#to having it all ripped away. and now he is actively destroying it himself with his own hands

[imitor]

i do think the way fandom chooses to perceive jayce is ... questionablE. not only do they boil him down to an idiot (it is funny but like. come on) but also i think we need to discuss the fact that whatever happened after jinx's assault on the council, whatever he went through within the arcane, jayce has lost everything he built. regardless of whether it was GOOD, regardless of whether it was right, he has lost and is now actively destroying what he sought to build. and he kept his promise - he has "destroyed" the hexcore, after believing that using it to save viktor's life would have placed above the need for it to be gone.

[yanderefarm]

vampire's pet finding out we got a new pet?

silvan getting jealous

cw;; angst, blood drinking mentioned, vampires, violence mentioned

i feel like silvan's just an angst magnet. of course you're a cool powerful vampire you're entitled to have multiple pets. it's just going to absolutely destroy silvan's heart and self esteem. but dw its not canon.

it wasn't unusual for a vampire to have multiple pets, many lower rank vampires would try to use multiple pets to boost their status. it was just unusual for you. you had avoided getting a pet for almost a millennium and now you were getting a second? even your underlings found it surprising and unusual.

silvan hated their concerned eyes boring into his skin as he walked through the halls. every servant in the manor stared at him with a weird sense of pity. it was especially bad when he would ask where you were and he could tell you were with the other one based on the maid's down turned eyes. he wanted to run to you and pull your new pet out of your arms but he knew that if he dared to act out it would only go to show you how undesirable he really was. so silvan kept his head down.

he was wandering the halls aimlessly, nowhere to go since you were with the other one. he didn't even notice that he had headed to your office on instinct until he was standing in front of the door. he would just look at you once he figured, your powerful visage should be enough to satisfy him for a while. his plan was foiled.

"what are you doing?" your voice called from beside him.

silvan shrank in front of your office door. "...i was.. looking.. for you...?"

he heard the giggle of your other pet. his stomach hurt like that little sound had just punched him full force. he couldn't bring himself to turn his head, he didn't want to see how close you were to the other one.

"im here. do you need something?" you sounded so nonchalant like you weren't actively ripping his heart out. it sucked that only made you seem cooler.

'don't ask if he's hungry, don't ask if he's hungry, don't ask if he's hungry' silvan's mind screamed at him. unfortunately his tongue didn't get the message. "are you hungry, master?"

god damnit.

"hm. i suppose." your words finally drew silvan to look at you, hope in his eyes.

that hope was immediately crushed when he saw your new pet hanging on your arm. there were obvious fresh teeth marks in his skin along his neck and arm. you didn't bite into silvan's arm usually. were you so insatiable that you had to bite him over and over again? the sick feeling in silvan's stomach felt worse.

"come along." you walked past him, pushing your office open. that one was right behind you.

silvan didn't know if you were talking to him, if you were then this was probably going to result in punishment. but he couldn't stand being near that one another minute. he ran past you. he ran until his muscles burned. he ran until he couldn't breathe anymore.

when he finally collapsed he found himself on his hands and knees in front of the front gate. his lungs were burning and he couldn't even cry because he was busy gasping for air. suddenly, lightning cracked across the cloudy sky as rain began pouring down. silvan shivered in the cold as his clothes were getting drenched. fighting against his own screaming muscles he forced himself to stand up.

he stared at the gate in front of him, the temptation of freedom right in front of him. you might not even chase him with your new pet having all your attention. but even with you hurting his heart like you were he could never leave you. he could never hate you. you were the only one who ever gave him a reason to live. without you why should he even bother? if you were truly sick of him like he thought you were then he would simply wait for you to come kill him. maybe not tonight. maybe not tomorrow. but someday you would be the only thing that granted him freedom by freeing his head from his useless body. with a heavy heart he shivered as he turned away from the gate instead dragging himself to the greenhouse nearby.

[mishy-mashy]

Something I made in a post that I think'll be lost in the texts + expanded a bit more

These panels are chronological events following AFO's pursuit of Yoichi's Factor.

AFO could tell if people were related through a Quirk. AFO and OFA also are connected to each other. In Kamino, AFO could confidently tell All Might that OFA had been passed on, so all that All Might had left were leftover embers.

When AFO killed Kudo, he asked where Yoichi was. He knew Kudo wasn't the holder of Yoichi's Factor at that time. He also realized when looking at Yoichi's hand that Yoichi's natural Factor was so weak he hadn't registered its existence. This implies AFO could sense Factors since he was young, and Yoichi's natural Factor never stood out to him.

Below are three panels of Bruce (right to left). Bruce fought, AFO killed him, and looked away in disinterest.

When he beat down Bruce, he already had a sense that Bruce didn't hold the Factor anymore. That's why, rather than yell in his face to figure out where it is and interrogate for a long time, he pulled up his corpse to inspect him better.

Bruce's corpse isn't resisting anything. Look at his feet; AFO literally dragged him. Bruce is already dead. Yet he's looking for something from him.

Bruce doesn't have anything for him. Nothing AFO wants.

When he looks away, he's dismissing Bruce, because Bruce doesn't hold Yoichi. AFO is wondering where Yoichi is, because he knows now that he's out there somewhere. Thus the pensive look to the wind.

After Bruce is killed, AFO and Garaki meet for the first time. Shinomori has Yoichi at this time, and AFO never comes close to him, so AFO is lost. He doesn't have any leads, and Yoichi has vanished.

Now that he knows Yoichi can transfer, it's possible for Yoichi to be kept out of his reach for the rest of his life. So meeting Garaki and having access to Life Force gives AFO more time to search.

Yoichi is still missing for 18 years though, because Shinomori is in hiding. AFO couldn't find him during the Fourth's turn.

This is why, when he encounters Banjo, the Fifth and active wielder of OFA [Yoichi], AFO is smiling.

It's been a long time, but Yoichi's in reach again. He knows where he is now. And this is the first time he's encountered the current holder.

Thus his shock.

[Yet... you never behave as I wish.]

It was the first time a Quirk wouldn't let itself be stolen. This was AFO's first encounter with this wall: it doesn't transfer without the holder's consent, and requires willpower stronger than all the holders combined to override that.

The holder is never going to give him that consent. To override the collective willpower, he's going to need something greater.

Meanwhile, look at Banjo's arms. Shinomori is the catalyst to tip OFA over the edge, that an unprepared vessel will be destroyed by how strong the Quirk is.

Banjo's arms are both messed up below the shoulder, just like Midoriya used to be. And like Midoriya uses Blackwhip to reinforce himself and stay standing, Banjo uses Blackwhip to hold his fist / arm together. His hand is being wrapped to stay in a fist.

(What I think is) The reason the limbs turn red, and then purple, from breakage, is a matter of blood vessels. Small, itty bitty, fragile things.

Using OFA breaks the whole area, from bones to blood vessels, causing internal bleeding. Thus the redness. But breaking those vessels again in a second go turns the area purple, because it causes instantaneous internal bruising.

But En wasn't ripped apart by using OFA. There's a cut on his thumb that lines up with the path of destruction; AFO sliced him in half. Otherwise, he wouldn't have that cut if it were just OFA.

It's hidden by the text in [... you never behave as I wish], but depending on where you see this chapter, you can see he got cut on the thumb. It's clearer where we see Nana take his hair from him, in [I only want... to make you mine!]

I have a post in drafts about En being cut in half rather than it being because of OFA, but I also hit an image limit, so I'm gonna end here. Ta.

[laurenkmyers]

once again, i got thoughts

i think the dad story line was played beautifully. it made the most sense to me. the threat of the dad being a murderer and killing someone rak came to love and rely on (uncle doctor) instead of having him actually be a murderer was brilliant storytelling.

it not only highlighted how "normal" men can be just as scary, just as terrifying, and just as manipulative as "real" criminals can be, but it shows a deep-rooted, human aspect of real trauma and how powerful words can be, and how they're used to manipulate and influence someone. especially someone as young as rak was when his father started his abuse.

rak was abused physically once as far as we know, and from what the story told us, the mum took that one incident and finally said enough and got her kids away. so as far as we know, the physical abuse was a one time thing and it never happened again. but what didn't stop was the emotional abuse. rak was so traumatised by that one incident that he created a monster in his head (and dont get me wrong, the man is a real monster) that was actually far worse. because now he has even more power over rak. because rak thinks his dad has the power to not only control him and his family, but that he also has to power to destroy anyone who might come into his life, and most importantly, anyone he loves. and that's the most terrifying thing of all. it's why he's convinced himself love doesnt exist, because if it does, his dad will just rip it away again.

jak uses his words to get exactly what he wants, from both the mother and the son. it's probably how he got the mother in bed and in that contract in the first place. he's good at what he does. and is still being paid handsomely by both of them. so he stays away, for the most part. until he can gain MORE from them, and with the cousins scheming he sees an in. but also finding out about mahasamut, and that they have 'an arrangement'. he probably thought, 'out with the old and in with the new'. he thinks mut is just a younger version of him, moving in on what he deems to be *his*

but the most important thing to take from this part of the story line, for me anyway, is that words are power. it's why rak being a fiction writer is so fucking important. because he wants to control the narrative. he wants the power that was stolen from him as a child back. and writing is his only form of release.

it's also why we see rak respond so differently to mut's dominance than he does jak. because jak uses dominant words to scare and manipulate rak, and rak retreats so easily back into the shell of his former traumatised baby self that he can't see a way out but to obey and listen, but jak's actions actually speak that of a weak, pathetic little man who wouldn't know real power if it punched him in the face.

cue mahasamut.

he uses words to soothe, and comfort, and to show the world that positivity, determination, and kindness reach far greater heights. but it's his actions that speak to who he truly is. and i think this is what scares rak the most, not in the same way his dad scares him, but mut scares him because he's not used to men actively showing him, time and time again, what real love is.

and next week we're finally going to see the story shift back to our beautiful, wonderful, walking green flag mahasamut, and the struggles he's facing. because he's the most selfless character of all. he loves rak so fiercely and won't want to give him up for anything. but he's also built a beautiful life for himself. he has his own dreams, his own aspirations, and it's time we come full circle with our relationship and see how rak can prove, through actions not words, how much mut means to him too. i'm beyond excited to return to that gorgeous island i just know they're both going to call home one day.

god, i think this show is brilliant. i really do. is it perfect? no. but i never expected it to be. but what it is, is real, and powerful, and beautiful, and messy.

[initforthelolzz]

Luffy’s tendency to self-sacrifice and the way he responds to loss are both incredibly telling aspects of his character. They show his level of love and dedication to other people, but most importantly they show his selflessness. Now, selflessness isn't necessarily a bad thing, but due to the level of selflessness that Luffy displays, it reveals a major character flaw.

Now, I’m not criticizing Luffy’s character, but what I am doing is pointing out something that I’d categorize as a negative character trait. And one that I find particularly fascinating.

Luffy may seem like the typical shonen protagonist on the surface (flawless, stupid, and selfless to a tee). However, if you take a look past surface level then you will find that Luffy is an incredibly complex character. Because while he is incredibly stupid, he possesses a certain multidimensionality that sets him apart from other typical shonen protags.

In regards to that multidimensionality, I’ve noticed that Luffy measures his own self worth exclusively through other people. By his value in the eyes of others. How he can serve them and how much worth he holds in their lives.

Okay but... what the fuck does this mean.

First of all I’d like to discuss Luffy’s tendency to self-sacrifice. Have you ever stopped to notice that every single one of Luffy’s specialized gears has a negative side effect of some kind? Second Gear puts so much strain on his heart that it is said to shorten his lifespan the more often he uses it. Third Gear makes his body shrink. Fourth Gear exhausts his Haki so terribly that he becomes immobile for ten minutes. And I feel like Fifth Gear speaks for itself...

Clearly Luffy has no qualms about sacrificing his body, but why is that? The answer, at least in my interpretation, is that Luffy’s self-sacrifice has entirely to do with the value he places on himself. The catch is that he doesn’t place any value on his own life. Luffy has proven on multiple occasions that he is more than willing to throw his own life away for the sake of others.

We see this in Udon prison, when Luffy was actively poisoning himself to death to make a point, even though it’s difficult to notice how close he was to getting himself killed because Toei decided that if Luffy was dying he was going to look Hot while doing it

We see this again when Luffy climbed the mountain in Chopper’s Arc, destroying his fingers and risking freezing to death all to save Nami and Sanji.

We see this when Luffy fought Magellan in Impel Down, which was the closest Luffy came to killing himself for the cause.

Then again on Whole Cake Island when he tried to let Sanji kick him to death to prove a point. And when he tried to starve himself to death to prove a point. And when he tried to rip his own arms off–

And of course we can’t forget about Thriller Bark. The entire point of Zoro taking Luffy’s pain was to show just how far Luffy was hurting himself in order to protect the crew. There was an entire conversation between the Straw Hats about how unhealthy that behavior was, and how they needed to protect Luffy from himself by getting stronger.

These are all shining examples of Luffy taking selflessness just a little too far. And while placing high value on the lives of others isn’t a negative quality, doing so to this degree isn’t exactly healthy. I say that Luffy holds no value in his own life because he cares this much about other people. He cares more about other people than he does about himself, and is more than willing to die in the process of protecting/saving his loved ones.

I came to this conclusion by looking at the way Luffy handles loss.

