#catharsis awaits

[silasbug]

time to let go of the past.

#catharsis awaits #freedom awaits #and they won't wait forever #bug.txt

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

#jrwi show #jrwi fanart #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #made this within a short span of wahtever bc i gotta go up to the mountains for my stupid gay job tonight n im trying #nnot to frrRREAAAK THE FUCK OUUTTTTTTi dont wanna work but. get that bread we fuckin shall i guess #ONWARDS TO THE FISH TORMENT!! sometimes flowers feel pain when you trim them before their blossoming. atleast i imagine so #i used to draw gillion with loooong hair tied into a big ol braid. and then it was confirmed that he had short hair when he was little. #AT FIRST I WAS SAD. but then i realized the duality of. when they were little. gill had short hair. edyn had long hair. #AND NOW THEYRE OLDER. and gillion has long hair. and edyn has short hair #both mirroring eachother. looking up to eachother. subconsciously or not. they most certainly care. and most certainly miss eachother. #GILLION ALWAYS LOVED HOW LONG HAIR LOOKs. atleast i imagine so. he hasnt cut it since he left the undersea. sure he wanted to go back home #but even at the very start. he knew he was free in some way now. free to grow out his hair. an adventure would await him before he returns. #he knew it would be a while. so he cant let this go. he cant let this sought-after hair-length get cut away from him again #not yet. not yet. i like to think he loved music too. I SAW SOMETHING INTERESTING A BIT AGO #i see alot of ppl commenting on my baby gill comics like;'i wouldFIGHT this teacher i wanna KILL EM i want them DESTROYED #all very good and nice sentiments! i LOVE the energy here! and it would be nice. to have that catharsis #but the story of young tidestrider is not a story of catharsis. it is a story of agony and being so so small and so special and also so dum #and sucking so bad. and just being a kid and doing the things that a little kid does and so many tired tired people reacting badly to it #youre supposed to be the hero that will save us. our world hangs in the balance and you are the one who tips the scales. #YOU are supposed to SAVE US!! you NEED to SAVE US! CAN YOU PLEASE STOP SQUIRMING IN YOUR STUPID CHAIR!! #you'd think that young tidestrider ought to prevail. and be tucked someplace all safe and sound. #elders gone missing and rotting in a jail. their cultists nowhere around. but theres no happy endings. not here not now. #this tale is all sorrows n woes. you may dream that justice n peace win the day. but thats not how this story goes #BIG ideas for this lil baby gillion series. if anything i make ever gets disproven im killing myself in a well as to poison a water supply

[glacierclear]

ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH? part ii.

fuckboy!leon x gn!reader

content: hurt/some comfort, angst, apologies, reader is sad, brief intrusive thoughts, mentions of alcohol

The seasons change. You can only hope he will, too.

[ao3 link]

…and you didn’t see him for three months.

The shifting grace of Autumn gave way to ice. A once verdant campus green now muddled under gray snow, crunched with grit and soot. Passerbys did not linger. Bundled under layered coats and coiled up scarves, students hastily searched for warmth, leaving the sidewalks barren and lonely.

You relied on consistent distraction. School work that numbed your fingers. A fleeting, creative hobby that lasted all of a week. Outings with peers who’d never consider you a friend. None of it seemed to fix you.

And God, you missed him. More than anything in the world.

But the words looped in your head. The stinging from that night boiled into agony.

I don’t fucking need you.

He didn’t mean it. You knew better than to take his venom at face value. But it nurtured the foulest parts of yourself. Self-loathing feasted like a gluttonous beast, growing fat on the careless anger of his beer-fueled tantrum. Because if there was even the slightest chance of it being true…what had it all been for?

Were you truly just a warm body he used for shallow company? Is it possible you were just as disposable as all the rest?

But those thoughts were never allowed to mature. You snipped the buds and opened another lecture video, paralyzing any hint of an emotional response.

Sometimes you’d see him. In the distance, hovering at the edge of his usual crowd, smiling. Once or twice you even made eye contact, but he’d break it within the first moment, as if he had seen nothing but a fly among trash. It’s on those days that you cried. Cried and cried, until all that remained was bitter apathy.

Angrily, you wished he felt the same. You wanted him to break. You wanted him to regret every moment of that night from the instant his eyes opened that morning. You wanted him lost and abandoned and miserable, just like you.

And, truly, it only confirmed your worst fear. If you were always this hateful beneath it all, he never really needed you.

December bit frost under the brittle edges of your fingernails, and you conquered every day with the determination of an undying plague. Christmas was only a week away, and if you could just make it to the holidays, maybe you’d finally start to heal. There’s catharsis in the new year, meaningless or not. It might’ve been what you needed to forget everything. To forget him.

You trudged back home, your evening class wrapped up and concluded for the day. Friday used to mean something. It meant a weekend with Leon. Drunk, covered in gummy worms, squealing at some god-awful horror movie he rented just to get you to hold him. He used to wrap an arm around you, hugging you tight, promising to the moon and the stars he’d keep you safe from anything.

It was hard to take him seriously with popcorn in his teeth, but now you found yourself fantasizing the memory with teary eyes, although it’s probably just the cold weather.

With rosy cheeks and a dripping nose, you turned your key into the lock, kicking open your door with a disgruntled shove. It was dark. Your roommate left for the holiday early, leaving your dorm hollow and unwelcoming. You hovered in the common area, letting the mask you wore crumble off piece by piece.

Friday used to mean something. Now all you did was rot. You stepped over towards your half of the flat, reaching forward on instinct before a reactionary tug gave you pause. Your door was closed. It wasn’t when you left for class.

You listened, straining to hear beyond the chipped oak, but you received nothing. With a dry mouth, you closed your fingers around the knob, twisting, pushing your way in.

What awaited you inside nearly sent you to the floor.

He sat cross-legged by the bed, curled up on your little, brown rug. All you could see was his back, and the gaudy, expensive headphones clamped shut over his head. His head nodded gently to a beat you could barely make out, and he thumbed slowly through a book yanked off your shelf. It wasn’t the careless flipping of empty words, but the patient turning of pages of someone actually reading.

He never read around anyone but you.

You crept closer, letting your backpack drop to the ground like a lead weight, crashing and jolting Leon out of whatever paragraph he was enjoying. He batted the headphones off his ears, swirling to gape at you with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes.

Your favorite shade of blue.

“Jesus! Scared the fucking shit out of me–” He pressed a palm to his temple, panic easily bleeding away, but in its place you saw him tense, awaiting your anger.

“I scared you? You…how’d you even…did you break into my room?” You met him with accusation, though all you wanted was to hold him.

“...I mean, yeah. Duh. Not like you’d ever let me in willingly.” The dismissive tone of his voice riled you up more than you’d care to admit, and you stepped closer.

“Of course you’d stoop to this instead of just asking. What the hell is wrong with you?” The seasonal chill you felt walking home has all but melted completely. You were a live wire. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Come on. You know I bribe the janitor. We’re bros, me and Jeff.” He donned a cocky smirk.

“Oh, well, that’s great. I’m so happy for you, Leon. Now get the fuck out.” You vaguely gestured towards the exit, glowering down at him with an impatient scowl.

Leon’s smirk dropped. He set down the book, standing to his full height. You forgot how much taller than you he was.

“...no. I’m not leaving. Not this time.” His face hardened into a devastating intensity, prying out your seams one by one. “We need to talk. I need to…fix this.” You watched him flail his hands a bit, attempting to sculpt form to whatever this was.

You knew it would never be enough. No apology or heartfelt confession would repair the damage carved from three months of absence after the worst night of your life.

But you’ve always had shitty taste in guys, and he was the shittiest. You missed him more than anything in the world.

“Fine. Speak.” You settled on an impartial response, arms folded across your midsection. “But I’m really not in the mood for bullshit, Leon. I’m not.”

“I know,” he hung his head. “I know. I…” You were kind enough to grant him patience. The time you knew he’d need. Emotionally stunted didn’t even come close to describing Leon, and any effort on his part to offer honesty is effort you needed to encourage, in your own quiet way.

“I fucked up, okay? I really fucked up. Just like I always do and–” You noticed him halt, sucking at his teeth and wincing as if cinched with pain. “No. I’m not…fuck, listen. I’m not trying to like, make you feel bad for me I just…I always do this. I do, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The words came out stuttered and unsure, as if the mere concept of an apology churned the acid in his gut. And maybe it did. What little you knew of his childhood easily explained his behavior. A blood-red thread woven into his heart like stripes on a cobra.

You nodded, coaxing him to continue. You would not shelter him with yielding platitudes.

“...all that shit I said…I was…god, I was scared. Do you realize what the hell you are? What, fuck, what you mean to me? The most fucking important person in my life and I thought I was gonna lose you over a shitty party.” He was too frustrated to look you in the eyes anymore. You felt cold again. “And you’re right. About all of it. I made you go and I ditched you and then I blamed you for – fuck, and then I didn’t have the balls to do anything for two months–”

“Three months.” You interjected, your lips a thin line, the ice he walked on.

“Three…three months? Jesus, I didn’t…” Leon ran a trembling palm through his hair, wrestling his own relationship with time. “Has it really been that long?”

You nodded.

“...I’ve been a mess. I…my grades are tanking, man, and I can’t even eat.”

Against your will, you deflated with a sad sigh. He did seem skinnier. His face sunken in. His body looked frail under his sweatshirt. You wondered if any of his other friends had noticed.

“You shouldn’t forgive me. I’m not really like, expecting you to. But I…I’m…” The word dangled off his tongue, the teetering step into territory unknown. “I’m sorry.”

For the past three months, you dreamed of this moment. Twisted visions of him crawling back to you on his hands and knees, begging for mercy when he deserved nothing of the sort. Over and over again, you extracted pleasure from the possibility of denying him, turning your back and thriving in spite of him.

You were sure the words would feel great. Amazing, even. But hearing them in person, hearing the shriveled warble of a man reduced to his own imitation, you felt nothing.

The silence stretched for miles. Both of you were too hurt to say anything. From the floor, his headphones faded into quiet before transitioning into another song, lyrics incomprehensible from where you stood, mirroring the noise of your own thoughts.

He broke the emptiness with a cough, and scratched his neck.

“...damn, well, I should…I’ll let you enjoy your Friday, I guess. I’m sorry. I really am, I–”

“You said you weren’t leaving.” The words came out without thinking. Leon blinked.

“...what? I–”

“You said. You weren’t leaving. Not this time. Are you really going to break another promise, Leon?” You’re not stupid. You understood your challenge was nothing more than a thinly-veiled plea to get him to stay. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your dignity died with the autumn leaves.

“...oh, I was…I didn’t think you’d – yeah. Okay. Yeah, I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere. Swear on it.” Leon puffed his chest a little, the hopeful beginnings of a smile creasing his cheeks. A real smile.

You shuffled closer, breathing in, filling your lungs with mercy.

“Did you really mean what you said, Leon?” It was spoken so softly, and he leaned closer to hear, just as you hoped he would.

He smelled like cedar.

“...what I said?” There’s confusion in his stare, yet he tilted his head, an eagerness to understand.

“When you said you…when you said you didn’t need me. That I was–” Whatever else you were going to say didn’t matter. In an instant, you’re strangled with warmth. Arms latched tight around your chest, your face smashed into the flesh above his heart.

“I need you.” It’s said so easily. And you knew he didn’t need to think twice. “I needed you every day and I will need you every day after today and…every year and…just, so much, man.” Ruefully, you couldn’t help but laugh. Such an indelicate way of speaking. So thoroughly Leon.

Your arms wrapped around his stomach, squeezing with a reluctant pressure. You still couldn’t believe he was real. But here he was.

“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear.” You went slack in his hold, forgoing oxygen in favor of him. He filled your mind and soul, and you never knew you could miss the scent of Irish Spring so much.

“...okay. Is…Is that it? I mean, not that I– shit, are we good? We chill?” He pried you off, cupping your cheeks with burning palms, searching your eyes for safety. Reassurance.

You wanted to give him that. But pretty words and a warm hug were only enough to quiet your demons. They did nothing to heal.

“No, we’re still not friends.” You said finally, staring away, unable to face his reaction.

“Wait, seriously? What…but I–”

“I don’t forgive you, Leon. Not…not yet.” Cautiously, you gripped his wrists, lowering his hands back to his sides. “I missed you. A lot. But it took you three months to tell me all of this. Three. Months.”

“Yeah, but…you’re actually just…gonna leave me forever? For three months?” It’s not anger in his voice, simply the aching desperation of a heart longing for closure. An answer to every question he had.

“Listen, I…we can be friends again, maybe soon, maybe later. I still wanna see you and hang out and stuff, but…it’s gonna take time, okay?” His shoulders sagged. “You have a lot of things you need to work on, and I can’t be the one to fix them. It has to be you, Leon. It has to be different.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him clench his fists. A vein pulsed on his neck, and you braced yourself for the backlash. The brewing storm he hid behind when he was afraid.

But whatever happened the past three months has drained the fight from his body, and he went soft again, his posture slouching.

“I’ll get better. I will. But…can I ask you something? Can I ask you to promise me one thing? Just one?”

You stared at him again. His ocean stirred, but you stayed afloat.

“Sure, Leon.” you whispered.

