#( v : ashes and stardust )
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«────── « CLOSED THREAD » ──────»
FOR: @vendettavalor
MUSE: valeriya khorkin; former streetkid gone lethal assassin. inspired by au development!
The bounty hunting scene was set ablaze by the resurrection of Boba Fett. A former legend, seemingly gone to time, miraculously brought back to life and now leading Mos Espa beneath an iron fist. People were paying attention. They wanted the fame that would come with an alliance… or a takeover.
It was why the attempt on his life had become all the buzz. A mysterious assassin, alleged to be allied with the Empire, now on the run after Fett's own guards protected him. One remained while one gave chase, and it wasn't long before there was a bounty on this upcoming hunter. It was good money, and would mean good review should one complete it. After all, working for the Boba Fett? Earning his appreciation, or at the very least his thanks? That could get someone places.
It could get Lucas places.
Places like the dark, dank alleyway he found himself in. He'd tailed the shrouded assassin for a while now, monitoring her every move while waiting to strike. A place such as this would be perfect. Out of sight, forgettable… if a bit cramped for his personal tastes. Still, nobody would know he was there. Nobody would know of the assassin's death but him, lessening the likelihood that someone could swoop in and claim the bounty for themselves. Of course, it also meant that she could get the vantage on him. Could turn the tides and be the one to escape their encounter. If she had evaded Fennec, then it would not be out of the question that she could evade him…
But now wasn't the time to think of that. Instead, their cat and mouse game simply went on.
Valeriya could sense something was off as she looked at the navigator in her hand. She had to be close to Mikhail's drop point by now, and damned would she be if she were to let the bounty on her head dissuade her from picking up more work from him. She owed him that much, after everything, and he'd sworn to her that he would take care of the situation in the meantime. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. That someone was on her tail. And so she turned sharply, tucking herself into an offshoot of the alley and tucking the navigator into its pouch. She, too, unholstered the blaster from her hip, pressing her back to the wall and listening to the distant footsteps grow ever closer.
Listening for the perfect opportunity to strike her own hand.
#(thread)#(m: valeriya khorkin)#(v; ashes to stardust)#vendettavalor#( good afternoon here is some delicious soup for lunch )
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Old Master, New Padawan
⚔️ For @tacticalvalor 's Obi-Wan Kenobi! ⚔️
The collapse of the Jedi under Order 66 had been a tragedy. A loss so great, there were few in modern times who could ever recall such a widespread sudden systematic extermination of life such as this. And that was exactly what the Order had been. A heinous strategic move set up decades ago by the evil mastermind Darth Sidious to suddenly, cleanly, and violently destroy the galaxy's force of protectors in one, simple wave. With the death of the Jedi, so came the death of democracy, the demise of the Republic. And the rise of the Empire.
Those who had survived both the initial extermination and the following hunts went into hiding. Few were brave enough to seek them out, especially as the Empire began utilizing the Inquisitors as a means of flushing out the few that remained. But it was this risk that reunited Obi-Wan Kenobi and Aurelia Pta'hoa on Tatooine. The former had spent his time keeping Padme and her twins safe from the ever-present threat that was Anakin Darth Vader - and he had found company in another who was also in hiding after the Empire's destruction of her home world.
Their reunion was bittersweet. They wished it could be under better circumstance, but at the end of the long Tatooine day, they were just happy to see each other alive. Obi-Wan was especially happy to see that Aurelia's Padawan had also survived. She was a strong-willed, spirited young thing. Resilient even in the face of tragedy. (According to Aurelia, this wasn't the first time she'd been at the center of an attempted mass genocide.) And though he'd never had the chance to properly meet and bond with her, he hoped that they would be able to now and make the best of their terrible situation.
Unfortunately, it seemed the Kenobi and her would get along a little too well. For they shared a little more of a taste for chaos than perhaps some would like.
#closed starter : now i escape to a world here with you#mutual : all of my best friends#tacticalvalor#( ocm : alfinnea the wild rider )#( v : ashes and stardust )
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«────── « ASK » ──────»
@vendettavices SAID:
❛ i can’t stop thinking about you. ❜ - from one Lupa in heat to Johnny
THE DIRTY KIND OF TEASING.
Neither could he, apparently.
It was almost comical, the way he'd found himself so infatuated with her. So hypnotized by her rugged beauty. By the feeling of her in his arms as he'd hugged her from behind, burying his face into the back of her shoulder and pressing a plethora of loving kisses to her skin.
And then it went from there. That one little phrase, spoken in her quiet way, was enough to ignite the flames.
Idle chatter as hands began to curiously wander. Unwavering words as he'd curiously felt up her front, allowing gloved hands to take hold of her breasts. Coy gropes as a foot slid between her own legs, allowing his thigh to press against her core. Allowing his own hips to press against her, jeans barely able to conceal the growing erection he was getting from the friction shared between them. From the growing heat that enveloped every inch of their being. How they were lucky to already be in the privacy of Johnny's quarters, considering the quickness in which they seemed to shed their clothing, opting to languidly toss articles aside as they found themselves entangled in the sheets. Growls and groans filled the air between the lewd sound of skin hitting skin. Hot breaths rolled against exposed skin as calloused hands brought light bruises to blossom, massaging deeply at tender flesh as claws dragged along the soldier's musculature. Coaxed him to bury himself as deep as viable with every rough, uneven thrust of his hips against hers. Encouraged him to maintain their connection as they both reached the height of their climax, bodies pressed together in an embrace that was just as desperate as they'd been prior. An embrace defined by a deeper desire to never let go.
