#death battle ranking

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Ranking the Warriors of other Worlds Death Battles:

//Recently, I ran a poll asking everyone in the audience what their favourite Death Battle to come out of the Warriors of Other World's arc was, and I'm grateful to all those who voted.

//So before I get into the purpose of this poll, I wanted to quickly announce the results of said poll, and go over the community ranking of the series. These are the fights from least popular to most popular with their final percentage of the votes.

9th Place: Seiko Vs Lizard - 1.3% Tied 8th Place: Peko Vs RHM & Sakura Vs Jonathan - 2.7% Tied 7th Place: Akane Vs Chie & Narumi Vs Toga - 4% 6th Place: Komaru Vs Katie - 5.3% 5th Place: Mukuro Vs Kayano - 6.7% 4th Place: Mikan Vs Fluttershy - 9.3% TIED 3RD PLACE: Junko Vs Monika & Kaede Vs Sara - 12% 2ND PLACE: Makoto Vs Phoenix - 16% 1ST PLACE: Hajime Vs Deku - 24%

//With all that being said, while I do appreciate the feedback, I do have my own personal takes on the matchups and how they actually turned out in the end. So I imagine people actually wanted to hear my thoughts and opinions.

//This arc ended up being even more successful than I thought it would, and that makes be pretty chuffed. I was excited for this, and based on the feedback, everyone else seems to like it a fair bit as well.

//So yeah, I will probably be doing this again in the future. I won't, or rather can't, say when exactly, but if this is a concept people can get behind, then there's no reason to end it here.

//That being said, while this is definitely a new style that I'm not used to, I definitely did my best with the writing of this fight, and having my friends IRL help me with the analyses was great. But there are some battles that turned out greater than others.

//So I'm gonna be ranking them, because I know some people really wanted to hear my own personal reflections and feedback on this event, and I'm more than happy to provide it. Going into it though, these are the criteria that I will be judging the final products on, and things to keep in mind.

This will mainly be judged on quality of the analysis, how deep it goes, and how good quality the fight turns out in the end.

Considering we remain unbiased to each fighter, the verdict does not wholly matter.

A lot of this will be judged on the matchup itself, how strong the connections are, and whether or not I would want to see it happen in the actual series.

This is my own personal opinion.

//Alright, without further ado, let's get ready for a RANKIIIING!

#12: PEKO VS RHM

//I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, this FUCKING SUCKED.

//So after I went back to polish and edit the original script to post on Tumblr, this fight and analysis ended up improving my opinion of it, and I don't HATE it anymore, but it still doesn't save it from being the worst matchup in this event by a long shot.

//First and foremost, the reason Right Hand Man ever ended up on Peko's list of combatants was honestly originally done as a joke. We found some loose connections, and decided that he could be a potentially interesting combatant to analyze if he DID win the vote.

//Which we were so damn wrong about.

//But he was by far the character on Peko's list of combatants that we were not only the least excited to do a battle for, but also the one that we least expected to win. But we figured out pretty quickly that he was picked due to the Henry Stickmin games being the most widely popular and well known at the time compared to Peko's other matchups.

//When I first ran the poll for people to vote for who wins this fight, it actually made me laugh to see Peko win the audience vote by a country mile, because to be perfectly frank, not only does this fight have the least amount of serious connections between the two fighters, but it's also the MOST one sided fight in the whole series.

//Sure, Mikan Vs Fluttershy was similarly one-sided against Mikan, but even Mikan Vs Fluttershy still has the benefit of the two characters being fundamentally similar in a way that gives them opportunity to interact.

//These two don't have that excuse because they have some of the most bare-bones personalities in their respective series. RHM is a one-dimensional jackass who's rude and hates everything, and there's no layers to him; not even a real name or a backstory. And while Survivor Peko definitely has grown from her canon iteration, she's still fundamentally a stone-faced warrior with little screen time to help improve upon that.

//And what makes it worse is that with that in mind, an analysis would mainly pertain to the characters unique abilities instead of their personalities and stories. But in that regard, RHM has so much to cover, and by comparison Peko has...NOTHING.

//She just has a sword, and if this was a battle between herself and another sword-user like Afro Samurai, it wouldn't be as much of a problem to cover it, since Afro also has limited weaponry. RHM however, is a machine of destruction with so many tools in his arsenal

//You'll notice that this is the shortest DB in the series because there's so little to actually cover and no way to drag it out in a way that's interesting. The saving grace is that the fight turned out to be alright in the end, but there was no way in a million years Peko was ever going to win this, and that upsets me immensely.

//I don't hold it against the voters obviously, since we were the ones who put the damn stick figure on the list in the first place, but this was not the right call in the end, and I regret it.

#11: MAKOTO VS PHOENIX

//Haha jokes on you muppets, I put your second favorite second from the bottom!

//Why? Well, no reason really! I just...kinda got bored of it?

//This fight has far more connections than Number 12, but still, it didn't turn out to be the spectacle I'd hoped it would be. It turned out to be really hard to portray Phoenix and Makoto in a hostile setting where they're at each other's throats and trying to kill each other. Upon reflection, I think this fight turned out ok, but it still could have been leagues better.

//If actual DB ever decided to do this, I imagine they'd do it better, but also they wouldn't use Survivor Makoto, so I doubt he would really win.

//The analysis was fine, but again, this being the first chapter in the series, it's really supposed to set a boundary of quality more than anything, and every episode that comes after it, save for Peko Vs RHM, just turned out to be so much better. And keeping both of them within character while also making them try to murder each other was far more difficult than it should have been.

#10: SAKURA VS JONATHAN

//The best part about this fight was that I genuinely wasn't expecting Sakura to win going into it. And the fact that she was the first actual fighter who won her battle made a lot of people very happy. Aside from that, there's not much to say here.

//It's a very standard fist fight between two beefy people. and honestly, I feel that Jonathan, as much as I love JoJo, was among the opponents I DIDN'T really want to cover.

//And while I know I said I wasn't taking the verdict into account, part of me is not wholly sure our judgement on this one was correct, and we were worried about facing backlash, but fortunately, everyone seemed to agree with our reasoning in the end.

//But other than that, while there is style, there's little substance. Analyzing both these characters was fine, but not something I remember being that exciting. Similarly to Peko Vs RHM, Jonathan is capable of so much with Hamon, and Sakura is just a regular fighter who turns out to be super duper powerful, but describing her techniques was a bit of a chore.

//What was nice was explaining how the functionalities of breathing work in a fight. That was pretty fun.

//But yeah, while I don't dislike this matchup at all, I still feel like both characters have far better matchups that can happen instead of each other.

#9: KAEDE VS SARA

//Given that she's hands down my favorite character, I was super disappointed with how Kaede's episode turned out.

//Part of it was because we were fully prepared for Kotone to end up winning the poll, but right at the VERY LAST SECOND, Sara swept it out from under her. So we ended up abandoning our planned script and instead rewrote about half of it to make up for it.

//That, and I unfortunately did not time this release well. This fight dropped IMMEDIATELY after Kaede achieved her latest and greatest feat in Survivor, and it made it clear to everybody that she had this one in the bag. Of course, that chapter and this fight were all pre-planned, so I can assure you that it's not unfair or cheating, and Kaede would have won regardless of whether she had taken down Himiko's robot or not. Even still, I do realize just how cheap it might seem from an outside perspective, and I acknowledge this, but trust me when I say that this was little more than poor planning on my part.

//But weirdly enough, what I enjoyed so much about this part wasn't analyzing Kaede. It was analyzing SARA.

//Going into it, we all knew that Kaede was going to win, because she's insanely powerful in DR Survivor, and against Sara, we never thought she was ever going to stack up.

//But our expectations were rather subverted when we started doing the analysis for her. While we were right in that Sara didn't have what it took to beat Kaede, we were pleasantly surprised by how much she DID have going for her, and how squaring up to the Ultimate Pianist turned out not to be such a pipe dream.

//One other issue I have with this part of the series is how much both characters analyses focused on their STORIES more than their capabilities in a fight, but again, like Peko, Kaede's lineup of abilities is rather straightforward and simple, and there wasn't any need to discuss the functionalities of the hacking gun, since Komaru Vs Katie already went very deep into that, and repeating it immediately afterwards was pointless.

//And as someone who loves writing Kaede, it became very difficult to have her and Sara interact in a way that was interesting without breaking character for either of them. The final result and the way they were both portrayed wasn't exactly what I wished for, even if it was...acceptable. It was just very hard to imagine how a fight would start out between them, given that both are very logical and try to assess a situation before deciding to leap into battle, so we were forced to get a little OOC.

//But while it could have been better, what we ended up putting together was pretty fun in the end, so it gets a little higher than some of the previous matchups.

#8: AKANE VS CHIE

//The reason why this fight ends up in the lower half of the countdown is because a lot of the actual fight is just Akane and Chie smacking each other. Chie uses her spells sparingly and there's not much substance to their actual duel.

//But the thing is that it's perfectly in character for both of them, so it's not really a good idea to change that aspect.

//Akane is already a character who I wasn't looking forward to analyzing, since while I don't HATE her, I certainly don't like her as much as ANYONE else in her home game. And a lot of it, for both of them, was going to pertain to their abilities more than their personality and history, since Akane is very one-dimensional, and Chie is a very standard character as well.

//But this was the first fight where I really felt like we were making something special, and again, while I said the verdict does not ultimately affect my ranking, this one is an exception, since I was VERY surprised that Akane pulled out the win.

//I'm GLAD. But surprised.

//Especially given how much people were underestimating Akane prior to the release of the fight, it was fun to see people react to Akane actually beating a character who comes from a series full of infinitely powerful magic users, since I, and everyone else, really underestimated how ridiculous Danganronpa scaling could be.

//And this was the fight that I think got a lot of people hooked on the concept, so I'm grateful that we ended up doing it. If either of these characters ever got into DB, which is quite unlikely, this is a matchup I would really like to see.

#7: MIKAN VS FLUTTERSHY

//Say hello to the thing that made me a Brony.

//Yeah, I had a LOT of fun with this one. I already knew that My Little Pony's lore ran deeper than it really should, especially with the latest DB season running Bill Cipher VS Discord, and I had guessed in advance that Fluttershy would somehow end up taking this.

//The fight is incredibly one-sided, even though neither Fluttershy, nor Mikan are really "fighters" per se. Given the fact that Fluttershy has access to so much powerful magic, there wasn't any way that Mikan could contend with it.

//Even so, the reason why this ended up being a rich man's version of Peko Vs RHM is that Mikan not only has so many more gadgets to work with, but both these characters have interesting, cute and well-made personalities that clash with each other PERFECTLY.

//Of every fight in this arc, this one is the one I feel has the most interaction potential. And in my mind, that tea party absolutely happened when Mikan broke out of that stone.

//When this fight won the poll, I wasn't particularly happy at first, and I still think Medic would have made for a more interesting fight, but I ended up falling in love with this one more than I meant to, especially with how much I learned about My Little Pony, and how much fun I had explaining the lore and scaling of Fluttershy.

#6: MUKURO VS KAYANO

//I had this one a lot lower originally, but when I went back to edit it and reread it, I fell in love with this one all over again.

//Danganronpa and Assassination Classroom have always been fundamentally similar stories, and not just because Monokuma and Korosensei are in similar positions in both.

//This fight was less of an argument between who would win between Mukuro Ikusaba and Kaede Kayano, and more of an argument between Danganronpa and Assassination Classroom, and which one has the more crazy scaling. And it was a BLAST.

//This is one of the few examples in this arc where both fighters are fundamentally similar and formidable warriors, in a way that I felt was akin to Black Widow VS Widowmaker, which to this day, is still one of my top DB episodes.

//And originally, this fight was going to be similar to that Assassin V Assassin fight, but factoring in Mukuro's Battle Trance and Kayano's tentacles, this was going to get anime as fuck at some point, and it did, and I really enjoyed it.

//Mukuro losing kind of sucked, but it didn't affect my enjoyment.

//And while I fully expected Reze to win the poll, given Chainsaw Man's popularity, I think that this is genuinely Mukuro's best potential matchup if she ever became a canon Death Battle character. And you know what? I'd actually like to see it.

#5: NARUMI VS TOGA

//So this was the first fight where I actually thought to myself, "yep, this one is my favourite."

//And as mentioned in the episode itself, we had FAR MORE trouble analyzing this fight than we thought, and we honestly didn't know if Narumi had it in her to beat Toga. It was only after hours of deliberating and getting all our facts together that we decided on a verdict.

//Toga being able to survive explosions that happened INSIDE her body as a result of her fight against Curious was the biggest outlier for us, and we read over everything that both these girls had done before we decided our final victor. And it was a fun ride throughout.

//Especially because I never quite realized just how many connections there were between Narumi and Toga, not even the fact that they're both yandere's for the main protagonist of their series.

//But the fun part was seeing how their own unique styles of fighting, which are REMARKABLY different, stacked up against each other. This fight will never happen, since Narumi Osone was never an official DR character, but if Survivor was canon, I'd love to see it. I've thought of some matchups for Narumi since, but Toga still retains her crown as the one with the most connections.

//Some of the later episodes dethroned it, obviously, but it's still one of my favourites, kicking off the top 5.

#4: JUNKO VS MONIKA

//I was really really worried that this finale was going to suck, and I'm super glad that it didn't. It was by far the most difficult matchup to write because we wanted to make it a spectacle, but were struggling on ways to do that.

//What made it so difficult was the analysis portion, not the fight, and the reason for that is because this is a composite version of Junko, which means we have to go over EVERYTHING she has across the whole series. And given the fact that Junko pops up in basically EVERY ONE of the series iterations, that's a LOT. Monika, in contrast, does not have NEARLY that much, so a lot of her analysis, at least in the beginning, details her origin story, then breaks down her powers and what she can do with it.

//And learning about the actual lore of how DDLC came to be in-universe was super fun actually.

//This was also probably the most even fight in the series, barring one particular fight that we'll get to next, for obvious reasons. Even if the setup is a little convoluted, it's not hard to imagine that someone like Monika could exist in the world of DR Survivor, especially given that there's already a chunky handful of AI characters in the main cast. And in the case of her and AI Junko, when they are at their best, they can both manipulate space and time in the digital world they live in to such an extent that stats practically mean nothing. The real fight comes down to which one of them is the more parasitic AI, just like in canon episode, Ultron VS Sigma.

//And that's what I think really sold this one for me - the fight, and the way it turned out. Junko was smarter, stronger, and generally had so many legs up on Monika that makes it almost impossible to beat her normally, but she didn't have the advantage in the ONE deciding factor that dictated this fight.

//And I think there's something really ironic about that, especially considering that's typically how Junko's plans fall apart in Danganronpa. The only reason that anyone ever beats her despite being so cartoonishly powerful is simply by never giving up, and exploiting the one weakness she has. Something that Monika does professionally.

//So while I do prefer Junko Vs Springtrap as a concept that I would like to see, this one turned out to be way more fun than I thought it would, and I'm glad we did it.

#3: KOMARU VS KATIE

//There's really not much to say about this one, it's just a fun time. But that's what you should expect when you put the goofiest protag herself against the protag of the Mitchell's Vs the Machines.

//Katie's analysis is one of the best in this series, and one of the most fun I had writing. Komaru's isn't AS good, but I still think both were solid sequences detailing the characters and their stories, even if in Komaru's case, it had to be cut a little to go over the important origin points.

//But the very obvious reason why this fight and its conclusion ended up being so good was obviously because of the verdict, and what we broke down in the conclusion. In that from the feats we see of them, Komaru and Katie are fighters on a near equal level, to the point where it's hard to know for sure which one of them could win if they did fight. Thus, it ended up as a draw.

//And I think that's a really solid way to conclude this thing. Both are (originally) gun-wielding teenage girls fighting against a robot apocalypse, with their stories throughout the entire series putting a heavy emphasis on family, and the importance of it. In a way, that makes these two perfect opponents for one another, and the way this fight ended up portraying that in the end was pretty fun to watch.

//And the interaction potential as a result leaves very little to be desired. Their personalities clash perfectly, as do their goofy little quirks and interactions, and the fight itself was also fun, especially with how it takes them across the city scape and forcing both of them to get creative, something they both excel at.

//Like I said, there's not much to say here. This one was just super fun and I like how it turned out.

#2: SEIKO VS LIZARD

//So you know how only like, one person voted this one as their favorite one? Yeah, fuck the rest of you, lol.

//This battle gets my verdict for biggest surprise of the series. Because this one turned out amazing and I didn't believe it would.