“...wait for me. Promise me you’ll still be here when I come back. When I’m…when I’m fixed.” He was so close, you could study each twitch and crinkle of his face. All the voiceless ways he loved you. “Will you let me come back to you?”

It wasn’t even a question.

“I promise, Leon.”

And you loved him, too.

#my writing #resident evil #leon kennedy #fuckboy!leon

[geekgirles]

Liar Revealed

So Marinette and Sabrina worked together to lure Lila into a false sense of security that eventually led up to her spilling everything in front of an audience she was unaware of. Now everyone knows she’s been lying about everything, she’s a horrible person, and she and Chloé are about to be expelled for good... After 7 years, the fandom finally got what it wanted.

...then why do I feel like I’ve actually wasted those 7 years of my life? 

Buckle up, ‘cause this is going to be a long ride.

As someone who’s been eagerly awaiting for Lila to be exposed since Volpina, a feeling that only grew with each passing episode she’s been featured in, I honestly find this development wholly underwhelming, highly disappointing, even. 

Maybe I’m too vindictive, who knows, but this in no way feels like proper comeuppance for a character who’s been maliciously manipulating everyone around her and relishing in other people’s misery since she was first introduced.

First and foremost, because having Lila accidentally reveal herself while gloating is too much of a cliché. I’ve seen people before mentioning how Lila exposing herself seemed to be the only way this could go, seeing as Marinette’s best attempts always seemed to fail. But if we ignore for a second this was actually set up by Marinette and Sabrina, with the way it’s handled it just feels like a kick in the gut, not the overwhelming catharsis I’m sure most of us were expecting. 

Because, and this is actually my main problem with the execution, by having Lila expose herself by spouting a self-satisfied tirade of every single lie she’s ever told and people have believed without question as she disparages Sabrina’s attempts to take her down, saying how she could easily turn everyone against her, the narrative is actually framing Lila in the right.

When we as the audience know it shouldn’t be like that. 

Lila only really upped her game in season 5 (and even then the writers still rely too much on the characters being dumbed down around her for it to work), up until then all her lies would have been easily discreditable if the writers didn’t need the class and everyone in Paris to believe her for her schemes to work!

From our perspective, Lila is nowhere near as formidable as she presents herself to be. Which, admittedly, goes in line with her consistent characterisation (about her only consistent trait aside from being hateful and a liar) that she believes and presents herself to be more special than she actually is. But the problem is no character other than Marinette, Adrien, and now Sabrina ever learnt of this fact! Maybe now that she’s exposed herself, but with the way she gloated about all her plans going off without a hitch...

Which leads us to another reason this was the worst possible execution of Lila being exposed they could have come up with:

It was a stroke of luck.

That’s it. That’s unquestionably what it was. Because hadn’t Sabrina finally grown a spine and drawn the line with the actions she was willing to commit for Chloé’s sake, Marinette would have had no way of knowing of Lila’s plan and preparing accordingly. 

Really, the only positive thing I can say about it is that it could maybe count as character development for Marinette since she finally learned she needed to be as sneaky as Lila if she wanted to take her down. And there’s of course the fact that Sabrina finally broke away from Chloé. Other than that? It’s a fairly sombre scenario, really. 

Because, again, Marinette didn’t manage to finally beat Lila because she had a strong support network (which would have painted a very symbolic and meaningful picture showcasing how, for all the superficial attention her lies can get her, in reality, Lila will always be alone as long as she doesn’t put in the genuine effort to reach out to others like Marinette does), but because she had outside help. Again, help she couldn’t have accounted for until Sabrina herself reached out to her. 

Relating to my previous point, Marinette never got Alya to even believe her about Lila or at the very least question how genuine she was until Lila spelled it out for her. Even though she’s known her best friend is Ladybug for months, which brings forth the question if letting Alya in on Marinette’s secret ended up being even worth it if the writers refuse to have her help her out where it matters (I’ll be sure to go back to this point in a minute, just you wait). 

What else? Oh, I know! How about the fact that, for a season that was supposed to be all about Adrienette winning, the writers purposely robbed us of that Adrienette vs Lila alliance we were promised back in Chameleon, huh? Because Adrien was completely left out of the plan. In fact, ever since Ladybug back in season 3, he hasn’t been allowed to do anything to help Marinette against Lila. As with the Ladynoir conflict in season 4, his relevance all but vanished even though he was a central part of the conflict from seasons 1-3. 

Even better! When he finally spoke up about Lila to Nino and Alya, arguably his best friends besides Ladybug, they completely brushed his concerns off as him just agreeing with Marinette out of boyfriend obligation! I didn’t know intangible things could slap me in the face, but boy was I wrong!

And the best part? This complete disregard of his feelings, lack of communication, and their assuming they know better than him (which disturbingly parallels to his own relationship with Gabriel...) is certainly never going to be explored, let alone resolved. 

What do I mean with all this?

Well, basically that for a show that’s supposed to promote the power of love, friendship, and teamwork, when it comes to Lila Marinette is all alone. Has been since Volpina. 

But at least that’s done with, Lila got her just desserts, and we’re never going to have to deal with her ever again...

SIGH

Except, not really. Not at all, in fact. 

Because just as she and Chloé were finally being reprimanded for their actions, Mr. Damocles had to choose that of all moments to realise he failed as a principal, attract an akuma, cause a racket, and provide Lila with the perfect distraction to just...walk away unscathed. 

And with the reveal that she actually has more identities, social circles, and opportunities to lie and manipulate to fall back to after being expelled from the Françoise-Dupont...Let’s just say it implies that while Marinette (and the audience) had to endure nothing short of psychological torture, Lila never really had anything to lose.

Now I ask you...how the Hell am I supposed to consider that a satisfying, cathartic resolution to that particular arc?!?!?!?

And if you permit me, there is one more thing I’d like to get off my chest. 

Alya’s reaction to this.

After learning the truth she rushes to hug Marinette and apologise, being a clear wreck about it. And while Marinette getting an apology once in a blue moon is always a welcomed thing, once again the writers aim and completely miss their shot. Because Alya apologises for being gullible. 

Look, back in seasons 1 and 2, Hell, even back in season 3, I could have overlooked this. Yes, she never listened to Marinette, could be a tad hypocritical, and the whole jealous thing got old and annoying fast, but at least she couldn’t know for certain Lila was bad news. But from season 4 onwards Alya no longer has such an excuse. No, from season 4 onwards Alya’s problem isn’t that she’s gullible, it’s that she willingly and repeatedly chose to blatantly ignore all of Marinette’s suspicions and warnings regarding Lila. Even after Adrienette finally became canon and Marinette had realistically no reason to feel jealous of Lila in any way, shape or form, Alya still couldn’t fathom that, perhaps, her best friend had her reasons for disliking Lila besides a love triangle. 

The moment Alya learned Marinette is Ladybug, the two should have been allowed to talk about Lila, about the real reason Marinette hates her, and to work together to overcome this issue and bring her down. How do you expect me to be okay with season 5 opening to these two having daily sleepovers to talk about Marinette’s love life, but not a single second could be spared after Illusion to have Alya question why Marinette hates her so much, if not connect the dots herself since she is Ladybug’s best friend, not Lila, and Ladybug hates her?

I’ve seen people justify this saying it’s been a long time since Lila lied about being Ladybug’s best friend, and while I’ll argue the last time it was mentioned was actually Chameleon, not Volpina, I could see your point. Except that is not just another lie, like her claiming she knows Jagged Stone or Prince Ali. No, that is the lie that started everything.

It was because Lila lied about knowing Ladybug to impress everyone, especially Adrien, that Marinette completely lost it and chewed her out for it in front of him. It’s because of that lie and the consequent reaction it got from Ladybug that Lila even developed a grudge in the first place. It’s because of that lie that Marinette ever found out about Lila being a liar, because before she first lied to Adrien about being close to Ladybug, Marinette was panicking because she had no chance against someone as incredible as her. If she hadn’t lied about knowing Ladybug, Marinette would have been as fooled by her as everyone else and the two might have never really come to blows.

So don’t tell me it was never brought up because it was so long ago and it doesn’t matter anymore, when that particular lie carries so much weight and we all know the real reason they couldn’t have Alya in Marinette’s corner is because the writers know Lila needs everyone around her to follow her blindly for her lies to work and everything to always work out in her favour because otherwise she just doesn’t work as a villain.

TL;DR: If you want a good resolution to the Lila Gets Exposed plot, pick literally any fanfic dealing with this exact premise. It’ll be better, I promise.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #ml spoilers #ml season 5 #ml season 5 spoilers #ml s5.21 #confrontation #ml salt #ml analysis #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #sabrina raincomprix #adrien agreste #lila salt #alya salt #lila rossi #alya césaire #chloé bourgeois

[morallyinept]

Tendrils - A Din Djarin One Shot 

Summary: Admiring his art, The Mandalorian loves to tie you up in knots. A Kinbaku/Shibari session with your Nawashi Rope Master, Din Djarin. 

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.) 

Word Count: 5.6k.

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.” 

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: BDSM themes/Kinbaku/Shibari/rope play/suspension/restraint/all consensual/soft dom Din/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M receiving/gagging/fingering/light choking/praise/all the good stuff.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me - you’ve been plenty warned. 

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Originally inspired from my Pedro Boys & Kinks Ramble. Shibari is the ancient Japanese art of bondage rope tying. Kinbaku takes this same skill, but in a more emotional and sensual direction. In this story Din is your Nawashi Master. A Nawashi is a skilled rope artist who concentrates on the communication with a partner and includes sensual emotion through a heightened state of rope suspension and play. I love the idea of Din being a more gentle rope rigger enthused more so by the art of it. So here he is. 🥰

MASTERLIST | DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As you peer up through the window into the depths of deep space, the galaxy sprawls before your eyes in a mesmerising display of colours and wonder.

The scene evokes a sense of awe and insignificance, as you’re confronted with the sheer scale and beauty of the cosmos. It never fails to render you wholly incapacitated; here, and on your knees for it.

The first thing that strikes you is the vastness of it all. The galaxy stretches out seemingly without end, with countless stars dotting the inky expanse.

Some stars appear as brilliant points of light, while others form clusters and constellations; their patterns etching stories of their lifetimes in the night sky.

Tinctures dance the canvas. The stars vary in hue, from the cool, icy blues of young, hot stars to the warm, fiery oranges and reds of ageing giants. Interstellar clouds of gas and dust provide a striking contrast to the stars.

These nebulae come in shades of pink, purple, but mostly blue; their ethereal glow creating a sense of otherworldly beauty that you never tire of.

Serving as the cosmic nurseries where new stars are born, and their colours reflect the processes of star formation and destruction. Life and death. An ouroboros of never-ending repetition.

Amidst the wonder, you glimpse the faint, ghostly tendrils of spiral arms, hinting at the structure of the galaxy itself. These spirals are composed of stars, dust, and gas, swirling in intricate patterns that pull your gaze deeper into the cosmic abyss.

Naked, and on your knees, glancing up at it all with big, curious eyes from within the dark, muted shadows of the docked Razor Crest awaiting its next charge, you are still.

Unmoving.

You understand why Din has you engage in this ritual before you begin; it’s pertinent to challenge the perseverance through the discomfort.

A euphoric catharsis; a form of calming meditation as you sink into the enveloping arms of deep space, before you fall into your subspace.

A moment of stillness, that’s all he seeks from you. A moment of calm in the chaos surrounding him through the vortexes of the universe.

Din observes you quietly, eyes shrouded under Beskar steel; his silhouette bleeding into the shadows of a Rorschach inkblot on the periphery of your vision.

A moment of stillness, that’s all he covets. And you give it to him so willingly. His obedient chattel, freely surrendering into the symbiotic relationship created between you both in your mutual lust for the bind.

He looks across at you and he feels the stillness swell in you; motion and fluidity traded for practiced silence and strict immobility. He approaches and when you look up into the T-shape visor, his voice rousing you to do so, your own reflection mirrors back, albeit a little wobbly.

He feels the stillness within him too when you look up at him like that. The calming of the bountiful tides from those sparkly peepers of yours.

The rope is ready, all laid out on the cot in its serpentine coils. Plentiful and scarlett. Silken, yet binding in its bite if he allows it to be. Recalling from the thesaurus of knots in his mind, he visits the exquisite Eden of his preselections.

He reaches up to test the metal ring above the cot; solid and unwavering in its Beskar rigidity of course. Pulling on it, his strength flexes in his bare sculpted arm, and it stirs you from the sights out the window of the ship.

A slight tilt of your head at the sight of him taut and muscular. The physicality of a Mandalorian comes not without its scars, but to you he is simply wondrous in all his marring.

You try to remain composed as you steal a glance at him, but your body is heated. Swollen and already wet between your thighs for what is to come.

He is soon felt at your nape, the small ghost of his fingers sending shivers through each nodule of your spine. Your toes tingle as you sit on them, kneeling and waiting patiently for him to let you fly.

Helping you to your numbed feet, Din guides you through a few slow stretches; your naked back flush to his bare chest mirrored in the window at you; centered in the silvery aura of his pale glow.

His large hands gently glide across your supple form as he lifts your arms and you feel the cracks loosening your joints furthermore as he manipulates you into shapes. Pliant and wanting and he folds you out.