And the simple answer is that... Luffy doesn't handle loss. (The entirety of Whole Cake Island was just Luffy outright refusing to lose another loved one)

And when he does... he doesn’t.

Which is exactly what I’m talking about. Whenever Luffy loses people that he deeply cares about he immediately flips his lid. Water Seven and Thriller Bark seemed like all fun and games after watching Luffy grieve the loss of his crew on Sabaody. Seeing him break down like that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to watch... You can feel just how much this loss has impacted Luffy, and it hurts.

Amazon Lily was largely comedic, which served as a well needed break in between Sabody and all the Horrors of the Summit War. Because of this, the delivery of Luffy’s behavior after the events on Sabody is easy to brush off as a gag joke... but you can’t deny the fact that he overdosed on poisonous mushrooms. And while, yes, Luffy is a fucking idiot, not moments beforehand he was digging through the forest and talking about how many species of mushrooms he knew and all the wacky side effects of eating them. So clearly Luffy knows his stuff, and I think it’s just a little too convenient that he “accidentally almost died of a drug overdose shortly after losing everyone he held dear” after Oda explicitly stated that he knew his shit when it came to eating plants in the woods.

And then, of course, we have Luffy’s breakdown after Ace’s death. Which was even more difficult to watch than Sabody had been.

Are we beginning to see a trend? Luffy will try his damndest not to lose the people he cares about, but it’s impossible to save everyone. On the rare chance that he does lose someone he cares about, he immediately has a suicidal breakdown and gets extremely violent towards himself.

I’m certain that we can all agree that trying to kill yourself as a result of grief is NOT a healthy coping mechanism. Luffy is a completely happy-go-lucky character, with a suspicious tendency to over-sacrifice, yes, but the moment he fails/loses his friends he has a psychotic break. Without other people around him, Luffy suddenly loses all sense of self worth. Because he is nothing without his nakama... right?

It’s so easy to miss this detail about Luffy’s character, and it’s because he’s so good at concealing his negative emotions. Luffy puts on a brave face for the people he cares about, and he doesn’t want people to see him as anything less than a ray of sunshine and a symbol of joy and freedom. His conversation with Jimbei after Marineford was about how he needed to bury his grief for Ace even though it was unhealthy, because Luffy needed to remain strong.

Clearly he’s taken this to heart, because he hasn’t talked about how Ace’s death has impacted him even once. Luffy refuses to show emotional weakness in front of his crew, he is doing all in his power to be strong and support them while asking for nothing in return. Even now Luffy can’t hear Ace’s name without tearing up.

Luffy puts on a strong facade, and it is what makes his self-sacrifice seem so heroic, and what makes it so easy to miss how unhealthy it is. Luffy always saves people at the expense of his own life. He takes his battles incredibly too far, always ending up horrifically injured and using abilities that are detrimental to his body and his health. But he always recovers so easily, so quickly, and it is easy for the viewer/reader to move past Luffy’s self-sacrifice because he moves past it easily.

But why is he so nonchalant about nearly killing himself in almost every battle he places himself in? Simple, it is because he is not afraid of dying. Because in his eyes, he has no worth as a person unless he gives his EVERYTHING to the people he cares about.

Hence, Luffy measures his self worth entirely through other people, and therefore will stop at nothing to protect and fight for others. Because otherwise he is nothing.

I like to think that he developed this mindset as a result of his early childhood. Dragon didn’t want him. Garp didn’t want him. Dadan didn’t want him. Ace didn’t want him. Luffy was only accepted and cared for by others once he proved his worth to Ace and Sabo. Remember? They only started caring about Luffy and accepted him into their group after he got beaten violently for hours to protect their treasure stash. An act of violent self-sacrifice. It earned Luffy two brothers, but it also instilled the idea of his worthlessness unless he serves other people.

Remember when Luffy asked Ace to promise him not to die? I like to read between the lines a little. (Don’t leave me behind, Ace.) (I’m nothing without you, Ace.)

Luffy is a clingy person. He cares so much about other people, and will go to incredible lengths to keep them close. He can be happy, but only with other people. Because he needs other people in order to value his own life. He doesn’t care about himself, he only cares about others.

That is a very unhealthy mindset in this context, and is a major character flaw because of the impact it has on Luffy’s mental health.

But it also shows an incredible duality.

Selflessness is a highly valued characteristic. But in Luffy’s case, he brings it to an extreme. What could be considered his greatest strength is also his greatest flaw.

Luffy is a very admirable character because of this, and I love him a totally normal amount

[fernlessbastard]

You guys aren't ready for the conversation of how Quackity sincerely loves bottoming

I'm not at all saying he wants to always bottom, I'd say he still prefers topping most of the time, but whenever he's down to get something up his ass, he's DOWN to get something up his ass, if you know what I mean

(the switching applies to position only, tho. I sincerely can't see him genuinely enjoying subbing, and neither can I see Wilbur actually domming unless they're both being influenced by years of internalised homophobia and patriarchy and all that bullshit, but even then it's just cringe and they're just both pretending it's not cause it's easier that way (and the sex itself isn't like, actively bad, not to mention that it provides some degree of an emotional connection which they both desperately crave), plus it's still basically vanilla just with a little bit of dirty talk - that's how i see them in Pogtopia (with Q bottoming - if you want another huge post on their Pogtopia dynamic let me know cause I have so many thoughts on it and how their traumas affected them and their relationship and how complicated it all was))

That being said, man's 10000% intensely fucking traumatised

(tw personal hc and following the logical path from canon implications idfk)(also exaggeration) like, if he were ACTIVELY evil and had ZERO (even personal) moral code, then the amount of anger he feels towards Schlatt for taking away the enjoyment of it is probably enough to ignore all ethics and torture Dream so utterly unimaginably he ends up violating entirety of the Geneva convention, and then having 50 new ones written specifically to condemn his actions, just to break every single one of those as well on the way, just so that Dream gives him the revival book so that he can re-kill Schlatt with his own hands

Also he absolutely re-traumatised himself with Karl and Sapnap cause he was for sure like "I shouldn't be having an intense panic attack right now, I'm going to push all my energy into pretending that everything's ok and that I don't want to cry and scream and rip my skin off. I'm just being silly and dramatic anyway ha ha" which just resulted in them unknowingly hurting him all over again. I take no criticism. Q's got MASSIVE communication issues when it comes to validating his feelings and Karl and Sapnap are "everything's fine"-ing way too much on the daily. And whole Quackity should work on his issues, it IS a partner's job to at least try to check up on the other(s) (and vice versa), and Karl and Sapnap clearly always preferred to ignore any hints that something might be wrong as a general life rule. The relationship was immaturely focused on "fun and good vibes" from the very start, so any bad topic obviously felt out of place. It started off with lack of communication and it died cause of it too.

That's also actually why I will always firmly stand by the fact that Wilbur (during las Nevadas era) is the only person with whom he could ever heal, btw (yes, including Charlie as a hypothetical romantic interest). Cause Schlatt's abusive, Karl and Sapnap "deserve better" in his eyes (so he pretends to be fine until shit hits the fan and everything falls apart)(that also applies to his hypothetical relationship with Charlie). But with Wilbur there's enough distance to feel safe and call out his bullshit without retaliation in form of abuse, and on the other hand he doesn't care to pretend to be perfect - hell, he probably purposefully shoves his issues onto the guy cause he's like "you think you're so strong and stubborn you can handle me??? You think???? Think again." (Wilbur does the same btw). They're purposefully trying to push each other away, destroy the "relationship", show each other just how fucked up they are. They're psycho-competitive. Even being the first one to be "too much" and get abandoned turns into a competition.

But it backfires. They bond. They're real with each other. They're stubborn, they're determined enough to stay just long enough to see each other's walls crack. And once they do, the feelings are quick to spill. They're each other's only people to be GENUINELY themselves with - no masks, no manipulation, no bullshit. Just themselves. And that's the first, CRUCIAL step to developing a healthy relationship (or at least healthier than all their other relationships).

So with Wilbur he probably only tries to bottom either once he ACTUALLY begins to feel like he could maybe try to reclaim it, or even if he tries it in a self-destructive way, (considering their history+patriarchy and shit) Wilbur'd know and care enough to realise Q's just trying to hurt himself. And as shitty as Wilbur can be sometimes, he's not a bad person - he'd stop Q if things'd go too far, or give him (at least a temporary) safe space to safely go through a breakdown without hurting himself like that. He wouldn't take advantage of such a low moment, and he would know enough to recognise it's a low moment in the first place.

Anyway once they figure all that out and Quackity's genuinely comfortable with it again, it's for sure not uncommon for him to enjoy some nice aggressive pounding, all the while having one hand in Wilbur's hair, pulling it to hold him close, and the other hand on Wilbur's neck, lightly choking him as they're intensely making out

All that to say Q's a massive sadist but he's also a huge massochist and he'll absolutely have Wilbur on a nice leash and call him a pathetic, desperate, horny dog or something like that as the man's (purposefully) sloppily thrusting in and out of him, causing the most "carnage" he can (Wilbur will be double fisting Quackity and Quackity will be just looking at him unfazed like "your hands are small" (they're not)/hj)

Oh btw to clarify [TW ok more direct talk of SA so please be careful and take care of yourselves]- yes, I'm absolutely saying Q got repeatedly SA'd by Schlatt throughout their relationship. The guy was canonically generally verbally and physically abusive, AND basically the whole point of his character is that he's like, the epitome of everything wrong with society. Add to that the sexual comments which were constantly used to demean, insult, and objectify Q, as well as Quackity's intense, palpitable discomfort which noticeably grows each time the topic comes up when they meet after Schlatt's death during Las Nevdas era, it's a pretty safe bet to assume Schlatt didn't stop at "just" verbal and physical violence. Sexual violence is almost a guarantee when you consider all that context - it's hardly even "reading between the lines". And you can't tell me that in our society that views being penetrated during sex as something negative, especially for men, while viewing penetrating someone as an act of "conquering" and "winning" and all that a character who's supposed to embody as many of this world's faults as possible wouldn't shove his dick where it's not wanted, even just purely to prove he can despite lack of consent.

[super-paper]

How do you think AFO would be taken out?

Hard to say! All the heroes uniting against him as ~the ultimate evil~ might seem satisfying on some level, but it also plays directly into AFO's toxic comic book narrative and it doesn’t really "engage" with his character in a totally satisfying way, if that makes sense. I'm firmly on team "afo shouldn't get what he wants, Ever" so I'm not a fan of any ending that merrily sends him off into his next life as a "demon lord" instead of actively trying to rip that mask from him. Hori hasn't really let me down on this front, yet-- and as I suspected, it does seem as though chapter 419's AFO is more or less picking up where body!AFO's character arc left off. AFO's core desires as a human and the immensely fragile "heart" he's hidden away are both things that are being directly challenged in the most recent chapter, too:

Izuku, the hero, constantly inspires others to come to his aid because he doesn't hide his humanity, his identity, or his struggles from others-- people see him fighting for his life and realize that he is "just like them," and that motivates them to rush to his side and offer help. Meanwhile, AFO finds himself completely alone because he wont let go of the demon lord role and accept his own humanity. Something something We Still Need To Know His Name smthing sm.

With all of that in mind, I still think the most appropriate way of defeating him involves forcing him to confront his own humanity + weakness in all its ugliness (which Hori has already been doing at a pretty steady rate this arc!) and ultimately forcing him to take responsibility for Yoichi's death. This might seem like a massive leap from the person AFO is right now, but depending on how things go, I do think Hori could pull it off.

Anyway, as for what I would like to see:

Personally, I would like an end where he willingly lets Yoichi go (and by proxy, finally lets Tenko go). Not because I think this would redeem him (it wont) or because I want him redeemed (i don't), but because I do feel like something along these lines would be the natural conclusion to his character arc and the best way to symbolize him accepting death/his mistakes. He came into the world desperately gripping onto Yoichi, and was unable to ever truly live or truly die due to his obsession-- so it makes sense to me that AFO will only be able to leave this world when he finally lets Yoichi go. Like.... even now, we see him stubbornly persisting with the idea of conquering the world even though he feels it's totally pointless-- with the implication that he's doing this because the demon lord role and the captain hero comics are literally the only thing he has atp that still connect him to Yoichi in some capacity.

If I end up being right and the OFA embers now exist within Tenko's body, then ideally, I still want some sort of conversation + resolution between the brothers before Yoichi finally passes on with the rest of the OFA embers. I'll admit that I've never been 100% fond of the idea of reading Izuku & Tenko's story as Yoichi/AFO's "good ending", simply because so much of Tenko's story is about reclaiming his own identity (+ detangling himself from his abusers) and so much of Izuku's story is about finding his own identity-- which is why I feel the final resolution to the OFAFO plot needs to be between AFO and Yoichi, not Izuku and Tenko.