To never lose the other, no matter the cost.
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@maximuses said: " I wouldn't be here without you. " -> Boba and Delphine
⚔️ I Love You, I’m Trying Prompts // CLOSED ⚔️
"Nonsense," the vixen looks over to where the Daimyo sits upon his grand throne. She's perched on the step just by his feet, tending to her rifle just as she always does. She's meticulous, inspecting every inch of the finely polished metal with a keen eye. Fingers delicately run over dark reflective surfaces, feeling out fragile grooves housing everything from hidden knives to spy droids. Her weapon holds great value to her, and she is devoted to its care. It has been her only companion for so long.
"You found yourself on that throne through your own actions, Lord Fett. All I have done is serve in your court."
She hesitated to call herself a knight or even a member of his inner circle. She came to Mos Espa as a stranger from the desert. The shifting sand clung to her clothes, paling them as she stalked through the town square with her hood up. She said nothing, and hardly stood out perusing the stalls for her next meal. Unassuming. Typical of a Tatooinian. But when she saw the assassination attempt on the Daimyo's life, she showed no hesitation or mercy in defending him. She didn't even know who he was. She only saw a life in danger and, as if by second nature, she acted. With grace and speed and the skill of an experienced huntress, she dispatched several members of the Night Wind without so much as displacing a hair.
All she had done was act. But that seemed enough to draw his attention. Enough so that he sought her out and caught her just before she left for Mos Eisley that evening. He offered her work, and even when she insisted she would not stay, he insisted. Told her he needed someone with her strengths.
So she stayed. Through the games of the mayor, the betrayal of the gotras, and the standoff with the Pykes. She proved loyal, dependable, clever, and kind. Everything he needed in a left hand. Yet unlike with Fennec, he found himself drawn to her charm in a way he hesitated to label as the same kind of amiable friendship he shared with the Master Assasin. No - with Delphine, they seemed more like kindred spirits. Two halves of a whole, their experiences so similar, it must have been some strange twist of fate that brought them together.
And here he thought he'd never believe in such things.
"You were here long before I was. And you will be here long after I am gone."
Ah, and there it was again. The bitter reminder that this whole business arrangement they had was still only temporary - it always had been.
But where once he could accept that fact, now, the thought of letting Delphine go felt strangely painful; as though she'd take a part of him with her when she left and leave him forever as scarred on the inside as he was on his outside. He shifted in his seat a bit, grimacing under his helm at the thought of seeing her walk out of the palace once and for all.
That settled it. He'd have to find some way to convince her to stay.
#ask : is this what you wanted#mutual : all of my best friends#maximuses#dynamic : i still got a whole lotta love for you#boba fett x delpine riviere : i want to be with you everywhere [maximuses]#( v : ashes and stardust )#drabble : the higher the climb the harder the fall
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; SAID, "I WANT US,"
sypn. everything can be offered a second chance, even a broken man.
pairing. aventurine x gn!reader
tags. hurt/bit of comfort!!, vvvv choppy and icky!!, they're on a call if it wasn't v specific, uhh second chance at love ig?, aventurine learns how to recycle!!/j, reference is from cant love you anymore!!, reblogs are vvv appreciated!!!
"where are you?" your voice, despite its harmless nature, echoes the acrid grief that lovingly embraces you — a suffocating grip of false love, born from irredeemable ashes —, scratchy from wasted heartfelt tears.
the nauseating silence nurtures itself overbearing, forcing him to choke out unthought words. "where are you?" he swallows thickly. his grip on the cellphone tightens, anxiety settling into the crevices of his mind.
"i'm at home," worry follows your tone, thick with unraveling emotion.
momentary silence fills the air until he cuts through, uncertainty laced on his voice." i'm in a taxi," the rehearsed words pool your mess of thoughts and gleefully crumples your fragile hope — he's a shamelessly beautiful liar. he refrains himself from saying more, bitter words stuck in his throat.
(you've always known yet persisted in your position. a fox who eyes the grapes in vain and deems it sour without reason.)
"are you almost home?"
"i'm sorry," the tangible silence aches. he knows he's guilty — he can't bring himself to honour the ugly truth — , his apologies bear meaningless and repetitive. (he misses the sweet relish of forgiveness on his lips, your glossy lips pressing sticky kisses on his skin that he proudly wore like a peacock with its charming feathers, the shared mornings of sluggish cuddles and hiding from the sun.)
a rainbow after the rain, a flower that bloomed in the cold, you. you who taught him darkness could shine, and tears could become a myriad of falling stars. you too, in this lens, look breathtaking (you've always been.)
deft hands gingerly brush away his tears, reflected starry in the luminescent limelight.