He pulls back on your arms and you feel your shoulders open. He instructs you to fall as far forward as you can keeping your feet docked in between his, and you don't hesitate at his gentle instruction.

You hum out as you feel the stretch arch through your back and legs.

He worships you in this moment, in the quietude before; the thrill of your surrender. The sentient life of your trust blooming its fruit.

“Do you feel prepared enough?” His modulated voice is soft through the static.

You nod softly, feeling no vice of tension lick at your abdomen.

“Words, please.” His voice is delicate, yet commanding.

He knows how to pitch his tenor; to be heard only by you, even in the cold, distant hums of the Razor Crest. Even in the swarmed crowds in the marketplace on Navarro.

“Yes. I’m ready,” you breathe. You’re always ready for him; the telltale heat felt on your cheeks and collarbone confirm it.

He draws a deep breath of his own, preparing. It crackles in your ear as he exhales.

"Breathe. Move only through your stillness. Be at one with the calm. Tell me to stop if you require."

You nod, obeying him. Falling furthermore into him.

He swears he can feel you grow closer in those moments of your calm obedience; your roots finding their way through his damp soil as he waters you to bloom.

Din shows you the rope he will use for this session, letting you feel it with your fingers, absolving any ligaments of fear you may have.

The rope is his tool; a chisel with which he carves you into new shapes through methodical repetition. And it's a tool that brings a comforting sense of tranquility almost immediately as you fondle it.

His hands glide up the sides of your waist as you take it from him to inspect and enjoy and you shudder as goose pimples flood your torso.

He strokes towards the mounds of your breasts where he cups over them, pinching the nipples that stiffen gently as he rolls them between his thumb and forefinger.

You hiss in rapture at the pull and squeeze of them; the cool weight of his helmet is pressed against the back of your skull as you mew gently around your gasps.

“Mmm,” you whine and he approves with a groan of his own. Groping gently and feeling how your nipples harden still.

"Distracted?" You ask with a coy smirk.

"Always," he confirms with a ghostly murmur as he watches you hiss again as he pulls a little tighter on your nipples.

He’ll tease you like this as he binds you; stopping momentarily to touch your skin, marvelling as your warm flesh turns pimply with the trails of his digits that tickle and tingle.

He’ll take his sweet time in annihilating you.

He takes the rope back from you; ataraxy settles in your features. You can see it in the mercury sheen of his helmet as he turns to unwind the jute silk from its sleeping coil.

He pauses for a moment, perhaps in reflection, perhaps in some unknown hesitation. His thumb brushes against the cleft of your bottom lip affectionately. A last confirmation of your willingness to relinquish the exquisite restriction of your control.

He drops his hand and then he begins.

Din always ties you tightly, but never constricts to the force of unbearability. He knows how to apply the right pressures into your skin, your veins.

Din knows just how you like it.

He knows this is what your energy demands of him in the moment, akin to his own. You give your all to him whilst he knots the rope delicately around your limbs as you become one with it.

He feels it each time you sag, relax fully into the depths of your submission. Hears the pliant murmurs of your sighs as they leave your mouth and slip up inside his helmet for him to taste and swallow down with your sweetness.

Your complicitness in your trust for your Nawashi Master always astounds him.

In the delicate artistry of his preferred practice of Kinbaku, the first knot Din chooses is the Hishi Karada. A full torsoed harness that resembles diamonds when woven across the front of your body.

The silken lines snake up and around your neck like a halter; a living entity slithering sensually over your skin. He watches your reactions as he fastens and loops; the way your eyes dilate and your smile widens.

Then follows the Takate-Kote. Chest loading for the final suspension, your arms are crossed gently behind your back, holding onto each elbow. He slides the loops into place around your wrists.

Your bare chest presented out to him further as the cavity is restrained and pushed forward; nipples tight and hardening again as he fashions the rope into twists between your breasts.

He draws the line around and over, criss-crossing delicately. He curves and braids and pulls tight to cinch, and soon the first bindings of your ropes are complete around the diamonds.

“How does that feel, good?” Din checks in with you, stopping entirely until you give him a verbal response.

“Yes,” you nod. “It feels good. Comfortable.”

"Then I'm doing it wrong," you hear him chuckle gently and you smirk.

"No. It's always perfect. Like you."

He stops again for a moment and you feel him looking at you from under the helmet, slightly cocked to one side as he regards you silently.

It makes your skin warm again after a few moments, the intensity of his gaze on you; even if you can't see it.

The anfractuous dance continues over your skin as he gathers himself and attaches the second line of rope. Silken trails are bound snug against your flesh and feel weighted - secure. You’re not going anywhere once he has you.

Din succumbs to the rhythm of the tie. Each weave calls to him and he yields to its haunting Siren song.

A candescent mesmerisation in a shrill undoing of his soul. The flow of the rope, the flow of you all around him; the flood of blood to the end of his heavy cock.

After a fairly short passing of time, the Takate-Kote is complete, and you stand before him bound in the invitation of your innocence.

The ample curve of your breasts rising and falling of their own with each deep breath you take; swollen and further bouyant by the ropes lifting them to their maximum pertness.

Din attaches the first of the longer lines that will suspend you fully; his hand closing around your throat gently to pull you closer towards him as he works.

When you swallow, he can feel it against his palm as he threads through the ring and pulls you up onto the bone of your big toes; his elegant ballerina.

You feel his fingers stroke through the nape of your hairline and you shudder.

He kneels then, to worship at your feet, more of the jute attached in his hands. Din turns his helmeted head up at you and your reflection greets you back once more.

You're a vision in scarlet lines and knots against your flesh. You beam down at him in your satiated grace enjoying the feeling it evokes.

"This amuses you?" He takes note of your jaw stretched wide in that blinding grin he knows only too well.

"No," you smile wider.

"Well, it amuses me. Greatly. "

"Sadist." You chirp and he tugs on the rope with severity making you jostle again and your giggles tinker out of you freely and more ungraceful. "You play dirty." You snort.

"That's surely the only way to play." Din clicks jubilantly. "Hold still."

He gently folds your left leg back first; heel pressed to the back of your thigh top, and starts scribing the story of the Futomomo Spiral on your skin like a brand.

He knows this will be a challenge for you, but you're resolute in your eagerness to withstand, to endure. To please the bounty hunter who captured your heart.

He senses that from you; he senses your limits and knows how far to push you and when to retrieve you from that place where pleasure morphs into torrid pain.

Sometimes, he’ll let you pendulum between the two; he knows that you want to taste it as its heat licks at your curiosity.

Careful and slow with his ties, Din weaves the sinuous ladders cinching down each line.

He tugs gently and you feel it on your pressure points. Your heightened gasp floods his blood with liquid heat when he does it once more.

“Good?” He checks in again, his thumb circling the meat of your inner thigh, inches from your bare sex.

The scent of you wafts under his helmet making his mouth salivate.

“Yes,” you confirm again through a breathy sigh.

You can feel the dull ache in your leg now that it’s up, leaving you balancing tenderly on your right big toe as you strictly steady yourself from your core not to waver or swing.

You giggle again when you fail, leaning and twirling, and he smiles in response in the secretive confines of his helmet. He never scolds you for laughing; he enjoys that music too much.

He takes your other leg, and repeats the same pattern and you’re suspended from the ring completely, swaying gently against him as he finishes off the beautifully delicate pattern.

Din stands, gathering the last of the rope and pulling backwards as you arch and tip forward, hair falling into your face. He pauses for a moment, glorifying again in the feel of your body pressed close to him whilst he secures you in precise, mathematical knots.

Nose pressed flush against his shoulder where a prominent scar welts there in its ferociousness, and you can’t help but to taste the salt of the ridge as you plant a delicate kiss there.

It disorientates him for a moment; you hear the soft whoosh of his breath flow out from under the helmet warming your cheek.

"Now who's playing dirty, hmm?" He teases.

Din's last step is to braid the remaining overhang of the line into your hair. He scoops it gently out of your face, granting you your vision back as he secures the braid at the end. His fingers weaving across your skull emits a low simper from you.

You squirm and pout as he pushes you back into the air and stills you by the shoulders.

"Almost there, Mesh’la."

Din finally ties you off, pulling you higher as you mourn the loss of his touch. His breath is now coming slow and steady; that calm absolving him of the primaeval misdeeds of his bounties.

He smiles and strokes your cheek tenderly as you let your head fall forward into gravity where you'll hang for a time determined only by him.

“There,” his voice is a whisper, canted in the grizzled tones that only you can hear. The ground beneath his feet ripples like water as he admires the finished sculpture of your form.

He can feel your bliss flooding you; the elation of your aura bursting around the embrace of the ropes, sinking into the fibres to glow with you. You’re a vision in your contortion. How a God would craft his kin from his rib.

He instigates one last check of your restraints before he settles back on the cot underneath you, flat on his back and propped up by the cushion of his bicep under his helmet.

Watching keenly as his masterpiece sways and rotates gently in a slow orbit above him to the backdrop of the cosmos outside.

He watches from inside the helmet as the vacillation of your constricted ballet gravitates above him. An angel clipped of their wings; your body pretzeled into a shape that defies profundity. He watches, he exudes calm.

He’s found his stillness at last.

A low moan slips from your lips, rousing him back from his utopia. It's then he notices the shine; the singular bead of your slick glistening as it makes a track down your inner thigh. He’s exposed you fully to him and his cock twitches in response at your pleasure in him doing so.

He longs to taste it; to feel that sweet tang dance over his taste buds again and flood his mouth like juicy fruit. He could have you for as long as he wanted, you'd just have to take it.

Take all of him as he pummels, as he fucks without abandon. Pulling you back onto him controlled only by the swing of the rope; his violence planting flowers under your skin, cracking you open as they bloom.

You’d be unable to move, to resist as he pulls your pleasure from you in droves and drowns you in his own. Works you through the overstimulation you feel after you come, forcing you to confront it for however long he pleases and you'd shudder and cry that you can't take anymore. All you could do is take as he gives.

Your face is what captures him again; stills any restlessness he unwittingly clings to fully. Blissed out, your mouth slack and your pupils wide. High in your subspace as you dangle above him; a twirling pirouette frozen in movement for him to marvel at.

In that fleeting, dreamy moment, Din understands that euphoria is not just an individual sensation; it’s something that could be heightened when two souls come together in perfect harmony to share.

You’re the pliant, obedient ying to his commanding yet soothing yang. He feels it bleed into him from you.

You watch above him; his form spinning slowly on the cot as you turn on an axis. See how his hand strokes along the pallet of his chest, down to the soft plume of his stomach and grips tightly over his cock. Squeezing and cupping the heavy weight of it through his pants as he strangles a groan.

You bite your lip, you want him so badly when you’re so open and exposed like this. When you fly for him. Just the way he constructed you to. Holes ready and waiting to be filled if he so wishes.

Or he could leave you wanting, contracting around nothing in a frozen anticipation.

Craving for him to fill you and take from you as you’re helpless in your binds. For him to enjoy this exquisite piece of art he's crafted out of you.

And the exquisitiness of it all is that you never know if he will or not.

Your knees and ankles ache; the dull thrum of the blood pumping harder around the knots to keep your limbs on the precipice of a pleasant numbness.

Your conscious thoughts are a mere whisper; a single nagging moment quickly lost amidst the chaos of desire and need for the Mandalorian who has constructed you from clay with his thick, calloused fingers.

Bringing you in warm to experience the highest sensations of pleasure: this is the way he shows his love.

His flight suit and steel have been long traded for soft Harem pants hanging dangerously low on his waist. A faint smattering of dark curls trail from below his belly button into the front of them and you glimpse the obvious bugle that swells within them that he fondles brazenly.

Watching hungrily as he now slips his hand inside the front, you whimper and struggle against your bindings. Your body jerks in that wanton haze.

A noise similar of that to a swamp Dagobah escapes you on a croaked strangle.

“Patience,” his voice is tensile, and yet somehow discernible above the tumult of the blood now pumping in your ears; its sonorous strains slipping between frenetic chaos to find you mindlessly incoherentat the sight of his swell.

You tremble at the overwhelming power in his voice, and you know you’ll always do whatever he asks of you.

Feral intensity spikes hard inside your cunt as Din pulls his hard, weeping cock out of his pants. The swollen head, a flush pink, he runs his thumb over the glistening diamond of precum that sparkles at you and you lick your lips involuntarily wishing you could taste it.

Your arousal and the dampness between your thighs is prevalent as your skin begins to bead with sweat. Heat flooding over your limbs furthermore. The fine tendrils at the back of your neck, missed from the braid, stick to it.

Din pumps his cock languidly, but you can feel the grip of his fingers tighten around his thick shaft pinch all over your flesh that isn’t bound.

Absorbing his passion, your own builds, coating the lips of your cunt in glistening concupiscence.

He seeks to remind you of your tangible agony with those snuffled grunts he pollutes around the Razor Crest, echoing around his ears inside the helmet, and you can hear their veracity as they intensify with the motion of his wrist.

“Please,” you whine above him; your body twirling around faster as you struggle and itch against the fibres.

“What do you seek?” His words are a taunt, not so much a question and you can hear the slick around his teeth through the modulator as he grins. He enjoys your agony very much when you're strung above him like this.

Delicate. Helpless.

“Please, Din. Don't make me beg.” You pout again as he speeds up and the sounds of the gentle slaps of his wet dick inside his fist supernovas on your clit.

