiny teeth smile at you.

“Hi there, little one,” you greet with a giggle. “Where did you come from?”

The creature babbles and turns around, but when there’s no one there to claim them, they turn back to you with a concerned furrow in their brow.

Your breath is nearly stolen with panic for them. “Are you lost?” You ease yourself onto one knee, gently reaching out for them. They lift their arms to let you pick them up, and you stand as you hold them in your elbow. “Don’t worry, we’ll find them.” You give their head a pat to cheer them up. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Kid?” You hear a gruff voice from somewhere in the chaos of the busy marketplace, a modulated sound that gets closer and closer. “Where’d you—...”

It stops as the man comes into sight. It’s a Mandalorian, the first you’ve seen since the news of the Great Purge reached the Rebellion’s doorstep. He’s dressed head-to-toe in silver beskar armor, an impressive array of weapons on display and the outline of a mudhorn decorating the pauldron on his right shoulder. You ignore the sudden ache in your chest and muster a smile. “Are they yours?” You lift the little one in your arms.

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak. Instead, he tilts his helmet and takes a few steps forward, his gloved hands curling into gentle fists at his sides. You furrow your brow, slightly concerned by his silence as you resist the urge to take a step backwards. The child’s happiness in your arms, however, keeps you from doing so.

When the Mandalorian speaks again, his voice is so quiet and gentle you nearly miss it. “Cyar’ika?”

Your mouth goes dry as your lips part in disbelief. You give him a once-over, trying to look for something you recognize, but it’s impossible with all his armor on. For a second, you convince yourself you’ve heard him wrong. “Pardon?”

The Mandalorian takes another step closer, lifting his right hand and using his left hand to tug at the fabric that covers his wrist. Your heart stalls in your chest at the dark ink painted on his skin. It’s a wosac flower, the same thing used to make the ramitrol you’ve just set down.

The same thing a Mandalorian once gave you at the marketplace on Scespa.

You blink up at his visor, imagining the sweet gaze that lays underneath. “Din?”

Din nods, his cuirass stalling as his visor evidently takes in the sight of you. You do the same to him. It’s hard to imagine the same Din you once knew underneath all his armor, now somehow even taller and broader than he was all those years ago. At the same time, it makes sense, especially with the gentle way he approaches you.

He lifts a gloved hand as if he’s going to cup your face, but he stops himself, hesitating for a reason you can’t quite conceive of. Knowing you’ve both been waiting for this moment, you let your face fall into his open hand, his touch akin to the first breath taken after a loss of oxygen as you close your eyes and exhale.

“I…” Din starts, his breath hitching before he goes on, “I never stopped looking.”

You open your eyes at that, looking upon him with a ferocity of love you haven’t experienced since Scespa.

“I promise.” Din nods to affirm his words, his other hand now rising to hold your face as well. “It’s just…” he pauses to huff, “your Rebellion was too damn hard to find.”

You laugh, closing your eyes once again in a wave of relief so profound you nearly go weak in the knees. “That means we did our job well.”

There’s a smile in Din’s voice as he responds. “How was it?”

You face him again with a warm smile of your own. “Everything I dreamed of and more.” You free a hand from the child in your elbow to cover one of his hands on your face. “It was only missing one thing.”

Din tilts his helmet, waiting for your answer. Memories you spent years trying to repress flood your mind all at once, from that first wosac flower to his final promise of your reunion.

“You.”

Din’s helmet straightens again, his gloved thumbs running over your cheeks as his beskar comes closer to you. The feeling of the metal against your forehead is new, yet somehow familiar, as if you’ve been preparing for this over all these years. You know you have, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise. “Well, I’m here now.” Din’s words are soft, crackling through his modulator in a way that proves he’s said them just as much for himself as he has for you. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

You beam at him. “Yeah?”

Din nods. “Yeah.” He doesn’t hesitate in following through on that promise he made you all those years ago. “I love you.” He frees one hand from you to cross his fist over his cuirass in a dutiful manner. “I always have. It’s never wavered, never changed.” He adds one more nod. “I swear it upon the Ancestors.”

“I know.” Your voice trembles as you reach forward to kiss his beskar cheek. “Because you were always a shit liar.” Din chuckles at that, relief flooding him in the way his tense armored shoulders relax. You wait until he’s fully facing you again to go on. “I love you, too.”