"there's no need to hide your sorrow behind a smiling face," your honeyed voice sings him songs blossoming of cherished hope and unsaid dreams of solace, "all the stars will twinkle upon you." can peacocks and songbirds belong together?
"if tears can shine in the darkness, why can't you?" you take his hand in yours - warm, soothing summer rain midst the drying sun.
the stars seem to fondly embrace you, his hands clumsily crumple and tug the hem of your shirt; yearning for you to see once him in the same light as he does. aventurine knows he's hopelessly fallen — he'd cross countless seas of stardust to hear your voice that calls him through the darkness —, for the light that guided him was you.
that day, you've never shone so brightly.
"for what?"
he wants to hear the light in your voice once more, the melody that accompanied your every step; even if it was for one last time.
"just, for everything."
"i'll come back soon," he breathed out — a final gamble, "please, wait for me."
cherieiu 2024 © plagiarizing, feeding to ai, translating and reposting is prohibited.
#xue:fics!#aventurine x reader#hsr x reader#aventurine x you#aventurine honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr fluff#aventurine hsr#aventurine fluff#aventurine angst#on an aven brainrot rn D:
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Last Line Tag
Oh hey, I have a month worth of these because November was a novel-writing mess. I've been tagged by @digital-chance @k-v-briarwood @cat-esper @sparrow-orion-writes @scifimagpie @dyrewrites and @winterandwords. Sorry for bunching them up, but I wanted to shout out everyone who's tagged me and I only have so many last lines.
Anyway, my last written line is Oscar getting quite sassy drunk:
“At least this hot drunk mess has a plan, but considering you’re not interested in ridding yourself of the interplanetary albatross of yours, maybe I won’t tell you.”
28 words. Yeah, that's about right for me. Let the tag times roll:
@snooeycatwrites @sarandipitywrites @necroticintellect @jeahreading @cee-grice @writernopal @amandacanwrite @eternalwritingstudent @mademoisellefantasy @abbieswriteblr @nettleandthorne @skelemen @that-weird-kid-from-your-school @chauceryfairytales @eeefhan @frostedlemonwriter @shay-puppitty @harleyacoincidence @btranscrolls @fire-but-ashes-too @apolline-lucy @wordsmadeofmoonlight @meerawrites @innocenthedgehog @silverslipstream @chishiio @deanwax @scribbling-stardust
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I am just nosy, forgive me. Can you describe each one of your mutuals?
Buckle up people and prepare to get complimented >:3c
First and foremost, they’re all absolute sweethearts to me.
There are my irl friends, such as @wretchedshade, @granolabird, @siriuscitrus and @scales-of-stardust or beta as I usually refer to them. I share the same braincell with these people.
Wretchedshade has been my best friend since we were ten, we’ve been there for each other for 11 years. I initially got her into anime, and then she got me into jojo, and every once in a while we cry about Doukyuusei again. She’s a great artist and is really good at writing sad shit, which is why I write sad shit; to have the glory of finally making her cry. She kicked cancer’s teeth in a few months ago so it’s about goddamn time something good come her way and I WILL fight someone on that.
Granolabird is the dm for my dnd campaign, and like I said, absolute sweetheart, chaotic adhd haver (actually like most of my friend group is like this lmao we’re all queer and neurodivergent). Either way, we used to share thoughts on each other’s original stories, and we still do sometimes but it’s mostly just sending each other tiktoks/reels like “this you” or “this your oc.”
Siriuscitrus is usually pretty hyper, but also tries to be v considerate of everyone’s feelings. If you said that the McDonald’s employee put pickles on your burger when you said no, they’d probably be the one to tell them. They’re also scarily good at vibechecking people and told me I give “future he/they vibes” and like a week later I said “fuck you’re right oh my god.”
You’ve probably seen me and beta’s interactions on here or in the ao3 comments. We enjoy our like playful rivalry/enemyship. I like to torment tease her and she usually gets me back pretty good, it’s all in good fun. It’s also really funny to me whenever we meet up, I tell myself “you are friends with them for reasons other than fic so do not make it about fic” and then we’ll spend literally hours talking about and brainstorming fic ideas. It just Happens.
I’m also gonna add @memory-mortis into here because while we’ve not met irl I’ve introduced him to my friend group. Yet another sweetheart, love her art style a lot, and she was one of the first comments I got on ginkgo trees to motivate me to keep going. I was kinda worried about bringing him into my friendgroup because like if I’m not overthinking I am not thinking At All. I was super relieved and happy that she like IMMEDIATELY fit in with everyone so :D
For some of my other close but only on tumblr/ao3/outside my general friendgroup mutuals! (There are too many so I’m sorry if you’re not here it’s mostly people I interact with more regularly ;-;)
@crimson-ashes who I have occasionally with absolute love called my “askbox gremlin” because they live in my inbox. I need to stress this is affectionate because genuinely, I love opening tumblr and seeing I’ve got asks from them. They gotta stop posting Astarion though because I’m feeling So Tempted to play BG but I know my laptop would kill itself (joking).