"Why? I enjoy it when you beg."

“You, I need...” You're panting now. His jerking intensifies, as do his groans.

“There’s a place amongst the stars for you soon." His body tenses as he works himself into a frenzy. Teasing the fractals of your distress to the surface.

You can only watch as he pleasures himself below you. So near, yet so incredibly far; separated by a vast expanse of the galaxy outside. The agony it births within you starts to crush your bones as you writhe against the knots.

“Find your stillness,” he commands in a soothing tone; his voice jostling from his speedy fisting around his cock. You stop struggling, the bite around your limbs begins to lessen instantly.

You whine furthermore as you watch him; he denies you what you so desperately want.

“Please…” Your voice is strangled by the patheticness of your requisite. And it's enough to make him break in his own selfish need to deny you any further.

Din Djarin can never deny you.

Sitting upright, he pulls on the line descending you gently towards him. Laying back, you hover over him like an apparition, scant inches above his skin.

He maps out your route, controlling your mouth on his torso, where he wants your tongue as you kiss and lick wet tracks over him, barely reaching his flesh at times. Your constant battle for his loins amuses him in your desire to resist him, yet the Mandalorian’s resolve only takes him so far.

"Open," he instructs and your lips part.

Weakened by you, he feeds you his cock, finally, allowing it to slip between your lips. A grunt escapes as he slides into your mouth, meeting with the wet, spongy flesh at the back of your throat.

“That’s it, good.” Din whines, his hands on the back of your head gently; right fist wound around your roped braid and tugging it, controlling your depth. He knows all too well how eager you are to swallow him down. But he wants this to last.

"So good for me."

Breathy husks escape him, rattling through the modulator and out into the ether. The obscene wet sounds of your earnest sucking and his dirty grunts, makes you pulse.

The prominent, swollen vein on the underside of his cock warms to the surface by your mouth and you feel your lips ridge over it.

“More,” Din instructs through a wheeze.

You open up further, relaxing your throat at his command and he slips in further still. Deeper into the crevice of your trachea and you feel the heaves already swelling at the bottom of your gut.

"Relax. Wider for me. You can take it all, I know you can... That's it. So good when you relax for me..."

Slowly, and with gentle cajoling, you take him fully, right down to his balls where your chin sinks into the plumpness of them.

Your nostrils are tickled by the soft scratch of pubic fuzz around the base of his shaft. You inhale soap, his own salty musk and the faint aroma of metal.

Another satisfied grunt escapes from under the helmet. You flick your tear-filled eyes up to see the shape of his chin pointed to the sky from within the helmet. The faint shadows of light stubble that dance over it and entice you to lick the roughness there.

You've never seen his face, have never bore witness to the spectacle of it. And yet you know every feature, every crook of his smile and every flex of his brow underneath the Beskar when he finds his pleasure.

Closing your eyes, you're mindful of your respect, and just enjoy the sounds he makes for you instead.

"There you go... this is what you wanted, hmm?" He fucks your mouth deeply; gentle rhythmic thrusts from his hips as you moan and drool around the fullness of him.

A thick, pearly strand of your saliva plops onto his thigh as it dangles from your mouth. His cock lubricated wholly in your eagerness to please.

He pulls out momentarily to stroke it all over himself, slather up his cock with your sputum before pushing it between your lips once more.

"Again."

You gasp and heave. Your eyes water and finally spill tears over your cheeks from the strain.

"Beautiful," he whispers. His thumbs smear them away. A choke splutters out of you as he nudges against the gag reflex, the back of your throat clamping around him involuntarily in response.

The punch either side of his thick head makes him groan deeply. His fingers twist around your scalp as he pushes himself fully into the hilt of your throat.

Your pussy is dripping, you can feel it sticking on the insides of your thighs and your clit aches with a pinch of pain sparking as you suck.

You squeeze, chasing the exalted feeling as your pelvic floor contracts against the right places inside of you and you moan around him; the hum on his bulbous head in your throat delighting him furthermore.

Din knows what you're doing though, your squirming pulls him from the throes of his pleasure as he sits up and reaches his arm across the roped pleats over your back.

"So needy..." His fingers swipe down your crack, prodding at your lips; slipping down into the gooey ribbons of your pussy as your face remains buried in his crotch - his cock still in the back of your skull as you suck on it eagerly.

The whine you let go of tribs around his length as he swipes his pads across the nub of your clit. Your body jerks in response. He slides his fingers inside your hole that’s so ready for him; drenched and so tight.

Din feels it as you come almost instantly from a few pumps of his fingers; studies your face as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, listens to the sounds you make from his fingers fapping harder inside you.

"You're going to do that for me again, Mesh'la."

He brings you to the edge once more, and instead of holding you back or denying you, he lets you fly. He wants to see your colours and bask in their vividness as they blind him. To feel you tighten and constrict around his fingers.

"So beautiful."

He knows this is real, knows that he makes you feel these things for him as your eyes roll back and that heat floods your body, rising from the pit of your core like a sleeping giant.

Snapping back like an elastic band. Wandering through the realms of sheer euphoria with a kindred spirit to guide the way.

“Din!” You yelp as your bound body twists and contorts, and he keeps you steady in the air on the end of his fingers. "It's too much, I-"

"There is no such thing as too much. Your body wants it. Silence your mind and let it soar."

"Mmm, yes!"

“Give yourself to me…” He instructs. “Let me have all of you.” Din slaps your pussy, the thunder from his gargantuan palm shooting into your clit and all through your body.

It moves at his command, arching and twisting as it yields. "Let go..."

And you do. You flood his fingers as he reinserts them; silken and warm as you expand and float off to be at one with the gaseous stars.

Din loosens the line fully and manoeuvres you onto your back on the cot. Sitting above your face, meaty thighs either side of it, he strokes your bottom lip. His breath catches as you kiss it.

"You flew."

You nod. "Yeah."

"You think you can fly some more?"

"Yes." You quiver.

"Good. Open." He plunges his cock in deep into your throat as you choke and gag around it, only pulling out when he knows you will need to take a breath, timing it in his head. Timing how long you could take it before you’d turn blue like the nebulae and splutter.

"Breathe... like I taught you. Use your nose."

Breathing correctly, you can keep him there, at the back of your larynx as he fucks your face with a little more vigour now; your wet, gummy flesh pulsing against the head of him as you try to intake air and he makes it last that bit longer each time.

He grips gently around your throat as he reaches back and pinches your clit, rolling it through his fingers tightly and making you gasp from the overstimulation.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head from lack of oxygen and too much pleasure as the shock waves of your orgasm continue to tingle and burn their way through you until you're smashed dust amongst the stars.

Din looks down at you through the T-visor, taking you all in as he makes you his art, his finest masterpiece yet. The knots and weaves moving as one with your body.

He pulls out again, groaning as you suck one of his balls eagerly into your mouth, his other hand stroking the length of his cock that’s fatter and twitching around his fist. A cerise pink head that's angry and wanting, and leaking again.

He’s so close. He wants you to have him, have you swallow him down into your belly. He instructs you to spit on it and he watches with abject rapture as you decorate him in foamy crystal strings.

He growls at the sight of it, and it makes all your ribs snap.

You suck him down again and swallow deep, feeling him prod at the back of your throat once more as he guides and controls you with subtle flexes of his hips; his hand knotting in your braid. His grunts are felt on the end of your clit, his satisfaction tingling all through your body.

He can't hold on much longer, he wants you. Want to feel you milk him of his resolve. Take from him what he wants you to have.

He unties you from the ring, catching you steady in his arms as he sits back with you, lifting you into his lap. Your arms are still bound around your back and legs still bent into his crafted shapes.

“I've got you, cyar'ika.” He assures as he holds you steady and he feels you relax into his grip keeping you upright. “Sing for me,” he groans as he sinks you down onto his hard cock and you gasp at the intrusion of his swell.

"Mmmaaha," you whine, dizzy and hot.

"I know, just a little more. Move with me." Din whispers. "That's it, good. Keep it going."

You ride him slowly, gently as his arms wrap you up and hold you close to him, almost crushing the life out of you as his hips buck up to meet yours in this sensual grind.

He's so deep like this. You gasp out, letting go as he fills you up, stretching you open; making you detach and lose yourself in this moment inside the safe lock of his arms - inside of him.

You're gone. Completely dissociated and only he is your God. Your Kad Ha'rangir. You’re not afraid to be lost with him. And he knows that eventually, you will help him find his way out too.

Ephaptic coupling, synapses firing, neutron stars colliding; you burst open from your seams with a choked screech, your skin tight around the bindings and rope, and yet you don't feel them anymore. You feel free as you float and soar and take Din with you by the hand.

Your slick drenches him as your cunt tightens, and he falls with you, letting himself explode with you and calling out for you in his momentary blinding.

His body shudders as he releases, filling you to the brim with his plentiful warmth; coming hard and feeling like he'll never stop.

Smashed. Wrecked. Gone. Your bodies are just empty husks until the gold of your souls return from the vastness of space to rejoin the sensations that still ebb and flow in your veins.

"There," he gasps a little while after he's reborn. "Breathe... slowly. Deep."

Your forehead falls weakly against the coolness of his helmet; a soft bonk as your breath fogs it up whilst you inhale slowly in and out, coming back to dreamy reality and leaving the stars hanging in the universe where they belong.

Din's fingers dance over the thin skin of your lips. You taste them as you delicately kiss the pads of them, one by one as they pass, tender and sweet. Your eyes find his behind the helmet and despite not glimpsing them or knowing their true colour, you can still see them.

You place a gentle kiss on the side of the helmet; your lip print soon a ghostly fade.

"How are you hanging in there?" Din asks, a gentle tug on your woven restraints.

Your breathy giggle answers him and he knows now that this is what it must feel like to die.

You feel him begin to loosen the knots against your back after some time of cradling you against his chest. Listening to his heartbeat as it slows to a natural beguiling rhythm that makes you sleepy.

Slowly, your arms are freed; the ache in your bones is palpable as you wind your shoulders out. He frees your legs and lays you back on the cot admiring the welted indents that have left trenches of their patterns in your skin.

He traces them with a wandering fingertip, eliciting shudders from you as he trawls over your body before massaging the feeling back into your calves.

“Please, eyes closed, Mesh'la.” Din exhales and you respect his wish to be unbroken in his creed. You close your eyes and wait. Wait for the bow to break and then you'll fall into the starry abyss again as his lips finally greet your skin.

It's always the part of your sessions that you long for the most.

Din removes his helmet, placing it close by on the cot. The trust he has in you not to open your eyes is felt blossoming in your ventricles. You remain true to your promise and never take a sneaky peep.

You feel his soft lips kiss along the intricate indents on your flesh, tasting and licking around the swirls, the places where your skin turned a dark shade of mauve.

He gives life to your blood as it flows back into the tingly limbs.

You reach blindly into his crown, rifling through the softness of his hair; slightly damp around the nape of his neck as he kisses further up your body.

Din stops to gently suck your nipple into his mouth and pull it out of the puff of your areola to tease. He enjoys the delectable moans it pulls from you far too much. So much so, that it hardens him again.

But he knows you've reached your limit for now as you lay serene on the cot; eyes closed with a heady smile bleached into your features.

You're more beautiful to him now than you've ever been.

He licks up your clavicle towards your lips where he finally tastes you. Slipping his tongue inside your mouth, waltzing with yours as the warm flesh of his thick cock lays against the inside of your thigh.

"Din..." you croon, reaching blindly for him between your aching legs, but he stops you.

"Rest now. I'm here. You need sleep." He pulls you closer to him, cocooning you into the protective shell of his battered body.

It feels like forever since he was this close; this bound and tied to you in equal measure.

As he kisses you deeply, you wait with a satiated eagerness slipping under your heavy eyes for the next time when your Mandalorian, your Nawashi Master; your Kad Ha'rangir… Your Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn, lets you fly freely again to the stars.

I really hope you enjoyed Nawashi Master Din! 🥹 I enjoyed writing this so much. Please, let me know your thoughts. I'd always love to hear them. 🖤

MASTERLIST | DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin the mandalorian #jett's writing

[bonebabbles]

Chapter 12: the thunderclannining

GOD I love when people call Clear Sky out. It only ever lasts like 5 minutes but it is as euphoric as the brief, blissful taste of a chocolate-covered raspberry gracing your tastebuds.

"How could you believe that I'm obsessed with being right after all the times I chose not to murder you :( ????"

"I let you eat food in land that you used to just be able to walk into, even though you're disabled! I thought you were eternally grateful :(((( IM LOSING CONTROL!!"

"YOU'RE ABANDONING US BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU DESERVE RESPECT????????"

He feels like the world's worst boss and crappiest father rolled into one monstrous fusion.

There's just one problem with all this catharsis; Thunder is still whining about Star Flower, insisting that she's going to betray Clear Sky. It's frustrating because he is wrong.

Star Flower is a lot closer to another victim of Clear Sky than a manipulator, but the narrative will not ultimately conclude this.

But at NO point does it show her actually manipulating anyone. Not even Thunder. NO she did not "manipulate" and betray him. I am once again reminding everyone that Thunder offered all that information apropos of nothing, against all warnings.

Yet, "betraying" the Clan cats by warning her father of an ambush is so unforgivable that several cats agree she should be chased out of the forest.