//I might have mentioned this before, but originally, the 10th battle in the original lineup was going to be Kuripa, but he was swapped out for Seiko last minute. This is because Kuripa still has some more insane feats on the way in future arcs when he makes his grand return, and I wanted to save his fight for a potential future season lineup.

//Seiko was a GREAT substitute though, especially with her fight against Kanade in the main series coming shortly before this. And weirdly, from both the analysis, to each characters similarities and stories, to how an actual fight between them would go, all of it FUCKS HARD!

//One thing you might have noticed with the lineup of this arc is I really really REALLY wanted to avoid putting any Marvel characters in the polls. The simple reason being that Marvel and DC are so drastically fucking overdone in Death Battle, and I didn't think anyone would want to see it in this because I know I certainly wouldn't.

//This however, turned out to be a GREAT exception. If Lizard ever got into Death Battle, there's quite a few opponents he could go up against; Man-Bat being his biggest contender IMO, but Seiko, I think, is an underrated alternative.

//The big thing that sells this fight for me is that it somehow succeeds at being both a Brains Vs Brawn battle, AS WELL AS a feral monster battle. As mentioned in the post-analysis, Seiko's genius with medicine is so potent, it's not impossible that she could have fashioned a cure for Connors, especially since unlike him, her bestial form still retains some of her humanity. But not only was Connors just too insanely powerful compared to her, he actually had the means to COUNTER this weakness!

//Connors winning was pretty obvious, considering Marvel scaling gets insane, and he was several hundred times more powerful than Seiko, but even so, this fight didn't feel totally lame and one-sided, likely because even though they take different forms, both characters had strikingly similar abilities and feats.

//And one thing everybody knew going into this that I'm so glad we were able to deliver for this was this fight needed to be VISCIOUS. It's basically the epitome of two mutant monsters trying to tear each other to shreds, very much like Beast VS Goliath or Sabrewulf VS Jon Talbein, and the sewer system made for an appropriate and gritty setting.

//This was certainly the most pleasant surprise of the series, and had it not been for one little thing, this would have EASILY been my favourite fight.

//That one thing being...

#1: HAJIME VS DEKU

//I mean...COME ON! How could it NOT be!?

//This is my most wanted Death Battle of all time, and it seems to be the most wanted for the voting audience as well, since it won the poll in an ABSOLUTE LANDSLIDE!

//And unlike the other top spots on the community poll, this is the one that we all actually agree on.

//Not just because Hajime would hands down be the best Danganronpa character to premiere in Death Battle (besides maybe Junko), but personally, Deku VS Asta, Deku's canon episode, left a lot to be desired. It feels like the team were trying to ham up the fact that they were finally getting Deku in Death Battle, but then put him against a super mediocre opponent with surface level connections

//The way THESE TWO contrast though? It runs a LOT DEEPER than that.

//Hajime and Deku's stories are basically the exact same. The only difference is the story beats and the outcome, with Deku's story being that of a rising hero, and Hajime's being a fallen hero. And as a massive fan of both Danganronpa and My Hero Academia, it was my duty to make certain that this one turned out the best it could be.

//Which is the reason why this is so goddamn long. In an actual Death Battle episode, a lot of this important info would be reserved for the black boxes, but since we don't have those, we went over BASICALLY EVERYTHING. And what helped with it is that both characters have deep lore, interesting personalities, awesome powers, and everything we could possibly need to rant on for ages without seeming contrived or bored.

//Essentially, it's the complete reverse of Peko VS RHM, where both characters have abundant content and character, as opposed to basically no content or character. Aside from that, there are three big reasons why this is my favourite one of the lot.

//Exhibit A: Symbol of Hope.

//Up until this point, I have never brought up the music tracks for these battles, simply because, like early DB, a lot of them aren't original music composed for the specific matchups, being either a random video game music track, fan song, or a commissioned matchup track by Brandon Yates, and some of them work better than others (personally hated the Mikan Vs Fluttershy one, but I legit had no other option when it came to a gritty, despairing track that also featured chipper-ass MLP.

//Symbol of Hope is one of the commissioned Brandon Yates tracks that wasn't made for an actual DB episode, but it's one of his best tracks ever. If I have anything to be concerned about, the lyrics of Symbol of Hope contrast quite heavily to the theme of the actual battle we presented, where in the song, Hajime and Deku seem to be at odds with one another, fighting for the same reasons, but are against each other because of their different philosophies. I think this is pretty realistic though, and it doesn't take away from the fact that I still love the track. Plus, it's pretty long, which is good because this fight is also pretty long.

//Exhibit B: Character interactions and dynamic.

//Speaking of which, in this battle, Deku and Hajime's dynamic in this episode is mainly inspired by All Might VS Might Guy, Goku VS Superman 3 and Saitama VS Popeye; kind of a mesh between the three. Throughout most of their fight, Deku's main goal isn't just to win the fight, but it's also to show Hajime the respect he deserves, and give him a battle to remember. Hajime, who doesn't take Deku seriously at first, going along with it for the sake of appealing to this kid, eventually starts to break out into a joyous sweat when Deku raises the stakes and starts fighting him on an equal level; something that Hajime has never gotten in his life since becoming an Ultimate Hope, not even from the likes of Fujimori or Komaeda, other Ultimate Hope's.

//Having Deku's optimism break through Hajime's apathy, even though it costs him the fight, turned out to be a heartwarming, fun ending, and a great way to end the semi-final match.

//And exhibit C: their powers and abilities.

//Analyzing the full potential of One For All and the full potential of the Ultimate Hope was AMAZING, especially given how much we needed to consider for the verdict. As we mentioned, and we stand by this, it's likely that Deku at his full potential is actually physically stronger than Ultimate Hope Hajime, even though his strength is supposed to be the peak of humanity.

//But even if that is the case, there's still the powers themselves to consider, Ultimate Luck being a VERY big caveat to take into account, but the fight we ended up coming up with showed off basically all their abilities and powers without being too weirdly contrived, and I absolutely dig it.

//If there are any issues with this, it's that the setting can be a little confusing, that much I am aware of. Halfway through the fight, it's revealed that Hajime and Deku are fighting in the Neo World because their power threatens to create potential world destruction if they clash, but since all these fights are taking place in a simulation already, it left a few people confused about the situation and...yeah I didn't really think that through, I'm sorry about that one.

//But yeah, that doesn't take away from how much I enjoyed this one, and it's easily my top pick for this arc.

-Mod

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #death battle #warriors of other worlds arc #ranking

[yosh-iro]

got a game where i got over 2000p lmao

#part of me feels bad for using aerospray #cuz its The Bastard weapon #but also hehe gold paint sprayer go fwoosh #og squid game #splatoon #oh yeah this was an x rank battle btw and the next person on my team had like 1300p #idk how we won that #also ignore my deaths i was getting dunked on by the tri slosher on the other team #yoshi talk

[dohmalore]

Unite needs ranked quick battles. Please im so good at quick battles and so mediocre at normal battles

#pokemon unite #i could easily be master rank with quick battles. #i struggled so hard to get to ultra over the past 2 seasons. and then when the new one started it demoted me to veteran 5. death #why they hide all the real prizes so high up :(

[angelic-petty]

i wanted to try power scaling the entire yin yang yo cast ironically but now i know i’m just gonna get too into it and it’s gonna shed thirty years off my life

#yin yang yo! #yin yang yo #yyy #it would definitely be separated based on physical strength meet magical strength and those who overlap would be ranked higher #and i guess plot significance matters too cause that would rank eradicus and the night master a little higher #and we're going by death battle rules so full potential while still considering their obvious weaknesses/crutches #hush prima

[shadysadie]

I love that Raine got to be part of the final battle.

With as many people as Belos hurt, pretty much all the characters deserved to be there to help deliver the final blow (or final *stompstompstomp*) but short of doing a giant Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood style showdown in the middle of the castle (which would not suit this show like it did FMAB) there was just no way that everyone who deserved to see Belos destroyed was going to get that satisfaction. 

I really love that the one extra person that got to join the Owl Family for this was Raine. 

Because Raine has given absolutely everything to the revolution. Idle Scree has a fantastic video on the subject, but to sum it up, Raine went into the bard coven with the explicit goal of working their way up through the ranks and uncovering the truth behind Belos’ plans. It has taken them decades of espionage to get where they are. They cut themself off from all of their relationships, crossed moral boundaries, and even asked the woman they love to give up her life in order to take Belos down. 

So when Belos takes control of them they fight back.

While Hunter’s possession is a lot more brutal, simply because Belos specifically wanted to make Hunter suffer as much as possible, while mocking Luz and friends, Raine’s struggle is almost harder to watch.

They’re getting tossed around, their arms are getting dislocated at the very least, they’ve vomiting Belos goop, but they are still fighting with everything they have to regain control because they did not spend their life trying to take Belos down just to end up his play thing. 

Hunter had to crush his best friend with his own hand in order to break free of Belos, Raine is fighting with indignation and fury alone.

And they keep fighting.

Even without their weapon, as soon as they have enough control to get their fingers to their mouth, they cast Belos out. And after that, they could have given up. They were free. They must have been exhausted, but they are clever, probably the most clever person on the Boiling Isles, so they realize exactly what’s going to happen and they can not let that happen.

The way they fall up the stairs here shows just how hurt and tired they are. Think of what their timeline has looked like from their perspective: the Day of Unity happened, they nearly died from the draining spell, they fought through excruciating pain to save Eda as what they thought was their final act, then the eclipse ends and they are still alive, but suddenly these evil stars are attacking them, then they spend months “sequestered in a darkness like onto death” only to be awoken and have their most hated enemy take over their body. 

And through all that THEY KEEP GOING.

And again, this fight is brutal, they are basically suffocating in Belos’s flesh towards the end, and they still don’t give up.

They shatter their weapon in one last ditch effort to stop Belos, but it doesn’t work.

They lost. They were a second too late and now everything they fought for is for nothing. Belos made it to the heart. He can take control of the very Titan itself, and there is nothing Raine can do to stop him.

But even then, they don’t give up. They keep whistling, even if it’s weak, even if it doesn’t do much, they whistle to keep themself alive, because they are going to keep fighting until their very last breath.

So after all of that, the fact that they get to be one of the people who actively take Belos down…well, I think they say it best for themself…

#the owl house #owl house #toh #watching and dreaming #belos #raine whispers #toh raine #toh spoilers #watching and dreaming spoilers

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr imagines #honkai star rail imagines #star rail imagines #jing yuan x reader

[gentlyweeps-world]

always with you

summary: they promised to always visit you.

pairing: logan sargeant x fem! reader | oscar piastri x fem! reader

warnings: death

genre: angst | sad

notes: oops? I was feeling something sad 😋

words: 820

follow up

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

No one imagined that in 2023 something like this would have happened.

The driver's safety had evolved, thanks to Jules Bianchi, no one expected another fatal death after his. Sure injuries, but certainly not a death.

Logan and Oscar didn’t expect it. You had been one of, if not the most, determined person they have ever met.

It was only your rookie year. Just one year.

You three had known each other since karting, and through the ranks. Constantly battling each other and hanging out.

Then you guys made it to Formula One, everyone’s dream. It was unbelievable.

You had made history, well- and Logan.

Oscar to McLaren, Logan to Williams and you to Alpha Tauri.

It was finally coming together.

The season went well for the most part, you had scored some points, not many, but that was expected.

Although there was one race you were dreading, Qatar.

“Guys…it’s way too hot out for this..” You say with a groan, leaning into Logan.

“Yeah so don’t lean on me..” Logan mutters out, gently shoving you off him. In response you let out another groan, just leaning back into him.

“Shut up..” Oscar mumbles out, scrolling through his phone, looking at something.

“Hey Osc..we qualified well, right? Do you think we could get on the podium?” You ask, looking over at the Australian.

“Maybe”

That night you guys didn’t get on the podium.

“Y/n, do you need to retire?” Your engineer asks, concern evident in his tone. You didn’t sound good, you didn’t feel good and you weren’t driving well.

“No! No- I’m okay, I need to do this..” You respond, head already starting to spin as you grip at your steering wheel.

“It’s okay to retire, Sargeant did..”

You wish you had listened.

“No I’m okay”

You weren’t okay.

“Right, just let us know if anything is wrong”

Everything was wrong.

“I will don’t worry”

You didn’t.

The ringing in your ears got louder, you could feel the sweat start to drench your balaclava. It was disgusting.

You could hear the thump of your heartbeat, even your breathing as you gasped for air in the humid atmosphere.

Your hands started to shake, dark spots forming all around as you let yourself relax. You needed the rest, didn’t you?

Your foot stayed on the pedal, it didn’t matter, you were all the way down to P17 (last with the dnfs) with seconds, actually minutes, separating you from the pack.

In the moment you felt peaceful, well you had passed out, but it was peaceful.

You couldn’t hear the worried shouts from your engineer, or the questions from the commentators.

You couldn’t see the barrier you were about to crash into at full speed.

Numbness. That was the one word to describe it.

Every driver pitted. The race was off, really it should have been off in the beginning, it was too dangerous and it showed.

Logan freezes in his place, still in his FW45 in the garage, watching the TV show your AT04 in flames and in pieces.

The TV cut to black, it was too visual.

Oscar didn’t know what to do, actually no one did.

Maybe it would be another miracle? That’s what Haas hoped.

It wasn’t. It didn’t look like it.

It dawned on Oscar and Logan, they had lost you.

Logan didn’t get to confess his love.

Oscar didn’t get a chance to share a podium with you.

It didn’t feel real. Everyone was silent.

Logan unclenched and clenched his fists, tears forming in his eyes as his throat tightens up, he wanted to scream, he wanted to help you. He didn’t want to be useless anymore, he didn’t want to take up space.

They knew what happened. They knew the halo couldn’t have saved you this time. They knew.

“Hey Y/n…it’s been a year..we miss you, everyone does..” Logan says, voice cracking as he tries to contain his emotions.

“Osc and I are doing well…he’s doing much better than me but hey- you’d probably do way better than us..”

He lets out a sigh, “I miss you Y/n. Oscar does too, he didn’t want to come visit, didn’t want to bring down your spirit, whatever he means by that..”

“I had so many things I wanted to tell you..” He mumbles out, voice starting to break once more. Logan takes in a deep breath, blinking away his tears. “I wish- I wish I could have held you in my arms once more..”

“If only you knew..” He whispers out, finally setting the flowers down by the barrier.

“Osc and I will do better for you, we’ll always be with you Y/n, we’ll always visit you..” Logan says with a sad smile, looking longingly at the barrier before he walks away.

Everyone missed you. Even the guys on the grid you didn’t talk to.

They wanted to witness you make history.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

radio 🪩: no comment

permanent taglist: @cixrosie @amajixi @i-wish-this-was-me @nelly187 @hannahwsworld @sltwins @itsprashimusic

#formula one #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #logan sargeant #gently weeps fics #f1 x female driver #f1 x female reader #ls2 imagine #ls2 x reader #ls2 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #loscar #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one blurbs #formula 1 blurb #formula one imagine #gently weeps blurbs #williams formula 1 #mclaren x reader #mclaren #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

[pursuitseternal]

“All Vim and Vigor, dearest…” a soft, nsfw Vampire Rogue Astarion update for “Bites in the Night:”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4K wound tending sex

Summary: the aftermath of a battle, and one companion is missing. Astarion. You race to find him, pulling him the the grip of death.. true death. Your tender, loving care can restore him. After all, you have to make sure all his vim and vigor is returned to him. Entirely.

CW: Blood, near death experience, healing, wound cleaning, flirtation, awkward Karlach interrupting growing intimacy, blow jobs and mutual hand jobs and fingering, just too be sure everything is… healed.

For @genesis-6666 💌

Read here if you prefer on AO3

Find him, save him…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The dead lay around you. Goblins. An ambush. You bend over, hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. Your wounds are minimal, and already Shadowheart has run to find the rest of your party, healing… or reviving… when needed. She looks up from over Gale’s body, his chest finally breathing again. But her eyes look worried. You scan the area, seeing everyone staggering between the trees. Almost all, you realize as your thumping heart stills. There is one of you missing. And your stomach twirls in knots as you realize just who.

You spin your head, looking. “Where is he?” you call to her. “Where’s Astarion?”

She shakes her head. “I thought he was with you, on the high ground,” she pants. “He was up there last I saw.” Her lithe hand points into the crags of rock and mountain that line the canyon.