Din takes you close, and you bring yourself even closer, until your body is nearly flush against his armor. The whole planet, the whole galaxy, has faded around you, and neither one of you cares. Din instead continues to cradle your face, his visor inspecting you as if he’s searching for wounds. “Did you look at the stars?”

“Yes.” You answer his question truthfully. “Every night.”

“Me too.” Din’s visor meets your gaze again. “Did it help?”

You nod. “More than you’ll ever know.”

A sudden coo from the corner of your arm draws both your and Din’s attention. The little creature’s ears are raised high on their head as they look between you and Din. The two of you chuckle as you look up at Din with disbelief.

“Is he yours?”

Din nods. “For now.” The way he says the words proves he’s not happy with them. “I’ve been quested by the Armorer to reunite him with the Jedi.”

You widen your eyes at that, at least a hundred questions running through your mind at his words—but only one thought’s able to break through. “I met a Jedi.” You nod to further affirm your words. “I saw him a few times at our bases.”

Din tilts his helmet at that. “Well then, ner kar’ta, I guess you’ll just have to come with us.”

You set a hand on his cuirass and raise your brow. “I was coming anyway.”

Din softens and rests his helmet against your forehead again. “I know.”

“You need to tell me all about your adventures.” You think back on everything from your days on Scespa. “And the covert, and how the Creed’s been treating you.” Your gaze falls to the child in your arms. “And how you found this little guy.”

Din nods. “I’ll tell you everything.” He tilts his helmet at you. “So long as I get to hear about your adventures, too.”

You beam at him. “Of course.” You lower your voice. “So long as we still have time to… make up for all these years.”

Din runs his gloved fingers down your cheek. “All these years later, and you’re still able to say exactly what’s on my mind.” He hesitates, as if he’s just remembered he’s wearing a helmet. “But I’ll have to make you my riduur first.”

You raise your brow. “You say that like I might say no.”

Din draws in a quiet breath. “Well, I just…”

You stop him by going on. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, Din. Trust me.” Your hand brushes up to his cowl as you gently take it in your grasp. “I want to marry you.”

Din’s visor studies you once more, as if he’s searching for a lie, before he nods. “All right.” His voice is coated with relief as he sets his visor on the booth you’re no longer interested in running. “Then I’ll help you pack up.”

It’s as if no time’s passed. Watching Din load up your hovercart for you brings you back to that first day you met, when he returned at night to do the very same for you. Every moment feels like sweet nostalgia, even when you exchange your vows and earn the honor of seeing Din’s face for the first time in much too long.

And that’s when you meet those brown eyes again, earning the very same feeling you had the first time you ever saw them. Your heart somersaults in your chest, the moment suspending in time as the same boyish and charming smile you fell in love with so long ago spreads across his lips. Only this time, his brown hair has gotten somewhat longer, his untrimmed jaw and upper lip revealing just how much your adoration of him has somehow gotten stronger with age.

It’s the beginning of your forever, and yet it’s the same beginning as the earliest part of your story—a revival of your shared heaven that is more unbreakable than you could’ve ever dreamt.

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[captain-of-the-roses]

❗️Please Read❗️

I have gotten reached out to by @ghadabanat for aid, and I hope you'll take this time to read her story as well

You can find the verification here!!

I am Ghada, a mother of a child, and I am communicating with you from the heart of Gaza, a place that has become synonymous with resilience and strength in the face of unimaginable challenges. Our story is one of survival, loss, and an urgent call for help.