All this emphasis on how hurt Thunder is shows that his judgement is clouded by jealousy.

All this Star Flower whinging takes away from Clear Sky being abusive. THAT should be the major issue here. This is an entire book of Clear Sky returning to the same kind of emotional abuse he was displaying back in Thunder Rising, only without murder, and what this LONG AWAITED confrontation ends up spiraling back to is the Father/Son Love Triangle

You can't even get catharsis without some incredibly weird, unpleasant bullshit dripping into it.

Im glad that Thunder has finally come to the point where he's rejecting the dumbass statement he made when they killed One Eye together, where he was gushing about, "We're not like One Eye and never have been <3" Yes. Clear Sky IS like One Eye-- a weaker version of him, someone who got out-dictator'd and needed to call in the OTHER cats to ambush him and win his group back.

but again this is meant to be his jealousy speaking. Not straight facts. He JUST had a confrontation with Star Flower about her daddy issues and he's saying that Clear Sky fits them.

CRY ABOUT IT!!!! GET BOOHOO'D LOSER! CRY ME A RIVER AND DROWN IN IT

"I always end up alone waaaaaah!!!" fucking when in your life have you ended up alone? Someone was ALWAYS behind you to hand you a binkie and a safety blanket. When you didn't have a massive group of violent rogues to back you up, the moor cats always took your sorry ass in and clapped at you for doing the bare fucking minimum. People always nonsensically stood by you because the plot demands it, after you get them and dozens of their friends injured and killed

Here comes the binkie and the safety blanket, btw

In a good series this would have been her intentionally manipulating him, bringing out his worst traits again, encouraging him to be the worst version of himself as he once again ignores all good advice.

But Star Flower never did anything wrong. She never DOES anything at all. She's JUST Clear Sky's controversial wife that Thunder has to "get over himself" about, an item to cause conflict, a mate extra supportive of him because he "deserves" to have someone by his side unlike all the other times where people were by his side.

The pack of 3 dogs that mauled you to death wasn't enough. I wish they had guns

#WORTHY OF HIM............. #WORTHY OF THE FILTH UNDER MY FOOT #who the fuck thought this was a good romance im throwing up #Star Flower GET OUT OF THERE!!!! #OH MY GODDD #dotc hate #bones reads dotc #clear sky

[eroguron0nsense]

Marineford is basically just the really ambitious dark what-if bad ending for Water Seven/Enies Lobby (ONE PIECE SPOILERS)

Let's review: you've got two victims imprisoned and awaiting execution for supposed crimes against the world government. Their supposed offences are inextricably tied to the nature of their existence through absolutely no fault of their own. Neither of them think they particularly deserve to be alive and are horrified that the people they love–whose lives they value way more than their own–are facing near certain death to rescue them. Like, to the extent they're both begging to be abandoned and left for dead as they're chained up and helpless, watching good people struggling and falling one by one in the struggle to save them and the situation getting more and more dire. Both have a moment where they have a breakthrough and express that in spite of all their trauma and suicidal self hatred, they want to live and seek joy and meaning with Luffy and their respective crews as it becomes evident that their loved ones will take on the world to get them out.

The difference is just that in Water Seven, you have dozens of really hype moments and everything is cathartic and saving Robin is arguably the greatest moment of triumph in the series. Everyone you think might die gets saved by deus ex machinas (Sodom and Gomorrah, the Franky family, the Straw Hats themselves). In Marineford, we get to watch Ace's friends die in front of him and we watch him scream as the Whitebeards suffer for him; Oars is kind of a perfect microcosm of this who literally has his body trampled over in the effort to rescue him. The brief moment of catharsis you get when he's almost rescued gets shattered with his murder, and then we end on a desperate rush to get Luffy out alive because he's so exhausted and traumatized he can't fight any more. It's one of the biggest downer endings to any arc in fiction and it's made doubly so by all the parallels we've seen in which the Straw Hats are rewarded for their boundless love for each other and their fellow man, their "all for one, one for all" ethos that underscores the entire series, and their willingness to throw themselves against any enemy–and quite literally take on the world– for their friends in the face of horrible injustice against them.

And instead of "I want to live" we get this kinda subtly dark ending for his character because as beautiful as him dying for Luffy and the whole "thank you for loving me" speech is, it reaffirms that as much as Ace has found meaning in his existence, he'll never get to go through Robin's (ongoing) journey of self acceptance. He'll never realize that his friends love him for who he is and not in spite of it. He does't get to grow past the last of the trauma and self hatred and survivor's guilt holding him back as a person, or meet Rayleigh in the postwar and learn things about his parents and the real history of the world that could have given him the catharsis he always needed, or just that he has immense value and brings as much joy to the people he's devoted his life to as they do to him. His final words just make it really clear that as much as he wishes he could keep living with his friends and family, he still cannot fathom the concept that he personally was worth saving or sacrifice at all.

#portgas d ace #one piece #nico robin #water 7 #marineford #luffy #straw hat pirates #monkey d luffy #enies lobby #whitebeard pirates #does this make Jimbei the Franky #there's more I could get into about Marineford as a continuation of the existential dread of Sabaody but maybe another time

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

note: this is not a comprehensive list, just what i could think of today. good enough for now, i say! ✨

#it was so hard to choose an ofmd moment. i listed every moment basically and then had to narrow it down. #also really torn between the villaneve kiss and the end of s3 #technically the end of s3 made me happier for longer #but that kiss deserves RESPECT and AWE!!!!! #i know no one else will vote for sex ghost henry era but that's just because they did that for me specifically #dollsome's deep thoughts #polls #these are my more recent tv joys so i might have to dig deep and ponder the more ancient ones soon #p.s. i meant to also have ted and rebecca being each other's christmas dates on here but i accidentally left it off #which feels somehow thematically appropriate for poor tedbecca :'( #i also just realized i forgot grace and frankie living HEA. damn it!

[untoldreader]

Bound by Secrets

Wanda Maximoff x Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary

The trio finds themselves entwined in a web of secrets that could shatter everything they hold dear. Trust is tested, alliances are questioned, and they must decide whether to confront the truths that bind them or let the secrets destroy them

Warnings

none?

Tag list

@nayarianna1302 @alexawynters @tigerlillyruiz

Chapter 6: Bound by Secrets

The air was heavy with tension as we found ourselves entangled in a web of secrets that threatened to unravel everything we held dear. Chapter 6 marked a pivotal moment in our journey, where trust was tested, alliances were questioned, and the weight of our concealed truths bore down upon us.

One evening, we gathered in the dimly lit living room of our shared sanctuary. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and a sense of unease hung in the air. We knew that the time had come to confront the secrets that bound us.

"I can't shake the feeling that there are things we've kept hidden from one another," Natasha voiced, her voice laced with both concern and determination. "We've built our bond on trust, but if we continue to hide the truth, it will eventually crumble beneath the weight of our deception."

Wanda's eyes flickered with a mix of fear and guilt as she nodded in agreement. "Natasha is right," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "There are things I haven't shared, things that could shatter the foundation we've built."

I took a deep breath, the weight of my own secrets pressing against my chest. "I, too, have kept things hidden," I confessed, my voice filled with regret. "But if we want to move forward, we must confront the truth and face the consequences, no matter how difficult they may be."

The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of our shared secrets settled upon us. We had a choice to make—confront the truths that bound us or let the secrets destroy us.

Days turned into nights as we engaged in countless conversations, peeling back the layers of our concealed pasts. We shared the stories that haunted our souls, the pain that shaped us, and the mistakes we had made. It was a journey of vulnerability and forgiveness, as we learned to accept one another's flaws and acknowledge the darkness that resided within.

Through tearful confessions and heartfelt apologies, trust was rebuilt, stronger than before. We realized that our secrets did not define us but rather the choices we made in the present. The strength of our bond lay in our ability to face the truth together, supporting one another through the darkest of revelations.

In the midst of our shared catharsis, we also stumbled upon a web of intertwined secrets—a hidden connection that ran deeper than we could have ever imagined. The truth of our origins began to unravel, painting a complex picture of fate and destiny.

"The universe has woven us together for a reason," Natasha mused, her voice tinged with awe. "Our paths were destined to cross, and our abilities are not mere coincidence. There's a greater purpose at play."

Wanda nodded, her eyes filled with wonder and determination. "We are bound by more than just our shared experiences," she said. "Our connection runs deeper, connected by a thread of destiny. We must embrace it and fulfill our intertwined destinies."

≈========================≈

Chapter 6 marked a crucial turning point in our journey—a time of truth, forgiveness, and the discovery of a hidden connection that went beyond our individual selves. We confronted the secrets that bound us, acknowledging the flaws and mistakes that made us human. Trust was rebuilt, and we embraced the greater purpose that awaited us, knowing that together, we were stronger than any secret could ever be.

:)

#marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #Threads Of Fate: Wanda #Natasha #and Y/N #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(15)

Come Back To Reality

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n and Cobb are finally able to come back to reality. But Y/n worries if her and Robert in the dream was just that; a dream.

word count - 1.6k

warnings - just way too much fluff!

a/n - why am I actually getting sad how close we are to the end! I know this one feels like the end but we've still got one more chapter left ;)

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

3…2…1.

My eyelids fluttered open with the weight of a thousand hours. My body laced with grogginess. I crack my bones and felt the comfort of the plane seat under me.

I smiled.

We did it.

I giggled.

I turned to my side and greeted each member with giddiness. We all sat back and relished in success.

I felt a hand grip my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Arthur shooting me a wink. I placed my hand over his and squeezed it in acceptance.

I looked over and failed to meet Robert’s own gaze as he was locked in contemplation. I realised his mind must be flooded, the overcrowding shocking his sense into silence.

But my eyes trained on my father’s still sleeping form. My breath stuck in my throat. His eyes fluttered ever so softly and when they finally opened, they were tired enough for a lifetime. But they were still bright. And they still pleaded love once they landed on my form. As I squirmed about in my seat unable to hide my excitement. He laughed at the freedom of my movements.

Saito followed soon after. He reached into his jacket to pull out his phone.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I stood by my father in the queue for passport control. The others had separated off but we stayed together.

His hand slipped into my mine and gave it an affirming grip.

He was next in line.

He turned to me, his face flushed as he was about to divulge everything he could, fearing this could be his last chance. Saito could have screwed him. The clearance may not have been successful.

He struggled to find the words so I decided to help him out.

“I guess you’re healed now. Whatever happened down there it was definitely some form of catharsis.”

“For you and me both.” He breathlessly laughed out.

“I don’t know about that.” His face fell at my sad tone. “I’m gonna need some time. A lot of things have happened down there. I just don’t think I can do it yet.”

“I understand.” He delivered a swift kiss to my hairline. But pulled away with his hand still clasped around mine. “But now we’ve got all the time we need. We’re not running against the clock anymore.” A tear escaped in relief. But I brushed it away before I became noticeable.

“Next.” Was shouted down our line. Dad nervously looked to the awaiting officer. We came together in as miniscule a hug as we could muster before he was sent along first.

He offered up his passport and the officers eyes passed over it intensely. A minute drudged on. We never stopped for a single gasp.

“Welcome to America, Mr Cobb.” His passport was stamped and shoved back to him across the counter. I could see my dad’s frame melt and relax. He moved on more spritely than I’d ever seen. This meant it was my turn and as I approached no worries plagued me. But as my passport was shoved back to me, I remembered there was still just one. And he currently stood at the desk to the side of me.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I shucked my suitcase off of the carousel. I slowly paced my way back down to the exit, following my dad’s silhouette.

I passed each member and acknowledged them with minute appreciation.

I nodded at Yusuf.

I waved at Ariadne.

I winked at Eames.

I smiled at Arthur.

But I was struck in my place when I saw Robert waiting for his own bag. His eyes were locked on his phone but they briefly flitted up just enough to recognise my frame. Fearfully, I scampered to the side. Taking solace behind Arthur’s frame. He looked down at me and couldn’t help but giggle.

He looked up to Robert. He then nodded in understanding.

He turned around and gripped me by the arms so I couldn’t run from what he was about to say.

“We both know what you promised yourself, but we both know how you feel. After everything,” He trailed off and looked over to where Robert was searching for my frame in the crowd.  “I think you finally need to take something for yourself” He patted my shoulder and then unceremoniously shoved me towards Robert. I stilled but then ran back to place one last kiss on Arthur’s cheek.

Well I guess there was no turning back now.

I skipped up hoping speed would remove my desire to turn back. I tapped his shoulder and he turned around.

“I just wanted to say I heard about your father and I wanted to offer my sympathy. You must miss him?”

Our eyes finally met unadulterated and we both were allowed to show as much desire as we could.

“Have we met? You look awfully familiar.” The question no longer filled me with dread. I tucked my hair behind my ear and giggled at his dulcet tone.

“I’d like to think I’d remember someone like you.” I flirted back. He laughed but his eyes still raked mine for familiarity. I shook out to start again. “The plane. I was the wall you crashed into.” He laughed in memory and seemed to relax upon this declaration.

“Robert Fischer.” He held out his hand and I shook it. I couldn’t believe how soft his skin was. “But seeing as you already mentioned my father you already knew that so forget what I said it was stupid.” He broke his hand away and mimicked shooing. His body was racked with nerves. So I clasped his hand once again.