It had been quick, sudden, and brutal. The ambush of Goblins swallowing you up. Last you remember, he had stared at you. Excitement, surprise, the thrill of bloodlust and eagerness in his eyes, as the goblin ranks kept coming and coming down from those ridges. One last fang-flashing smirk before he ran into the shadows, skirting up to their source. Your fearless, reckless, stupid rogue.

You hurry, scrambling up the trail, swerving past the thicker pools of goblin blood, leaping over their bodies. You see them scattered all over, dagger stab wounds and slashes.

Signs that he was here.

It’s carnage that you push past. Climbing higher until you reach a plateau, empty, the end of the trail, where you expect to see your vampire, your rogue, your… your love. But there is… nothing. Not a body. No enemies. No Astarion.

Panic fills you, heart rapping in your chest, breath growing short. But you force yourself forward. You make your eyes scan the ground for any clues. His blood. Or signs of his capture. You make your lungs fill, you shout his name…

Then, you hold your breath.

A faint groan comes from the distance, somewhere near the sheer rock face that pierces the sky, from the dense shrubs that line it. You race after it, feet almost skittering as you stumble in that direction. Your hands pushing into the brambles, catching sight of pale skin. Covered in blood.

You reach for his body. His skin is cold, waxy, and tight. You find one arm and pull. He groans as you tug, you grab his second arm, freeing him from the brambles, even as your lungs ease to see his face again.

But your hope fades to agony, his face is bruised and beaten, black and blue and shadowed more than his undead charisma. His breathing is quick and shallow, his eyes nearly swollen shut from whatever beating he took up here. You finally slide him free, his clothing is torn, almost every inch of the skin you see is darkened with bruises.

His voice shakes as he tries to catch a breath, eyes forcing themselves open to look at you. “You’re here,” he manages to rasp out. “I knew you would find me. You always find me.”

“Shhh,” you run your hand through his hair, his brow damp with sweat, his eyes losing focus as his head begins to loll. “It’s going to be alright.”

“At least I got to see you once more…” his voice grates against his throat, breath growing ragged.

You hand digs into your pocket, pulling out your last vial of healing potion. You pull the cork and press it instantly to his lips. The liquid flows into those pale lips, and you can only kneel and pray it’s enough. His breath begins to ease instead of rattle, his face beginning to heal, his pallor returning, the traces of blue-black death fading.

His mouth twitches trying to talk. But you shush him softly, “I’m here, Astarion, it’s alright.”

“F-far from,” he ekes out as his eyes flutter open slightly, the swelling abating just enough for you to see both crimson eyes again.

“I’ll get you back to the others,” you look around, sizing up his lean body, running a hand through his hair before you brace behind his shoulders to get him to sit upright. He groans, limp in your arm. He can be so strong and swift, but it’s only now you also notice how lithe he is. How lean. But still, he’s too great a weight for you to bear alone.

That’s when the running of heavier feet makes your lungs fill fully and your heart leap in hope. “You found him, good for you, soldier!” Karlach trods right up next to you, barely out of breath. “Shadowheart said you would hopefully have found him, I’m to help you back where we are making camp.” Her thick tiefling arms pick him up, none too gently, and you hiss in worry to see him pulled to his feet so quickly.

“I swear, if you throw me around like that, I would puke on you if I had anything left in me…” he snipes as Karlach takes him by one arm, shaking her fiery head at his sass with a smile and waiting for you to take the other.

You snigger. He must be on the mend if he is throwing those barbs out again. But he falls silent again, head hanging low. You shoulder his body as best you can, bracing one hand on his bare chest, wishing for once he had a living heart that beat so you knew he was alive. “Stay with me,” you grunt, shoving your mouth into his long, pointed ear. “I’ll kill you if you die, you know.”

“I know… my sweet,” he manages to rasp, a slight turn of his head to throw you a feeble smirk. Karlach is definitely bearing most of him, but she doesn’t complain, not as you finally make it down the ridges and back to the main road.

“Not too much further,” Karlach heaves more of him on her shoulder, “Gale should have the tents up by now so he can rest.”

You three round a bend, the flickering of a fire and the spattered sight of tents warms your heart. You made it. Even the rose and burgundy canvas of Astarion’s tent is set to perfection. You’ll have to remember to thank Gale later, once your rogue is through the worst of it.

Into the warm dark you go, setting Astarion out on his bedroll, propping him cautiously on a stack of pillows.

“Water, clothes, and another potion,” Karlach points to the supplies placed tidily within reach. “I’ll be back, just shout if you need anything.”

And then she steps away, taking her warmth and her glowing presence back through the flaps of his tent.

You look after her, another friend you’ll have to thank.

Something hard and cold grips around your hand from where it rests on the ground. He’s clutching you, making sure he’s not alone.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you rest it on his own stomach. “Let me get you cleaned up,” you look into his face, his eyes still shut, face still and unmoving. “Is that alright?”

“More than alright,” he speaks quietly, “the sooner you get rid of this stinking goblin blood off me, the sooner I can just savor that delicious fragrance of yours…” he hisses in pain before the last word is completely off his tongue. Your hand ghosts over the still-sprawling bruisers that run along his side. He tries so hard to be the usually suave, charismatic charmer, but something still troubles him.

Your hand hovers between the cloth and the potion, unsure what to do first. Then you hear it, a wracking cough, one that shakes his frame, bringing blood to his lips.

His blood.

You quickly uncork the second bottle, fairly shoving it in his mouth. “What did they do to you?” You barely get the question out your mouth as he sighs from swallowing the healing mix down.

“Thrashed me an inch from life… or an inch from undeath I suppose…” He forces a blithe smile, his giggle is slick with his own blood, but at least you can hear his lungs filling. More fully than before. The potion working to heal whatever internal damage he must have had.

You eye the red around his lips, pausing for a second. It was a common sight, his bloodied lips, but… never his own blood.

You wonder, for a moment, how does he taste?

You know the salt of his sweat, the bitter tang of his cum, why not? Why not see what his blood tastes of, for once…

“Gods below,” he throws you a mischievous smirk. “You’re wanting to taste my blood now, aren’t you?” You feel your surprise lifting your face, and he only sucks his teeth, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. “Tch, I don’t need a spell to read your dirty thoughts, darling…”

Your eyes dart to his conceited, smirking mouth. You hold your breath… until you close your hand around the towel and soak it in the soapy water. “Don’t be ridiculous, Astarion…” you huff, starting to bring the cloth to his face.

His hand grips the back of your neck, clutching you against his mouth for a wet and bloodied kiss. It tastes… ancient, refined and heady. Rich in a way that coats your tongue, even as his own delves in to tangle with yours. You swallow, sucking on his lips for more. He laughs, lightly, hiding a groan, “If you’re planning on more rigorous pursuits, I’d say I need bathing and tending first, darling.”

You pull away, shocked at yourself, so aroused with him only moments ago near-death. Your cheeks flush, white hot as you begin to clean him. He closes his eyes, propped up as he is on pillows. Lounging, relishing your full attention.

You wash and rinse, wash and rinse. It’s hard not to stare at his beauty, at the hard edges of his cheeks and jaw, the little lines about his eyes that crinkle when he smirks or laughs. He locks those piercing eyes on you as you dip the rag back and wring it out. He stalks every movement you make, washing his body lower and lower, inspecting his bruises as they slowly fade with the healing magic.

You finish his chest, forcing your breath to steady as you wash that rising and falling belly of his.

“Are you sure I don’t need tending any lower…?” he purrs.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Perhaps you rest first before you insist on everything checked for being in good working order, hmm?”

He rolls his eyes back in his head, a sigh of total emphatic drama. “Doctor’s orders…” he grumbles, lounging back against the throws, but not before he gives a little thrust of his hips, a clench of his belly under your hand where it rests on him still.

“Sleep, you scoundrel,” you chide, reaching to dry off his now clean skin, savoring the fresh scent in the air from the soap. You feel his body, still tense under your touch, wound tight and stiff that isn’t the result of his charming flirtation or dirty, lustful thoughts. You look at him, staring at his face, worry furrowing your brows. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicker over you, bright with mischief, half-lidded with flirtation. “Vampires don’t require… sleep. Not much. Not as much as… well… other things…”

You look into that beautiful face. He’s gaunt. Pale, well more than usual. Rings line his eyes, cradling that crimson glare in shadow. His lips twitch, fighting the urge to bare those glistening and pointed fangs.

“Oh, gods, now?” you breathe, heart racing.

He waves a hand dismissively, a sharp edge to his voice. Hungry. Annoyed. “Well, if you don’t want your strong, well-fed vampire to heal completely, then by all means…”

“No,” you almost leap next to his face, those smirking eyes scan over you, dilating in his hunger, fixating on the rapid pulse you know must be just throbbing under your skin for him to salivate over. But his hand grips yours, raising it to his lips. Kissing your fingers so softly, your stomach drops and your throat tightens. Slowly, he turns your hand over in his, raising your tingling inner wrist to his nose. You feel his breath, cold and quick, as he inhales your scent. Probably already savoring the scent of your blood rushing just beneath your skin.

“So then, I may?” his voice almost fails to reach your ears, you hear it more from the little tickles his breath makes across your skin, the gentle flutters of his lips over the nerves of your wrist. Like lighting in the air, his breath ripples in pinpricks on your skin.

“Yes,” you sigh, lungs burning as you hold your breath until he bites thos razor-sharp fangs into your tender flesh. Gasping, you hold your wrist to his mouth, every drop of your blood that leaves you, you can almost feel, almost sense, how it makes him stronger again. Empowered again. Hungry again for more.

It just feels so good, even as he feasts on you, as you savor that strange sensation that follows every time he feeds, that union of your bodies, your blood sating his hunger, beginning to course in his veins. A small, strangled moan escapes your lips, your eyes fixated on the way his mouth sucks on your wrist. You’ve never seen it before, never been able to watch his consuming of you, as he drinks from your neck. The little ways his tongue laps at your skin, the small bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows you down. A different sort of pleasure denied you when he drinks in the middle of the night. Your stomach churns, your thighs burning hot as you can’t look away.

A slight, definitely insufferable smile tugs at the corner of his lip as he sets your wrist back in your lap. “Liked what you saw?” he preens, so proud as he dabs a single finger at the bloodied corner of his mouth. “Or just thankful I’m still here to have my fill of you?”

“Both,” you reply before even a second thought crosses you mind. Your sight lowers to his mouth, you can almost feel those lips on yours, the way the twitch ever so slightly, the little tweaks that lift them to show those pointed fangs you love to have catch your flesh and nip at you when he kisses….

So close, you feel him closing that distance, his breath rushing into you, filling your lungs, your soul, ice cold and tangible.

“Hope you like rabbit, Gale’s got stew nearly done for…” Karlach sticks her flaming, sparking scarlet head into your tent then she strides all the way in. Those glowing eyes go wide. You’re so close, even as you turn your head, you can hear Astarion’s laugh tickle the creases of your ear.

You go flush, and not just because he insists on still giving your cheek a lingering kiss.

“Feeling better, is he?” Karlach laughs, a bit forced. A bit uncomfortable.

“Clearly,” you huff, sliding slightly from his side. But he only leans all the closer.

His eyes rake over you. You can feel it. You can almost see it in the way Karlach sifts from foot to foot. He chuckles, low and slow, “Yes, all vim and vigor, dearest. We were just about to discuss how I was going to make it up to her for all that attentive care and healing I required to pull me back from the brink of death…”

Your eyes flicker to Karlach, who would be blushing beet red now if she weren’t already so scarlet. “Ahem,” she clears her voice and stands quickly, “that’ll be my cue. I’ll leave you two to it..:”

“No it’s okay… the stew...” you begin but she’s already gone and yelling on the other side of the tent.

“Oi, Gale, keep it warm…” a long pause follows, a deep voice muted in the distance. Then Karlach guffaws with gusto. “Yeah, they’ll be fucking for hours most likely… she might not even be hungry once he stuffs her again…” the tiefling’s boisterous laugh fades as she trods away.

Your face goes hotter than an inferno, but that only makes his cold fingers sear all the more as he caresses your cheek. A single finger lifts your chin, turning your face towards that rakish, sultry smirk. “I thought she’d never leave. Now,” he hovers his mouth right over yours, “where were we?”

“We…” you clear your throat, “we were just making sure you were healed…”

“Mmmm, I’m pretty sure you’ve inspected me thoroughly everywhere but one place, darling,” he rasps, catching your lips in a commanding, languorous kiss.

“You almost died, Astarion,” you hiss between his teeth, fighting the way your folds are burning up, the way his other hand begins to slink over the buckskin of your breeches. “Should you really risk so much exertion?” Your body is tensing, your mind remembering the way he rattled as he struggled for air on the mountain, the way his flesh was blackened and sickly. Dead, almost truely dead.

His chuckle, that low-throated giggle, pulls you out of those macabre imaginings. “Well, I'd be more than happy to simply lay back and let you do all the hard work, if that’s what your concern is…”

You give him a mocking smile, “Oh yes, I’m very certain you are only doing this for my sake, love. Making sure I feel good after pulling you back from near death to life… well to undeath…” You give a sheepish grin, relieved that your humor only adds to the mischievous glint in his crimson eyes.

“You know me, the image of selflessness. I’m doing you a favor. If you left now…” his smirk widened, deliciously, wickedly, “…you’d be thinking about it all night.” His hand weaves into the little hairs at the nape of your neck, twirling them in the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Well, I suppose I can be persuaded… just to make sure you’re all vim and vigor.” You laugh as his hand is already loosening the laces of his breeches. “But,” you place one of yours to stay him a moment. Gods, you can already feel his cock, hard and pushing his way out for pleasure. You swallow, making yourself look in his eyes. At how they swirl with his lust, glassy with his need. “But you tell me the moment it’s too much, you promise?”

“If you wanted me to just be more vocal during our couplings, you had only to ask, darling…” he purrs, forcing his fingers loose under your palm to continue unlacing.

You grab them in yours. “I mean it,” you insist, hard in tone, commanding in just three words.

“I promise, I’ll say when, my dear,” he laughs, finally freeing himself from the confines of his breeches. You look down at him, his devious pleasure of just watching you crawling between his thighs.

You give his cock a good, long lick from base to tip, his groan of approval sending shivers between your own thighs. But you force a dispassionate hum as you wrap your lips around his twitching head. “Seems in good working order,” you whisper.

“I think it needs a little more.. attentive care, darling…” he groans, very loudly as you wrap your mouth all the way around him, taking him in deeply over your tongue. You roll your eyes, unsurprised at how he gives a moan with each suck you make, each lap of your tongue running up his length.

More vocal indeed.

You bob up and down, your lover relaxing back against his pillows, fingers toying languorously through your hair. Your own hand pumps over the rest of him that just can’t fit inside your lips. He feels so good, so hard and strong and full of life. And he seems to be getting louder… his moans increasing. “So good for me, darling…” he starts to praise. “Always so attentive and eager… and…”

You pop off him, meeting that insufferable smirk and quirked brows. “You want them to know, don’t you?”

“Me? Wanting to draw some attention to our lustful pursuits?” He casts that look at you that makes every nerve in your body flame with unbridled desire for him. “I just want them to make sure you care of me is certainly thorough,” he grins, “I’m just so… thankful… it’s hard to keep it in. After all you do… so much for me, darling…”

“Be a dear and shut up,” you purr, giving one more swirl around that ridge of his tip.

“Make me,” he growls, flashing that roguish smirk down at you, licking his lips.

You pounce, flooded with relief that he is alive... that he’s filled with all that vim and vigor and irascible, irritating sass. You’re brimming with the need to feel him, for all his taunting and flirtation, all his lust and passion, you’re just… happy he is here. To kiss, to fuck, to banter with. And you do make him shut up, your lips on his, your teeth sinking playfully into his lower lip, sucking it with a tug. You keep one hand on his cock, riding it, pumping it, keeping time with the way his tongue darts in and out of your mouth. Something cold slips under your shirt, his fingers skating into the band of your breeches.

You keep your mouth fixed on his, making certain he’s far too busy for any noises you can’t muffle. But as his fingers slip between your thighs, an unbidden cry rips from your throat.

“Who’s the loud mouth now?” He chides, sucking his teeth at you, even with your lips coupled as they are. He laughs again, his fingers catching on your clit just right as he rides up and down your seam. “Don’t cease your own task at hand on my account,” he sniggers, his cold fingers lacing around his shaft, interweaving with yours.

His breath sucks in yours. His fingers playing in you, teasing so much wetness from your folds, you wish you had just taken your pants off when you had the chance. Now it was too late. Now, you’d be sticky from your own arousal, probably covered in his cum too as you leave his tent.