I actually don't want Tenko to kill him! I think I've said this before, but I feel this outcome would be only satisfying to folks who want Tenko to have very surface-level revenge on his abuser w/o thinking about the effect this act would have on Tenko himself. I personally feel it wouldn't do Tenko any favors, mentally, since the crux of AFO's abuse involved convincing Tenko that he only exists to destroy. And people really hate to admit it, but-- Tenko sincerely loved AFO and I don't want him to have to repeat the tragedy of being forced to kill someone he loved all over again (even if they don't deserve that love by any stretch of the word). Like, a lot of people want Tenko to take AFO out the same way he took Kotaro out, but I feel this would only emphasize how Tenko and AFO are trapped in an endlessly repeating cycle.

side note: Kotaro coming directly from AFO's stomach/womb during the 270's vestige realm sequence feels extremely intentional now, what with the constant cannibalism and pregnancy imagery surrounding AFO and Tenko. MHA continues to be a masterful example of visual storytelling and Horikoshi continues to be a straight up freak for no real reason /positive!

A big part of Tenko's healing was always going to involve him confronting his feelings for Kotaro, specifically-- all of his love and disappointment and wishes and anger. And with that in mind, it feels like Hori is setting AFO up to act as a sort of Kotaro proxy for this next stretch of Tenko's character arc (even TomurAFO's current hairstyle and facial structure reminds me of a mix of Kotaro x AFO x Toshi.... Hori really said "Tomura's final character design is gonna be a mish-mash of every potential father-figure who has ever let him down byeeeeee :)" and he was sooooo sick for doing that wtf). Anyway, I know people like to joke about AFOtaro, but honestly, the narrative itself really does justify the read of Tenko being AFO and Kotaro's traumababy lmfao...., 😭

Also worth mentioning is that this iteration of AFO/TomurAFO has pupils, despite there being no Tenko component to his personality at this time. AFO's lack of pupils are textually/canonically meant to convey his inability to "see" others as people, so I'm very interested to see where Hori intends to take things from here.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Well here I am ehehehe >:]

Santino having a breakdown and he breaks stuff around him, whatever he grabs and well accidentally hurt himself. John tries to calm him down and help him AGHH JOHN GET YOUR MAN HE IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN

Just get everything sharp or that can break away from him when he's like that, see what happens 😭

Hello hello! I’ve been thinking about this scenario all the time, ever since your asks for “Salt in the Wound” and “A Slap from a Saint”!! I made it really sad, like those fics.

🖤💙 The Boy in the Picture Frame 💙🖤

TW: panic attack, crying, accidental self-harm, blood, past physical and emotional abuse by a parent, discussion of disownment

John had spent all afternoon texting, in between pacing around his living room. He was trying to keep his lover talking - giving in to his flirting and doing anything possible to make him laugh. Santino was upset by a mistake he'd made the day before during negotiations with a Ruska Roma representative. The man had tricked him into boasting about the ferocity of his forces, revealing critical information about how security operated for the Camorra in New York. It was a rookie mistake, made because he was running on high emotions and little sleep, and Santino was taking it hard. It could mean punishment from the Camorra.

So, when John looked down at the screen and saw, "I'm sorry I just can't keep talking right now. Something came up, but don't worry," he froze.

Was it too much to call? Santino probably just wanted to be alone, and if that was the case, he'd be annoyed. But...well, better annoyed than hurt if things were really bad.

The shaky voice on the other end did nothing to encourage him. "John, please. I have someone on the other line. I just...he's really angry with me."

"Who? ...Your father?"

"I can't - I...." He switched to the other call again and was gone.

Suddenly, John found himself in his car and found that the speed limit was a mere suggestion.

They didn't live so far apart - Santino had chosen an apartment close to his boyfriend on purpose, and even gave him a second key. But by the time he burst through the door, it was already too late to stop Santino from getting hurt. John made his way through a trashed living room, stepping around overturned chairs and over glass from a broken picture frame, and calling Santino's name without any response.

He noticed, with a bittersweet twinge in his heart, that their photo together from Santino's birthday at the beach was the one thing that seemed untouched. Santino had chosen instead to destroy a family portrait, including both his parents, a young Gianna, and his own chubby face at four years old. Looking more closely, John noticed a smear of blood across the edge of the frame. He had torn out the picture, heedless of the jagged glass, and ripped the image in half...straight through little Santino.

A muffled, wounded sound in the bathroom distracted John from the horrible sympathy that was threatening to crush his ribcage. "Santino?" He ran to the bathroom door. It was unlocked and there, finally, was his lover - although the sight of him couldn't be called a relief. He was sitting on the ground against the wall with alarming red droplets glistening all around him and a messy bandage trailing from his hand. The only reason he wasn't actively sobbing seemed to be the shock of John's sudden entrance.

"What - John?"

John dropped to his side, not knowing what to say. He felt huge in that room, as if he might crush Santino further. His hands hovered over Santino's shoulders, wondering whether it was okay to touch him, before Santino just collapsed against his chest and started crying even harder.

"Thank you," he managed after a few minutes. "Thank you for coming. And look at the thanks you get in return... I got blood all over your shirt." He laughed hollowly.

"It's okay." John took his half-bandaged hand and felt him wince. "Sorry." He started unraveling the gauze. It was a pretty deep cut in Santino's palm, probably from grabbing carelessly at the broken picture frame. At least it didn't look bad enough to need stitches, but Santino was incredibly tense at every touch.

"You don't have to do that. I can do it myself."

"I know. But I don't want you to have to do that anymore." They'd talked about this - how it brought back bad memories for Santino to treat his wounds alone, as he'd had to do in childhood.

"I'm sorry, John. I was so stupid."

"No." That was all, a simple rejection of the very idea that any of this was Santino's fault. John didn't trust himself to say more without getting angry - not even remotely at Santino, but at all the people who had failed him throughout his life. He kissed the finished bandage and then looked up at Santino's anguished, watery eyes. "Do you have another copy of that picture?"

Santino hesitated. "It's on a flash drive. I think Gianna has it. But I don't want it anymore. I think..." He took a deep breath, on the verge of saying something crucial. "I think I'm not a part of my family anymore."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well...my father asked me to come back to Italy. He said I'm failing out here in New York, and he wants me to come back immediately. And I'm not doing that. Fuck him." He laughed, and it wasn't so hollow this time.

John couldn't help grinning. "Good."

"Good? That's all?" Another laugh. John could feel him getting stronger in his arms. More at ease. "You really never say anything, even at a time like this. I'm still getting used to it."

John thought for a moment. "No, it's not all. I want to know why you ripped through the picture of your own face instead of theirs."

He tensed up again. A long time passed before he spoke, but John had promised never to judge him. Always to listen. So, finally, he extended some trust. "I fucked everything up. I was broken from the start. I was weak. That's why he..."

Again, "No."

A mocking reply, dripping with stubborn, defensive sarcasm, "Yes." John could hear the wavering undertone. Really? Do you promise? Say it again.

"No. You were hurt. It's not on you. They lost you and not the other way around."

The reassurance was too much for Santino and he crumpled against John's chest again. For a while, John held him, listening to his sobs and to the dripping sink. In his rush to try to patch himself up, he must not have shut it off properly. He must have been struggling. John wove his fingers deeper into his hair, trying to massage self-love straight into his brain.

"Do you think Gianna will still talk to you?"

He huffed and pulled back again, tired but finally calm. "...Maybe. In secret. Who cares?"

"Well, I still want you to get a copy of that picture if you can."

"Why?"

"I want to cut out the little Santino and frame him by himself, for my mantlepiece. He was the good part. You are the good part. Not the rest of them."

[sapphicseasapphire]

So- I had a question regarding someone else’s question on Sky doing a duel wield on Fi and (I think it was Wars, forgive me if it isn't-) but since Ghirahim was left in the past at the end of Skyward Sword, will he be somewhere in the feature? If he's no longer alive, will his sword fragments (like an artifact) be somewhere in anyone else’s Time Era like a museum, or will it be in a forgotten temple for the chain to find? Would Sky be able to see the so-called “Red string of fate” that would lead him to the sword?

If so: How would Sky react to seeing Ghirahim’s sword? Would he be scared and immediately get away from it? Would he try and fix it outta guilt for how Ghirahim’s fate turned out to be? Or would he feel sorry/ nothing at all for how Ghirahim turned out?

But-

If Ghirahim was still alive but just badly wounded that would take X amount of time to heal (Like the Master Sword did in Tears of the Kingdom) do you think he would actively try and seek out Sky to end his life for revenge for his fallen master? (If so would he be close to ending Sky but would still be too weak to actually properly kill him and just end up nearby waiting for a chance to end him?)

Or: Would Sky find/ spot Ghirahim and offer to wield his sword in order to save him, or, would Sky give the sword spirit mercy and put him out of his misery and finally put him to rest? (If so, how would Wars [or whoever it was rip my memory] react to seeing Sky put another sword spirit out of their misery even if they were badly wounded/ hella sick?)

Sorry, this is so long! I wanted to be clear on what I was asking and what your thoughts were based on these two scenarios!

I have to be… really, really careful with what I say here.

First off, I am a Skyward Sword FANATIC. I’m obsessed with Skyward Sword and have been since I was quite literally seven years old. There’s a reason that the majority of my ideas are about Sky. So this is gonna have some Skyward Sword spoilers!! Just putting that warning in!!

At the very end of Skyward Sword, when Demise is dying, his sword is the first thing to be destroyed. He stuck it into the ground to lean on, and then it literally disintegrated. Into dust. Gone. Demise watched it disappear and then cursed Sky, and then he himself started to disintegrate. After all that, the dust the Demise became was absorbed into the Master Sword to be destroyed over time. Fi did not say how long it would take for Demise’s remains to be destroyed, but she was pretty clear in her purpose.

My entire life, I’ve kind of operated in the belief that Ghirahim was also absorbed into the Master Sword and destroyed. But maybe that’s not the case? Maybe the remains of his sword still lie within the Battlefield of Demise, where the Goddess’s power cannot reach. Maybe he’s recovering, biding his time, maybe he has been rebuilding himself for thousands of years. Maybe he did get absorbed, but has not been destroyed (as he is not Demise). Maybe he’s just trapped within the Master Sword, weakened and shattered, strapped at the side of the unknowing Chosen Hero.

Bro, I can’t tell you what exactly Demise did to Ghirahim. When he pulled the sword out of his chest??? And then took his spirit into the sword??? How Ghirahim laughed??? That traumatized me as a kid and it’s still burned into my memory.

It also traumatized Sky. I’m not going to reveal all of my cards right now. But I can tell you- what you mentioned about guilt- that’s a HUGE part of how Sky remembers Ghirahim. Sky hated Ghirahim. But he truly believes that he did not deserve the fate that befell him. Sky just stood there. He stood and watched as Demise- did Demise kill him? He heard that manic laugh, the silence that followed it. Silent in a way it never was with Ghirahim. It still echos in his ears. He has nightmares about it.

In all honesty, if Ghirahim were still alive, he’d make it his goal not only to get revenge on Sky, but to destroy Fi. After all, the remains of his Master are sealed away inside of her, and if Ghirahim is still living, then there’s a chance that Demise is, as well.

And if Sky were to ever see Ghirahim/Ghirahim’s sword, his first reaction would be fear. And what is Sky’s fear?? It becomes power. Sky is the Godkiller, and he will not be underestimated again. Ghirahim… will not underestimate him again. The fight would be real. Ghirahim’s not playing anymore.

Neither is Sky.

This is all hypothetical, of course. I can make no promises about Ghirahim’s status. Is he alive? Is he trapped? Is he coming back? Does he exist only in Sky’s nightmares? The world may never know.

(I know)

The main thing I want to focus on here is how his memories of Ghirahim affect his relationship with Warriors. Sky has Ghirahim nightmares… a lot. And I don’t want to minimize the pain of the rest of the Chain, but Sky’s nightmares are objectively the worst. He gets them frequently, but the thing that really makes them worse than the others’ is that sometimes, he genuinely can’t tell if he’s just having a nightmare or seeing a prophecy. He doesn’t know what’s real or not and that sucks.

He has a nightmare one night. He’s fighting Ghirahim- Sword Spirit form Ghirahim (like the final battle)- and he thrusts his sword into the diamond on his chest. Ghirahim would cry out as the diamond cracked and broke, as his form wavered. Sky had won. But then he’d blink, and suddenly it’s not Ghirahim’s chest that Sky had stabbed his sword into, it’s Wars’. And Sky watches as his friend shatters around his blade.

When he wakes, it’s with tears on his cheeks and nausea swimming in his stomach. He can’t talk to Wars that day, but he finds himself staring at that diamond. Wondering if the Goddess had shown him that dream as a warning.

Is… Is Sky the monster?

With Fi gone and Ghirahim… gone, the only Sword Spirit in his life is Warriors, and he clings to Warriors for dear life. He’s so scared that his new friend will meet the same fate as the other two: either willingly going dormant or forcefully becoming a weapon. Sky will do anything to keep Warriors safe- safe from a fate that the Sword Spirit doesn’t even know about.

I know this probably didn’t answer your question. I want to be careful not to spoil too much. And also I got very caught up in my rambling. But yeah, if Ghirahim came back, Sky would fight him because Ghirahim would not give him any other choice.

If Ghirahim were too hurt/sick to fight, Sky would probably still kill him just to be done with it. Warriors would be surprised, for sure, but he trusts Sky. (And he knows how awful Ghirahim is).

Sky would never side with Ghirahim and Ghirahim’s soul purpose is to revive his Master. Which means… going after Fi, which Sky will not stand for.

Sky does feel guilty, but that manifests itself in how he interacts with Warriors, not sympathy for Ghirahim.