“Y/n Cobb. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He breathed out through a smile. “Beautiful.” He whispered before his mind could catch up.

“I’m sorry?” I questioned, thinking I had misheard.

“Oh sorry it’s just that I think you’re very beautiful but there were more eloquent ways to express it.” He once again began to flap his hands about. He seemed embarrassed but I found it endearing.

“Anyways it was lovely to meet you.” I declared and quickly turned, secretly hoping he would stop me.

“Wait!” Told you. “Can I get your number?”

I turned back around but didn’t stop walking as I shouted back.

“I gave you my name. If you’re as powerful as you look you’ll find me by tomorrow.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I caught up to my dad as he conversed with grandad. I fidgeted as I approached, nervous about meeting his eyes for the first time in years. Instead he took my hands away from their movement and pulled me into a bone crushing hug. Tears burst out and it was the only conversation I needed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We arrived back to the home I had struck from my memory. Fearing it would sting too much.

We both got out, our steps tipping on the edge.

The walk inside felt a lifetime and it seemed the buzzing of life resumed within my mind once again.

We stood as strangers in our own living room. My eyes flitted over every surface to commit it to my mind.

Grandad approached the garden.

“James! Philippa!”

 The two innocent frames finally turned from their play and I laughed through tears when I got to meet their beautiful eyes once again.

They ran forward. Jumping into the awaiting arms of their father and sister. James launched into me whilst my dad swung Philippa around. I sunk my head into James’ neck and just relished in feeling him close. We eventually swapped and I offered Philippa the piggy backs she had loved. She began playing with my hair from behind, slicking it through into loose braids. But she gave up and instead felt she’d be more at peace with her arms locked tightly around my neck and her cheek next to mine.

A thousand photographs could never capture the love of that single moment.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I awoke and stretched in the sheets that had been left since my last day. They had been washed, obviously, but grandma had tried to keep my room as untouched as possible.

My bones melted from the deepest sleep I had ever had. For the first time I had slept unaided and it had cured every ache in my chest.

Suddenly my door was thrown open and I looked up in time to see James launch himself onto body. He cuddled into my side and I threw my arms around him, squeezing him.

“Good morning, Jamesy.”

“There’s a man here.” His voice, ladened with sleep, informed. I tensed.

“He’s got a really fancy car and suit and he asked for you.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

My bare feet plodded across the cold wooden floor. I shuddered in my shorts and tank top. I opened the door. And there I was greeted with Robert, in his perfectly tailored suit, stood in front of his car, that I am assuming he didn’t drive himself due to the man stood to the side.

A smile brushed across his face when I finally entered his sight.

“Do you have any idea how many Y/n Cobbs there are in L.A.?” He declared with perfect practise.

“Well, I didn’t want to make it easy for you.” I teased back whilst carefully making my way to him across the stones.

We were now inches apart. Just gazing into each other.

 “So did I pass the test? Am I powerful enough to take you out on a date?” He toyed using my previous taunt. I blushed under his intense gaze. My hair fell in front of my face but he carefully brushed it back behind my ear.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked and he smiled so brightly.

From inside the house my dad watched on from the kitchen window. His morning coffee clasped in his hand. Like me, his previous attire was forgone for a soft pyjama top and checkered pants. He looked onto his daughter but once he recognised the light which oozed from her frame, he merely relented, well as much as any father can, and smiled.

“You would’ve been proud of her, Mal.”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67 @alice2612

#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian series #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer x y/n #robert fischer x you #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer imagine #robert fischer inception #robert fischer #tom hardy inception #ariadne inception #arthur inception #inception fanfiction #inception #you're waiting for a train

[halsins-herbal-underpants]

Control, Chapters 1+2

Halsin/Tav (Named Original Male Character)

Dayan | Seldarine drow Ranger

Rating: Explicit 18+

PWP, D/s, Sub Halsin, Bottom Halsin

CW: Rough Oral (hair pulling, deep throat, gagging), Light Bondage

Kinks: Scent kink, face-sitting, face-fucking, biting, scratching, knotting, inappropriate use of Polymorph

Read Chapters 3+4 on Tumblr

Read on Ao3

Approx. 5300 words

Dayan (Tav) needs some time to himself after the victory against Ketheric, the win a bittersweet one after learning the truth about the Absolute. His lover Halsin goes after him however, reluctant to leave the troubled drow alone. They decide to relax together and share a pipe --though due to Dayan's special blend, relaxing soon becomes the last thing on their minds. Dayan decides he wants to give a bit more than receive this time around, and Halsin obliges happily. Dayan takes time to indulge in his lover's body in way he hasn't gotten to really experience -- at least, not for a very, very long time.

Light D/s fic where Halsin gets to experience submissiveness in safety and love and Dayan gets some catharsis for the very, very difficult month he's had.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Dayan knew he was in desperate need of a break.

There was a restlessness under the ranger's skin that no amount of exertion or excitement could quell; not the fighting nor hunting nor near-death misses of Reithwin, nor victory beneath Moonrise, nor even the difficult hike to Baldur's Gate. Whatever physical exhaustion he pushed his body to, Dayan’s heart and soul remained gripped in anxiety.

It made the drow feel unsettled and ill at ease even in camp, even in this quiet moment when his beloved group of unlucky misfits could set down tents and relax without worry of goblin or githyanki or cultist attack. At least he was rather good at keeping his discomfort hidden from his companions, for a little while.

But when the stalwart little family finally made it through the trials of the shadow-cursed lands and arrived at the abandoned outpost on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate, Dayan found his usual calm mask cracking a little. It was quiet their first night there and when the moon rose, he found himself standing atop the outpost's makeshift tower, staring out over the Chionthar. Watching and quietly shivering in the dark.

The twinkling lights of the city illuminated sparkling dots of gold and silver across the wide river, stretching far into the distance until they were swallowed up by black. Dayan thought of how far they'd come and how far they had yet to go...and what was awaiting them on their arrival. A chill ran down his back, brows furrowing as he stared at the huge expanse of civilization. Rows upon rows of buildings and streets and people, so crushingly close.

His fingers twitched, a jolt of sudden claustrophobia making his nerves hum uncomfortably even as he was surrounded by nothing but crisp evening air and stars overhead.

Dayan turned away quickly and got himself back down to solid ground. The view was causing bile to rise up in the back of his throat; his skin felt like it wanted to crawl off. He didn't say anything though, knowing everyone was struggling with their own thoughts. There was no need to add his own troubles.

Supper was quiet, conversation dying after a few words, giving over to the crackling of the fire. When everyone finally bid each other good night, Dayan just nodded in turn with a forced smile and slipped into his tent without a word.

Tonight he was sharing it with Halsin, the two’s dark history driving them closer than Dayan could have hoped for during the fight to free the shadow-cursed lands. The drow smiled to himself, thinking of it. Halsin on one hand, and Astarion on the other -- his past and his (hopeful) future come together. Dayan and the vampire were already in the midst of their complicated dance when Halsin came along, but he joined the steps easily. The three of them fit together like a well-worn puzzle – most of the time – much to the delight and teasing of their friends.

However, Astarion was in his own tent tonight. They learned quite quickly they couldn't all sleep together in a singular tent without elbows and knees in uncomfortable places -- or even collapsing the thing entirely, to the hilarity of everyone else the first morning they tried. Dayan had taken to bed hopping, which suited for now. Sometimes though, they all snuck away to the edge of the camp and slept together under the stars.

He was going to sorely miss that.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Dayan sat on his bedroll as the moon waned overhead, waiting in silence for a bit until he was assured his companions were asleep and Halsin was deeply in trance, then slowly rose. He slipped out of their tent quietly, gathering his weapons and his pack before heading away from camp towards the river, alone.

At first Dayan just wandered the woods, thinking of nothing much at all. Breathing the air, listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees, the crickets, the night song. The trees gathered thickly together down the barely-forged path, and he inhaled deeply, smelling pine sap and loam. The canopy overhead made the moonlight shine though the leaves in narrow beams that lit everything with an ethereal glow. Something about it reminded him of home and he felt oddly homesick, despite their recent adventures reminding him so starkly why he left the Underdark long ago.

Pine slowly gave way to birch, and he smiled as he wove between the narrow white trunks, realizing at last he'd been idly meandering his way closer and closer to the sound of rushing water. Instinct, honed sharp by his years as a ranger; or perhaps a stronger desire. He felt pulled by the lazily moving stripe of darkness that bisected the land below them.

There was a break in the treeline right at the edge of the steep incline to the river, the far off mountains visible in the distance. They were faint through the haze of moisture-laden fog, the air pleasantly chill and crisp. Dayan beelined straight for it and crested the edge of the drop, dew-wet leaves slippery under his boots.

The hillside sloped sharply downward, ground soft and uneven beneath tangles of mossy roots; but the ranger was sure footed and confident as he skipped his way down, following the scent of algae and cattail. He didn't notice the large shadow that appeared at the rise of the hill behind him, nor saw it ease itself down the hill, following his laid trail with matching dexterity, though slightly more restraint.

Dayan sighed as the calm silver water finally slanted into view, fingers already undoing the buttons of his leather breeches before his boots hit the muddy riverbank. He dropped his bow and quiver beside an ancient fallen tree that had settled deep into the embankment as a permanent fixture, its skeletal limbs jutting out over the water. His scimitars came next, points plunged into the earth so they could be snatched up in a moment's notice, just in case. He set his pack down, his jacket flung carelessly over the trunk, gloves following moments later.

Behind him, that shadow came into relief, revealing an extremely tall, broad frame that slipped in behind the fallen tree, glimmering eyes locked on the drow.

Dayan gripped the waistband of his breeches, whipping the garment down his narrow hips to the tops of his boots, then lifted to try and pry his boot off along with the pants, too eager to feel the cool breeze on his skin. He hopped awkwardly in place, then heard a throaty chuckle behind him that made him spin around, his skin prickling in sudden warning. He'd been followed?!

"Who's there! I'm not to be trifled wi--wooAHH--!!" He'd made to reach for one of his scimitars, forgetting his legs were still tangled up in pants and half-removed boots. His arms pinwheeled as he lost his balance, falling hard to the ground with a muddy splash, wind knocked out of him. "Oof!!...Oww.." Whoever had chuckled burst into full laughter now and Dayan blinked, recognizing that warm laugh anywhere. "Wh--Halsin!"

"Hahaha...I am sorry, my heart! I didn't intend to startle you." The tattooed face of his favorite druid popped over the fallen tree, hazel eyes aglow with mirth. His hands rose in surrender and Dayan noted curiously he was, apparently, shirtless. "Are you all right?"

"Tch!" He halfheartedly glared at Halsin as the wood elf chuckled cheerfully, then sighed and laughed himself, giving in. "Sneaking up on me like a thief in the night, sunstone? Astarion's been a terrible influence, I see." He took the opportunity to sit up and finish peeling off his boots and pants, leaving only his smallclothes.

Halsin grinned and walked around the tree, revealing that yes, he was indeed only clad in his leather tights, even barefoot despite the chilly ground. He bent and reached for Dayan, offering a hand up. "You underestimate the cunning of an old druid; I've more experience in skullduggery than you would believe."

Dayan grumbled but took the hand, unable to hide the smile that played over his lips. "I doubt that. I can believe a great many things about you."

He was hauled up with ease, huffing as he got his footing and surveyed the mud caked over him. Well, this wasn't the first time he'd been covered in mud in only his underwear. It hardly bothered him and he turned his attention back to the much taller elf. "What are you doing here?" His eyes flicked up to meet Halsin's, pursing his lips a little. "Were you following me?"

"I...I was," Halsin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, shoulders raised almost sheepishly. "I awoke when you slipped from our bedroll, out into the night. I apologize for not calling out to you, but when I saw you take your weapons, I was...well..."

"Worried." Dayan finished for him and then exhaled a long breath, his brow furrowing a bit. “That explains the lack of dress – did you hurry out right from the tent?” His expression softened a little as he stepped closer and put a hand on one of those broad forearms, squeezing it affectionately.

"I'm sorry,” he continued sincerely. “I never meant to worry you. I just -- I needed to go for a walk. Be away from camp for a little bit. Be..."

Dayan trailed off and then gestured around them, hand sweeping around as if presenting the wilderness and the lake and the night. He smiled when he saw full understanding in Halsin's eyes, and a knowing smile on his lips.

Not for the first time, the ranger thanked the Moondancer that Halsin was there. He loved Astarion, truely, with his whole heart, but getting the vampire to enjoy the wilderness with him was somewhat of a challenge most days. But Halsin was someone with whom Dayan could run free when he felt savage and wild, understanding when walls became too close and confined.

The drow lifted hands idly and began to undo the bands that held his hair in a tight tail. "Thank you, though. For worrying," he said softly, his gaze flicking back to meet those wise hazel eyes. "It means you're here now, and I'm glad for it."

"Something has been troubling you, my heart," Halsin replied, his tone low and gentle. He watched Dayan struggle with the tangle of his wet hair, the leather strips of his bands knotted tight, and lightly nudged his hands away to take over. Deft fingers worked the knots out as he slipped Dayan's hair free of the leather straps wound around it and then began to comb fingers through to smooth the long silvery-white strands. "I can see the tension in your shoulders and neck even now. You've felt like a cord stretched taut and vibrating."