The thought makes your cheeks burn but not in shame. In a searing wave of desire. Your hand works up and down, catching that thick, blunt tip with your thumb in the way that makes him groan. His kisses deepen, hungry and feral, the same he’s stoked in you with the little ways his fangs catch on the inside of your lips. He’s losing that refined control he keeps. Pushed past the calculating movements as you stroke him in your fist and lick his tongue with your own.

“Gods,” he growls, his cock so hard, his fingers inside you working at a fevered pace. “You’ll come for me too, darling. My recompense for your care.”

“Yes,” you moan, his fingers diving deep into your cunt, crooking on that sweet spot he knows well.

You clench, shaking as he pummels inside you, your own hand struggling to work on his cock with how hard he is. How thick he is. But the instant you drench his fingers and fill his palm as you climax, he follows you into that messy, groaning bliss. Hot cum drips down your arm, spattered on your sleeve, on the belly of your shirt.

He’s gasping into your mouth, his lips pulled back wide in a genuine smile. His forehead presses against yours as he catches his breath, stealing your own from your lips. “Well,” he pants, “am I fully recovered?”

“All vim… and vigor…” you heave, moaning as he slips his fingers from your thighs.

“Hmm,” he hums against your lips, trapping them in his own with a slight nip. “Are you sure you’re satisfied with my performance?”

You laugh, giving a little shove against his chest. “For now,” you tease, “but it seems another round of cleaning is in order.” Your hand reaches for the rag, wiping his juices from your hand, your arm. Only to hear him sucking on his own fingers.

His brow arched wryly as you turn to watch. Those two long fingers that still drip with your cum are shoved far back in his mouth, his tongue swirling over every inch. “What?” he smirks, “why waste something so delicious…”

You shake your head, lovingly irritated at his cheekiness, but already your body is already aching for more. “Perhaps,” you clear your throat, heart pounding as you watch him sliding those already drenched fingers over his tongue. “Perhaps you do need a little more inspection, just to be sure…”

“Thought so,” he sniffs, that insufferable smirk widening to show his teeth. “Best be sure… just in case…”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Read more “Bites in the Night:”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Ascended Astarion in “The Rogue You Were:”

🩸Part 1 🩸 Part 2 🩸Part 3 🩸 Part 4🩸

Read my Drabbles

“Just a Drop…” Astarion as Tav turns

“Beg me…” A highly NSFW Ascended Astarion x reader

“Your Reward:” Ascended Astarion Dark!Fic

#astarion romance #astarion my beloved #astarion smut #vampire rogue #healing trope #wound tending #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldursgate3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate smut #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

[wingsofmud]

*Edited*

I will forever be infuriated by the fact that they never did anything with Foeslayer being a soldier. Her name is FOESLAYER for moons' sakes! There's so much potential there!

Not to mention the drama. Like, Arctic is already not into this whole war thing, but his wife actually physically going into war and killing his people??? DRAAAMAAA. Not to mention the stories Icewings would come up with about her. It would make sense for such a dragon to be able to kidnap one of their royals, no? And the fact that her deployments would mean that Darkstalker and Whiteout spend more time with their father.

I want Foeslayer rapidly climbing the ranks due to her military prowess. I want Arctic to start wondering if his wife has been using him against his own Queendom. They were both raised in politics after all, it would make sense that she could manipulate if she chose to. I want that growing tension. I want no resolution. Foeslayer leaves for her service as usual, but this time a different Nightwing is at the door after the battle.

Imagine if instead of the whole argument, Foeslayer is lost on the battlefield. Maybe one of Darkstalker's spells to keep her safe failed or Queen Diamond found a way around the enchantment. Hell, maybe it was a regular soldier who accidentally found a loophole through the protection magic with a lucky slash.

In any case, there's no one to blame. In the books, we know for sure it was Queen Diamond cause it couldn't have been anyone else. And for whatever reason Darkstalker chooses to hate on all Icewings instead of the one person he knows is responsible for his mom's presumed death. But if Foeslayer was MIA (or dead, I haven't decided yet) and no one can give a clear description of what happened? And since there's no one to blame, Darkstalker blames the whole Icewing nation?? gimme.

#wings of fire #wof #foeslayer #darkstalker #wof rewrite

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- war

soooo. yeah! this part is so 'simon "only soft for his girl" riley.' but, this is where shit gets seriousss lol ALSO WORD COUNT IS OBSCENE I'M SO SORRY (i'm not sorry), with this part being about ~8.4k words total. HAVE FUN I GUESS! warnings: LOTS OF SMUT, (unprotected sex, but there is no pregnancy resulted from this here because its ~fantasy~!), mentions of death, talks of war

You remember exactly what you were doing when the news was broken to you and Simon. 

You and Simon were lounging on your plush couch, your feet propped up in Simon’s lap, sitting before an open fireplace as he read to you. One of Simon’s hands held your ankle as the other held the book open. You had cuddled up with a blanket, slightly dozing off as Simon’s deep voice drawled through the story. It was peaceful, serene…domestic. 

The door to the chamber swung open, revealing a solemn-faced messenger. Simon’s gaze hardened as he shifted from the book to the intruder, a subtle furrow forming on his brow. Walking in without knocking was extremely uncommon, and just as Simon was about to reprimand them, the messenger spoke. 

“Your majesties, forgive my intrusion, but I bring news from the southern borders. The Southern Kingdom has launched a full-scale invasion. War has come to Kastron.”

The world seemed to move in slow motion as you took in their words, an icy chill running up your spine despite the fireplace a mere few feet in front of you. The tranquility of the moment shattered, and the book slipped from Simon’s grasp, its pages rustling as it hit the floor. The shock of the message echoed through the room, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

Simon’s grip on your ankle tightened involuntarily. The flames in the fireplace now seemed to cast ominous shadows on the walls. You sat up, the blanket slipping off your shoulders, and shot a worried glance at Simon. Simon’s eyes met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. 

Simon’s jaw clenched, his gaze hardening with a sense of duty and determination. You withdrew your feet from his lap, now sitting up straight, wordless. You swallowed thickly, your throat felt dry. 

“What?” Simon’s voice is urgent. “Are you certain?”

The messenger nodded, his expression grim. “The information was just passed along to me from a few witnesses, your majesty. The Southern Kingdom’s forces are advancing rapidly. Our scouts barely had time to send word.”

A weight landed on your chest, a sudden heaviness that made it harder to breathe. Simon immediately shifts gears, rapidly standing up, his eyes never leaving the messenger. 

“Prepare the council. We convene in the war room immediately,” Simon commanded, his voice unwavering. The way he switched so quickly from domestic tranquility to a stance of solemnity and command was a stark reminder of the kind of ruler he was — impenetrable, stoic, and ruthless. 

The messenger hastened out of the room, and you and Simon followed suit.

As the three of you made your way through the corridors, tens of strategists and other high-ranking military officials added to the growing assembly. The tension in the air was palpable as you reached the war room, its doors swinging open to reveal a scene of controlled chaos. Maps adorned the walls, lanterns flickered on the large table, and the hum of hushed conversations filled the room.

Simon took his place at the head of the table, his presence commanding immediate attention. Simon refused a chair, pressing his hands onto the table as he leaned over. General Price stood by his side, ready to translate the unfolding crisis into a coherent plan of action. Commander Garrick is clutching rolls of paper, already prepared with possible battle strategies. 

The council members acknowledged your arrival with nods, but the gravity of the situation left little room for formalities. Simon wasted no time and addressed the room, his voice cutting through the murmurs.

You felt numb, seated in a chair that had to be pulled up for you to sit near to Simon. It felt as though you were underwater, spacing out as Price debriefed the room on the unfolding situation. 

General Price stepped forward, unfolding a detailed map that showcased the contested territories. His finger traced the movements of the Southern Kingdom’s forces. As he spoke, you tried your best to pay attention, still caught up in the immediate shift in tone. Not even two weeks had passed since the ball was held in your honor, and approximately two months since you were stabbed, and somehow war was officially declared on Kastron. This is what you were afraid of having to deal with as queen, yet you knew it would be inevitable, knowing Kastron’s history. 

“The Southern Kingdom’s forces are advancing on multiple fronts. Our scouts report significant numbers, and their progress is faster than anticipated,” General Price explained, his tone steady despite the concerning information.

Simon’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. The room fell into a focused silence, broken only by the scratching of quills and the occasional whispered discussion among council members.

“And what are their intentions?” Simon asked, his voice sharp.

“We’ve gathered that, since the tensions experienced a few months ago, it is most likely their primary aim to steal our resources and the silver-rich lands, your majesty. They also seek to dismantle our military power by taking over Kastron,” Gaz speaks confidently, motioning to the notes in his hands. 

Responsibility weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you could feel the collective gaze of the council turning to you and Simon for guidance. Simon looked back at you, a silent exchange of shared determination.

Simon turns back to face the rest of the room, his gaze fierce. “We cannot let the Southern Kingdom broach any villages. We will defend our lands, protect our people, and ensure the security of Kastron. But, Price, I also want you to mobilize our forces. We need to establish defensive positions and buy time for additional reinforcements. General Price, what are our immediate options?”

Price outlined a series of potential strategies, ranging from fortifying key locations to launching counterattacks to sending diplomats. The council engaged in debates, discussing the strengths and weaknesses of each approach.

Amidst the planning, you felt a surge of responsibility. You couldn’t merely be a passive observer; the fate of Kastron rested on the decisions made in this very room. Gathering your resolve, you spoke up.

“Um, maybe we can explore diplomatic options first. It’s clear the Southern Kingdom wants resources and power. If we can negotiate a compromise, we might avoid unnecessary bloodshed,” you suggested, meeting Simon’s eyes with a hopeful yet determined expression.

Simon considered your words, the furrow in his brow softening. Diplomacy wasn’t his first instinct, but he recognized the potential benefits. The room fell into a contemplative silence as everyone weighed the idea.

After a moment, Simon nodded. “You’re right. We’lll send envoys to open a line of communication. General Price, prepare a delegation. Make it clear that we are willing to negotiate, but also ready to defend our kingdom.”

The tension in the room eased slightly as the council shifted its focus to the diplomatic approach. Three delegates were selected, messages were drafted, and plans were set in motion.

That was a week ago. Two days after you had made your suggestion and the council voted, the bodies of these three delegates turned up near a village close to Kastron’s southern border. 

When the news of the delegates’ fate struck the war room, Simon was beyond infuriated. Diplomacy had been brutally rebuffed, and the Southern Kingdom’s intentions were now crystal clear.

The warmth of the crackling fire from that night seems worlds away from the chill that now permeates the air. Looking back now, it all felt like a distant dream. 

Now, you’re sitting in an empty bed, trying your best to think positively despite the inner turmoil you’re experiencing. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant sounds of preparations echoing through the castle. You glance at the empty space beside you, the absence of Simon leaving a void that no amount of positive thinking can fill. The shadow of your personal guard stands outside your bedroom door, a constant reminder of the heightened security measures now in place. The once-familiar comfort of the castle feels alien, additional guards posted throughout the halls. The sense of confinement within the walls was palpable, a stark contrast to the freedom and celebration of the ball held in your honor two weeks ago. The events of the past week replay in your mind like a haunting refrain. The failed attempt at diplomacy, the loss of the delegates, and the inexorable march of the Southern Kingdom's forces toward Kastron—all of it hangs over you, a dark cloud blocking out the sun. 

Simon has been stuck in the war room for nearly 16 hours every day for the past week, tirelessly strategizing, receiving updates, and making crucial decisions. As Simon remained confined in the war room, you took on the role of overseeing domestic affairs, ensuring that the daily functions of the kingdom continued despite the looming threat of war. The once-familiar routine now carried an undercurrent of tension, and you found yourself managing not only the logistics but also the emotional well-being of the people within and outside the castle.

The past week was a blur of meetings with advisers, coordinating with servants to maintain order, and responding to the concerns of citizens. The castle buzzed with an anxious energy that mirrored the uncertainty of the times.

Because of this arrangement, you and Simon would really only see each other in the morning while waking, and even then, that was only for a short time. Your morning routine has become a brief respite from the relentless demands of the impending conflict. Simon would wake up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. You would roll into him, squeezing him tightly. As you both rose from bed, the weight of responsibility descended once again. Simon would dress in his regal armor, the emblem of Kastron emblazoned on his chestplate. You, too, would don the attire befitting a queen, the weight of your crown a constant reminder of the duty that now defined your days. Breakfast was always hurried, yet a brief pause in the chaos. Conversations were punctuated by updates from the war room, and from there, your day began. 

A few more days pass, and one evening, Simon returns to the bedroom the earliest he has in the past few days. The look on his face is extremely solemn, and extremely sorrowful. 

“Dove, we need to talk.” 

You’re immediately pushing yourself off the bed, twisting your hands in your grip. 

“Of course, what is it?” Your heart races at the caution in Simon’s voice. The somberness in Simon’s expression deepens your concern. You take a step closer to him, your eyes searching his for any clues.

Simon’s gaze is heavy with sorrow, but yet a hint of determination crosses his features. He takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say. Your hands clasp tighter, a silent plea for reassurance.

“Dove,” he begins, his voice steady but laden with emotion, “the situation has escalated. General Price and I have made a decision. An important decision.”

Your heart skips a beat, anxiety tightening its grip on you. The air in the room feels charged, and you hold your breath, waiting for Simon to continue. He averts his eyes to the ground. 

“I... I’m going out into the field,” Simon says slowly. 

In that moment, it’s as though the air in the room was swallowed whole. You feel as though you can’t breathe, knees buckling slightly. Are you hearing him right? He looks back up at you. 

“Price, Gaz, and I have discussed the strategy, and my presence on the front lines is necessary. We can’t afford to leave anything to chance. I’m highly trained, highly capable, and my place is with our soldiers on the battlefield,” Simon continues, his voice confident and firm. 

You’re frozen in place, the room spinning as you process the words. A lump forms in your throat, and you struggle to find your voice. You shake your head vigorously. 

“But… no. No. No, no, no, you can’t go. I won’t let you leave.” 

Simon steps closer, grabbing your shoulders and holding them firmly. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cold dread settling deep in your chest. “Darlin’, I have to go. I didn’t take this decision lightly. I’ve been to war more times than you know, and all before I even met you.” 

You look up at Simon, desperation in your eyes. “But Simon, this is different. I’m here, and I’ve… I’ve never been alone here. And, what if…” 

You swallow your words, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Simon approaches you again, his touch gentle as he turns you to face him. “You’re not gonna be alone. I’ve asked Soap to stay here, he’ll be with you most days; and I’ll be in communication.”

Simon’s gaze softens as he continues to hold your shoulders, studying your frowning face. “I know. I know this is incredibly difficult, but I need you to understand. The kingdom is in need, and my duty as king demands that I lead our forces. And, I have nothing but full confidence in your abilities to lead Kastron.” 

You don’t say anything, your bottom lip quivering as you try to keep yourself together. 

“I need you to stay here, love,” Simon murmurs, his voice a gentle plea. “The castle needs a leader, and you’ve shown that you are capable. You’ll be out of harm’s way.”

A sense of helplessness washes over you, and you pull away from Simon’s grasp. Turning away, you wrap your arms around yourself, as if trying to shield yourself from his admission. The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you wish that this was all a terrible, terrible dream. 

“Can’t someone else lead the military? You're too important to risk on the front lines.”

Simon takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving you. “Price and I have considered every option. My skills and experience are essential. It’s the best chance we have to protect Kastron.”

The tears in your eyes now threaten to spill over, and you pace across the room, breathing picking up. “But, there has to be another way, Si. Sending you to the battlefield is too risky. What if something happens to you? Don’t you understand?”

You’re crying now, breathing labored. Fat tears now start to roll down your cheeks, and Simon watches you with a heavy heart. “I understand, love. I do. The last thing I want to do is leave you. Can’t even fuckin’ bear the thought. But I have to do what is necessary to protect our kingdom.” 

Simon reaches out, gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away some tears that escapes your eyes. “I cannot promise you that everything will be alright. War is unpredictable, and I cannot guarantee my safety. And you know better than anyone that I have the training, I have the capability to go to war. But I need you to understand—I'm doing this for Kastron, for our people, and for you.”

You smack his hand away, instantly regretting it the moment you see his face morph into pain. 

“You’re not leaving! I won’t let you!” you start to sob, your body trembling with every cry. 

You start to hit his chest, your fists pounding against the armor that shields him, as if trying to break through the iron. Simon endures the blows, his hands remaining at his sides, absorbing your hits as his heart shatters. 