[peppermint-toads]

𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 im halfway through the new campaign and had to write something before i exploded. so yes take heed there is actual cod plot in this 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 simon "ghost" riley x female reader, ghost x female reader, slight non-con but ghost doesn’t mean it that way he just has a hard time expressing his little feelings, ghost is not nice, slight wound-play but not rly, piv sex, slapping, light choking, blood, knife wound, actual cod plot, post al mazrah mission, your callsign is vermin bc ghost thinks you are annoying, 1.5k wc 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 you do something stupid so ghost hate-fucks you

“Simon! I already fucking apologized. How many times do you want me to say it? We weren’t moving fast enough and I just thought—”

“You weren’t thinking!”

“We could’ve gotten him.”

“You ran into an active air raid, and if I hadn't pulled you back you would be dead, Vermin.”

In that moment, you seemed to remember that Ghost did in fact save you from your own stupidity. You inhaled a sharp breath, wincing as your lungs shakily filled and pressed against your bruised ribs. You could feel the shallow knife wound in your side stretch and rub against the white gauze wrapped around your waist with every move you made. 

“Lazwell would have Hassan by now if you wouldn’t have stopped me.” You murmured, feeling your eyes sting with tears as Ghost finally turned his back to you. The sound of his heavy boots hitting the old wood floor of the safe house halted, and his head turned to the left hauntingly slowly. He crossed the room in about three swift steps, his face about an inch away from yours. His gloved fingers pinched the fat of your cheeks together.

“Next time I’ll let you fucking die.”

You couldn’t help the yelp that caught in your throat when he released your face. You stumbled backwards, catching yourself on the worn desk in front of the fireplace. 

As soon as you had compromised the mission, Ghost dragged you back to the transport with his forearms locked underneath your armpits. The medics tended your wounds as soon as you landed at the base in Austria. 

You glared up at him, one hand still grasping the desk and the other your side where blood started seeping through your bandages and thin white tank top. 

“You’re a dick, Simon.” 

“And you’re a selfish pain in my ass, everybody’s ass.”

And then you rose to your full height again, grunting as you lifted one hand and pulled it back to strike his cheek, but his fingers curled harshly around your wrist, and he was pushing your hand behind your back and pulling the bottom half of his mask down to shove his lips onto yours. 

It was barely even a kiss, it was like he was just trying to smash his face onto yours as hard as he could, teeth, tongue, all of it. His hand left your wrist, quickly finding the button to your pants and nearly ripping it off. Then he was shoving them down your thighs and pulling you over to the couch. 

“Simon, what the fuck?”

“Shut up.”

He knelt down with one knee pressed into the couch between your thighs, then his face was back on yours and his hands were bunching up your top above your chest. 

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, groping and squeezing your tits with his massive palms. And it wasn’t comfortable. He had saved your life, you destroyed his mission, and now you owed him. 

He shoved you down by your shoulder, and your head thumped against the arm of the couch. His fingers cupped your cunt over your military issued white, cotton panties and you both groaned. All of your physical pain was taken over by something else, taken over by him. Completely. And you’d let him do anything he wanted. 

“Are you sorry?” He asked through gritted teeth, lowering himself down on top of you, arms steady on either side of your head. His cock was hard and straining against his pants, you could already feel the heat of it on your pussy.

He sat up on his haunches, pulling his pants down enough to free his aching dick, the elastic band of his matching white, cotton boxers pushing up against the underside of his balls.  

Your panties were soon hooked around your knees, and your calves were being smushed up against his chest. The discomfort of it all faded as soon as you felt his cock and his precum slide against your soaked pussy. 

He slid himself up and down, up and down until you were keening, begging him for nothing with cries of his name. 

“Simon, Simon please.” 

The head of his dick caught against your fluttering hole, slowly notching inside. His head fell back, and you could tell his jaw was hung open slightly by the way his mask stretched.

His thumb caressed your cheek where he had violently grabbed it only a few minutes ago. The soothing strokes did nothing to distract you from his immediately brutal pace. You watched your feet dangle helplessly by his ears with every punch to your cervix, your eyes never daring to drift to his. 

“Are you sorry?”

“Fuck—I already, already said I’m sorry—Jesus!” You hiccuped. 

Simon snarled, staring down at you with unfeeling eyes while his hand drifted to your waist. 

“Simon? What are you doing? Don’t—”

You cried out as you felt his fingers press into your would, your head snapping forward and then immediately falling back against the couch. It stung. It stung and you mewled, trying to conceal your pathetic noises by shoving your face into the back of the couch. You blindly tried to push his hand away but you were no match for his strength. 

His lips were pink and swollen, partly covered by the top and bottom of his mask. You couldn’t help the way you tried to scoot yourself down the couch, get closer and closer to his punishing thrusts. Your entire body burned with shame and humiliation as you squirmed for him. You were openly sobbing as he split you open.

“Don’t disobey my orders ever again.”

You swore you heard his voice crack. 

“Don’t—Don’t do it again.” He was pleading with you. His hand was wrapped around your throat after forcing you to look at him again, his thumb stroking circles on your neck. No matter how harsh he was, some part of him was always subconsciously soothing you. Even on the transport to Austria, you felt his hand latched onto your vest the entire time. 

“I won’t,” you choked. “I won’t, Simon, I promise.”

He leaned down to rest his forehead on yours, breathing in the same air as you. You saw his eyes flutter closed and felt his hips stutter upwards. 

“Simon I’m gonna—”

“Yeah.”

Then you were arching your chest into his and your stomach was convulsing, cunt squeezing his cock so perfectly. He sighed into your mouth, his thrusts becoming shorter as he pumped his cum deep into your warmth. 

For a moment it was just you and Simon, inhaling deeply with each other. Then you sighed out in pain, whimpering softly, and Simon realized what he’d just done to you. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

⁂

“Hold this up.” You did, holding the end of your shirt just above the slash in your side. He wordlessly pulled the gauze off your body, carefully peeling off the cotton pads underneath. 

He left the room for a minute, returning with a med kit that must've been stashed somewhere in the house. 

He returned to his place on the couch and flipped open the lid, returning to his silent work. 

Every pained noise you made chipped away at his very soul, and he couldn’t help but blame himself. He wasn’t supposed to care like that. About you or anybody else. 

He abandoned his own mission just to make sure you were safe. He was lucky Soap managed to get the rest of the task force out of Al Mazrah safely, albeit without Hassan. He’d never done anything like that before, but when he saw you running towards the fallout he knew he’d follow you anywhere. 

“The others will be here soon.” You said, and he nodded. 

“We have to be in Mexico tomorrow. You’ll stay with me tonight.”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly as he finished rewrapping your side and packed up the med kit. 

“Come with me.”

You trailed down the hall after him to one of the rooms. There was one small, metal bed frame in the center of it, and you sat on the edge of it watching him. 

You watched Simon’s back as he dug through his backpack that he had slung to the floor. 

“Here,” he shoved one of his shirts towards you to replace your own blood-soaked one.

You changed quickly, watching him undress down to his boxers and black ribbed tank top. He climbed into the small bed with you, coaxing you back to lie down with him, both of you too exhausted to exchange any words. 

Simon held you close to his chest, this time careful to avoid touching your ribs and side. You were happy to finally feel clean and dry, everything that happened that day coming flooding back to you and you sobbed. Completely overwhelmed with emotion, you cried into his shirt while he shushed you softly. You fell asleep with his arms around you and tear stains on your cheeks.

[assjuice4ever]

Listen to my rant:

Young Gojo after the vessel saga, knowing you for the first time. A new student.

And you are a bastard. The type of person that should be called a curse and probably wouldn't care about human or soccer alike. He doesn't like you. Not because you don't care about people, he is a bit like this too even if he is changing now, but because you are the worst little shit around. You don't care about Yaga, nor about him being the best, about school or fighting curse. You just care about yourself and doing whatever you want.

You're strong, not as strong as him, nobody his, but strong enough to survive. Whenever he sees you fight, he can't help but think that you could cover his back, not because he can't, but because you can, that when things will go down one day you will be there with him and Geto.

He still doesn't like you even when you start to prank him and he pranks you back. And you two are like idiots who nobody can stand but it's funny for him. Instead of thinking about work and killing curses he is trying to think how to get you back for glittering his shampoo and making his hair look like unicorn vomit. His head get a bit lighter whenever something similar happens.

Then he starts to talk you. Talking for real, not just saying thing like "How did you like your coffee?" after putting the salt were the sugar was. Most of the time you two don't say anything really important. Fighting about what to watch on the common television, or discussing about how Yaga was going to lose all his hair, in his opinion Yaga would start to go bald from the forehead first, with the hairline retreating, for you, Yaga would start to go around with a carryover. It was always light-hearted and relaxing.

With time something shifted and the two of you started to talk about dates. How the girl he gave his number to tried to call him "her boyfriend" after two minutes and how fast he ran away, about how the guy who hit on you looked like the type of man who used the deodorant Ajax instead of showering.

Not you nor him were shy about talking of sex when it was just the two of you. Gojo wasn't stupid, he noticed how you were the only one student who didn't care about "love" or "romantic things". He was a bit like that too. He liked romantic things, singing out of somebody bedroom to ask them back after a fight, buying roses and holding hands. But he didn't have the time and mostly, he didn't like anybody enough to put that much effort. And the two of you were the only two who were actively fucking around.

The talk weren't totally shameless, it wasn't like he described the size of somebody boobs or the ass, or anything else. More like how his last girl was crazy and told him to make her a "baby mama" or how one time he left some money there because he felt sorry about leaving the girl alone in the morning before realising that he acted as if she was a whore. You told him instead about the weird shit. The guy who asked about a blow job while driving in the exact moment you sat in his car, the girl who didn't know how to kiss and the slap she gave you after you said that she kissed like a dog ate. He knew that one time you fucked a guy dad and mother because he insulted you.

Most of the times the guys and girls you went out with were shitty in his opinion. You could do a whole lot better but it was like you didn't care and whenever he told you that you just shrugged.

Then Geto went away. It crushed him. It was like his heart was ripped from his chest. He put his heads on the work without doing anything else other than that, eating, bathing or sleeping too. At least for the first week, then he started to tone down the work because of you.

He still didn't like you but you literally went out of your way to destroy the papers which had written down where his missions were. You did it in front of him with a smile. Before starting a fight on how fucking bad he smelled and how he needed to wash himself. He did that just to shut you up. And then you took him out for dinner just to get your food payed in one of the most expensive restaurants.

You start to do that so often that he had to tone down the work to not lose the documents considering that you found them wherever he hided it, even the one Yaga and the other superiors had, and destroyed it every time. He had to wash himself because you didn't shut up until he was clean and ready to go out, he had to eat a lot because you started a voice on how he was able to eat a pussy in the same way he was eating in that moment and that he fucked just because he was cute not because he was able to. It was a stupid thing but you were able to get on his nerves and he wanted just to prove you wrong. You took him out, for dinner so he paid it for you, to shopping to make him pay for you, to clubs, to buy cars before getting kicked out because you two were too young, and in any other place that you wanted to go.

It was so annoying that he started to let the sadness go to have annoyance for you take its place.

One of those days he met the people that grew you. Not your family, just the guys who were paid by your family to grew you up. And he got why you were so fucking annoying, rude, vulgar and devoid of empathy for nearly everybody. They were like that too.

It stuck with him.

He couldn't imagine growing up Megumi in the same way. He wasn't always there for him, like those people weren't always there for you. But he wasn't so devoid of care for him. Sometimes he checked himself to not act in any way that those two people could.

He didn't get how you still were affectionate to them.

He asked you about it. It was the first time that you two weren't talking about trivial thing. You had a pensive look before saying that if your clan died, or your parents, you would probably be depressed for one day but if that two people died you would be sad for way longer so for you they were your parents and probably they would be sad too if you died because you, as a person, died, not because you, as a sorcerer, died.

Gojo still didn't like you after that talk. He still didn't like you after all the time you two hanged out together. He still didn't like you when one day you two were in an arcade and a man hit on you, seven or eight years older than you, with a bit of a beard and a not so horrible face. He still didn't like you when the old geezer asked you if you wanted to play with him. But, maybe because he was a bit irritated that he tried to hit on you with him there, as if he didn't look so beautiful to make every single man retreat when he was near you, or maybe because it was the first time that somebody tried to hit on you in front of him since the day Geto run away, or maybe because he really thought that you could do only better, because you were too pretty for somebody that pathetic, he interrupted the man while he was asking your name.

"Do you wanna go back and fuck?" Gojo blurted out. If you were anybody else you would have slapped him and he would have been okay with it because he really sounded like a douchbag.

Instead you said "Okay", took his hands and went out of the arcade.

You two didn't go back to the dormitory to fuck instead you two went to a combini to buy ice-creams.

You didn't ask him why he acted that way and it was better like that because there weren't any excuses. It wasn't like you needed to be saved, it wasn't like you didn't know how to tell a man off. One day he saw you literally telling a guy that he had "small dick energy" and you weren't into that shit.

It was when he saw you again the next week that he asked you "What if we started to have sex?". He still didn't like you. You were annoying, rude, vulgar, cheap and messy, if he didn't consider the fact that you were the prettiest woman alive and you had a way to make him feel better by being so shitty there wouldn't be anything really good about you as a person. But the idea of having sex with you didn't left his mind for a week and he needed to take you out of his system.

That evening you two slept together and you got him addicted.