Dayan sighed, long and soft, though from Halsin's words or the gentle motion of his fingers through the drow's hair, was unclear. "I feel like a cord pulled tight," he replied quietly. He started to rub his upper arms with his hands as if he was cold, though he wasn't. "Uncomfortable and thrumming. I'm restless under my skin, I can't get comfortable. I've begun jumping at shadows, been unable to sleep or even find true rest. Ever since we left the tower--" his words spilled from his lips, tumbling over each other. A lot to say built up over time, he supposed, and nobody to say it to.

"--Ever since we found out the truth." He gritted his teeth and tilted his head back, feeling that surge of nervous energy in his limbs. He bounced on his toes, fighting to keep down the sound that wanted to explode from his throat, not knowing if it was going to be a growl or a strangled scream.

Halsin stopped brushing fingers through his hair and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Dayan twisted away from it and grabbed his wrist, holding it aloft, tightly. Their eyes met, the druid's brow furrowed; Dayan stared into the wood elf's gaze a beat and then let out a slow breath, lids lowering.

"I'm sorry. I don't think --" He paused and sighed, his grip easing. "I feel like an electrical storm, sparking and dangerous to be near." He paused and then slid his hand up grip Halsin's and pressed his lips to his knuckles. "Stay though? Share a pipe with me. I was going to sit at the water's edge and smoke, try to...clear my head. Maybe calm my nerves a little, if what I brought helps." Dayan chewed his bottom lip, dark brows rising as he fixed Halsin with a soft beseeching look. "Only if you wish to, of course."

Halsin's smile was warm. "I do. I sought you out because I knew you were troubled. I would not abandon you now." He chuckled at the visibly relieved look on the drow's face and followed Dayan to his pack, craning his head curiously to see what 'help' his love had brought to ease his mind. A pipe, thinner and more elegantly curved than his own was produced, along with a leather bag, drawstring tight.

“Come,” Dayan murmured, taking one of those big paws in hand, fingers curling to hold it tight. He drew Halsin to a rather comfortable looking perch of mossy stone surrounded by cattails overlooking the river. The top was worn smooth by eons and covered in a soft bed of green. He lay down, clothes be damned and waited for Halsin to climb up and join him before he started packing the pipe. “This is your blend, that you gifted me,” he said softly, smiling warmly at the memory. “But I added a little something special.”

Halsin sniffed it discerningly and blinked. “Is that – Dayan, is that a reverie stick?”

The drow grinned, glancing up to meet his eyes. “I knew you’d catch it. Do you still want to…? I won’t be offended if you say no. It is something better shared, but I don’t mind flying solo. So to speak,” he chuckled.

Halsin laughed, himself. “Mmh, it has been a bit of time for me, but – perhaps just this once. We’re safe enough.”

Aye, I’m with you, sta kha'sik. Safe as houses. “Well then…” When he had packed it properly, Dayan slid the end of the thin elegant pipe between his lips and leaned close to the druid, the only one between them with fire at his fingertips.

“Light me up~”

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“Oh, I think –” Halsin sat up suddenly, his voice slightly breathless. “I think that might be enough for – for one evening.”

His hand moved to clutch Dayan’s upper arm in an effort to steady himself. The drow was perched at the edge of the rock, elbows resting on his knees as he stared out over the water. He didn’t know how long they’d been relaxing here, sharing the pipe between them, but the moon was directly overhead now. The whole river valley was awash in gentle silver-blue light. It was so peaceful and serene, his favorite time of the night. Dayan wished some of that peace had found its way into his restless veins.

The pipe clenched in his mouth, Dayan looked to Halsin, smoke swirling lazily from between his teeth. His bear had been stretched out and contentedly staring up at the stars until now. He wondered if anything was wrong.

“Too much?” Dayan asked gently, shifting a knee down to turn towards his lover and grip his arm beneath the elbow supportively. Halsin gave a soft laugh.

“Not yet, but I’m getting close, I fear. It has been a while since I’ve indulged. The usual euphoria is leading to…a different kind of intensity,” he finished in a low mumble and Dayan blinked and looked Halsin over, slowly grinning as his eyes flicked downward and found the cause for the druid’s concern. The stark outline of his erection bulged beneath taut leather.

“Where did that come from, all of a sudden?” he teased, sliding closer to Halsin and settling on his knees beside him, plucking the pipe from his lips a moment. Dayan’s skin had begun to prickle under the cool breeze coming off the river, but as he pressed closer to the huge elf he instantly felt warmer.

Halsin’s hand lifted to Dayan’s cheek, their eyes meeting. Dayan felt his face warm at what he saw there, his own amethyst gaze glistening as he blushed like a schoolboy and lowered dark lashes. He wrapped Halsin’s hand in both his own, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss over the scarred knuckles.

“You,” Halsin said simply, and Dayan’s lips twitched into a smile he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. “The moonlight, when it touches your skin...the fine lines of your back in glowing relief…a sight so beautiful before my eyes, my words fail to capture it.” His tone was gentle, reverent; husky with need and desire.

“And – well, my heart –” Halsin chuckled low and sultry. “Your smallclothes are rather tight you know.”

Dayan bit back a laugh. Halsin was pressing even closer and he could practically smell the druid’s rising pheromones – that heady musk that was such a perfect mixture of sweat and heat and woodsmoke and something intrinsically Halsin, it always aroused him instantly.

“When you sit like that, there is very little I cannot see between your spread thighs.” Halsin’s voice was an octave or two lower, a rumbling that Dayan could feel quake in his own bones. The larger elf was nearly whispering in his ear as he pressed closer.

“You may as well be presenting for me…”

Dayan shivered but not from cold. He met Halsin’s eyes and gave him a slow, languid grin.

“Perhaps I was,” he mused, then lifted the pipe again.

“One more?” he asked hopefully, and after a moment of thought, Halsin nodded. Dayan exhaled a sound that could be a noise of agreement, or could be a moan. Either way he felt Halsin’s reaction, fingers twitching against his arm.

Dayan took a deep inhale of the pipe, breathing the smoke into his lungs, and held it. Then he turned to Halsin, gripping his jaw in a clay-colored hand, and gently pressed his thumb over his lips to keep them shut. He leaned in and blew the silvery smoke into Halsin’s nostrils, as the wood elf sucked it down deep, in an almost shuddering inhale.

After a beat, when he felt those powerful lungs expand and hold – Dayan’s thumb slipped into Halsin’s mouth and gently pressed, urging his lips to part until Halsin exhaled their shared smoke in pale, glimmering swirls that disappeared into the night sky.

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The reaction was instantaneous.

Dayan felt Halsin’s arms grip his hips, yanking him onto the druid’s muscled thighs. His own had to spread wide to straddle them and he gasped, Halsin’s tented bulge pressing right into his own soft groin – well, it had been soft, but he was getting hard, quickly, only the thinnest cloth separating him from Halsin’s grinding. Not even enough to keep Halsin’s warmth away as the druid’s big hands cupped Dayan’s ass and squeezed two big meaty handfuls of plump cheeks. The drow groaned, dropping his pipe in the wet mud and wrapping his arms around Halsin’s shoulders.

The dreamy euphoria of a reverie stick only enhanced the sensation of everything, Halsin’s fingers nearly burning through the cloth of Dayan’s smallclothes. He felt a hard grip, the fabric stretching tight against his skin, and then suddenly there was a snap and the pressure fell away, a quick snaking of cloth between his thighs revealing the reason as Halsin yanked him free of any confines with a muttered apology.

Dayan gasped against the druid’s lips and moaned, not even bothered by losing yet another pair of underthings to his bear’s passion and need. His cock was free now and that felt much better, after all. They rutted with soft grunts for a moment, Dayan’s fingers scrabbling at Halsin’s waistband to free him of his own annoying barrier.

But something here, in the heat of Halsin’s mouth on his, their tongues together, those hands on his bare skin – muscles sliding beneath his legs, even in the euphoria he felt, something was not quite right…

“Mmh…” He groaned against his lover’s mouth and exhaled a sharp breath. “...Wait…” His voice was barely audible, but Halsin immediately stopped groping the drow’s pert ass and slid his hands to Dayan’s waist, pulling back from their heated liplock. The druid’s cock trembled, trapped and poking up beneath a waistband half-yanked down. Dayan’s mouth practically watered as the scent hit his nose and he exhaled a hard breath.

“My heart…?”

“This – isn’t what I–” He pulled back a little and Halsin’s hands left his waist. Dayan frowned and grabbed the right one by the wrist, pulling it closer. “No, I – I want you close, I want your touch, I do. I just–” He dropped his head and sighed, shaking it slightly. How to say what he really wanted? How to push past the conflicting sensations in his body to know?

He felt calming fingers in his hair, brushing through the long strands and gently rubbing the prickly fuzz of his undercut. He looked up and the care and love that stared back at him made his throat feel thick.

“Speak as you will, beloved. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, not a step.”

Dayan relaxed, his head turning a little to rub his cheek against Halsin’s palm.

“Even now, with the sky above me and you in my arms – I still ache for solid ground. I, I want you! I want this," he clarified. "But I – I can’t – I don’t think I want to be–” He paused and then closed his eyes, easier to speak from the dark well of his mind.

“I feel bereft of any control," he mumbled, lifting his hand to press against Halsin's that still lay resting on his cheek. His head turned, lips pressed to the rough, warm skin and then slowly bit into the fleshy mound of his thumb, hard enough that it drew a gasping breath from the druid. Halsin's lower eyelids twitched and Dayan watched them him bright eyes, easing his teeth off when satisfied and slowly drawing his tongue over the ridges they left behind.

"Gods I wish I could wildshape," he continued, his voice lower, husky in his throat as he leaned closer, pressing to Halsin now, still holding onto his wrist. The taller elf was looking at him with heavy lidded eyes, his breath shuddering again as Dayan pressed a firm hand into the swell of his muscular chest and squeezed, forming half-moons into the tough skin. That hand then slid upward, slow and firm, making Halsin shiver as it planed his collarbone and wound around the back of his neck to grip his hair.

"This nervous skin, this fear would be silenced if I could run through the trees on all fours."

"My silver wolf," Halsin murmured, his lips curling, smile edged and trembling with a rising heat, a need Dayan could practically scent. The drow grinned as he watched his lover's pupils expand and felt that trapped cock grow even harder and thicker against him as he pressed closer. It made his own twitch and he angled his hips so Halsin felt the hot, firm press of his length. The groan that pooled in his bear's throat was like a song. He felt a slick wetness slide against his shaft and had to swallow down his own moan and instinct to grind.

Dayan exhaled a slow breath and let go of Halsin's wrist, hand moving to join its twin in his hair, tangling around thin braids and golden brown locks. His thumb grazed a strong jaw. "I love you," he said, so softly, and slowly drew the druid close, bending him like a willow sapling.

One hand clenched in Halsin’s hair, Dayan moved the other to press lightly beneath that finely-cut chin, his thumb braced against a bottom lip as he pressed closer.

"Everything's a mess, sta kha'sik." My light in the dark. "Nothing feels stable, nothing feels solid," he whispered against the druid’s mouth. His eyes locked onto Halsin's, the spring green of his eyes a narrow rim around lust-blown black pupils. Dayan wondered if his own were as wide, a black void circled with amethyst.

"I need something I can direct and shape without uncertainty. I need something I can control," he whispered.

"Then you have it, my heart," Halsin said, his next utterance a breathy groan. "You have me. Take me...shape me as you will, direct me and I will obey." There was a pause, Dayan’s eyes locked onto Halsin’s, searching deep. He saw nothing there but love and desire, in equal measure. No shadows haunting his words.

”Please…” Halsin whispered and Dayan almost groaned at the sound of so much need.

He exhaled and bit the druid's soft lower lip, gentle pressure turning to sharp pain as his teeth clamped, drawing a copper taste and making Halsin twitch and gasp. He suckled on the lip, practically feeling the heated throb in it and let go. Halsin groaned, mouth still parted and slightly panting, his eyes hooded.

Dayan grinned then, mischievously and pulled away suddenly, causing Halsin to sway and have to grip the rock to avoid tumbling forward after him. He actually whined a little at the drow, which nearly made Dayan change his plan and push him down in the mud right here, after all. He inhaled to get control of himself again and then gave Halsin a smirk over his shoulder.

"Let's get the blood pumping, shall we?” He crooked a beckoning finger and chuckled as Halsin blinked, and then matched his grin as he scrambled down off the rock and paced after. He couldn't help but notice there was a subtle stalk in the druid’s movements. The bear stirred, it seemed.

“You’ve roused my blood hotter than you know, my proud wolf,” Halsin said, his voice a soft, low near-growl.

Dayan smirked and met the advancing elf, catching him between hands gently cradling his head. Halsin instinctively sank to his knees and Dayan murmured approvingly, bending to kiss him deeply, fervently. Even on his knees Halsin was tall enough the drow barely had to tilt to meet his lips, but even this small difference was arousing. Halsin kept his hands down and a thrill went through Dayan. He knows the rules.

“Patience, sunstone,” he whispered against Halsin’s bruised bottom lip, tweaking it with his teeth just once.