“I’m not letting you leave!” you practically scream, and the guards outside your door wince. You smack his chestplate harder, hating the way he’s just standing there, unmoving. 

“You can’t go, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t,” you plead, voice choking with desperation and vision blurred from your tears. 

Simon feels as though his heart is being shredded slowly and painfully with each strike, but he lets you vent, understanding the pain that grips your soul. The sound of your sobs reverberates in the room, echoing the helplessness that has settled upon both of you.

He finally catches your wrists gently, his touch firm yet tender. You collapse against him, your strength waning, and Simon wraps his arms around you. His armor feels cold against your hot cheek, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of his embrace. Your tears flow freely, a combination of fear and frustration. 

“I love you, and it tears me apart to see you like this,” Simon whispers, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “Kastron needs me, and she needs you. I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you, I can promise you that.”

You finally look up at him, your tear-stained eyes searching his for any hint of revocation, but you know deep down that he’s firmly set. You cling to him, as if your touch alone can tie him down to this room. Simon gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself in his embrace.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t.” Simon holds you tighter, the pressure soothing you, grounding you to the room. “I don’t want to lose you either, dove. But I need you to stay strong. Lead Kastron in my absence. I have complete faith in you.”

“When will you... leave?” you manage to ask, your voice cracking. 

Simon takes a deep breath, armor pressing into your chest as he inhales. “Two days, at dawn.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the finality of his words. You tilt your head up slightly, looking up into Simon’s eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, any glimpse of doubt. But all you find is resolve.

The room is enveloped in a heavy silence, unsettling you to your core. Simon tilts your chin up higher, looking into your eyes with an intensity that pierces through you. His lips find yours in a tender kiss, a bittersweet exchange as his hand weaves itself through your hair. The taste of his kiss lingers as he pulls away, his eyes searching yours for patience. You nod, a silent understanding.

Simon doesn’t let go of you, insteading walking you backwards until your knees hit the bed, forcing you to lay down. 

. . . 

The next day had come and gone, the moon now rising high in the sky. You were on your way back to your room from your final meeting of the day, the castle now quiet. 

You had hoped Simon would be in bed already by the time you arrived at your chambers, but instead you were met with a dark, empty room. You don’t even bother slipping into your sleepwear, a pang of sadness settling in your chest. Sighing, you slip back out of your room, waving off the guard at your door who tried to follow you. 

You already knew where Simon was. 

You knock gently on the doors to the war room, pushing it open when you hear a muffled, Yes? filter through the wood. The war room is dimly lit, the strategic maps on the walls difficult but not impossible to decipher from the flickering light of the lanterns. Simon is hunched over the large table, poring over several documents and a detailed map of the southern borders. His worn armor sits discarded beside him, and the room carries the scent of parchment, ink, and a hint of something metallic.

Simon glances up, weariness etched on his face, as you step into the room. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to lift as a small, genuine smile forms on his lips.

“Hey, love,” Simon greets, his voice softer than usual, a stark contrast to the authoritative tone he’s been exclusively carrying the past week. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, crossing the room to stand beside him. “No, I needed to see you.” The dim light emphasizes the exhaustion in his eyes, and it tugs at your heart.

Simon straightens up, putting down his quill gently. “I was just going over the battle plans. Price and I want to make sure every detail is accounted for before…”

An awkward silence settles between you two as you study Simon’s face. The lines of stress, the fatigue in his eyes, and the tight set of his jaw speak volumes. You reach out and trace a gentle finger along the side of his face, an intimate gesture. 

“I hate seeing you like this,” you admit. “You’re carrying so much on your shoulders.”

Simon leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “It comes with the job, dove.”

You lower your hand, exhaustion welling up within you. “Everyone is asleep. Come to bed.”

Simon sighs, looking back at the papers spread about the table. 

“Soon, darling.”

You step closer, your fingers finding his. “Simon, you’ve been at this for days. Please, you need to rest, relax. The plans will still be here tomorrow.”

The glow of the lanterns casts a shadow along Simon’s face, highlighting the shine in his eyes. His fingers close around yours, and he brings your knuckles up to his lips, pressing an open mouthed kiss on them. You shiver, heat arising in your stomach. Simon pulls you into him, pressing his chest up against yours as he cradles your face in his hands, slotting his mouth over yours. You respond with a fierce passion, your fingers threading through his hair, eliciting a quiet groan from him. 

As the kiss deepens, Simon gently guides you backwards until your lower back hits the table, the maps and plans long forgotten. Simon breaks the kiss as you gasp, the heat in your lower body growing stronger. 

“This is helping me relax,” Simon breathes, hot and heavy on your cheek. His hands slip down to your ass, pinning your hips to the table with his own. “Jus’, let me take care of you.” 

You swallow thickly, gliding your hands up and down his chest, feeling his muscles contract slightly at your touch. 

“Take care of me, then,” you whisper, and that’s all he needs to hear before hauling you up onto the table, papers shuffling and scattering onto the floor, but neither of you care.

Simon follows you as you lay down on the table, pressing a deep kiss into your mouth as his hands shoves more papers out of the way. The rustling sounds of papers and maps hitting the floor fade into the background, replaced by the rhythm of your shared breaths. Simon’s touch is both gentle and possessive, his hands exploring the curves of your body with a familiar intimacy. As his hands roam, a soft moan escapes your lips, muffled by the heat of the kiss. 

Simon then pulls you forward on the table, adjusting you until your hips are on the edge, legs dangling in the air. You look up for a brief moment, watching as Simon drops to his knees in front of you, and the sight alone makes you dizzy, wetness pooling in your panties. He looks so reverent and his eyes lock with yours, looking up to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. You bunch up the fabric of your dress, pulling it up high until the fabric pools around your waist.

Simon spreads your legs wide, hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, he’s pressing wet kisses to the insides of your thighs. You shudder, legs twitching as your desire mounts, aching for his mouth on your wet cunt. Simon doesn’t waste time, throwing your dangling legs over his shoulders to get closer to you. 

“Simon,” you groan quietly, needing him to touch you now. He doesn’t respond, instead pressing two digits against the fabric of your panties, just barely teasing your clit. Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing thickly as he runs his fingers up and down against the gusset, circling over your clothed clit with a feather light touch. 

You shudder, thighs trembling ever so slightly at the teasing, wetness surely starting to soak through the thin layer of cotton. 

“S’ wet already,” he murmurs, eyes mesmerized by the sight before him. His light touch now turns into something stronger, using the fabric over your slit to build friction in the most delicious way. “Feels good?”

“Yes,” you whimper quietly, hands clawing at the surface of the table.

He chuckles to himself, barely audible over the sound of your racing heart and quiet whimpers. Your arousal seeps through the fabric, and Simon seems to revel in the effect he has on you. He squeezes your thighs tighter, fingers pressing into the plush, doughy skin as he presses more kisses on the insides of your thighs, moving closer and closer to your center. 

You involuntarily buck your hips as his finger starts to circle your clit more forcibly over your panties, using the fabric as leverage to create more friction. You let a few moans slip out, eyes blinking a few times to steady your dizziness. 

Simon's movements become more purposeful, his fingers working magic over the sensitive bundle of nerves beneath the fabric. The sensations send shivers through your body, and you can feel the growing wetness between your thighs. Each stroke of his fingers, every graze of his lips along your inner thigh, adds to the building tension. Unable to withstand the torment any longer, you arch your back, pleading for more. 

“Fuck, Si,” you whine, high-pitched and needy. “Please.”

“What’s got you all worked up, love? Hmm?” he teases, moving to press his tongue into the soaked fabric, teasing your hole. 

You moan in response, thighs moving to clench his head. He simpers at your reaction, calloused hands pushing your legs apart. 

“Tell me what you want,” Simon coos, his voice low and husky. His fingers continue their ministrations, dancing over your clothed heat. 

“I want…” you begin, your words catching in your throat as Simon applies more pressure to your clit, the sensation almost too much to bear. “I want you, Si. Need you right now.”

A smug grin erupts on Simon’s face as he abandons the fabric barrier.

“Good girl.” 

Unable to resist any longer, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with deliberate slowness until they slip off your ankles. He stuffs the material in his back pocket, a small, teasing smirk playing on his lips. 

With your panties discarded, Simon returns his attention to your exposed core. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans in, studying the way you’re soaking, and the anticipation is almost unbearable. The first touch of his tongue against your clit has you gasping, the pleasure intensifying with each slow, deliberate stroke. He dips his tongue into your hole, then slides it back up to your clit, sucking on it firmly.

“Like this?” he murmurs, teasingly trailing his fingers along your slick entrance. 

“Yes, yes,” you plead, aching for him to just have his way with you. “Please, Si.”

Without further hesitation, Simon dips a finger into your wetness, the slickness making the intrusion seamless. You gasp, your back arching off the table as he begins a slow and deliberate rhythm, each stroke making your legs feel as though they’re on fire. 

Simon watches you intently, his eyes flicking up to your body every so often. He relishes the way your body responds to his touch, smirking to himself that he’s the only one who’s ever seen you like this. 

Your moans grow louder, echoing in the room as Simon expertly works his tongue up, down, and around your vulva. When he comes to suck harshly on your clit, your thighs instinctively close around his head, and Simon groans at your reaction. The vibration adds a layer of pleasure, a deep seated moan pushing past your lips. 

“Sound s’ pretty f’ me, darling,” he mumbles, refusing to fully remove himself from you. 

He adds a second finger, stretching and filling you, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. 

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, a familiar warmth spreading in your abdomen. 

The table beneath you creaks with your movements, but neither of you pays it any attention.

As Simon’s tongue continues to lap at your vulva and clit, your grip on the edge of the table loosens, instead finding purchase in his hair as if to egg him on. The sensation of his tongue and fingers build to an almost unbearable peak, toes curling as he hits all the right spots. You’re teetering on the edge of release, every touch sending shockwaves through your entire body.

“S- Simon, I... I’m so close,” you gasp, your voice strained with pleasure.

Simon, ever attentive, reads your body’s responses with precision, adapting his movements to heighten your pleasure. He doesn’t relent; instead, he quickens the pace, determined to push you over the edge. The oh so familiar coil tightens in your abdomen, and with a sharp cry, you succumb to your orgasm. Waves of pleasure wash over you, legs shaking at your release, leaving you trembling and utterly spent. Simon laps up your wetness, groaning at the way your walls clenched his fingers at your release. 

“Such a perfect girl,” he praises, thriving off the way you shudder and moan as you orgasm. 

As the aftershocks of your climax subside, Simon withdraws his fingers, a satisfied glint in his eyes. He pushes his soaking fingers to his mouth, sucking off the remaining juices. 

“Always tastes so perfect, love.” 

Heat rises in your face as you watch him, still panting from your orgasm. He rises to his feet, a pleased smile on his lips as he leans down to capture your mouth in a lingering kiss.

“You alright, love?” Simon whispers against your lips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

You nod, still catching your breath, a blissful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “More than alright.”

He chuckles, a deep and melodic sound. “Good. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nod fervently, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of the table. Looking over the edge, you forgot about the various papers and maps that had…fallen to the floor during your heated moment. 

“The papers…” you say quietly, warily eyeing the amount of things that had been brushed to the floor. 

Immediately, Simon is picking up the strewn papers, muttering to himself about how they were all in his way. Your legs are still vibrating as you push off the table, now standing on the floor. You brush your dress back to its original place as best you can. When you move to help him pick up the maps, he stops you in your tracks.

“No, no, love. I’ve got it,” Simon insists, a fond smile on his face. 

You watch as he efficiently gathers the papers, arranging the documents back onto the table, the strategic maps finding their places among the scattered sheets. Once satisfied with the order he’s restored, Simon turns to you with a grin. “There, good as new. Shall we?”

“My, uh, my panties…” you trail off, face burning. The slick between your thighs is definitely still there, reminding you of your lost garment. 

Simon shoots you a mischievous look, and he retrieves your discarded panties from his back pocket. Holding them up, he smirks, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he quirks his eyebrows.

“For safekeeping,” he quips, a playful tone in his voice. “Wouldn’t want anyone stumbling upon them, ‘specially here.”

You roll your eyes, a combination of embarrassment and amusement heating your cheeks. Simon takes a step closer, then bends down on one knee, tapping your ankle. 

“C’mon,” he says, motioning for you to step into the fabric. Steadying yourself by clutching onto his shoulders, you relish the way his hands brush up your thighs as he pulls the fabric up under your dress until they’re snug around your body. With a final playful squeeze to your ass, he stands up. 

“Now, we shall,” you giggle lightly, brushing stray hair from your face. 

Before you fully leave the room, you press up on your toes to whisper in his ear. 

“Can’t believe you ate me out in the war room of all places,” you giggle, clutching onto him. 

He shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of pride crossing his features. “It’s our castle. Gonna have to christen every room at some point.” 

You try to suppress your laugh, knowing deep down that he’s not joking. 

Linking your arm with his, you follow Simon out of the war room and through the silent corridors of the castle and back to your shared chambers. Your legs are a bit shaky, still not fully recovered. 

Simon gives a curt, silent nod to the guards standing in front of the bedroom doors, before stepping inside with you. The moment Simon shuts the door to your bedroom, he’s kissing you fervently. It’s both possessive and tender, a silent acknowledgement that tomorrow is the day he leaves. He guides you toward the bed, the cool sheets welcoming against your heated skin. 

As Simon deepens the kiss, hands wandering over each other’s bodies, the weight of the day’s responsibilities melts away even further.

Simon breaks the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours with nothing but pure adoration and love. “I love you,” he says, the sincerity in his voice echoing through the room.

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you too, Simon.”

With a gentle touch, you start to brush your hands under his tunic, guiding it up and off his chiseled frame.

The room is filled with a quiet intimacy as your fingers trace the contours of his chest, each touch causing the man to shiver. You enjoy the way he trembles from your touch, noting his more sensitive regions. The burden of your impending separation lingers in the air, but in this moment, you choose to ignore it, basking in the warmth of his presence.

You reach for the waistline of his pants, following the fabric down as you let him step out of it. Finally, when your hand grazes his lower abdomen, right above his crotch, he hisses, hand clutching onto your wrist. You don’t stop, yanking down his boxers until he’s fully nude in front of you. The moonlight filters through the balcony window, casting a soft glow on Simon.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” you praise, standing back to admire your husband in all his glory. “So gorgeous, so strong.” 

Simon blushes, redness creeping up from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. A grin appears on his face, pride seeping into his skin. His eyes never leave yours as you slowly undress, removing your garments in a languid fashion, desperate to savor this night.  

He steps closer, hands reaching for the sleeves of your dress, fingers deftly working to free you from the fabric that separates you. The dress falls to the floor in a gentle cascade, and you hear Simon’s breath catch in his throat. You slip off your undergarments, until you’re finally exposed before him. Simon’s eyes roam over your form, and the intensity in his gaze makes your skin tingle.

You step out of the discarded dress, standing bare in front of each other. Simon’s hands find the small of your back, pulling you close, and you melt in the warmth of his touch. He presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head, then slowly guides your jaw upwards to catch your lips in a kiss. The kiss is a slow burn, a sweet mingling of your breaths, as Simon explores your mouth with a gentle reverence. His hands roam over your back, pressing you closer into him, as if he was trying to bury you into his chest. You can feel his erect cock pressing into your stomach, and he gently bucks his hips against you. 

Breaking the kiss, Simon trails a line of tender kisses down your neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

You reach up, cupping his cheek, and he leans into your touch. “Promise me you’ll come back,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice bared for him to see.

Simon slows to a stop, keeping his face planted in your neck. He then presses a tender kiss to your skin, squeezing you as tight as he could in his embrace, knocking the breath out of you. “I promise, love. I’ll come back to you.”

You nod, swallowing thickly as he straightens to his full height. Without breaking eye contact, Simon guides you to the bed, the cool silk sheets a sharp difference to the heat radiating off your bodies.

As you lay down together, Simon hovers above you, a mixture of tenderness and hunger in his eyes. The moonlight bathes the room in a soft sheen, your husband looking like a being that descended from heaven.

“You’re ethereal,” you say breathlessly, and Simon’s eyes sparkle with gratitude and affection.

“Says you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. Simon trails his fingers down the curve of your body.

“I mean it. Don’t brush it off,” you whisper, your fingers gently tracing patterns over the scars on his chest. 

“‘M not. Thank you, dove.” 

You lean up and capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. As you kiss him sensually, you reach your hand down to wrap around his cock, pumping your hand up and down his length. He groans into your mouth, body twitching above you as you stroke his hard cock, bucking into your grip as you set an even pace. 