@crystalflygeo and I know I’ve called everyone sweethearts but genuinely, she’s probably one of the sweetest people I’ve had the pleasure of talking to. She’s really wholesome (unlike her writing which is never gonna be a complaint in my book, good soup) and super supportive of other people.
@madamemachikonew who’s super polite and really kind. She’s also really creative/smart when it comes to referencing real world art and philosophy in her writing and integrating it into her own worldbuilding. I would have never thought to have done that, and it makes her writing very unique!
We don’t interact as much but @probably-doesnt-exist, @ethve, @euniveve and @ainescribe are such talented artists and super sweet, have literally made me screech and cackle with utter joy whenever they draw the characters from ginkgo trees. I rotate through which art becomes my phone’s lock/home screens.
This is long af but fuck it, I wanna brighten people’s days and I told myself to say “I love you” to my friends and family more, so consider this one big “I love you!” to y’all. It’s a pleasure talking to y’all!
#ask#I maybe should’ve gone back to bed and answered this later#but screw it#I should maybe go back to sleep though
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im leaving the fandom. this are some hellcheer aus i had. please take them
Romance
Blue Lagoon: The Awakening
Ghost
A Star is Born
Sing Street
Waitress
Me Before You
The Bodyguard
Yesterday
Footloose
Dirty Dancing
A Walk to Remember
The Vow
Fire with Fire
Period
Finding Neverland
Dangerous Beauty
Wuthering Heights
The Phantom of the Opera
Pride and Prejudice
Titanic
Water for Elephants
Romeo and Juliet
Pompeii
Grease
The Illusionist
Moulin Rouge!
Tuck Everlasting
A Knight’s Tale
Animated
Where the Heart is
Howl’s Moving Castle
Kiki’s Delivery Service
Anastasia
Lady and the Tramp
Tangled
Fantasy
I Am Dragon
Penelope
The Princess Bride
Stardust
Peter Pan
The Sound of Magic
The Ash Lad: In the Hall of the Mountain King
Timeline
Splash
Red Riding Hood
Beastly
Winter’s Tale
Legend
Horror
Edward Scissorhands
Warm Bodies
Horns
Disturbia
The Blob
The Crow
Queen of the Damned
Nightwatch
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
V for Vendetta
Sleeping with the Enemy
Bones and All
I’m sorry to hear you’re leaving. Please take care of yourself. No fandom is worth more than the people in it, yourself included. I hope you find something to bring you joy soon!
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the letters i send you every time we kiss
I
TO LOVE
to love is to fall asleep in your arms
without dreaming, because with you i already am
you remind me,
of warm honey,
of dark wood crackling in a fire,
of bruise-purple clouds in a sunset,
of summer rain, of evening rain,
of dried roses, deep red,
of every love song ever written,
even the ones i have never heard, will never hear
you cover your face when you cry
i tell you i won't look
but really all i want to do is catch every tear
and freeze them into diamonds
and wear you around my neck forever, forever
my life revolves around you
we're like two moons orbiting each other, pulling each other in, in some strange astral tango which i never want to leave
II
TO BE IN LOVE
to be in love is to know, truly, that there is no god
why would there be when there is You
right in front of me,
to worship with my lips, my fingers, my tongue
i don't believe in souls
but when you kiss me it feels like you turn me to stardust and sparks,
dissolving into your very being;
just you and i
without the mess of matter in the way
you give me not butterflies, but moths
trying to escape my stomach out to you,
my moonlight, light of my life...
the one i'll flutter to, day or night
and every hour in-between
III
TO BE LOVED
to be loved is to hear, in the depths of my sleep, the rustle of pages,
while you flip and press down on a book with one hand,
just to hold mine in the other
you make my whole body feel like sunlight
with nothing but intertwined fingers and kyanite eyes
(and gently whispered i'm proud of you's)
every door opened, every bus taken,
every flower petal to be pressed and dried,
every moment spent being heard, being held, patiently,
each feels like a vow in its own right:
a silently promised i'm yours, you're mine
now and always
IV
TO MISS
to miss is to write
i send you letters every time we kiss
and fill my time waiting for yours,
in the seconds in-between
some nights i smoke to remind myself of you
just to pretend that i see your figure floating away with the trails of ash,
just to pretend that i hear your voice behind billie holiday's:
dearest bear, like bubbles in a glass of champagne...
i ration your words like drops of ambrosia,
squeeze the letters off your pages into my eyes
until i can next drink you in, savour you
my time spent with you is like gold dust.
i cup it in my hands, knowing it will blow away,
and knowing it will return safely to me with the next breeze
(...do you think we will still write to one another from opposite sofas in our living room?)