Since that day your routine was pretty much the same just with the best sex in his whole life in the middle.

Gojo could fuck you every single day of his life, every single moment and he was sure he wouldn't get tired of it. Not when being inside of you and with you felt like paradise. It was liberating, his head was always without a single thought inside other than you.

And it was horrible. Because he smelled your perfume constantly on him, the taste of your skin in his mouth, the sound of your moans on his head, the imagine of your perfect body convulsing for the orgasm printed on his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. He couldn't go a straight week without having you. You cursed him and he was totally okay with it.

gojo didn't know how but everything in his life started to be perfect during that time. Then Shoko one day asked him what he was going to do for his "girlfriend" birthday. As if you were his girlfriend. And then Shoko called him an ass because he was doing nothing before telling him that if two peopld fucked constantly and everybody knew it and none of them went out with anybody else, and if this two people had a date every single week then they were a couple even if they didn't call themselves that.

It opened his eyes.

He broke things off with you the day of your birthday and went to fuck with somebody else because he didn't like you.

It was horrible. He had to think of you to get hard and he didn't even come, he just got angry because you said okay without a tear, without screaming or cussing him out. He had to dress himself and got out of the room leaving the girl there, before breaking something for the anger.

Everything changed after that. No more tour to restaurant, no more movie nights, no more breaking into private swimming pool, no more anything. You didn't even fight with him to watch your shows on tv.

To be fair Gojo didn't really saw you around the school at all and everything was so boring because of it. He didn't had anything funny to do nor anybody interesting to talk. And it was so annoying not having you squeezing his cheek before kissing him, or having you play with his hands, or you pulling lightly at his hiar whenever you felt like it, or not to hear you complaining because his hands were too cold and you didn't want his dead cold hands on you. And it was too calm without fights because you flooded his bathroom every time you bathed, or because he had to eat sweets in front of you without offering you anything because they were his.

He hated how he had to stop every time when he was thinking something stupid while outside and you weren't there to hear it and how he couldn't make inside joke when they were hella funny. And he couldn't message you about anything because that was what couples did.

Everything sucked.

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

Did start Yakuza 5 yesterday! I played for 6 hours, had a BLAST. Finished chapter 1 and got a good amount of time put into chapter 2. I enjoyed going around town, grinding and doing side content. Had to gather my thoughts so posts had to come later. Yes, this is a two-parter.

My stats at the end of my little session:

Some thoughts below! I made NOTES for myself on characters and such this time around. This post is gonna be more plot and character speculation-focused; the next post will be more about gameplay mechanics, side content, general thoughts etc.!

Small-ish rant/monologue about protagonist numbers in the last section, though. Could have gone into part 2, but wanted it off my chest asap lmao

This title screen is sooooo not ominous!! I did not shiver in fear of what's to come when I saw it!! I'm sure Kiryu will be having a BLAST this game!

....🥲😭

SO! We're in 2012. Two years, huh. Seems like everything has kinda gone the opposite way from my wishes after the end of Y4, especially in regards to Kiryu.. or should I say, Suzuki's character. I really wanna know what happened in these past years to make him run away like this. He seems MISERABLE!! I feel bad for him😭

Daigo infodumping to Kiryu about Tojo business while Kiryu was just trying to get his paycheck was kind of funny to me, not gonna lie. But also kind of sad. Kiryu seems to be trying even harder to cut off anything Tojo from his life, even as Daigo was trying to reach out. I'm so curious about this time skip era!! Give me the tea!!

Okay. I was kinda assuming Morning Glory was gonna be left behind or kind of in the background (based on Kiryu's outfit), but... Haruka as well, huh. That's. Yeah. And he (debatably) hasn't straight up just abandoned them 100%, he's putting SIGNIFICANT and harsh distance between himself and the people he cares for. Ouch. Feels eerily similar to what he did in Y0 with Nishiki, Kazama, Reina and Kashiwagi.

This is all very... drastic. Changing his name, moving away and leaving EVERYONE behind? Including Haruka? This is exactly the opposite of what Kiryu was vowing to himself, to Daigo and even to Saejima in a way back in Y4. Either the writers changed their minds about his arc or something is off. I'm dreading finding out which one it is. Currently I feel like he's either actively in major danger right now, and hence decided to resort to such measures, OR something happened that he blames himself for.

I love Nakajima. He's so good! In general as a person (at least it seems that way) AND to Kiryu. Which probably means he's gonna die. RIP in advance, King🫡🫡

This dynamic is either gonna be absolutely insufferable, or maybe kind of okay. I have no predictions on how this will turn out, I was completely wrong about Kiryu's possible character arc in this game so... idk. Kiryu has blindsided me. But for now I don't think this will become a romance.

What I find interesting is the tidbit Nakajima gave about the situation where Kiryu saved her, where Nakajima also met him for the first time - Kiryu was getting DESTROYED in a fight. Kiryu, destroyer of whole clans, the one-man army, getting his shit kicked in by random local yakuza? Was he trying to refrain from using any sort of violence (even in self-defence??), or... was he recovering from significant injuries he got before the fight?

Now, I'm just assuming, based on Mayumi's character profile section and Nakajima's description of the woman Kiryu saved (she was very pretty) that Mayumi IS the woman Kiryu was defending when Nakajima first met him. I'm quite sure it was her.

What I wouldn't give to hear his thoughts in this scene... I was very conflicted the whole time; on one hand I wanted to SHAKE Kiryu and side with the Tojo guys. Why abandon Daigo? I understand it's probably just so he doesn't get stuck in another Tojo mess, but... it's Daigo!! Come on!! But I can also see that Kiryu feels... guilty?? Conflicted?? There was a storm of EMOTIONS brewing in his eyes. What a mess. He clearly doesn't like the situation but he also really wants NOTHING to do with it.

Kinda off topic, but massive props to those two for taking Kiryu on so boldly despite knowing who he is (was? I have no idea). They are Tojo men, they've heard the stories. Yet, they still tried. The balls on these guys!!

As for the man of the hour... Daigo. MIA - conveniently right before this alliance (opposed by some important people) gets to fully come to fruition, as the current leader of the Kansai group is dying soon🤔

I feel as though Daigo knew something would happen. He sought Kiryu out and was quite insistent to talk to him. At the beginning of the game I found the lore dump he dropped on Kiryu's unwilling mind weird and almost amusing, but looking back on it now... it almost feels like he was giving Kiryu information he'd need to solve the case if he happened to go missing. He even named possible suspects.

Why not go to a trusted clan member? They'd probably throw a hissy fit and wanna call everything off, maybe even start a new, very bloody conflict. All just because Daigo suspected something might happen to himself. This whole situation stinks.

Current theory: one, or all three, of the Kansai leader hopefuls are in cahoots with the uhhh *checks notes* Yahata(?) dude. The Yamagasa family captain. Why? To stop the alliance because they all hate the Tojo clan. They probably have Daigo locked up. Or maybe Daigo is dead already.

One final thing: was NOT thrilled to see "Part 1: Kiryu Kazuma" 😬 I was kinda hoping for a single-protag game, tbh 👉🏻👈🏻

Okay, hear me out! IF the other protag(s) is/are the Yakuza 4 lads, I'll be okay! But if there's a new guy (or, god forbid, 2 of them), I don't know if I'm gonna like that. I liked Y4 a lot, but it was also a lot to keep track of, and it felt like everyone got very little time in the spotlight - especially Kiryu and Saejima.

I'm almost suffering from... new protagonist fatigue after 4. I'm okay seeing many new side characters, but new playable characters with their own fighting styles that I have to learn, human relationships, backstories and motivations... Getting to know and to "bond with" another batch of new playable people seems like a very tiring task to get through at this point.

If we have 2+ protagonists, I want them to be from Y4 or earlier, because I already know them in a way and I'm not opposed to seeing more of them because it doesn't seem as overwhelming. I wanna see more of Saejima at least, if we HAVE to have alternating protagonists.

[crackkids-of-hollownest]

WELCOME BACK TO! THE CRACKKIDS OF HOLLOWNEST!

by @blue-jester, @altra-tes and @ravendragons

Back in 2020 me and a few friends had a web of rp blogs that told a story, and the journey we took with it was exstremely fun for all of us but because of multiple factors, we had to stop. Now 4 years later we are BACK baby! AND YES WE'RE FINISHING THE DARK AU WE ONLY GOT HALFWAY THROUGH!!!

But! After there will be other stories perhaps, other tales. A lot of fun times :) These are ask blogs that will be able to rp, but primarily with eachother. If you want to rp with one of the blogs please note that your character is not cannon and does not effect the ending of the story, but our guys like friends :) they will primarily be ask blogs, though, so send asks!!!

But what's the premise of these blogs? Well there is a being born of root and void- but no wyrm, who found an ancient entity deep within the void, and she wants to consume everything in the world. Her half sibling, Wisp, very much does not want her to do that and will be at constant odds. This is primarily an oc story but canon characters do appear.

This is a story that must have caution to interact with as it features darker and more mature content, read this post carefully and interact with the story with caution if you think you won't be able to handle it

CHARACTERS:

EVEN: She/her, a child of root and void [wl and just the void], an all devourering force who wants to kill death himself. BLOG: @rooted-limbo

ODD: She/her, a young and sweet little voidling, born of root and void like her older sister, she's very innocent. BLOG: @rooted-limbo [they share a blog]

WISP: Any pronouns, a child of root and flame [wl and nkg], a hopeful bloom who loves their family more then anything, especially their siblings. They're best friends with... An odd character. BLOG: @blooming-flame

DAWN: She/her, a bargaining chip from wyrm to light, to stop a war much like hornet. She's a little confused with her place in the world, but she just wants to make the people surrounding her happy, even if she has her.. Rebellious moments. She is only 13 after all. BLOG: @darkened-sunlight

CHERRI: He/him, the runaway pale prince, son of wyrm and flame [pk and nkg], a reserved and mysterious individual that's been away from home for far too long, but has recently returned to see his siblings and help them, not many get past his intimidating appearance, but those who do find him to just be a big ol nerd. BLOG: @the-pale-flame

PHOBIA: He/him, a little guy who is not what he seems... A child of beast and void [Herrah and void]. He adores his younger sister Even and actively aids her in her quest to destroy the gods and consume the world, he's smaller then most but trust me, do not trust that little face. BLOG: @parasitic-void

REM: They/them, this is reality themself, watching the world go by and keeping it in tact, they are the child of mother life and father death. They're always watching every scene with their endless eyes.. Most of which, tend to focus on a particular violet flame. They're like the narrator if the narrator was an actual character in the story. BLOG: @reality-rem

THE ORIGINAL ONE: He/they/it. Death. This is death itself, ready to rip the world asunder for the many years he's suffered alone, shackled to the very bottom of the world, and what's worse- separated by a hair from his beloved wife, who was the only thing keeping him together. BLOG: @the-first-and-the-last

LE'CYA: She/they/it. Life. Life herself, mother of all beings, mother of reality itself, the consort of death, she was endlessly loving and compassionate to all who came before her, but greedy mortals saw potential to grow from her strength, and nearly destroyed her, leaving her locked behind blue seals near the bottom of the world. BLOG: @blue-wings-of-life

VOID CULT: There's a cult here too that preaches possible futures and prophesies of void... It's run by an old beetle, named Discipulum. BLOG: @the-church-of-the-voidborne

[bella-goths-wife]

Volturi’s +Johnny’s reaction to reader running away

Volturi x reader, alec x reader, Jane x reader

Aro volturi

Once news of three vampires taking you reached the ears aro, he was furious

He, as one of third of rulers, made it clear during introduction balls that you were a someone of interest to him

That meant every vampire should have spread the word that you were not to be messed with

You were property of another clan and a favourable part of the volturi’s society

Aro brings members of smaller clans that surround forks area

He forces them to let him look into their minds to see if they were active in your ‘kidnapping’

If they refuse, he immediately accuses them of hiding you and has Caius torture them until they agree

If he spots you in their minds, he sends some of his guard to search the area

The last time he saw you, you had red eyes

This both elated and scared him

He was happy you weren’t afraid of drinking from humans

But he was scared of who was training to hunt, and how you were hunting

Caius volturi

Once he received the letter, he tore it to thousands of pieces before destroying his room

He’s absolutely enraged and vows that whoever took you will be stripped of their limbs slowly before their head would pop off

His only relief from his anger is whenever he is torturing the people aro send to him for information

He thrives off the information that aro gives him about you being spotted and urges for them to continue looking

He sends his army to the cullens to question them to see if them writing to the volturi wasn’t a cover up

He wondered if the cullens had killed you and were now creating an elaborate story to cover it up

But after his army came back, it was decided that the cullens were innocent and nerve wracked over your disappearance

He still sends his army to search forks just in case you were being held in a separate location from the cullens

He didn’t trust they’re narrative one bit

When the news that your feeding off of humans reaches him, he’s proud and angry

Proud because of his paternal attachment to you, angry because he wanted to be your hunting trainer and partner

Marcus volturi

Marcus is wracked with guilt and worry

He feels guilty that he hadn’t had his rogue bring you to him by now

He’s already lost his mate, he couldn’t lose the person who mirrored her perfectly too

He wanted to hold you in his arms and never let go

He had become a grandfather figure to you but he denied you affection

He would change that when you were returned to him

He would hold you for hours and comfort you

He gathers all of his rogue vampire, including Johnny, and has them sent out to spy for you

He can’t lose you

He won’t lose you

He scolds Johnny for not intervening but he understood that he couldn’t blow his cover

He still has to convince Caius not to rip the boy limb from limb

Alec volturi

He’s furious

He was promised a mate

He was promised his sweet Juliet but someone dared to take what was his?