Simon’s hand finds its way to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as he pants above you. He breaks the kiss as you apply more pressure, his breaths heavy and labored.

“F- fuck, lovie,” he moans, head fuzzy as your hand squeezes his cock just right. “God, y’know how to drive me mad.”

You hum in response, swiping your thumb across his slit. Simon gasps over you, body threatening to fall on top of you with every stroke and touch you administer on his cock. Bringing this behemoth of a man down to a trembling, quivering mess in your hands has your heart racing. 

Simon then moves to explore your body with a newfound hunger, his lips tracing a path of heat and need. The sensations send shivers down your spine as he kisses and nibbles his way across your collarbone, down to the curve of your breasts as you continue stroking his cock. 

“T- that’s it, need you, now, right now,” he pants, his voice desperate and needy. You release him, and Simon wastes no time yanking your legs apart, caressing your thighs. He shifts his weight, positioning himself between your legs.

You whimper as he drags his cock through your slick folds, his tip catching on your entrance after a few strokes. Simon gazes down at you, his expressive eyes full of a potent mix of desire and love. Without breaking eye contact, he guides himself into you, and a shiver runs down your spine. Moans spill from your lips, your back arching as his cock slides into you inch by inch. 

“Takin’ me so nicely, so pretty,” he murmurs, clutching onto you. 

Simon’s movements are deliberate, his cock stretching you open to accommodate his size and girth. His size makes you see stars every time. Finally, as he bottoms out, you both let out a sharp breath. 

“Simon, ‘m so full,” you murmur, grinding your hips against his. In response, he silences you with a searing kiss, pressing you into the mattress. 

“I know you are.”

When he finally starts moving his hips, you have to bite back a sob. His thick shaft drags against your walls at an agonizingly slow pace. He buries his face in your chest, tongue lapping at your supple breasts and hardened nipples. 

You claw at his shoulders as he pumps his cock into you slowly. You’re still sensitive from when he ate you out, whimpering and wheezing as he pumps his cock into you slowly. When he starts pressing into your clit, you writhe underneath him. 

“Please, please,” you wheeze, feeling every little ridge and edge of his cock inside you. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” he coos, chest rumbling as he studies your face twisted into pure pleasure. He thrusts slowly a few more times, his hips meeting yours with each movement. 

He starts to move slightly faster, needing you to cum around his cock. You gasp when he starts to pick up the pace, your slick soaking the base of his cock. The faster pace allows him to push into you deeper, his pupils blown wide with lust as you cup his face in your hands and pull him into another kiss. You arch your back into him as you kiss, bucking your hips as he circles your clit faster, harder. 

His lips leave yours, breathing hard and open-mouthed against your face. His hands explore every inch of your body as if committing it to memory, fingers tracing every square inch of your skin. You reciprocate, running your hands through his hair, feeling strength and vulnerability coexisting in the man you call your husband. 

Simon turns to bite your shoulder, his cock feeling absolutely, perfectly stimulated by your tight walls. You cry out in pain and pleasure, yanking his hair to elicit a response from him. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The room is filled with the sounds of your moans and the slight creaking of the bed as Simon takes you with a primal intensity. His movements become faster, each thrust pushing you both closer to the edge.

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper. Simon responds with a guttural groan, his grip on your hips sliding down to your ass. 

“I love you,” Simon murmurs against your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine. “Always, only you.”

“I love you forever,” you stutter out, tears threatening to run down your cheeks. 

Your walls flutter around his shaft, causing Simon to groan, making his mind sink further into his primal desire. He feels the familiar tightening of his orgasm creeping up on him, but he refuses to cum before you. 

Simon starts to circle your clit faster, hitting all the angles and spots that he knows will have you screaming in pleasure. 

“Oh, oh fuck,” you moan, thighs trembling. “You- you’re, so good—”

“I know, I know, darling.” 

He takes your hands in his own, pinning your hands to the mattress by your head. His fingers lace with yours, never once daring to let go. He looks down at you, his gaze tender and caring, something he saves especially for you, yet there’s an intensity in his eyes, a desire that you know can be seen in yours as well. His hips move faster, slamming deep and hard into you, your body shaking as your moans and cries fill the room. You know you’re on the brink of your orgasm, your hold on his hands intensifying. 

“Cum with me,” you moan, arching into Simon again. He groans at the thought of cumming at the same time as you, his cock twitching with the need to release inside of you. “Please, Si. Need you to fill me up.”

Simon’s pace increases impossibly faster at your excitement, pressing and circling your clit in the spot that makes your toes curl. 

“Pretty girl, my pretty girl,” Simon growls, seizing your hips and dragging you closer to him. His undeniable need to cum reaches his cock as you mewl. 

“‘M gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” you sob, the familiar heat of an impending orgasm traveling from the tips of your toes to the tops of your thighs. 

Finally, you orgasm hard, your walls squeezing around his cock as you cum. Simon cums not long after, rocking into you repeatedly as he releases. His cheeks are flushed from exertion, gasping and groaning as his cock twitches with his release. Your name falls from his lips like a fervent prayer as he cums inside you, wrapping his whole being around you. 

You try your best to slow your breathing, focusing on the way Simon lets his whole body fall loose, covering yours. The breath he had been holding came loose with a deep sigh, arms coming to wrap around your frame. It took a few moments for you both to collect yourselves, catching your breaths and shivering from oversensitivity. 

You swallow the thickness in your throat as Simon pulls out of you, both of your releases trickling from your cunt. He grips your jaw possessively, pressing a kiss to your jawline then to your now swollen lips. You both lay there in the afterglow, nothing but pure love coursing through your veins. 

“I love you, Si,” you sigh, scratching his back with your nails. 

Simon buries his head against your shoulder, each exhale tickling your flesh. After a few minutes, Simon shifts to lie beside you, his arm draping over your waist as you both lay in a tangle of limbs. You stroke Simon’s hair, your fingers running through the short strands with a certain tenderness. His breathing gradually steadies, and you feel his muscles relax against you.

“Promise me again,” you whisper, vulnerability returning to your voice.

Simon turns to look at you, a serious expression crossing his face. “I promise, lovie.” 

Content with his reassurance, you snuggle into his embrace, feeling the comforting warmth of his body. After all, this would be the last time in who knows how long you’d have him in your bed. 

The world outside your chambers may be uncertain and dangerous, but here, in the embrace of your true love, you find peace, if only for a fleeting moment.

. . . 

Morning comes all too soon. 

The sun wasn’t even up, yet you knew the clock was ticking before Simon had to depart. 

The moment you both woke up, you were on top of him, aching for him to fuck you one last time before he left. 

In the quiet aftermath, as the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, the reality of the separation settled in. Simon’s fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, a silent reassurance that lingered between you two. 

“I wish I could stay,” Simon confesses, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You tighten your hold on him, unwilling to let go just yet. “I know, but we have to.”

He nods, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. 

“Dunno what ‘m gonna do without you,” he mutters, pulling you into a comforting embrace, savoring the feeling of being close to him. 

The first hint of sunlight starts to peek through the windows, signaling to you both that it was time to get ready for the day. 

As you both dress, the atmosphere in the room shifts. You help Simon pull on his military regalia, buttoning his shirt and pinning his crests and ribbons to his chest. Finally, he pulls on his armor, settling the heavy iron and silver pieces on his frame. Simon’s armor clinks softly as he secures it, an unwelcome contrast to the tender moments you had shared just a while before. 

Once dressed, you stand before each other, eyeing the door warily. It could be months until either of you saw each other again. Simon cups your face in his hands, his touch tender yet firm, as if burning the memory of your features into his mind.

You watch Simon’s throat bob as he swallows thickly, taking your hand in his as you cross the threshold of your chambers. You walk together through the corridors, hand in hand, the acceptance of his departure finally at peace within you. You would always worry, every day, but you knew that he would come back home to you safely. It was just a matter of when. The castle felt different—a place that would witness the ache of longing and uncertainty in the days to come.

As you reach the front courtyard, the air is crisp, and the first rays of sunlight illuminate the stones of the castle. You’re met with the sight of hundreds of soldiers and knights, Commander Gaz, and General Price. Soldiers bustle around, preparing for the journey ahead of them, their gazes giving respectful nods and bows to Simon as he passes. The castle gates loom ahead, a threshold between the safety of the castle and the dangers that lie beyond. 

Simon straightens his posture, walking with purpose, his stride unwavering as his armor clinks softly. You stand by his side, a pillar of support in the face of duty. You steal a glance at Simon, his jaw set, eyes focused on the path ahead. The tender moments you shared in your chambers just hours ago feels like a distant dream, replaced by the harsh reality of war.

Commander Gaz approaches, his expression stern yet sympathetic. “Your majesty, it’s time,” he says, a subtle nod indicating the urgency of the moment. 

General Price jogs up to Simon, leaving some of his soldiers to speak to him. “We’re ready whenever you are. The men are looking extremely optimistic this morning.” 

Simon nods, a silent acknowledgment of the journey he’s about to embark on. Price’s gaze then shifts to you, and there’s a rare softness in his eyes. “Take care of yourself, your majesty. I’ve left trusted knights and guards here to ensure you’re taken care of.” 

“Thank you, General,” you reply, your voice steady as you flash him an appreciative smile.

As you reach the castle gates, the mood shifts. The soldiers form up in disciplined ranks, and Simon turns to face them. He raises his hand in a solemn gesture, a signal for silence. The courtyard stills as all eyes focus on their ruler.

“Today we march not as conquerors, but as protectors. Our duty is to defend our homes, our families, and Kastron as a whole. We stand as a collective, and no force can break the bond that ties us together. For honor, for justice, for Kastron!”

A resounding cheer erupts from the soldiers, their spirits ignited by Simon’s words. The castle gates creak open, revealing the vast expanse beyond. Hordes of soldiers and knights begin to move through the gates, led by Price and Gaz. 

Simon turns to you, and for a fleeting moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. He cups your face, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead. “Wait for me,” he whispers. 

You offer a brave smile, masking the tears and sorrow that threatens to consume you.

“I will,” you reply, your voice carrying the strength and resilience needed for the days ahead.

Simon’s fingers press into your cheeks, guiding you to his lips for a final kiss. You grab onto him one last time, wrapping your arms around his neck, not caring that everyone can see you both. When you finally break apart, his eyes search yours for a moment, a silent exchange of admiration. 

“I love you, Simon,” you say, your voice firm despite the emotions churning in your gut.

“I love you,” he replies, a promise. 

With a final, tender kiss, Simon pulls away, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer before he joins the ranks of the soldiers. The sound of marching fades into the distance, leaving you standing alone in the entranceway, watching the love of your life vanish into the horizon.

You watch as the castle gates close behind Simon and his troops, separating you from your husband. The morning sun climbs higher in the sky, casting its warm embrace on the now deserted courtyard, where the echoes of Simon’s departure linger.

Now alone in the courtyard, a breeze carries brushes past you. The castle feels emptier, and the weight of your responsibilities as the queen of Kastron settles in. Soap approaches you tentatively, his eyes full of concern. 

“Ye’re majesty, is there anything I can do for you?”

You turn to him, sighing appreciatively. 

“I… I’m not sure. But, I do want to thank you for staying here with me. It means a lot,” you reply, a small smile breaking through the somber atmosphere. 

Soap nods respectfully, his gaze steady. “If there’s anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. I’ll be at your service.”

You jump up to give him a hug, and he returns the embrace. After a moment, you pull away, wiping away some stray tears you had let trickle down your face. 

Turning back to face the castle, it seems different—colder, emptier. Yet, in your heart, your love for Simon and Kastron still burns, a beacon that will guide you in the coming months in the hope that he will return home to you safely. 

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

[sunandsstars]

YAWNETU

CHAPTER 1

Jake x Neytiri x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: One other mate was enough, but two? Unneeded. ___ was the outcast, the unwanted woman. Jake and Neytiri wouldn’t ever see her..right?

Warnings: Talks of war, Briefly mentions death/Bodily harm, Angst, Swearing, Non-con Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Here it is people, the angst series :( Prepare yourselves

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr

Having one mate was enough for a Na’vi, they did not need another to deal with or weigh them down. It was a huge commitment and for most, a waste of time. More than one significant other was a rare case these days anyway, usually only reserved for Na’vi of a higher ranking, like an Olo’eyktan or Tsahìk.

Jake didn’t know that the Na’vi can bond with more than one at a time until Grace brought it to his attention one day, “Na’vi will mate with only one other person for their whole life, unless duty brings them to marry another” she stated, smoking a cigarette haphazardly in the lab room, eyeing the man who sat uninterested in his wheelchair.

Mating. Jake thought it sounded primal, animalistic, something the creatures back on Earth used to do just to get a quick fuck. But when Neytiri brought it up and he finally experienced it himself, it could only be described as sublime. He’s never felt such feelings, emotions. You share them with your partner in such a deep level it left him feeling breathless.

Following their mating the skypeople attacked and cut down the Tree of Voices, severing one of their main connections to their ancestors. That’s when he realised it was time for war. Several clans joined the mighty Toruk Makto to fight for Pandora, when he called they answered. But the battle was bloody, long and gruelling, they all lost brothers and sisters that day. But at least now they will find peace in Eywa’s warm embrace.

The Great Sorrow then became something of the past and the Omaticaya were relocated to an area by Hellsgate, the humans and Na’vi finally living in harmony but not peace, a lot preferring to still shun the aliens away from their home.

But the forest provided tall trees to cover them from predators and plenty of abundance, humans will also be with their technology inside an environment they can thrive in, so each side wins. Jake had finally been anointed as Olo’eyktan with Neytiri being his tsakarem, the couple couldn’t be more happier with the way things have become, fully believing the skypeople will not return.

But happiness must soon come to an end.

“Ma sa’nok! Why?! Why must we be mated to her?! She is useless!” Neytiri yelled angrily at her mother, the Tsahìk, she has just been told her mother has been seeing visions in her sleep and suspected Eywa was trying to tell her something. This ‘something’ was about her child’s third mate, which she did not anticipate.

“All of our roles play an important part here daughter” Mo’at glared, has she taught her child no less? “your new wife will be a good edition to your family and therefore the clan. It must be done, Eywa has spoken”

Neytiri did not understand, her and Jake were happy together. Alone. They did not need another person to ruin the balance of their life. She turned around sharply to her husband who was sat on the ground by the tree of souls, urging him to make an opinion on the matter with a glare. Jake coughed.

“I agree Mo’at. We are fine together just as it is”

“This is not your decision to make Jake Sully. The great mother will not be happy, she has done this for a reason and we must trust her judgement. She has shown me what will happen if this does not happen, you and your family will fall under a great despair, it will disrupt all we have made” Jake’s ears perked up, alarmed, ‘what does she mean a great despair’. As his thoughts started to turmoil Neytiri continued to talk to her mother, coming to an understanding that it was the way of life. She cannot disregard Eywa’s wishes.

With a huff she walked towards Jake and pulled him up by the arm with no effort, eyes a glare and ears pinned to her head. She walked away and towards her new ikran, ready to get back to camp. “So.. do you know who we’re supposed to mate?”

“Srane”

“Are you gonna tell me?” They flew into the air, Bob screeching as they went above the trees, staying low to the forest. Neytiri didn’t answer his question and stayed silent, shit. He was just a man, a man who knows when NOT to anger a woman, especially one like her. He decided to not take it any further.

Arriving back to Hellsgate they dismounted and landed onto the floor, Jake greeting the humans who passed by them, taking samples from the nature. Neytiri walked up to where the food was being prepared, a group of woman sat by some small children who they looked after while parents were away doing chores. She grabbed one of ladies by the arm and dragged her towards Jake who only stared in confusion. Soon morphing into realisation.

“Introduce yourself” The warrior exclaimed harshly. Knowing that Mo’at has already told her of the plans, she knew going to her daughter first would cause another war and the elder planned to avoid it. So telling the new mate first was the best option for everyone.

“___ te Syakx Hìfey’ite” the woman’s ears lowered to her head and she faced the ground. The pain in her arm where Neytiri gripped was hard, sure to bruise. “I am a gatherer, a healer. I do not hunt like you or -“ Neytiri squeezed her arm to silence her, having enough of her talking.

They were close in age, both eighteen years old and fully grown adults. They both attended Grace’s school together growing up, they were close. ___ was closer with Neytiri’s sister though, Sylwanin. When she died, the younger sister blamed everything on the other girl. Cursing her out and they never talked again until now.