“There's an islet out there, see?" he cocked a thumb back towards the water. There was indeed a small hill of land a little ways out from the edge of the river, a few clinging trees visible. "Race me, and if you win -- I'll do one thing you want. A request," he teased, though they both knew he was already going to do many, many things Halsin would absolutely want. The druid perked at the idea of making a special request though.

“Now?” Halsin asked, breathless, and Dayan nodded. He kissed his forehead and let go, stepping back.

“Now.”

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Dayan didn't even have to count off. Halsin stripped in seconds -- Dayan felt a brief pang of regret, making the druid strip for him would have been enticing -- and barreled toward the water.

The drow laughed and darted to the fallen tree instead, jumping up on it gracefully and running down the length as it jolted beneath his pounding feet. He heard Halsin let out a growl of annoyance as he waded to deeper water, Dayan's little trick giving the drow a good head start. Dayan grinned wider in triumph as he neared the end of the makeshift springboard and jumped, diving smoothly into the river with barely a splash.

The two of them were both excellent swimmers, Dayan's lithe form against Halsin's powerful strokes. The ranger could hear Halsin gaining on him off behind to the left, churning up much more water than he was. He smirked and put on an extra burst of speed, the islet already in sight.

That is, until he heard the unmistakable sound of channeling magic behind him, and felt the water suddenly violently ripple, something darting below and almost pulling him down in its powerful wake. Water surged up his nose and he had to stop to cough and clear his sinuses, stinging eyes lifting just in time to see a narrow fin rise from the water.

"Whu--" Dayan blinked and then shouted in frustration, slapping the water with both hands.

"For the love of--!! HALSIN!! A shark is CHEATING!" He growled and kicked into a sprint, huffing. Druids!!

His eyes narrowed as he saw the fin quickly approaching the bank of the little islet and in a flash of golden, leaf-strewn light, Halsin splashed out of the water. He was red-cheeked and laughing, joyous at his certain win.

Dayan muttered an incantation just as his feet hit rock and suddenly with a spray of water, the ranger misty stepped just as Halsin spun around to look for him. Dayan dropped atop the druid and with their joint momentum sent the bear man crashing into the mud, the smaller elf landing atop him.

"Cheater!"

Dayan growled softly down at his love, eyes narrowing as he watched Halsin bite his lip to try and keep more laughter from bubbling. Dayan was straddling Halsin's abdomen, all his weight propped on his hands, which were pinning the druid's wrists to the slick mud of the isle's shoreline.

The river lapped at their legs as he grinned like a wolf down at his prey, both of them panting, flushed...and growing hard despite the chill of the water they just left. Dayan's cock was nudging into Halsin’s body as he straddled his ribs, adjusting his grip on his wrists subtly.

He wasn't as thick as Halsin -- he didn't know anyone who was -- but Dayan was fairly lengthy, slightly curved, with a small plush cockhead already half-exposed past a thin foreskin. The swim only heightened the heat pooling in his loins, and Halsin’s felt so warm Dayan almost expected the water dripping from his body and hair to sizzle when it hit the druid’s skin.

His love lay beneath him, flushed, breathing hard, and beautiful -- beads of water and sweat both glistening on his skin, his hair come undone, a loose wild mane framing his face. Wet tendrils clung to his forehead and cheeks and Dayan had an urge to run his tongue along those snaking strands.

"Misty Step? Who's cheating, now?" Halsin rumbled and Dayan had to laugh.

"Fair enough. We both win."

Suddenly his lips were on Halsin's in a heated, hungry kiss, tasting deep and claiming the druid's mouth for his own. He nipped and bit those lips until they were tingling and swollen, then pushed his tongue past them. Halsin moaned, a husky, rumbling sound that made Dayan's belly flip and his head swim. His cock pulsed and dribbled a few drops of precum onto Halsin's chest. When he finally pulled away to let the wood elf breathe, the tips of Halsin’s ears were pink, his face ruddy and warm and lips parted as he panted softly.

Gods, he was so lovely Dayan could weep.

He moved his lips to Halsin's ear. "You remember the words, the signal, if...?" he breathed and Halsin nodded. "And this is all right?"

"I want you, my heart," the druid moaned quietly. "I want–”

“--please," he broke off suddenly, a soft desperation seeming to seize him. "Take me, Dayan." His eyes flicked to meet the drow's, dark and liquid with desire. "Roughly. Harshly, even. Give me claws and teeth…break me if you must…but I need you…I’ve needed you for so long."

“Gods," Dayan groaned and let go of Halsin's wrists to grip his hair in both fists, body dropping flush to Halsin’s to kiss him fiercely again. Stocky arms made to embrace him but he yanked on those thick brown locks, jerking Halsin's head back as a warning, making the druid's breath catch.

"Ah-ah," he whispered. "Hands down. Keep them there." Halsin obeyed immediately, his arms dropping back in place. Dayan smiled and kissed his jaw. "Good boy."

That got a moan and Dayan swore he felt Halsin's cock jerk against his naked rear. It'd have to remain neglected for now.

His hands needed to be busy elsewhere.

Read chapter 3 here

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 tav #bg3 halsin #sub halsin #d/s dynamic #smut fic #pwp fics

[s1mpl3sp0ng3]

something that muppets mayhem gets right that the 2015 series got wrong is that, at the end of the day, this group of weirdos absolutely loves each other and nothing gets in the way of that. the band is all about love and they're one big found family microcosm in the greater muppet family.

they can bicker and fight but it's never something that's bitter and horrible to watch, there's catharsis and healing right around the bend. they might separate for a while but the door is always open to come back. we're getting character backstories that feel real and right and not out of left field.

2015 show did not do that until too late in its run, and that's why it left a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths. those muppets felt like they couldn't stand being in the same room as each other half the time and it was exhausting to watch. and it sucks that it got cancelled right when it was finding its footing! it could've been so good.

the muppets are not just coworkers. they are not acquaintances who perform together but don't know each others' names. they are a family that loves and supports each other and i absolutely hate that that keeps getting lost, because it is a huge part of why we love these characters and why we care so much about how they're written

this and haunted mansion are a HUGE, i mean HUGE step in the right direction. a muppet production has not stirred this much emotion in me since 2011 and i am so glad competent people are behind this new run

i am eagerly awaiting a season 2 and more, because this is without a doubt the best thing they've done in years

#muppets #muppets mayhem

[class1akids]

It's not a question but a statement as a reaction to your last ask.

Shoto's treatment disappoints me too. It would have been more relevant if he was involved in the All Might's rescue instead of being with Endeavor : we could have clearly seen his evolution between volume 26 and volume 39 (where he sits next to All Might who his real inspiration ; you have already drawn a parallel between these two covers). Yes, it was All Might who pushed him into catching up to Endeavor ; yes, he is the "family's hero" and yes, maybe a moment between Deku and Bakugo was important given that they are childhood friends, but I think that not only Shoto was left behind, but I also think that Horikoshi's choice prevented Dabi from having an interesting confrontation with his father. I didn't want to see a family reunion now because neither Shoto nor Fuyumi were responsible ; an intimate moment between Endeavor and his eldest son would have been a perfect echo to Dabi's childhood where he was waiting for his dad who didn't come at Sekoto Peak. Both Shoto and Dabi deserved a better treatment but I don't expect the author to give them a beautiful ending anymore (even if I think it is not the end for Shoto).

I don't mind Shouto not being part of the All Might rescue - I just want him to contribute to the final victory and not being taken out in a distant location before the fight even starts.

I think Endeavor and Dabi had their 1 vs 1 - but like with Deku vs Shigaraki - Hori simply offscreened a huge part of it and then had Dabi reverse into a child self before Endeavor even started talking to him. I'm not sure what Hori wanted to show here - but I feel like the long-awaited "father-moment" from Endeavor is fully missing. And it is also an odd choice to have the abused child spend the entire endgame carrying the burden of his abuser and then not even getting a catharsis themselves.

I feel like there's a storybeat missing for all three of them:

Endeavor choosing to be a father

Dabi letting go of his rage

Shouto getting to walk his own path, being recognized on his own right

Which is the only hope I have that maybe we will get another scene before the end.

#c1a asks

[comicaurora]

book recommendations?

Gideon The Ninth and Harrow The Ninth!

Part 1 and 2 of the Locked Tomb series, with the third entry coming out later this month. Pitched fairly accurately as "lesbian necromancers in space" what I love most about it is the worldbuilding - the ten thousand years of history that turned our world into this world. It's an absolute treasure trove of buried lore and eldritch nightmare fuel obscured constantly by unreliable narrators and fluctuating narrative tone. The narrator of the first book is too bored and checked out to noticed 95% of the crazy foreshadowing she's faced with, and the narrator of the second book is, for spoiler reasons, an extremely unreliable witness of the events going on around her. I will say that the opaqueness of the actual events of the story can make these books better on a reread than on the first read, and if I hadn't gone into Harrow The Ninth with a hefty bank of spoilers I probably would've tapped out about halfway through, because the book spends about half its wordcount actively gaslighting the reader about the events of the first book. It's weird and I love it.

Iron Widow!

Described as "pacific rim meets the handmaid's tale." Giant robot combat plus hefty political drama set in a futuristic sci-fi setting based strongly on Chinese history and mythology, starring basically a reimagining of Wu Zetian, a serious contestant for the coveted History's Baddest Bitch Award. Features one of the only instances of "should I choose the bad boy or the sweet, safe best friend? orrrrrr maybe we can all just fuck each other" polycule love-triangle resolution. A portrayal of socially systemic misogyny so frustratingly on-point it actually set my teeth on edge and made it very easy for me to root for the heroine burning the world down for funsies and catharsis. Awaiting a sequel!

Elder Race

A relatively short read that's 100% worth it just for the fascinating language barrier portrayed between the two protagonists - the spunky princess of a sort-of-medieval fantasy kingdom setting out to slay a demon and prove herself to her mother, and the anthropologist from earth stationed on this planet to observe the cultural development of this human colony over the centuries. Each chapter is written from the perspective of one of these two characters, and at times we see events/conversations from each of their perspectives. The book is written in modern english, but this is explicitly a translation convention, as what the anthropologist says and what the princess hears are two very different things - something that frustrates him immensely. I want to see more stories written in this setting and it bums me out that I probably won't get any.

Thud!

Uh oh! How'd this Discworld novel get here? Looks like you'll have to read the other City Watch novels (Guards! Guards!, Men At Arms, Feet Of Clay, Jingo, The Fifth Elephant, Night Watch) to have sufficient context for this one! A fantasy police procedural (like all the other City Watch novels), this story centers on the eternal blood feud between dwarves and trolls and how it threatens to boil over in the cultural melting pot that is the great city of Ankh-Morpork, spurred along by the anniversary of a legendary battle between the two peoples that was left unresolved. Caught in the middle are the city watch, trying to keep the peace and solve several thefts and murders while wrangling two extremely insular communities that would rather be left to their own devices to murder each other in peace. There's also some absolutely incredible worldbuilding about dwarf culture and the unique texture the multifaceted concept of the dark takes on for a civilization that lives almost entirely underground. This is also explored in earlier City Watch books. Oopsies! I seem to have once again recommended six other books! Oh well!

#asks #media recs

[arezenithofyouthlove]

Short wip written by @scifellgoddess for my latest art. Enjoy!

[□■]

Life is complicated, until it isn't.

Black and White, tiles of destiny, stack against one another to make a pattern. One Antagonist, villainous and wicked, one Protagonist, just and righteous. Good and Evil, tangle into each other. Tragedy in the making, the end at the first step.

The two of them, merely existing. They stare but don’t see, muscles tense but don’t shift or move away. They don't even think, bodies locked into place, forms forever immortalized. A finished painting set on display, a piece of art, pre-written.

Lloyd is smaller, though his position is taking more spaces. The heels of his boots brush lightly onto Javier’s hands, though not enough to dig in, not enough to hurt. He sits almost leisurely, casually, with a hand in his pocket and an almost bored expression, if not a little annoyed. He doesn’t look at Javier.

Javier is reaching out, albeit weakly. Back stiffly against the wall and one foot slightly pushing, he is trying to break free. The force of his strength is powerful, but not enough to tear through. His eyes are stormy and lips set into a frown, disturbed and contempt mixed at one. His gaze strayed from Lloyd.

Somewhere, some time out there, they may be living, acting out their roles, but ultimately, this cage is all they will amount to. Lloyd Frontera and Javier Asrahan, essences reduced and compiled into a frozen image.

There is no catharsis awaiting. Only a fixed storyline and two characters, timelessly trapped inside the narrative.

#tged #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #javier asrahan #original lloyd frontera #original javier asrahan #ogLlojavi #love you sci <3 #the title is just [□■] #one fate already reached the concluded end - filled box #the other is an opening ending - empty box #just like the final chapter of Knight of Blood and Iron

[unsoundedcomic]

Are you excited for updates to resume? Nervous? I know a lot of readers are eagerly awaiting the final chapter… how are YOU feeling?

Always nervous :D I feel really good, generally about the content, but what do I know? Maybe it's crap! It's always really easy to mess up an ending by not accentuating a certain element enough, or not building up a scene enough before you go for the emotional throat, or a pay-off ultimately being disappointing. Ch 18 really has three separate Big Moments of Catharsis one after another in separate scenes, and that's tough stuff to time. It also all is directly continuing 17, so I need the reader to remember what was set up there so the conclusions will hit :)

We'll see how it goes!