Over the past weeks, my husband, my 9-month-old daughter, and my family of 14 have lived in fear and uncertainty as Gaza suffers from relentless and devastating bombing. The once-vibrant streets are now filled with echoes of pain, and our homes are the frontline of a conflict that claims the lives of our families, friends and colleagues every day. On October 7, our lives were shattered. The Israeli army asked us to evacuate our homes in the Gaza Strip. In a desperate attempt to survive, we packed up our remaining belongings and evacuated elsewhere, hoping the worst was over. We did not know that this was only the beginning. At the moment of the evacuation, our tears were flowing, and we said goodbye to the rooms of the house and every corner in it. I cried as I looked at my house, which I had only spent a year in. I left my house while looking at it, and it was the last look. The occupation demolished our house. And he destroyed our dreams and our lives Now, as the situation escalates, we find ourselves faced with an unimaginable choice: evacuate for a second time or risk becoming victims of aggression. Every evacuation brings us face to face with the harsh reality that we may not survive the next bombardment. We suffer from hunger, fear, and a lack of medical and health capabilities, and I cannot provide my daughter with the simplest things, such as milk, pampers, and clothes. We do not have anything. We have not had electricity, pure water, or the Internet since the beginning of the Israeli aggression, not to mention the challenges that we women and our children face in this crisis. Circumstances. We haven't had a drop of clean water in over 60 days, and it's getting worse this cold winter. Currently, my daughter and I and my family are trying to survive, and I am unable to protect my daughter from hunger and death. I just want safety, and there is no safety in Gaza. We are forced to leave the country under these harsh conditions of displacement, killing and famine. The image of my daughter crying in fear of the bombing and the sounds of the shells is still in my mind. I do not want to lose her soul in these violent massacres, whether intended or unintentional, as a result of barbaric aggression. But it is difficult for me, and getting out of Gaza to save my daughter is my goal, and keeping her alive requires a lot of money that we do not have. I started this campaign trying to get out of Gaza with my daughter and husband across the Egyptian border, and if that fails, I will use this money to support my family and try to rebuild and compensate for the losses we suffered. Here we turn to you, our global community, with a request for help and a glimmer of hope. We are launching a GoFundMe campaign to raise funds that will allow us to put an end to the heart-wrenching aggression that has destroyed Gaza. Our goal is to provide the means necessary to move to a safer place, away from the immediate dangers that surround us.

€5,389 raised of €50,000

Please Share And Donate

[eiightysixbaby]

“how the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving.”

pure angst bc ‘how did it end’ by miss swift brought this out of me

It felt like a slow death. A drawn out, medically induced haze, meant only to keep you breathing for as long as possible; no matter if you were miserable.

What was once a bright, streaking ball of golden light had now completely fizzled, leaving ashy remnants on the very ground beneath your feet. Surrounding you and him in a pathetic gray dust.

The last year of your relationship felt less like a relationship and more like a business partnership; something transactional and mandatory, but not something that either one of you particularly wanted. The light was fading, the oil was running out in the lamp that once kept your passions burning bright, leaving each of you hollow and apathetic.

You’d tried to keep the spark alive, cupping it in your hands and pleading with him to give it the oxygen it needed to thrive. To breathe life into the collective whole you’d created with him.

Turns out you can only try so hard.

And once the haggard rattle of your love affair’s final breaths had come to a halt, only an ear-splitting silence was left in its wake. There was no screaming, no desperate pleading sobs, just quiet tears in the dead of night mourning something that was once so vivid and full of life.

Eddie had packed his bags and left, his face void of color and emotionless as he walked out the door for the last time. You’d likely never see those eyes again, those vast pools of anguish that, as of late, had come to feel like a dark ocean swallowing you whole.

They used to feel like floating in warm, sunlit water.

There was a part of you that, in the moment he left, remembered how the relationship was only a couple years ago. You’d thought about situations like this at random from time to time when you were in your prime. ‘What would I do if he left me? What would he do if I left him?’ And it was a safe thing to wonder about because you knew neither of you would be leaving, you were so naively confident in your love.

You were certain in those moments that if he had left, it would destroy you. You’d never recover, never move on. It would have had you clinging to him, begging him to stay, pounding on the floor with open palms like an upset child.

So now to watch him go without a final word was simultaneously freeing and devastating, his increasing absence in your life throughout the last year finally rounding out. It is both a good and a bad thing.

You rub your bleary eyes, run dry of your mournful tears as you move to sit on the floor, knees pressed to your chest as you stare blankly into the room before you.

You know that things are better this way. It’s no use carrying around a shell of what your romance used to be; the cold hallowed spirit that remains. You’d spent months walking around with a phantom chained to your ankle, dragging this carcass with you everywhere you went. It was time for that to end.

Now your ghost has left you, left your life. The flames of love have been hushed out, and in the wake of this death you can start anew.