___ was nervous, she knew she had to mate with them, both of them. She knew that the other woman was angry at her still, even after two years. She could not blame her for the grief of her sibling. But over something she did not do? She was not at fault here.

“Nice to meet you” Jake said curtly, not really wanting to talk any further. He did not like the idea of a second mate either, even on Earth it was extremely taboo so he felt awkward on the matter. Neytiri let go of her arm and dragged Jake off, presumably to talk about anything but the ceremony that is supposed to be held later today. Announcing the decisions their Tsahìk has made to the clan, surely they would all be most pleased. ___ could not say the same towards the couple who walked off.

One part of her thought that they just wanted to be alone for a while, being more recently mated and being thrown into another relationship was confusing and disrupting, she understood that. But the more rational part knew that while Neytiri continued to dislike her, she knew their life together would be filled with nothing but pain and suffering. But she would put on a brave face. For her own sake and the clans. Eywa has spoken.

But is what Eywa saying right?

She was correct, the clan was most happy. Despite some whisperings here and there, they would have to agree that they would all make a good trio. ___ was a good healer, she was gifted with her skills. She was also good to the elderly and children, always happy with a smile on her face. Neytiri was a good huntress and a Tsahìk in training, her battle abilities are most adored on. Jake, he was their Toruk Makto, Rider of Last Shadow. He was well respected in that alone.

But while the Omaticaya was happy, she was not. Sat next to Jake on his left she was left to eat in silence as him and Neytiri conversed without her. Not even looking in her direction once. She figured that they would not talk to her all through the night and decided to make peace with herself.

A little girl tapped her shoulder and ___ turned around to face one of the children she often looked after, Sray. “You are going to be mated to them?” she looked at her Olo’eyktan and his wife, yellow eyes wide.

___ nodded and forced a smile on her face “Yes, Sray. I will be” she stated softly, not comfortable with saying the revelation out loud.

Suddenly Sray sniffed, doe eyes watering “does that mean you will not have time for us anymore? Please sa’nu! I do not want you to leave!” the sweet girl jumped in the adults arms and clung to her chest, fearing that if she let go, ___ will disappear.

“Ma ‘evi, I will always have time for you and everyone else, just because I will be mated, does not mean I will not see you ever again” ___ kissed Sray’s head, wiping her little tears and grinning. Bringing comfort to the girl, Sray smiled back, still sniffling.

“LeNa’vi! Fìtxon awnga fpe’ pxefo mìso!” the people cheered, raising their drinks and whooping. The three will be mated under the tree of souls, to legitimise the union.

Jake and Neytiri looked at each other, worry in the man’s and anger in the woman’s. They did not want to do anything with her, but would have to make it look like they had, they were not stupid. If they did not do this then the people will become angry, it would be a disgrace. Only the great mother shall know.

Standing up, Jake held his large hand out to his wife who took it. Letting go and walking towards the direction of the tree, they would not take the ikran, but rather run through the night. Jake then turned to look at ___ who still sat with Sray in her warm arms, he nodded his head to the direction Neytiri went and followed her.

A little hurt that he did not offer his hand to her, ___ kissed Sray’s forehead and stood up, walking after them. As they got deeper into the forest they began to run, ___ tried her best to catch up but the two were hunters, they were more used to navigating the thickness of the fauna better than her.

“W-Wait!” she called in English, but the two ignored her and ran further ahead of her. ___’s ears slicked back and she huffed to herself, heart beating erratically with annoyance.

At some point the jungle got too thick for her to get through and she paused, the two she was following nowhere in sight. She twisted around, straining her ears to hear any calls or footsteps to help guide her. But to no avail, she lost them. Meaning she herself did not know where she was, this part of the forest was so much further out from the old hometree, a part she has not navigated before.

Her breathing started to speed up, panicking. Did they leave her? Alone? Here? She knew they did not like her, but this was too much. It was past eclipse and night, anything could come to kill her.

A rough hand grabbed her arm, the same one Neytiri held earlier that day and turned her around. An angry Jake stood there with brows furrowed, fangs bared. “Why did you stop?” he growled, ears slicked back “you were supposed to follow, not stop and sightsee like a lunatic!”

She did not know what that word meant, but by his tone it was something mean. Her own ears pressed against her head and her tail tucked between her legs, she yelped as she was harshly dragged through the forest, Jake never letting go of her arm even as they got to the tree of souls.

He let go and stood next to Neytiri who had her queue attacked to one of the hanging branches, tendrils letting go and she broke the bond. Turning to see ___ with a hand on her arm, the bruises were darker than before, the sting aching the area and making her hesitant to move it.

The warrior glared at her and snarled “you will have a baby put in you, as it is the way. But we are not bonding. Never. You will deal with that shame” she barked in Jake’s native tongue, her words were harsh and the prospect of not bonding with the only people she could was demeaning, it brought water to her yellow eyes. This was low, a baby without a bond was seen as disgrace. She would bring great shame to Na’vi.

“Neytiri-“

“Kem si ke plltxe kurkung!” ___ closed her mouth, she did not want to anger Neytiri further than she has. Jake, who stood watching the ordeal, strolled towards ___ and pushed her down onto the ground, pulling her loincloth to the side and doing the same to his.

“Pey! Oe kawkrr-“ her words were again cut off as pain filled her lower abdomen, he entered her. It was her first time and he just did it so fast without considering her feelings. Tears streamed down her soft cheeks, pained noises leaving her mouth as Jake started to move. He manhandled her onto her stomach, pressing his hand to her lower back above her tail bone, if the pain at her core wasn’t enough then the sensitive space on her back was.

Neytiri simply watched as her glare burned holes into the girl beneath her, the person that ruined her life. That took her sister away from her, took everything. She was not going to welcome this destroyer into her family, never. She’ll make sure ___ and her children will be shamed, if not by the people then by her own kids and husband.

___ felt something warm release inside of her, oozing out of her hole. She felt Jake lift off of her and heard him step towards his mate, both of them softly talking to one another while ___ was left to curl up, sobbing quietly. The man that was supposed to care for her, supposed to love her, took her dignity and now her first child.

Her heart squeezed in her chest as she could only imagine the future to come.

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#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yawnetu #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #x reader #atwow #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #na’vi #angst #series #jake sully #neytiri #poly #unwanted marriage

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 7)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 4.5K

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, healing/blood and injury, Bellatrix's cursed knife, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, character death

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. It's now October 31st, and the Order has a plan.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a wife, a new mother, a Malfoy, and a Black. She was a proud pureblood, a cunning Slytherin, a noble woman, a powerful witch, and exceedingly loyal.

It was this last trait that seemed to be causing her the most problems, however.

Loyalty. 

It was her loyalty that caused her to bite her tongue and smile when her husband announced that he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, who promised to bring the purebloods glory and to protect them from the likes of muggles and mudblood’s who were threatening their way of life. It was because of her loyalty that when her sister asked her to hide something of grave importance to the Dark Lord, even though the object exuded Darkness and Evil, she hid it in the rafters of their attic. 

And it was because of her loyalty that when her baby cousin showed up at Malfoy Manor covered in blood, ash, and rubble with a lifeless body hanging limp in his arms begging for her help that she responded with, ‘bring her to the cellar’. 

Narcissa needn’t wonder how she got here; she knew all too well. She was loyal, and she protected her own.

When exactly her disowned blood-traitor Gryffindor cousin’s muggle-born partner became one of her own, Narcissa wasn’t sure. 

(The day you ‘died’)

“What have you done!?” Narcissa gritted through her teeth as she pulled the clothing off of the nearly-dead-witch’s body.

“’Cissa, please, I couldn’t leave her there-”

“Why not!?”

“She’s – she’s Sirius’, she’s...” Regulus took a steadying breath. “She’s Sirius’, Narcissa.” 

“For crying out loud.” Narcissa growled. She wanted to argue, she wanted to scream and curse and tell him to dump this witch back where he’d found her. But she knew...

She knew she would have likely done the same. 

When her son Draco was born, Narcissa had never felt so alone; her mother was long passed, her father was distant and cold, Bellatrix was insane, and she had long ago lost her favourite sister.

She thought at that moment of Andromeda and her husband and daughter.

If this had been Ted Tonks lying nearly dead on a hastily conjured drafting table, or their daughter Nymphadora...

Narcissa knew; her dog-like loyalty and her dragon-like possessiveness knew no bounds. 

So, she pulled on all the blasted magic she could think of – light, dark, and ancient. Types of Oriental, coastal, Scandinavian and Aboriginal magic; anything and everything she could possibly think of to bring this witch back from the brink of death.

 Spending her life as a dedicated pureblood meant spending a lot of time hiding away in libraries – no one could scold you for it, and you could hide away from whatever nonsense they were currently shoving down your throat. She thanked the deities for all of that time spent researching now. 

Thoroughly exhausted and covered in another person’s blood, Narcissa stepped back as the witch finally took a breath on her own.

“Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Do not go thanking me yet, cousin.” Narcissa huffed. “What exactly is it you plan to do with her?”

Regulus stared dumbly at her. “Uhm...well, return her?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Right, and then the Dark Lord suspects a traitor amongst his followers and kills us all for the act of disloyalty. Really cousin, did you hit your head in this battle or something?”

“Well, what do you suggest I do then, Narcissa, since you are clearly so much smarter than I?” He questioned hotly.

“This is not my mess, Regulus. You should have left her there to die.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Narcissa asked incredulously.

“Why should she have to die? Hm? Because she was born into the wrong family? Does that make her evil? Fate does not make us evil, Narcissa; choices do. I did not choose to live as a pureblood, I was only born into this life. But I chose to follow the Dark Lord, and I chose to join this war. I choose to aim my wand at people who raise their wands in defense whilst I wield mine in hope for power and glory. So why her? Why should she die while I go home to eat from my silver spoon that was promised to me at birth?”

Narcissa balked at her cousin. “Regulus, what - what are you saying?”

But Regulus did not have a chance to respond before Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Barty Crouch Junior followed a small house-elf down the stairs into the cellar.

“My, my, don’t tell me you’ve plundered some booty for us, dear Reggie!” Barty exclaimed excitedly. 

“What, pray tell, is the meaning of this?” Snape asked as he eyed Regulus and Narcissa skeptically. 

“We were wondering where everyone got to – oh.” Mulciber added as he stepped down into the cellar with Goyle trailing behind him. 

“I found her at the set-up.” Regulus said plainly after throwing up a hasty occlusion behind his eyes.

“I see. And why exactly is she here.” Snape asked again. 

“Did you...heal her?” Lucius guffawed.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?” Mulciber asked.

Narcissa stayed quiet and allowed Regulus to swim his way out of this on his own. She would not risk her own life protecting his mistake.

But what made it a mistake?

Narcissa had never once questioned the pureblood rhetoric that her parents entrenched in her. Not when she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Not when she watched her classmates get bullied and harassed for their muddy blood. Not when it was announced she would be wed to her own cousin upon graduating from Hogwarts when she was only twelve years old, and not even when she was again announced to be wed to Lucius Malfoy instead at thirteen, after said cousin was sorted into the wrong house – bringing disgrace to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; and not even when her older sister defected from the family by falling in love with a filthy mudblood. 

She looked at Regulus then. As the baby of the family, Regulus had seen all of this. He had witnessed the announcement of his big brother’s betrothal to his first cousin when Sirius was only ten years old. He saw the fallout and witnessed Sirius be ignored, embarrassed, and humiliated that first summer home after being sorted into the wrong house. He watched Sirius get tortured, brutalized, and starved every summer after that until he left home for good. He watched Andromeda be chastised and forced to choose between her family and her heart for falling in love with the wrong person. He watched Bellatrix descend into madness as she became more and more involved with Dark Magic.  

Regulus, the baby of the family, had witnessed all of this.

Narcissa thought of her own baby then, upstairs being looked after by a house-elf whilst she was downstairs with her husband and his house guests while they argued over who had more of a right to this unconscious witch’s body than the others. 

Did Regulus make a mistake?

Did she?

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.” Mulciber spat at Regulus before the five newcomers moved back upstairs leaving Narcissa alone with Regulus and the witch. 

Narcissa watched as Regulus used Legillimency to peer inside the witch’s mind before he spoke. “You’re awake.”

The only response Regulus got was the tightening of the witch’s eyes.

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.” He commented with an eyeroll.

Narcissa watched as Regulus continued to monitor the witch.

“Yes, I am talking to you.” Regulus responded verbally.

A beat of silence.

“Very elegant.” He muttered.

“Indeed, you are.” He quipped again.

Narcissa watched as you peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you; she heard your neck crack loudly as you turned your head towards Regulus before your face fell.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly. 

“Close, but no.” Regulus smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Narcissa watched as a look of panic crossed your features as you took in Regulus.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head in response.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” Regulus said before he stupefied you. 

“This just got an awful lot more complicated, Regulus.” Narcissa commented quietly.

“I know.” Regulus sighed before he turned to his cousin. “Narcissa, please, will you help me?”

Narcissa looked between her cousin – the only relative she really had left – and the unconscious witch beside him. Suddenly, the witch wasn’t just a nearly dead burden – she was a chance. An opportunity for more. An opportunity to do better. An opportunity to have better.

“I do not want this life for my son.” Narcissa admitted quietly.

“What?”

“I do not want Draco growing up worried about who he will be betrothed to before we even send him off to Hogwarts. I do not want him watching children be jinxed or hexed for being born to the wrong family – or worse – be the child jinxing or hexing them. I do not want to watch him slowly lose every single person that ever meant anything to him because they could not adhere to the same drivel. I do not want this life for him.” She took a deep breath.

“I want more for him, Regulus. I want better.”

Regulus searched Narcissa’s face for a few moments before nodding.

“Let’s do better, then.”

October 31st

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” You muttered as you continued to pace a hole through Narcissa’s vintage Persian rug. Regulus fought the urge to groan and repeated the plan that Dumbledore had discussed with him for a third time.

“Remus Lupin has been made secret keeper of the currently vacant cottage in Godric’s Hollow. He, as Peter Pettigrew, will meet the Dark Lord in the town square of Godric’s Hollow at eight o’clock tonight. He will then escort the Dark Lord to Potter’s cottage where I will be in the form of James Potter and Narcissa in the form of Lily Potter. Apparently, to no one’s surprise, Sirius has demanded he be there – so Sirius will be there in his animagus form as will Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore will be hidden under Potter’s invisibility cloak. Dumbledore has the sword of Gryffindor, and Narcissa was able to purchase Basilisk venom from Borgin & Burkes on Knockturn Alley, which means the Order will be able to slay Nagini without resorting to unforgiveables. I, however, will have no qualms firing an avada at the Dark Lord, so we will see how the rest plays out. Either way, he will die.” Regulus spouted in monotone.

You seemed to consider this as you continued pacing. “And I...”

“And you are staying here.” He said with finality.

“Why?” You asked petulantly. Regulus did not find it at all endearing.

“Because you have to look after Draco.” Narcissa offered.

You softened at the mention of the boy but seemed unconvinced. “You have a manor full of house-elves; I’m sure Dobby wouldn’t mind-”

“It has to be you, Y/N.” Narcissa said. “It needs to be someone who will not be swayed, regardless of who shows up and starts barking orders.”

Your head fell back in resignation as you looked at the ceiling. 

“Okay?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Okay.” You admitted in defeat, bringing your gaze back to him.

Regulus offered you as kind a smile as the youngest Black and a chronic Slytherin could manage. “Your nose is bleeding again.”

“God damnit.” You muttered as you conjured a tissue into your hand and held it to your nose. More and more of your memories were flooding back in, and - just as the Healer had suggested - it was extremely painful. Not only were you now privy to migraines, nose bleeds, and the occasional seizure; you had an overwhelming sense of anxiety laying its damned wet blanket over you. You were somewhat annoyed that your memories appeared to be attacking you now when you would have benefitted from not remembering all of the reasons why this plan had to go just right.  

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” You muttered miserably.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” James whined. “I love Halloween.”

Lily patted her husband’s shoulder in sympathy, though neither her face nor her tone held any warmth. “You can love Halloween next year.” 

James and Lily stood in the doorway of 12 Grimmauld place with Harry strapped to James’ chest. Sirius triple checked their bags before shrinking them down and putting them into a backpack and placing it onto Lily’s shoulders. 

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” He ordered the Potter’s. 

Lily and James shared a quick glance before the former rolled her eyes. 