You may not be officially his yet but after decades of courting he thought people knew by now that you were accounted for

His anger and worry was kept behind his stoic expressions but it was still there

He would spend his free time in your preserved room in the volturi castle

It still smelled of you and had some of you items of clothing in it

He would look at the windowsill he once found you crying at, the night his obsession began

His anger deepened when he heard about you being spotted at a fraternity

Why would you fraternise with lower beings?

You were to be with refined beings like himself, not handsy, drunk mortals

If they had dared touched you, you would be washed and they would have their hands ripped from their bodies and shoved down their throats

Jane volturi

She’s extremely worried about you

Were you feeding properly? Were you being starved? Beaten? Tortured?

She kept her concerns to herself but in her quiet moments she would think about the times you confided in her

She remembered your fear of small spaces, how you would panic at the thought of being forced into a small place

She wondered if your fear remains after all these years, what if they used your fear against you

She felt the pressure of the mate competition in full effect now

After experiencing the worry she feels not knowing where you were, she knew that she wants you with her at all times

She hated you being with the cullens, she hates the feeling of not knowing more

She vowed to herself that although she loved her brother, she would win your favour and have you to herself

She gets out her anger and worries by helping Caius with his torture

She would spend hours standing over a possible accomplice and use her power

She once spotted the rogue who was meant to be watching you and used it on him, not for long unfortunately since Marcus ordered her to stop

She heard the news that you were spotted with a red headed woman, had you taken a mate already?

Anger and jealousy burned her soul to the point she couldn’t look at red headed members and specifically got red headed human women to drink from and torture

She would have you, one way or another

Johnny ward

Johnny is the only one who knows that you went willingly

But he refused to tell them that

He wanted you found because he also knew that you were planning on revenge

He had been using your own shadow to spy on you, he heard every conversation

He knew it was a stupid idea, and he hoped that the volturi would put a stop to it

He felt slightly guilty that he was robbing you of your freedom, but would being captive be better than being dead?

In your eyes, probably not

He also knew that his refusal of aros power and his lack of stopping you from running away put a target on his back

He received glares of hatred and disgust from the kings and he had one of the guard use her powers on him

He knew marcus was the only reason he was alive, and he was grateful

He just needed to stop your suicide mission without anyone knowing that you went willingly

Jealously, jealously the love interests fight

Hope you enjoyed

My requests are open for twilight, lost boys and bowers gang btw :)

Love ya ❤️

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 20: The Confessional II

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Din has left it all too late as his fears are realised.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Mo blood, injured Reader, Hurt/Comfort (if I have ever written a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic in my life, it’s this chapter), lots of feelings.

A/N: We're nearly there, omg. Every single one of you who's joined me on this journey and let me know you're enjoying this story, you're SO wonderful. Thanks for reading!

--

Din rips at your flight harness, nearly pulling it from the seat in the effort to get you up. He shouts your name but you’re limp and silent, lifeless. Grogu watches with wide horrified eyes as Din hauls you, limbs dangling, into his arms. 

He yells to R5 to keep the ship on an even keel.

‘Grogu. With me. We need. Lay her down.’ He grunts out the words in stuttered bursts of breath, moving to the door.

‘Pah!’ Still in his pod, the baby unbuckles to follow the hulking shape of Din carrying you through the cockpit, dropping into the hold, across to the cabin. He floats into the cabin behind the frantic Mandalorian and your unconscious form, hovering nervously and murmuring as his father lays you down before turning to him. 

Din lifts Grogu from the pod.

He settles the child next to you, by your hip so his little hands are just in reach of the wound, and seats himself on your other side – framing you between the two of them. He takes out a small knife and slices away your leather tunic to expose the short metal object that Grogu spotted when you had leaned back in your cockpit chair. It is pulsing with a low hum and the skin around the foreign object is riddled with gooseflesh. Sweat pools across the plains of your abdomen and in the hollow of your neck. You shudder. 

‘Grogu,’ Din hovers above you both. He takes one, steadying breath. ‘I need you to be strong for her now.’ 

He points to the small hilt sticking from your middle. Grogu murmurs, gazing between it and Din with unease.

‘This is a phase blade,’ he explains. ‘It is an ultrafine weapon that a war trooper must have slipped in when she was fighting. She would have barely noticed it going in, but now it is buried deep and is making her bleed inside her body. Do you understand what I mean by that, Grogu?’

‘Ebbe?’

‘It’s hurting her inside her body where we can’t see. And if I start to pull it from her, it will activate an energy field that is going to make it worse, more bleeding, more damage inside of her.’

His voice cracks for a moment. He blinks back tears from behind his helmet, seeing the charts on his vision array showing your staccato heart rate and plunging BP blur and distort. He shakes his head and focuses on the child’s face. 

‘It’s designed that way, d’you understand?’ he goes on. ‘They use it to kill even after a battle ends. It’s impossible to remove without killing her.’

Grogu gives a little wail of despair, leaning into your limp form.

‘But y’can save her, buddy.’

‘Eeeh?’ Din’s son gives him a disbelieving look. He really doesn’t know - how powerful he is?

‘Remember Greef Karga?’ he says, leaning closer to the tiny child. ‘Remember the creature’s attack on Navarro? You saved him. You can save her.’

From where you lay, you convulse slightly and thick blood oozes across your hip and onto the bed. Your chest rises in shallow, hyperventilating breaths. His voice gets urgent.

‘You’re stronger now than you were then, so much stronger. You can do this. As I draw out the blade… heal her as it goes. Make the bleeding and the hurt stop. Can you do that?’ 

The baby’s ears twitch as he looks up to where your head lays lolled on its side. He looks terrified.

‘Please, kid,’ the desperation in Din’s voice pulls Grogu’s eyes back to him. ‘Please, you have to do this, I need h—’

Fuck, take a breath, Fuck.

‘I need you to try your best.’

Grogu seems to steel himself. He reaches out and presses both hands to your entry wound. Din takes the petite hilt of the blade in hand and braces a forearm against your ribcage. He watches as the child closes both gigantic eyes and focuses, tilting his head progressively up and up like he’s summoning the universe to him. Din observes his breathing pick up and his little forehead scrunch tight. 

‘Ehhhhh,’ Grogu looks pained, straining. His little mouth opens and closes a few times before settling into a hard frown. Then, without opening his eyes, he gives one tiny resolute nod.

Din takes a long breath in and counts… three, two…  

He pulls.

‘Hhhhrrrrrngh!’ You wail and arch off the mattress, pushing into Din’s forearm with a surprising force. He leans forward to put more weight on you and grips the blade tighter. It’s barely moved a millimetre but you and Grogu are both shaking violently. 

Just keep going. Stay steady.

Another pull and hot crimson spurts from the wound, splashing across the view of his visor. You jerk as if struck, arching again. His grip slips off the hilt. Panic rises. He feels like he might black out. Flushing hot and cold, the air in his lungs turning icy and his blood setting to boil.

Furious regret tears at him. Worlds, curse him. He’s wasted so much time. Holding onto the hurt, onto the shame, and the anger. Why? Why couldn’t he have let go sooner. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you. If he’d just tried. Just understood you better.

Fucking focus.

Retaking the handle, he channels everything down to his hand and the blade. It’s not you he’s killing right now; it’s just his hand and this blade. That’s all it is. His hand, this blade, he chants it over and over as more of the quivering weapon comes free.

His hand, this blade. His hand, this blade. His hand, this cursed, evil, fucking, going to kill his--

The weapon draws out, deactivating the second it breaks contact with flesh. Din hurls it into a med tin and shakes his hand, as if to get the menace off him. He looks back to you, reads your still sporadic vitals. Your lips are white and you’re puffing hard through clenched teeth. Your wound is still leaking blood. Too much blood.

He’s on the verge of weeping. But he concentrates instead on Grogu, whose claws are sunk deep into your skin as he continues shaking and grunting. The child is giving everything he has. 

Din Djarin looks between the two of you. His whole fucking world. He’s losing a part of it. Maybe for good this time. He’s been so foolish. 

Fresh tears come. His vision shifts out of focus and, instead of your two quivering bodies, he sees the spray of blood across his visor. Your blood. A wretched reminder of how tortured he’s been since you returned. Empty while you were gone, he’s been on fire from the moment you looked at him as you stood at that damned forge saying you’d fight for them. Each time he’d watched you from afar, desperate to go to you but drilled to the spot, it burned. His desire to see you, to actually see you. 

It’s time. It might be too damn late, but it’s time. 

He reaches and pulls his helmet up, off. Deposits it over you onto the bed. He sits back and puts a hand to Grogu’s back and the other to your uninjured side, drawing the two of you together, holding you as close as he is able.

Whatever happens, he needs to hold you both close, for as long as he can.

‘Come on, Grogu,’ Din leans in. ‘You can do this, you can. You’re so strong, stronger than any—’

Grogu gives a long pained sigh of effort and flops forward, head resting next to the spot where – thank all the worlds – your wound has closed over into a puckered, angry looking scar. Your breathing is evening out and you slowly come to stillness.

Even as the child lays there wheezing, the wound continues to lighten and shrink, the connection between you and he potent and enduring.

Din becomes aware of his own hammering heart, his staggered breathing. Sighing out every ounce of fear and panic that had consumed him these past few minutes, he looks at you. 

He gives himself a moment to take you in. Traces the side profile of your face where your head has turned away. Relishes in the way your eyelashes flutter, and your lower lip quivers a little. The way you’re breathing more normally with each passing moment. 

He gives himself a moment to think about the colour of your eyes, wonders if his visor’s vision array has ever truly conveyed their beauty.

Then he gives his son a reassuring pat.

Grogu’s eyes slip open and he looks at his father in wonder. Din smiles.

--

It’s so much pain. 

Great crumbling walls of it. Savage spikes impaling your very core. You fall back away from it, toward some dense murky nothingness. That’s what you’re aiming for – just for the relief – when something else reaches down and wraps around you. A coil of earnest embrace. A branch of tender love. It takes hold and gives a single strong entreaty. Come back. As it strengthens its hold, the excruciation eases. The agony releases.

And so you turn back.

Push through a dense fog, swim back to consciousness. It feels endless. White haze claws at you, but the warm light waits not far away. You drag yourself to it. It takes effort. So much effort. You have to call on the weary presence within you to rise up, haul on it like a rope out of there. Reaching, grasping, breaking the surface tension with a long, strained inhale.

The first thing you sense is Din’s voice.

‘Sshh, cyar’ika,’ he’s whispering. ‘That’s it, take it slow. There’s no hurry.’

You hear yourself groan then. Feel filtered cabin air settle on your skin. Smell earthy sweat and the tang of blood, and under those something achingly known. More out of curiosity than any desire to expose them to light, you blink one eye open a little, then the other. And then you feel confusion. Because through blurred eyesight, what you see makes no sense. With your head rolled to the side, you’re looking at the unoccupied half of the bed. Except it’s not totally unoccupied.

Maybe you haven’t woken up, after all.

Din’s helmet rests on the blankets. Empty and cold, no life behind the visor. 

You sense him sitting on your other side. Hear his steady inhales and exhales, clear and unmodulated. Feel the heat of his thigh pressed into your side. 

‘Din?’ you say, voice croaky and weak, still staring at the lone helmet. You can’t bring yourself to move, to turn. You can only raise a shaky hand to press a finger to the cool metal. A flood of feeling at the contact you’ve ached for, you trace over it, follow the streak of dried blood spattered there. Draw a thumb down the high arch of its side. A caress you’ve longed for.

‘I’m here,’ he says.

‘You’re not…’ Still looking at the helmet. You notice his gloves and gauntlets also discarded on the bed. ‘You’re…’

‘It’s okay,’ he says, throaty and barely above a whisper. ‘You can look.’

‘Are you,’ you struggle to keep tears from blurring your sight even more. Blink hard to clear them, hiss in a breath. ‘Are you s- sure?’

The sensation of two fingers gently pressing to your cheek makes you gasp. If you weren’t already lying down, you’re sure you’d collapse. You screw your eyes shut again as, with a tender push, he tilts your head to turn to him. 

He sighs, pulls his hand away. ‘Please,’ he rasps. ‘Let me see you.’

Come on, you tell yourself. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

So you focus where you think his hands will be, likely resting in his lap. You blink a little when you see them there – those strong, capable hands. Thick fingers, veins tracing over knuckles, over his wrists, and up to where his forearm disappears into a sleeve. You follow that up to one shoulder, dart from it across to the other. No pauldrons. Land in between. No cuirass. 

In your peripheral vision, above the chest you’re staring hard at, you register dark hair framing indistinct features. Dark hair you already know to curl around his ears and fan over his forehead, from touching him blind and from that one scant glimpse before the battle. You’d been so eager then. So desperate. And now…

He murmurs your name. ‘Look at me, please.’

Tracing the line of his neck, the edge of his jaw, you sweep your eyes up to meet Din’s. 