V
TO BE INFINITE
no combination of syllables will ever do you justice
there's no word big enough for what we have
my love for you is bigger than the word love
is bigger than the gaps between the letters L O V and E,
is bigger than the gaps between all the letters ever written in any word,
and when there is no gap between us,
my love for you is everywhere, in everything
i am constantly flooding with it
for you, for you, for you
i want to write song after song for you,
i want to write books of infinite pages for you,
i want to write endlessly for you, anything, everything
you are endless to me
nothing is big enough; i want to grasp the world and sit it in my hands, give it to you,
and it still wouldn't be enough
i see you everywhere:
in every exhale of the wind,
in every swelling wave,
i hear you,
as if the planet itself is living, is breathing your name
"Mia, Mia"
you are the fabric of the universe itself
every touch of your lips to mine births new stars, sets skies ablaze
you are my universe, my universe is you
.
.
.
.
.
.
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➥ The End of All Things
Type: One-Shot
Pairing: m!OC x V
Word Count: 5,74
Tags: Death, regret, angst, loss, failure, insects, blood, gore, nightmares, guilt, drama, V is not Vergil
Summary: A man's heart is only as strong as his memory, for if he forgets who he is and who he loves, what strength may he claim at the end of all things - what forgiveness may he beg for in a dream within a dream?
A belated birthday gift to you, @inkburnt, my dearest friend.
As always, minors do not interact.
A brilliant cascade of abyssal stars crumbled and fell to the earth, tainted wholly by darkness and despair, and in their wake they left behind tragedy and ruin; Jungles of concrete and glass collapsed into their foundations as little more than rubble, and all that was once green and lively had turned cold and black and broken, wild dogs and all others encased in ash and stardust, forever frozen in place and doomed to die choking on the corrosive fumes billowing from the fallen stars around them. Even the soil is saturated with death and the snap of ushered fates, tamped flat by the sluggish feet of the damned, the lost, clumped together by the blood, sweat, and salted tears of the frightened and starving - the few who survived the calamity. And the sun would not rise for them, no matter how desperately they should pray, for it, too, had twisted and contorted into a blackened husk; And the moon would not pull the tide, no matter how long they should weep, for it, too, had been shattered.
The wonder and beauty of waking, breathing life was but a ghost, a memory, a dream.
Only death remains, the promise of hopelessness, famine, and terror lurking around every corner, snatching up those who linger with filthy, gnarled claws. The lost souls of yesterday are devoured by the evils of today, torn asunder, swallowed, digested, and lost once more, consumed by the dangers of shadow and circumstance. Hope is abandoned, happiness an empty pleasantry, calmness an omission of truth, truth an outright falsehood; There is no meaning to the pitiful lives lived under a starless sky, and they are restless, mindless, corrupted, tainted in all the same ways as the very stars that had forsaken them.
But there is always more to the stories of old, the disparate retellings of the event that claimed the world its victim, and the truth was more complicated and convoluted than any vague memory could ever hope to describe. Hidden in plain sight were the wide swaths of talon marks across pillars of rubble, tooth and claw buried into the ashen bones of the damned, and the vast pools of blood feeding the roots of charred, fleshy remnants of Hell. Devilish corpses slowly sank into the earth, drawn in by the idly lapping pull and draw of dark crimson, and skeletons now lie an unnerving call to the beginning of the end, stained by the impurity of what they’d wrought. The remains of their conquest dotted the horizon as foully as the day they first splintered their claws rising from the depths of hot-burning flame and brimstone, pouring from writhing pits of flesh and fire as the blood spilt flooded the world they plotted to greedily reave and madly destroy. It all pulsed to the tune of a dying heartbeat, yet contained no life within, rising and falling without purpose nor mind, in the end. There was only so much the armies of Hell could withstand, a victim of their invasion and overzealous sacking of the waking world, for it was they who pled to their gods and kings in a bid for power unrivaled - and they were blessed to have received an answer to their prayers, however foolish they were to turn away from the synergistic nature of Hell’s relationship with Heaven and the earth…
One by one, the stars melded with the expansive abyss, dying in its arms, and soon fell to the earth they coveted, mercilessly laying waste to all in their path, leaving families in scattered pieces, lovers as aimless wanderers with hearts in tatters, and mountains of rotting, festering bodies for the flies. Of all things that may be certain, it is the destruction of the world and the death it’d borne.
Of this, Garrett had no doubts, for he, too, had been cursed to shuffle and crawl through the muck of blood and mud combined, weighed down by the cold light of the dead stars, smoldering in their frigid heat - alone. Only the spectral memory of what he’d lost clung to the back of his mind, pale and ghostly images of the life he’d built in a city that no longer exists with people who no longer live lingering without substance nor promise; He knew they’d been lost, too, hollow husks of the humanity they once championed, strangled by noxious smoke and fume and left to wither and crumble to ash and dust beneath a blanket of hopelessness and despair, each of them to suffer their fates alone. The calamity came too quickly and cut too deep, like the silvery shine of a blade in the darkest back alley, and his family of hard-won misfitted devils and tortured humans was scattered and isolated, overwhelmed by the armies of his conquering kin and the desolation of the cosmos. But there was one he cherished above all, one he treasured and loved with all his blackened heart, and though he tirelessly sifted through ash and bone and fought every battle with feral enthusiasm in spite of what parts of him were missing and bleeding, he could not find his mate.