“We’re heading to an undisclosed location. We are to set up protection wards the second we get there, and we are not to leave until Sirius’ patronus reaches us. If, in the event that we do not receive a patronus from Sirius or Moony in the next two days, we are to assume that the plan has failed. In that case, we are to begin heading west via muggle transportation and make our way to Ireland before boarding a flight to Canada where we are to remain for the rest of our lives.” She relayed to him in monotone. 

Sirius beamed at her and kissed her cheek. “Right-o, Red! But, not to worry, you’ll be hearing from my patronus in no time.”

Remus watched with a small smile from the staircase. He knew Sirius was trying to stay positive mostly for himself; he’s been in such a state since you were taken, and he was running on fumes waiting with bated breath for this to be over so you could return home - return to him. He had so many questions about so many things; questions for you, questions for Regulus, questions for Dumbledore. Remus watched his friend become manic, almost as if Sirius was the one expecting the full moon at the beginning of next week. The friends tried to stay patient with him, but they were all looking forward to this being over.

“It’s me and my family they’re after, I should be here to end this.” James muttered. 

“And you’re our family, Prongs. So, we’re here to end this.” Sirius responded.

“He didn’t just threaten you and Lily and Haz, he threatened all of us.” Remus added.

“I owe her my life, guys. I owe it to Vix to see this through.” He responded, shifting his gaze between his two friends.

Sirius’ eyes welled at the thought before he quickly shoved his feelings back down into his stomach – he’d deal with those later; for now, he had a megalomaniac to kill. 

“You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to her, Prongs.” He offered with as much a smile as he could muster. 

James gave his friend a sad smile of his own before enveloping him in a bone crushing hug.

“I’ll see you soon, Pads.”

“Once the mischief is managed.” Sirius answered.

As Lily, James and Harry left Grimmauld place and apparated to location unknown, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Ready to finish this?” Sirius asked Remus.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

The clock tower in Godric’s Hollow’s town square rang signifying eight o’clock. Remus tried rubbing his clammy hands against his cloak, not wanting his hands to be slick when it came time to brandish his wand. Thankfully, with the full moon this close, and it (by the grace of every god) seeming to be a ‘manic moon’, Remus was at his strongest, and he would not be letting that go to waste. 

The rancid smell of dark magic permeated Remus’ senses signifying the arrival of Voldemort and his last horcrux.

“My dear boy,” Voldemort sang out, “are you ready to face victory in the name of your Lord.”

“Absolutely, my Lord, it is my honour to help you see this through.” He responded verbatim to what Dumbledore coached him on. 

“Lead the way.”

So, Remus did. 

In what felt like a death march, Remus (as Peter Pettigrew), a twelve-foot snake and melted-wax figure looking Tom Riddle made their way to the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Remus listened to the sound of his heartbeat and Nagini’s skin sliding along the gravel lane as he unlatched the hook of the fence and made his way up to the door.

He looked behind him to see Voldemort smiling victoriously at the house as it materialized in front of him. Remus turned back to the red painted door and knocked three times, paused, knocked once, paused, knocked twice more.

“Come in!” The sound of Lily’s voice filtered through the wood of the door and Remus heaved a breath before opening it in front of him. 

“Hey Pete!” James greeted as Remus stepped inside. “We just put the kid to bed, glad you could come by.” 

Remus watched as James turned his back to the door and continued toward the kitchen whilst Voldemort and Nagini let themselves in. With a quick flick of Remus’ wand, the door shut and locked behind them. No way out now, fucker.

“Come on in, Peter! I’m just making something to drink, would you like one?” Lily called from somewhere in the house as the trio continued in, watching as a cat wandered its way towards the kitchen seemingly unawares of the company behind it.

As they passed a hallway leading to a half-bath, Padfoot began to bark.

“Oh, come now Pads, it’s just Peter! You know him.” James said as he came back out into the hallway where he saw his good friend Peter in the company of Nagini and Voldemort.

Voldemort whispered something in parseltongue and in response, Nagini poised to lunge. 

When the snakes body elongated and her neck stretched as she launched to sink her fangs into James, Sirius had turned back into his regular form, and with the sword of Gryffindor swung at the snake, severing its head from the rest of its body; the snake’s body and its head fell to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

“No!” Voldemort cried before Dumbledore ripped the invisibility cloak from his form and Lily exited the kitchen. Suddenly, the forms of Lily, James and Peter and the actual Dumbledore, McGonagall and Sirius stood with their wands aimed at Voldemort. 

“What have you done?” Voldemort seethed at Remus. Remus smirked in response.

“I won.” He said simply.

Voldemort growled as he pulled his wand from his cloak, blocking an expelliarmus from Dumbledore and a bombarda from Sirius. 

“Incarcerous!” McGonagall shouted and Voldemort was bound by invisible restraints.

Dumbledore stupefied the flailing Tom Riddle and the six exchanged glances. 

“Did...did we do it? Did we just...stop Voldemort?” Sirius whispered.

“It feels sort of anti-climactic, does it not?” Lily asked before she cast a quick finite over herself, revealing Narcissa Black. Remus opted to follow suit and shed the skin of his rat of a friend.

“Narcissa?!” Sirius balked, earning him a smirk.

“Hello, cousin.”

“But, why? How?” he asked.

James followed suit and cast a finite, melting away the enchantment and leaving behind the form of Regulus Black, causing Sirius to choke back tears.

“Reggie...” he whispered reverently.

“Sirius.” Regulus responded with a curt nod, seemingly unable to meet his brothers’ eyes.

A sob tore its way through Sirius as he lunged himself at Regulus and embraced his little brother. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Disappointed?” Regulus asked, seemingly unable to figure out what to do with his own arms which were pinned under Sirius’ grasp. 

“No, not in the slightest.” Sirius answered honestly as he pulled himself back from his brother only to bring his hands up to clasp either side of his brother’s face and scrutinize him. “You’re really okay?”

Regulus’ brows scrunched together at his brother’s words. “Could be worse.” Regulus responded in a whisper. 

“Why don’t we catch up later, once we have everyone together again?” Narcissa offered with a soft smile. This seemed to snap Sirius into action.

“Yes! Okay, yes. Let’s go get Y/N and then we can send the Potter’s a patronus!” He exclaimed as if were a child being told they were heading to the mall to meet Santa. 

Remus chuckled and even Regulus seemed to smirk at his brother. 

“You go, Minerva and I will escort Mr. Riddle here to the Ministry.” Dumbledore said with a wink at his four former students. “Thank you all, for your bravery and cunningness today.” 

The four offered Dumbledore varying levels of smiles: Remus a wide one, Narcissa a polite one, Regulus’ looked more like a grimace and Sirius’ mouth stayed downturned as they watched the headmaster and deputy headmistress leave with Voldemort in tow. 

“Let’s get the band back together.” Remus announced, and Narcissa held out a portkey for Remus and Sirius to use to travel to Malfoy Manor.

“See you there.” Narcissa said as she and Regulus spun and apparated to return to you. 

Regulus and Narcissa were just heading toward the vine covered gate when Remus and Sirius fell unceremoniously from the sky. 

“Fuck, I hate portkey’s” Sirius commented as he stood with a grimace and wiped grass stains off his jacket. 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Narcissa commented from her place as the two men joined her.

“That’s like asking a fish not to swim, dear Cissy.” Sirius responded with a smirk.

Narcissa gave him a fond eyeroll before leading the way to the hidden library.

“PUT THE BOY DOWN!” The shrill voice of Bellatrix could be heard. The sound caused each of their throats to tighten as they all took off in a run towards the library.

“Get away from us!” Sirius heard you shout back. 

As the four of them rounded the corner, Sirius saw you standing with a crying Draco Malfoy in your one arm as you bounced him consolingly while your wand was in the other aimed at Bellatrix in front of you. Behind Bellatrix stood Barty Crouch Junior and Mulciber. 

“Bella!” Narcissa called causing the witch to turn her onyx gaze on her for a second, though her wand never faltered in its aim at you.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, NARCISSA?!” She screeched. 

“Bellatrix, get away from my son this instant.” Narcissa barked. Remus took this opportunity to try to move closer to you and Draco, which earned a purple spell being shot at him from Junior’s wand.

Suddenly emersed in some kind of gothic-style Western standoff, every witch and wizard in the library had their wands pointed at someone and someone’s wand pointed at them. One errant sneeze and someone would avada or be avada’d. 

“Bella, you’re frightening Draco.” Narcissa tried quietly.

“He’s frightened, Cissa, because you’ve left him alone with the likes of a FILTHY MUDBLOOD.” 

“It’s over, Bellatrix.” Sirius shouted. “Voldemort has been captured, he’s on his way to Azkaban as we speak.”

Bellatrix’s already rage filled face contorted in pure outrage. As the Death Eaters were distracted by the news of their leaders down fall, Regulus and Remus began duelling with Mulciber and Junior. Narcissa and Sirius both shot curses and hexes at Bellatrix at the same time, but she quickly defected.

“You, you-you FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR. You’ve betrayed your kind and defied OUR LORD, YOU INSOLENT-” As Bellatrix continued to rage, you began to slowly side-step your way over to Narcissa and Sirius while cooing at Draco. Sirius kept his gaze locked on you as you kept yours on Bellatrix, and both of your wands stayed on their mark. Remus had Mulciber in a muggle choke hold looking far too pleased with himself as Regulus cast an expeliarmus at Junior.

“YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! I KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET THOSE STUPID, STUPID MEN USE YOU AS THEIR PLAYTHING.” Bellatrix seethed at you, now standing directly beside Sirius, keeping the arm holding Draco just behind him. “YOU WEREN’T EVEN GOOD ENOUGH FOR A WHORE!”

At this, Sirius shot a curse at her which she deflected and began rallying more off. Bellatrix brought her other hand up to her hair and then swung her hand forward. Flying towards Sirius, you and Draco was Bellatrix’s cursed blade.

Narcissa took but half a step to her right, placing herself directly in front of you as she cast an avada kadavra at her sister. Bellatrix’s eyes rolled back as she fell to the ground with a thud and the room became deathly quiet save Draco’s sniffles. 

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed.

Remus and Regulus were readying their captives for the Auror department as Sirius turned to face his cousin, only to find her holding her chest as blood seeped through her robes and fingers.

Narcissa slowly began sinking to the ground as you gasped and held Draco’s head to your shoulder to shield his view.

“Cissa, no!” Sirius cried as he helped lower his cousin onto the rug. Narcissa took some gasping breaths as she looked at Sirius and you, and then at her son. 

“Y/N.” Narcissa called weakly.

“I’m here, Narcissa.” You offered through a sob. 

“Take care of my son. Take care of Draco, please.” She begged you.

She turned her gaze to Sirius. “I want better for him. I don’t-I don’t want...” She trailed off as she choked, blood appearing in the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want him to be raised with so much hate. I want – I want him to only know love.”

She looked back to you as you bounced her son back and forth. “Make sure he knows love for me?”

You nodded emphatically as tears trailed down your face. “I promise to do good by you; both of you. He will always be safe with us, Narcissa.”

“And loved.” Sirius added. 

Narcissa smiled at the two of you. “Thank you.” She said as she closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, and a cousin. She was a wife, and new mother. She was a Slytherin, a noble woman, and a powerful witch.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was extremely loyal. And it was this last trait that cost Narcissa her life. 

Continue to the finale here.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fic #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet #werewolf mcswearwolf #remus lupin swears a lot it's canon #regulus black #regulus makes his appearance #sirius is not well #thoughts and prayers #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #baby Draco Malfoy

[sayruq]

Here's what the situation looks like on the ground (bear in mind I'm not exactly an expert in war).

The Palestinian resistance fighters (it's not just Hamas you guys, every Palestinian militia is fighting right now) have been baiting Israeli forces into a ground battle ever since the operation started. IDF isn't exactly the best at on the ground battles which is why they usually prefer using their air force and long distance artillery. And also because Iran and Lebanon have indicated they will join the war if there's a ground operation in Gaza.

In preparation for this, Hamas and other groups have struck military bases and have taken equipment back to Gaza. In addition to weapons from Iran and Hezbollah, the fighters now have Israeli military weapons in their possession and they've been using them.

So far, Palestinian fighters seem to be achieving their objectives.

The Israeli response to the attack has been chaotic, careless and haphazard, something that has angered Israeli citizens. It took them hours to organise a coordinated response. The Iron Dome was rendered useless as thousands of rockets were launched into Israel.

There has been multiple reported cases of high ranking officers being killed

Many Arab military groups have either joined in or announced that they will join the fight so we might be looking at a regional war here.

This by the way is a big blow to Israel. It, alongside the US, has been working to normalise relations with Saudi and Emirati States like UAE.

So how long will this conflict last? All indicators point to 'a long while.'

The Israeli government has said this will be a long, difficult war for them.

Hamas has refused a ceasefire and is also prepared for a long conflict in Gaza and other Occupied territories (I've seen people say there's no fighting in the West Bank and that this is a Hamas only operation but that's not true)

I don't know what is going to happen next but I also don't think Israeli forces are going to crush Palestinian fighters quickly like a lot of people are expecting.

The casualties are already very high.

This is shaping up to be a very bloody conflict on both sides.

#palestine #free palestine #israel #gaza #west bank

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Debunking the Claim that Bucky Barnes' Dog Tags "Prove He Cannot Be Jewish"

In 2021 and 2022, when discussing the fact that MCU!Bucky (henceforth referred to simply as Bucky) is based off of Arnie Roth, a gay Jewish man and Steve's childhood best friend, I received pushback from fans telling me that Bucky can't possibly be Jewish due to his dog tags; citing a behind the scenes picture posted by Sebastian Stan to his instagram story.

Transcription of the dog tags:

James B. Barnes (Legal Name) 32557038 (Serial Number*) T41 42 (Tetanus Immunization) O (Blood Type) R. Barnes (Next of Kin) 3092 Stockton RD (Address) Shelbyville IN (Location) P (Religion Marker)

*A serial number starting with a 3 indicated that the servicemember was drafted into the Army, it's important that we do not forget that Bucky didn't chose to fight.

During World War II the dog tags of American service members would have had one of the following regulation religion markers:

P for Protestant (the marker we see on Bucky's dog tags)

C for Catholic

H for Hebrew, this being the marker for 'Jewish'

NO (or left blank) for No Religion

For Jewish servicemembers fighting in Europe, being discovered to be a Jew by your captors–especially if you were captured by the Nazis–carried considerable risk and could mean the difference between life or horrific torture, experimentation and possibly even death.

Some Jewish service members, justifiably incredibly fearful of what could happen if they were found out, would either omit a religion marker altogether or, after getting their tags, would attempt to obscure the 'H' marker in some way so it could not be read by their captors.

While this saved some lives, it was not a perfect and fool-proof system, and we have no way of knowing how many times it failed.

In 1943, the year Bucky was drafted, the Army introduced a more official (and more widely adoptable, and thus widely adopted) option to protect Jews in its ranks:

Through the European Theatre of Operations United States Army, Jewish servicemembers could elect to have the 'H' marker for Hebrew on their dog tags replaced with a 'P' for Protestant.

This would offer Jewish servicemembers a more convincing layer of protection if they were ever captured by the enemy, because, unlike an obscured religion marker (or that lack of one) which could itself draw suspicion, a set of dog tags printed with a 'P' would be entirely indistinguishable from the dog tags worn by a gentile and would be less likely to draw suspicion.

Due to this option being made available to Jewish people serving in the United States Armed Forces, the 'P' marker on Bucky's dog tags not only does not definitively prove that he's really a gentile, in actuality its presence provides even further historical support in favour of him being a Jewish man.

Sources and Additional Reading:

Jewish GIs and Their Dog-Tags by Rabbi Akiva Males - Hakirah

A Star of David for Pvt. Benjamin Garadetsky - Jewish Telegraphic Agency (jta.org)

U.S. Army WW2 Dog Tags | WW2 US Medical Research Centre (med-dept.com)

Do You Know the History of the "Dog Tag" (jcveteranscouncil)

Beyond The Battle: Religion and American Troops In World War II (uky.edu)

World War II and American Jewish Identity

European Theater of Operations, United States Army - Wikipedia

Pride Month 2022, 40 Years of Arnie Roth and Michael Bech - Marvel Comics: The Queer History Behind MCU Bucky’s Backstory

J.M. DeMatteis, the creator of Arnie, confirming the character's use for MCU!Bucky

Full screenshot of Sebastian Stan's post of the dog tag

How to Decode a WWII US Army Serial Number | Amy Johnson Crow

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #jewish!bucky #jewish!bucky barnes #jewish bucky #military history #marvel meta #arnie roth #Assorted Jewish Writings - Shoah #jewish bucky resources #jewish bucky barnes