A plush lower lip purses just a little, as he releases a breath like he’d held it his whole life. You struggle to breathe at all, drinking in the glorious sight. Lungs burn as you slot each tiny detail into the image in your head. There’s so much to take in, but his eyes… My gods, his eyes.

Deep, and dark, and bottomless. They match his voice so perfectly, that velvety timbre you know so well, you’re amazed you hadn’t known their hue and tone all along.

He gazes back, absorbing you. Irises like onyx marbles roll over your face, opening you up and exposing you completely. Tears start to threaten you again just from the sheer overwhelming sensation of making eye contact with Din.

‘Mmm, weh,’ a gentle murmur pierces the spell, has you glancing down.

‘Baby, hey,’ you whisper to Grogu, who’s tucked into your hip squinting up at you. You prop yourself on an elbow. ‘Oh, you look so tired. Why aren’t you resting?’

‘He’s been waiting,’ Din says, drawing your eyes back to his, where you struggle not to get lost in their fathoms again. Gods, this is the face of the Gods. ‘To make sure you’re alright.’

You look back to the child, whose own huge eyes blink languidly. You can see the effort he’s making to keep them open. You remember then, what he did. Grogu reaching for you as you sunk into a murky oblivion. Giving you the life raft to let you drag your way back. Saving you.

‘Hey, kiddo,’ you reach over and let him take hold of a forefinger with his little claw. Enclose it with a thumb. ‘See? I’m okay now. I’m okay.’

‘Emm?’

‘Yeah, you did good. You can rest now. Thank you.’

Grogu gives a lazy nod of his head, exhaling and cooing to the two of you. He pushes himself up and moves toward his pod, tentative little steps and huffs of air until he’s seated comfortably among the blankets. Pawing at the controls, he drifts out of the cabin and you listen for the shift of his hatch, open and then close.

Moving the hand he’d grasped to rest on your stomach, you feel it. Raised skin, threaded and uneven. Fingers trace back and forth over the new scar.

‘What was that? What happened to me?’ you ask, gazing up at the man sitting beside you, at his soft mouth, his sharp nose, his knit-together brow – his gorgeous features. 

A shadow crosses them as Din leans down and picks up a little metal tray. A tiny hilt with no blade rattles inside it. He lets you get a look at it before tossing it back on the floor like it’s tainted. You suppose it is.

‘Fuck,’ you huff an exhale, lean back. ‘Dicey.’

‘That would be putting it fucking mildly,’ he says, glaring at the offending weapon. How had you failed to notice a damned phase blade? When did it even happen? What would have happened to you if Din hadn’t— If he hadn’t been with you? You pull in a long breath of air.

‘How many times is it you’ve saved my life now?’ you ask. 

Eyes so soft and deep lock onto yours. You’re not prepared. They’re so expressive, you can read every single ounce of feeling in them. Longing, and fear, and some deep sad pain that breaks you wide open right from your chest.

The swell of emotion rises so swift it chokes you and slurs your words. But you force them out. As fast as you’re able over the short shallow panting that starts ramping up a staccato beat.

‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Gods. Din, I’m so- s- I—'

He’s leaning in, head shaking just a little.

‘I was scared,’ you push on, words bursting out over rising sobs. It’s been too much. It’s been too long. ‘I was just so fucking sc- scared. And confused. And like I was just lost? I’m sorry, fuh, ah, I’m so--’

‘Stop,’ he speaks over you. ‘Stop, please.’ 

But you can’t. You can’t stop. The dam you’ve been straining against dissolves into a torrent. Chest heaving and hands shaking, you scrunch your eyes shut and weep.

It’s when Din bends forward and takes your face in his hands, swipes a thumb over a tear-streaked cheek and whispers, ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ that you still. At the sound of your name, murmured and desperate, you open your eyes to see his own just inches away.

‘I understand,’ he says, looking right through you, brows pulled in and expression pleading. ‘I understand now.’

He holds you there for a long, agonising stretch. Faces so close your breaths merge, brush against the cooling moisture on your skin. It’s when your mouth parts just a little, and his gaze drops there for a second, that he seems to return to himself and sits back.

Bereft for a moment, caught off guard by how just a few moments of his touch has your body thrumming, you stay quiet. You lay still and watch him gather himself, readying his words. You know this posture, know what it looks like when he’s preparing to open up. The added details of his jaw working and forehead creasing in contemplation are not lost on you – in fact, they put your heart in your throat. Yet still, in this moment, you have no idea what he’s going to say. 

Sure enough, his words take you out.

‘A while ago,’ he says. ‘Through a misstep in fate, I possessed a weapon that could have allowed me to rule Mandalore. As Bo-Katan does now.’

This out-of-nowhere revelation has you asking before you can think, ‘Why didn’t you? Why aren’t you?’

‘Well, among many other reasons,’ he makes a gesture like politics and such. With a head tilt you know well, you nearly die to learn it comes with a single eyebrow arched high in sardonic humour. You feel giddy, but keep still and listen. ‘It was… heavy,’ he continues, expression dropping to neutral again. ‘Too heavy. Being a part of my Covert is about belonging. But this was something different. I did not have the want to carry that weight. To be pulled down. Bound.’

The word pierces right through your chest. ‘Bound?’

It’s a tiny squeak, the way you say it. Bursting out of you as you see him in all new light. Familiar light. He moves a hand over you to touch your forearm, strokes there in comfort – a reflex that he doesn’t seem to make note of. It makes your skin sing. 

‘Mmhm,’ he says, looking at you. ‘The thing you fear? I understand it. I should’ve understood it all along, but I was blinded by—’ He cuts himself off, swallows hard. 

‘Anyway, I am sorry for that,’ he says, whispering your name again. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

You’re trying to find the words to say he has nothing to be sorry for. To tell him you’d carried remorse and guilt with you across most of the galaxy. That you’d do anything to go back to before that cursed day and talk to him. Tell him these things before it had all become too late. But he continues before you can. 

‘And I’m sorry that I have been… since you got here, that I’ve…’

‘It’s okay,’ you say, when you see him struggling to keep going.

‘It’s not,’ he says. ‘It’s not okay, I was just- Shit, I was just so furious…’

‘I know,’ you murmur, ready to accept this and beg forgiveness. ‘I know you were angry with me, and, and I underst—’

‘I wasn’t angry with you,’ he interrupts.

‘But I- I hurt you so badly, I--’ you say, unable to believe him. Tears encroach again. ‘And- and I was here and you weren’t, and I didn’t know if you’d ever speak to me again, and I--' 

‘I was hurting, that’s true,’ he says, warm hand continuing its motions on your arm. It hasn’t stopped for one second. ‘But so were you. And I wasn’t angry with you.’

‘What?’

He leans the elbow of the arm not caressing yours on a knee, shifts a little closer. Drawing a deep breath to speak, he gives you another wounded look. An intense wave of gooseflesh ripples over you.

‘You being here,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’

You must look fit to break because he rushes on. 

‘You being here, in danger. From the moment you stood in front of everyone and said you’d fight, I’ve been,’ he drags a hand through mussed curls, searches for words, ‘drowning, in fury and fear. When you told us your plan for the walker… Fuck-- I was livid.’

Paying attention to the tender muscles in your abdomen, you nudge yourself upright. Shuffle a little until you’re sitting up facing him, drawn in by what he’s saying.

‘That’s what you were angry about?’ you ask. ‘That I came back to fight?’

He shakes his head. ‘I was angry that you were risking your life. That you wanted to fight our battles. That they were letting you. After what I did? How I let you go?’

Din stops there for a moment, works his jaw some more and swallows like he’s trying to not choke. Grips your arm hard. He looks tortured.

‘I should never have let it get to that moment by the forge, that day you left,’ he whispers, voice tight and just under control. ‘But I wasn’t, wasn’t paying attention. I was so afraid… The idea of you in a war that wasn’t yours to fight… All I could think about was how I could protect you. If I even could.’ 

His eyes are glossy as they stare over your shoulder. Your fingers itch to touch him. ‘And when you did run… I thought at least, at least you’d be safer that way.’ 

Din takes a sharp hiss through clenched teeth.

‘But I was a fool,’ he says. ‘To not realise that whether you had run that day or not, you still would have ended up here, because of your bravery, and loyalty. Because of me. And I couldn’t stop it-- I couldn’t-- Fuck.' He lets go of you to drop his head into both hands. ‘And you almost just fucking died, right here-- All my fears were—'

This time you’re the one reaching out, clutching at arms and wrists and trying to shush and still him. You lift his head and you’re inches apart again. You mutter at him to look at you, look right here, I’m okay … Just look. I’m here.

He sighs hard and stares. Tears shining in the corners of his eyes, they shift back and forth across your face. Your fingers tingle where they dig into his hair. Heart thunders. A white hot current crackles through your arms and across your chest, sends sparks up the back of your neck. 

‘I’m here,’ you say again, voice breaking only a little.

‘You’re here,’ he whispers back. As he calms, clenched jaw relaxing, he leans into one of your palms. Just a little, without breaking eye contact. Although you do see, for the barest second, a soft pink tongue dart out to swipe his lower lip.

But he doesn’t move, just keeps looking at you – waiting for you to choose what to do next.

It’s not that you don’t want to keep holding him like this, to pull him closer, wrap yourself around him entirely. Not let go. It’s not that you wouldn’t give anything in the galaxy to simply press your forehead to his, nudge his nose with yours, press your mouth to—

It’s just that you’re on a threshold you’re not yet ready to step over. There’s things you want to say first. Answers you still need. Somehow, doubt there still about whether he wants the same thing.

So you pull back. Not much. Just enough to bring his features into focus again. Drop your hands to rest between you. He seems to will himself to relax and settle back as well, understanding the air between you is a volatile thing, and you should move forward carefully.

Into the silence, picking at the covers on the bed, you do let a little insecurity out. Just let yourself say it.

‘Well, here for as long as I’m allowed to be anyway,’ you mumble, hoping it conveys the question you’re too afraid to ask. Can I stay?

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but his eyes roam over you and you have to fight not to squirm under his gaze. Not react to the heat it’s building within you.

He moves a hand to you again and that heat flares. But rather than touching you, he lands it on the armour guard still clipped to your shoulder. A piece of the set the Armourer had had made for you.

‘You have come to be more accepted here than you realise,’ he says. You sense his thumb tracing back and forth over a specific spot, a tender caress. Tilting your head to the side to try to see, you can just make out a scorched tear where an enemy weapon must have grazed over the leather – and the dark grey steel underneath it.

‘What?’ You move your hand across as Din fluidly unclasps the piece so you can take hold of it and get a proper look.

Cradling it, you gaze up in disbelief. 

‘Beskar?’

‘Mmhm,’ he affirms. You look back down, draw your own thumb over the split to feel the cold bite of sacred steel.

‘I don’t understand.’ Tears prickle your eyes. One falls to land on Din’s thumb where it has come to rest over yours. He palms it into a fist, draws it back.

‘You will,’ he replies, voice soft. ‘Soon. There’s things for you to know, when we return to the Covert.’

His tone draws you from the shoulder piece back to his face – he’s nervous, hesitant, trying to not spook the wild thing before him.

The you of several months ago would have let what he just said set you on a panic spiral. Let it burrow into all your insecurities and trauma. Let it put a wall around you.

But the you of right now fends it off, reminding yourself that the price was just too damn high. The cost of giving in to fear and paranoia would end up destroying you. You know this now. Just trust him, you tell yourself. Remember what he said. Just be patient.

So you give a nod, an acknowledgement that you’ll wait to learn more. He relaxes a little.

Still, you have to work to not fret about what’s to come. So in the quiet that follows, your mind wanders back to the battle instead. Scenes and snippets dance across your consciousness. One thing jumps out at you, and you blurt it out.

‘Hey, why’d your jetpack cut out?’ you ask. He starts at your sudden turn in this conversation, but goes with it.

He looks embarrassed though. ‘Um, that’s…’ he mumbles, rubs palms together. ‘It’s only really powerful enough to carry just the one… person.’

‘Ah, too much weight?’ you ask.

At his chagrined look, a short laugh bursts out of you – breathy and full of relief. In response, Din smiles, with lips curving and teeth showing. The sight punches the air from your lungs.

‘Guess I’ll have to see about an upgrade,’ he says dryly.

Hells, and you’re gonna let that sit with you for a bit.

More bits come back. The miraculous course of events is overwhelming now that adrenaline and shock aren’t flooding your system.

‘And how would you have taken out Cephlate’s ship if I wasn’t here?’ you wonder aloud. ‘If I was still on the ground with…’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’

‘You had the second controls installed…’ Din shrugs, tips his chin and looks up at the ceiling, you see the faintest crawl of a blush on his neck. It’s charming as hell.

‘Let’s call it… hopeful planning,’ he offers. ‘I wanted to be prepared for anything.’

‘You were,’ you breathe. ‘You always are.’ He smiles again. You could get so used to that.

Another question bubbles up, but Din senses it and shushes you.

‘We can do a full forensic later – and talk more, I swear. But I think we’re about to—’ R5’s binary burbles a warning over the ship intercom. ‘Run low on fuel,’ Din finishes. 

He examines you with an ‘okay to move?’ kind of expression and you nod.

As you each move to stand, careful to give space to the other, the sensations of your body rush into your awareness. Unpleasant, irritated, and clammy.

You stop in the doorway, turn back. ‘Um, D- Din?’