He feared the worst, of course, stumbling and fumbling through the ruins of their devastated world, swallowed whole by the unceasing tragedy of his loss, and it was in this fear and shambling erosion that he forgot himself. He’d forgotten what’d shaped and molded him into a man, what tethered him to humanity and split his connection to Hell and its machinations, what filled him with great joy and gave him a full sense of purpose; He’d forgotten who he was without his home, without the warm, soothing reminders that he’d belonged and was needed as he was, accepted and beloved; And he’d forgotten, in all his aimless roaming of the earth where his claws cracked and gnarled, the man he fought to become and the extraordinary love he insulated himself with, and the reciprocation in the peridot of his mate’s eyes, and the devilish younglings he took into his ashen paws to nurture and grow. He’d forgotten his greatest struggle, his greatest love, his greatest loss, his strengths and his weaknesses, and in the darkened twilight gloom, an age of hollow wandering came and only the prick of numbness and miserable uncertainty of all things remained.
He was no different than the others, left behind in the same manner as all those who escaped with their lives when the burning pustules of Hell burst and pocked the lands with the mangled corpses of the Heavens, cursed never to find an inkling of his mate’s whereabouts nor peace in the dilapidated grand cathedral of an empty world.
How unfortunate, that this should now be his cross to bear once more, but a mere hazy memory was all that remained of the first and he could no longer recall the events of yesteryears, only what he felt, and such was not so poetic a thing. Still, he yearned gravely for it, for the divine complexity and human simplicity where life had been regarded as precious and uniquely meaningful because of its brevity, where the beauty in it shone as bright as any star in the bonds and memories they built. Those were the ghosts he’d permitted to haunt him, the memories of that life however painful it may have been. But the days all became one and blended together, and those memories faded, and what else could he do but forget? Only his emotions lingered and soon they, too, will leave him and only frantic instinct and devil nature will remain.
Perhaps he was being punished for some great sin, but he couldn’t figure out exactly which one, let alone remember what qualified, though it could have been the results of his failure to protect those he held most dear, the fruits of desperate inadequacy.
Or, perhaps it was simply a circumstance none of them could control, where none of their efforts could stand to meaningfully deter the overwhelming and swift destruction of their home, where they were too few and all else was too many .
For a terribly long time, he laid there in the bloody muck and languished like the fool he thought himself to be, shallow breaths causing ripples and bubbling to slowly and steadily alter its muddy surface. It was warm and wreaked of rot and unceasing decay, a cradle of death. It seemed a trivial, pointless matter to stand and tentatively continue his steadily fading quest when the likelihood he’d ever find his mate and the others had long since dwindled - it’d been far, far too long. Still, it may be for the best that he moves on from this place, before his limbs begin to atrophy and the sores riddling his hide worsen. An infection would spell his end long before starvation ever could.
And, so, with tremendous effort, he climbed to his hellish paws so riddled with the slag of underworldly decease, and began his enduring quest anew with uncertainty and confusion fogging his mind, feeble and diminished to his core. What was once a statuesque and nobly terrifying representation of the bestial machinations of Hell had shrunken into himself, gaunt and withered and afflicted by infernal mange; There were none who possessed any life within them with which he could feed and absorb, but, though his journey may never reach an end, he would abide by what’d come as second nature, bear the still-burning embers a long gone until nothing at all was left of him.
Every muscle strapped to his bones quaked and tensed in relentless cycles, and despite drowning in steady waves of torturous agony, he took the first step.
And, then, more were soon to follow.
He did not pause to care for himself, did not shake himself free of the excess blooded sludge soaking through his ashen fur, his thoughts singularly focused on his search, but all the while he thought to himself, grasping meekly at the remnants of a life now past. What exactly he was hoping to find was beyond him in truth, merely hints and suggestions of his mate’s physical attributes and the time they’d spent entwined on sleepless nights; His memories proved amorphous and deceptive, an ever changing glimmer in an ocean of despair. He prayed it would one day solidify and distill into something tangible and concrete, where his questions regarding his life before would meet their answers, but neither hope nor faith could substantiate his prayers. It was a strange ritual for a devil to partake as it was, perhaps he ought not trespass further against what few stars may still twinkle in the abyss…
He trotted along in the endless wastelands, breathing in the festering rot plaguing the air. His head bobbed with exhaustion, rolling back and forth between his shoulders, the haunting gloom leaving a lifeless glow to catch on the surface of mucky pools as shadows stretched beyond into inky blackness. The earth squelched between the pads of his gnarled paws, the faintest fizzle and pop of his heat kineticizing scarlet rivulets and puddles. He could not glean either for even a miniscule shred of rejuvenating energy, dragging his splintered claws through warm coagulations and dust. He continued forward, only briefly glancing toward the pools he passed, but no particular scents caught his attention nor beckoned for acknowledgement, and even fewer corpses and skeletons demanded inspection. They each lacked in intimate familiarity, gnawed and broken to pieces, and they’d have been wholly unrecognizable had it not been for the decaying flesh scattered in piles around them.
So much death…
He began to wonder if he’d been responsible for it himself, the day Hell clawed from its primordial depths and wrought upon the world its reckoning. He could not tuck his tails between his legs and hurry to escape it now, trapped beneath the suffocating weight of his mistakes, and, he swore, allowances could not be made to excuse his inadequacy. It did not matter that control and the strength with which to exercise it had been sapped from him, not before or after the end had come; Heavy chains restricted him, tightening and squeezing until his chest began to cave in under pressure, blood oozing out of him like an overripe fruit. Coughing caused it to splatter across ash and coagulated blood, dripping from dry, cracked lips, ever so slowly pooling around his massive paws. It hurts - it aches - and such agony was oft accompanied by sorrowful, pitiful whimpering and groaning, whining and moaning.
He stopped himself short, gazing into the dull red, glassy surface of a puddle as if it held the secrets, the truth in its miniscule vastness, a pinprick in the fabric of the world. He stared and stared, not a sound nor interrupting ripple tearing across its surface could distract him, remove him from this pitiable pause, his chest heaving with wanton loathing and unceasing exhaustion. Without warning, Garrett collapsed, his long and withered legs trembling unsteadily before buckling underneath him, and as his massive head collided with the ashen earth, his nose half-submerged in rotted blood, he found himself in the same position he’d allowed himself to suffer for untold lengths of time.
He stared and stared and stared some more, idly watching the puddle shift and writhe with every breath, his mouth hanging open so he might collect more air into his lungs. But blood weaseled into the empty crevices between his teeth, thick with the unmistakable flavor of soured iron and the taint of deathly corruption, and something fouler, still, accompanied it; Wriggling senselessly in the murk, toward that which was warm raggedly breathing, were the slick larval bodies of the relentless eaters of decay, rising and falling with the flow of painful breaths. Slowly, at first, and, then, all at once, breaking miniature waves with their tiny, round, starving heads as Garrett unflinchingly, mindlessly remained. He’d not the strength to climb to his paws, nor the will to try once more, and he could not fathom the potential rewards for such a feat; Had there been any at all, he was certain he did not deserve them.
Bloodshot blues steadily closed and the dilapidated, broken world caging him came to be framed in little more than encroaching blackness, a needless yet invasive mark of the ebb and flow of consciousness. Any attempts to keep himself conscious and somewhat alert were ushered away by the darkness, beaten back by the lifeless state of all things, and as he lie there in the dirt and bloody coagulants, he snake further and further into the abyss that’d fought harder than any to consume them all, and the mange riddling his fur soon became sustenance for the foulest devourers - the children of flies - for he, too, had been doomed. Cursed, as he’d thought, to wander aimlessly the endless wastes, and to breathe his final breath in the cradles of shallow pools, a meal for what precious little life still dared to defy its fate.
Maggots aplenty crawled along the length of his tongue, inching further along his mushy, bleeding gums to the abscesses in his throat in what felt to him a single-file line, diminutive jaws piercing infected flesh. They wriggled and writhed to the shores of their puddle, popping air bubbles with indelicate plips as they went, searching for his own decrepit body as it, too, afflicted with the pain of atrophy, famine, and the tragedy of the inevitable, slowly began to die, They made no sound, swift in their deliberation, and they gnawed and gnawed on the raw and exposed fringes of open wounds, greedily devouring his enfeebled hide without prejudice. He felt nothing, enshrined in hollow numbness, neither pain nor discomfort. Not even the tiny mouths that burrowed into his flesh. But he knew, well, the paths they took on their long, terrible march as they struggled further. He was raw and spread open, peeled apart by the natural cycles of life and death, teetering on the very edge of resignation, and he loathed to suffer such a fate undignified. He’d not the strength to rally against such forces yet remaining, and he knew he would not survive a battle of attrition, so there, in the bloody muck, he laid a wolf no longer but a hollow carcass without a place to call home, nor a mate to hold him in the consuming darkness, nor memories to ponder, nor memories to become.
Perhaps, once, he might’ve stuck his middle finger to the sky and screamed a slew of expletives, denied and defied what’d come, but the man he’d once been had been long dead already.
Was it fine for him - would he be forgiven? - to relinquish the last of his life to the larval flies feasting upon his flesh? Even though he was not strong enough, persistent enough, to viciously cling to his final breath and endure the grim loneliness of so broken world? To be a lasting yet quickly diminishing remnant of a time long past, alone and without hope or heart, had yet been a fate worse than even the death that beckoned him now. In the end, he could not save his truest love, nor could he bear to recover his skeletal remains, and he was sorry.
From the bottom of his shriveled, rotted, blackened heart, he was sorry.
He could not save their brothers, their friends, from fabled armageddon, from the inevitable destruction of all at the hands of sin, of the mass violent exodus of the devils and lords of Hell. He could not guide them down brighter paths, rescue them from the collapse of the night sky, to lengthen their life expectancy just a moment longer, and he was sorry.
He was sorry he’d failed them all, that he’d accepted now his fate, and no amount of apology would ever grant him the forgiveness he begged for in the fading moments of his life.