He straightens from collecting his helmet and turns to you, listening.

‘When we’ve landed, can I-- would there be time for me to…’ You raise an arm covered in dried blood to rub it across your neck, caked in dust. Drop it to the cut-away hole exposing your abdomen, also bloody. Dither before thinking hells with it. Just ask. ‘Would it be okay for me to use the fresher quick?’ You mumble it out in a rush. Grubby and self-conscious. ‘I just…’

‘Of course,’ he says, voice a low rumble. ‘Anything.’

Not long later, you stand under the warm stream of water revelling in the sensation. You know you don’t have much time, but you linger long enough to feel yourself seeping back into your skin. Coming home. Rivulets of cleansing moisture travel down your body, as you let the dirt and the blood and the months on months of heartbreak wash off and away.

--

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[ourloveisforthelovely]

Black Heart Part 7

Regulus Black AU

Request: Will you write a Regulus x Reader fic where Regulus is older than the reader? She comes to help the Order and Regulus falls in love with her. The relationship isn’t easy because of the war and Regulus’ denial that he would be a good boyfriend.

Summary: Admitting that he was in love had never been something that Regulus wanted to do. Now that you were in his life, Regulus didn’t know how to react. Should he love you or push you away just like he had everyone else?

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader  

Link to Part 6

Rating: M

_____

“I’m aware. I am here to talk to you about your death eater of a brother. I want him to keep his filthy hands off of Y/n before we have to either bury her or make a blooper reel of her life. You need to tell that asshole to watch his back.”

Sirius blinked several times as if trying to decide if this conversation was actually happening. After determining Dr. Sexy was actually standing on his doorstep threatening Regulus, Sirius poked his head out of the front door and looked around. He, for a moment, thought that Regulus was screwing with him in some weird way. Was there some joke that Sirius wasn’t in on? When he didn’t see Regulus in the hallway, Sirius turned back to Nicolas.

“Okay, now that I know I am not being bamboozled somehow, I’m going to say this...mate stop. For your own good and the good of everyone involved stop. Fucking with Regulus is about the first level of stupid. He isn’t one to be fucking around with.

Nicolas was shivering in anger. He was mad! Mad wasn’t putting his feelings with enough emotion. Nicolas had spent ages trying to get you to like him. There had been so much dedication on Nicolas’ side then in swoops some older rich bastard that looked younger than Nicolas himself.

“I am knocking the shit out of your boney brother when I get a hold of him. I love Y/n and he won’t mess this up!”

Sirius couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. It took Sirius a few moments before he was able to get ahold of himself.

“What’s funny?”

Nicolas snapped as Sirius rubbed a hand over his face. Sirius wiped a few tears from his eyes before laughing again. When he calmed down, Sirius sighed.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just laughing at my life.”

Nicolas put his hand on his hips as Sirius moved to speak again.

“Mate, she’s having his baby..two of them…if you didn’t know. Y/n is in love with him. Accept it…embrace it…look if you are dumb enough to fight my brother…he may be skinny but Regulus fights dirty. He’s going to win. Unfortunately, because you're threatening my little brother you are also threatening me. Keep it up and I’ll sit on your head while Regulus jumps up and down on you. You’ll also be pissing Remus Lupin off because he’s pals with Y/n so he will be beating on you too. If you insist on starting something…may the odds be in your favor”

Sirius promptly shuts the door in Nicolas’ face before going back to his tv show.

“Dude’s a mother fucking idiot. I would rather hug a cactus than tangle with Regulus…especially when it comes to the first girl that he’s ever been mental over. Nope. No way”

(meanwhile)

Regulus woke up alone when the sunlight began to stream down into his eyes. Frowning, he sat up and looked around the now-destroyed bedroom. The sheets had been ripped off of the bed during the previous night's activities.

“Y/n, love, where did you go?”

Regulus called out as he looked at the mess of feathers there were all over the bedroom floor. How a pillow was totally destroyed was beyond him. Regulus made a mental note to call for Kreacher to come to help him tidy up. He was thankful that Kreacher wouldn’t ask any questions about what happened. The elf would just nod and start cleaning up.

Your voice pulled Regulus from his thoughts.

“Bathroom, can you come here a moment?”

Regulus turned and walked into the bathroom where you stood looking at your reflection.

“Is something wrong?”

He asked tentatively. Regulus hated admitting it but he was afraid when things were going well. Things typically didn’t “go well” for him. When they did go well for too long hell fire typically ruined everything.

You turned to face him with a smile. Regulus’ eyes fell down your body and stopped at your stomach.

“I woke up this morning and look.”

Regulus’ eyes widened. You were right! It seemed like you started showing overnight.

“I totally did not expect that.”

Regulus commented as you moved to wrap your arms around him.

“Wait a minute.”

Regulus murmured as he dropped his hand to run over your stomach. You were relieved when he smiled. Knowing that was a genuine Regulus Black smile made your heart happy. Even though Regulus had promised that he was happy about the babies…that little smile always made you feel even better.

“You look beautiful.”

Regulus said, pulling you a little more tightly against him. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against yours.

I’m happy.

Regulus liked that thought. He needed to relax. He was happy and you were happy with him.

I have never had that happen before.

It was a true thought, no matter how sad it was. Regulus never kept a girl around longer than a few weeks. When things usually went down in flames, it was usually due to his not willing to open up. With you, Regulus was going to try his best to open up…no matter how uncomfortable it made him. You were worth the uncomfortable feelings.

The last thing that Regulus wanted was for you to tire of him and leave. He couldn’t process the thought of you ending up with someone like Nicolas. Regulus was not about to let that younger man be the one that raised his children.

They’re my kids and I’ll be the one that raises them.

Regulus internally nodded at the thought. He hadn’t told you, and maybe he would at some point, but when he was young (before the dark thoughts and feelings started) Regulus had wanted a family of his own. A family that could be happy…not whatever the Blacks were.

“Do you mean that? What about if I gain a lot of weight and get bigger than a house?”

Your voice pulled Regulus from his thoughts. He chuckled before taking your hand and bringing it to his lip.

“You worry about such silly things. I can barely keep my hands off of you. You’ll be beautiful no matter what. I really am concerned about telling these children apart. Did I tell you Sirius’ comment?”

You shook your head, knowing whatever Regulus was about to say would be amusing.

“No, should I be worried?”

Regulus shook his head.

“He said that he wouldn’t even bother learning which child was which. He is simply going to sit back and let the children tell them who they are.”

A small smile played on your lips before speaking.

“A lot of twins tend to switch names with their sibling.”

Regulus suddenly looked petrified. You couldn’t help it as you giggled

“You’re worrying too much, Reggie. You’ll be able to tell them apart. As far as Sirius is concerned, let the twins have their fun. You know, we haven’t really spoken about it…what do you want the babies to be? Girls? Boys? Does it matter?”

“As long as the three of you are healthy that’s all that matters to me. I have a feeling if the babies are girls I will understand why my uncle Cygnus was so damned crazy. Someone could look at his daughters funny and he was ready to take them out. Anyhow, now that my anxiety is through the roof, how about we get out of the house for a while…maybe go down to the beach?”

You eagerly nodded before turning to go find a clean dress to put on.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll get changed.”

Regulus turned and walked back into the bedroom scratching his head. He was in deep thought again over the babies. If they were girls would he be able to handle it? Of course, the answer would be yes. Regulus had a feeling that he would suddenly develop the urge to murder whatever punk teenager showed up at his door in the future. Regulus suddenly thought about what a dick he was.

It's a good thing that her father is missing in action. If he wasn’t, I would call him and apologize for ever having sex with his daughter.

Regulus thought as he buttoned up his shirt.

“Master Regulus?”

Regulus turned around to see Kreacher in the door. He was relieved to see the elf.

“Kreacher, I was about to call for you…”

Kreacher nodded.

“Kreacher had a feeling that Master Regulus and Mistress Y/n would need Kreacher. Besides, Master Sirius is at the house and Kreacher did not have the patience for that.”

Kreacher looked around the bedroom and looked suddenly shocked. There were feathers all over the bedroom floor, blankets thrown everywhere, and your knickers hanging from the chandelier. Kreacher blinked a few times before turning to Regulus.

“Is all well here?”

Regulus’ cheeks turned a pale pink as he met Kreacher’s eyes. Had it been anyone but Kreacher, Regulus would have been absolutely mortified. Kreacher, house elf or not, was the one being that Regulus felt understood him. He also knew that Kreacher cared about you (even if he complained about your wrecking his kitchen and organization system).

“Uh..yeah. I think we may have gotten carried away.”

Kreacher nodded before speaking.

“Kreacher will fix the pillows and clean.”

Kreacher wasn’t about to complain. He was thrilled to see Regulus happy, for once. Kreacher was also happy to see the family that he cared about continuing. If Walburga had been alive, Kreacher was positive that she would have been happy too.

You stepped out of the bathroom in a pale pink sundress. Regulus’ eyes immediately went to your stomach, yet again. There was definitely no denying it. You were pregnant…you were pregnant and Regulus was happy.

Kreacher gave you his usually squashy frown.

“Kreacher it's nice to see you.”

You said pleasantly. Kreacher gave you a nod. The last thing that he wanted was to upset you again. After making an offensive comment that made you cry, Kreacher was scared to do it again. Even after you assured him that it was just hormones the last thing that Kreacher wanted was to upset Regulus for making you cry.

“It's nice to see Mistress Y/n too.”

Regulus meanwhile had reached for your hand.

“We’ll be back later.”

Twenty minutes later you stood on the beach watching the waves crash onto the sand in front of you. You were enjoying the fresh air and quiet peacefulness that surrounded you. There was no hospital, no dying patients, no screaming, panicking, or general distress that filled your typical day. It was just peaceful nature sounds.

You turned your attention to Regulus. He had rolled the bottoms of his pants up and was wondering around where the water met the beach. You couldn’t help but smile looking at him. For this brief moment, Regulus wasn’t the man that had so much thrown onto his shoulders. He wasn’t the boy that became a death eater at 16. He wasn’t Regulus Arcturus Black, heir of the Black family…the blood traitor (that he would be in his family’s eyes)...the high-ranking official at the Ministry of Magic…he was just Regulus.

Just Regulus…the man that you loved with your whole heart.

You watched with a small smile on your face as the wind blew through his now messy curls.

“I see why you like it here.”

You commented as you moved to join him. Regulus wrapped an arm around you before leaning down for another kiss.

“There isn’t any noise…no expectations.”

Regulus replied. While he knew his place with The Order was important, Regulus, if even for a brief moment, considered not going back. It was a silly thought but he loved entertaining the idea of the two of you remaining here, in this moment, forever. The two of you could raise your kids away from the crazy.

It won’t last forever…the crazy will come here eventually if the dark lord isn’t taken care of.

The thought was unwelcome in Regulus’ mind. For once, he didn’t want to think with his logical brain. He was enjoying this peaceful happy side a little too much.

Looking down at your face, Regulus realized that you were feeling the same way. You didn’t have your “doctor poker face” on. Instead, you looked like that young woman that you were. You weren’t some child prodigy that grew up to be a young doctor. You were just Y/n.

Now is a perfect time…

Regulus watched your face for a moment longer before pushing some of his hair away from his eyes.

“Remus and Tonks are getting married. Do you think they are crazy?”

You shook your head.

“No, I don’t. With this war, none of us know how long we have. Tomorrow isn’t promised. They’ll be happy.”

Regulus let his hand drop into his pocket. His grandmother’s engagement ring suddenly felt very heavy. The ring had been willed to him to give to his future bride. Granted, Regulus never thought that he would actually use it.

He had been keeping the decision to propose to himself but he had been considering proposing for some time. A lot of his reasoning was the pregnancy. The last thing that Regulus wanted was for anyone to run their mouth about HIS kids…but that wasn’t it. Regulus wanted you to be his and his only.

“What about us?”

Regulus asked softly. You instantly smiled.

“Darling, we’re happy. I am very happy. I love you.”

Regulus took a deep breath before taking the ring out of his pocket and slipping it onto your finger.

“Would you love me enough to marry me?”

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. Looking down at the emerald and diamond engagement ring, you could barely form a sentence for a moment.

“Is this an engagement ring? Are you…”

Regulus nodded, his eyes suddenly taking on that “sweet lost boy” expression that typically got him anything that he wanted.

“Yes, will you marry me? It isn’t just because of the babies…I don’t want people bad-mouthing any of you. It's also because you are the only one that I would even entertain the idea of such a thing with.”

Regulus suddenly wondered if he was crazy. He was proposing to a girl that was younger than him…and not dating long. Would you think that he was nuts? What if you did? What if you said…

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Regulus’ internal panic stopped when you said those four sweet words. He stood staring at you a moment before pulling you into a kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and tangled your hands in Regulus’ hair as he deepened the kiss.

Were the two of you crazy for moving toward marriage so fast? Maybe. Did you care? No. At the moment the two of you had everything that you both needed. For once, both Regulus and yourself had someone who loved you despite all of your flaws and insecurities…that was enough.

The two of you were so lost in the moment that neither of you noticed none other than Peter Pettigrew, in rat form, watching with a cold sneer. So Regulus Black was making himself a happy little life after deflecting…fascinating…

With a squeak, Peter disappeared down the street with some happy news for his master…

_____

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