He was sorry.
Perhaps I will find you, in another life… at the beginning of all things.
Dirty lashes began to flutter as his eyes slunk backward in their sockets, his shallow breaths stuttering in tandem with the frantic beating of his heart. Weak muscles stiffened, contracting along softened bone, and his body arrested completely. One by one, his bodily functions began to fail, food for the foulest creatures now, and it was in these fleeting seconds he realized it was finally upon him - that death had come to bear its finality and take one last thing from him. And it came and went without a sound, as if granting him the dignity of a swift and painless end. And as he lied, darkness overcame him, and he breathed a long, broken sigh into the horrid, festering air, and death took him into its arms and carried him away into the deepest reaches of the abyss. Where pain and sorrow and loneliness and blame could not dampen his fur nor sully his heart; Where the sun would not grace his skin with the warmth of its rays, nor bask in the moonlight on evening walks among chiseled stone and honored dead; Where he could be free of the trappings of a meaningless life overburdened by misery and failure; Where he could not lose his strength or his will again; Where he could never find the gorgeous peridots that so adored him, cherished him, accepted him as the twisted being he’d always been.
Many unspoken regrets and forgotten sorrows took the place of his spirit, a curse all his own a scar upon the ash and dust of so broken and dead and shattered a world, but it was in the soulless expanse of the abyss he found peace; He’d no choice in the matter anymore, and an eternity stretched longly into an ever expanding cosmos unchained by mortal life, to forge anew the beginning and end of another world, another time, another man, until all would converge and collapse in on itself once more. No such concepts as forgiveness, trespass, love, hate, chaos, order, happiness or sorrow mattered any longer, but they would, again, some day, when time could be treasured and spent on them proper. But an opportunity for the world to mourn the loss of its life and all those it’d created had come, and it would greedily and foolishly succumb to its grief, accepting no question nor judgment for its own displays of weakness or tiredness. It, too, had died, choking on its final gasps as the ribs of cathedral halls expanded and contracted, the intricacies of worn paintings adorned in gold trim and shifting and breathing with the world’s death knell; But it did not waste away nor shrivel into nothingness prophesied, promised. Instead, it seemed only to sleep a dreadful sleep, sung to rest by its own machinations, its own voice, yet bleeding by its own hand. It did not know, could not recall, how to be, how to think, how to shape and mold itself in the brilliant splendor of gold and crimson and sapphire it once claimed - not on its own. A long, dreamful sleep, aching with fresh and anxious imagery of stardust tears and a thousand burning suns, the whisper of wind through the shuttering trees and the pelting of rain upon rivers, lakes, oceans– A new world had been ceded within the hazardous dreamworld of the cosmos and borne in its stead, awesome in its majesty and promise of flourishing life where once all was dead and not once brought back into being, glorious and kind to all those beneath its canopy of twinkling lights and sheltering midnight. It blossomed as if a long-tended rose in the greenest garden, its petals wide and saturated in scarlet, and so, too, had it seen its fair share of death and despair, but it did not lose hope. It grew ever taller, ever stronger, dripping with the sweetest morning dew and thriving because of its pain; It appreciated and loved all who traipsed across its face of mountains, forests, deserts, and oceans, cradling them in its arms through all cycles of life. A rarity, to be sure, but a truth nonetheless, for all things must yet come to an end lest they never begin again. It did not rob them of peace, yet blessed them with the freedom to choose for their own what they were, what they were to become, and more dream worlds swirled and danced and burst into being, where only those with the eyes to see the shimmering rose in the garden could.
So it was to be, an unceasing cycle of death and rebirth propagated by the hearts and minds of cosmic forces whose only sins were to create and destroy themselves, as they created and destroyed all those within their dreams. This tragedy was never lost on them, and many chose to bathe their worlds in their grief, but many more chose to endure until they could no longer, and yet still there remained those who would persist; The budding rose in the garden, so well-tended and loved, clung to its existence without fear nor worry, for it knew, at the end of all things, that it would begin again.
And in the waning darkness now stained with faintly pulsing orange, yellow, and red, plain yet warm in the dim glow of the morning, this garden would shiver and sing with the sway of the breeze and delicate lilt of birdsong and life, marching to the soft and steady beat of its own earthly drum. It was delicious delirium, sublime in every respect, to be bathed in warmth and allowed to peacefully dream away the beginnings of a brand new day, listening to the birds twitter and chirp and steadily approaching footsteps scattering the gravel and dirt beneath them. Sharp ears knew well who they belonged to and, wittingly, he roused from his rest, his shapeshifting dreams and listless terrors, turning over in the soft swath of grass he’d taken to in the wee hours; Garrett had always been easy to wake, and perhaps the tentativeness of the other party had known all along, for long, tender hands came upon the sleeping devil. Knuckles dragged along the slope of his jaw as fingers wistfully caressed incomplete swirls and pointed ends of black ink.
Only deliberate and unconditional love could be felt in those slender hands, and he relished the sensation of cool and pallid skin against his own. How he loved it, cherished it, committed it to the most impressionable pieces of his innermost self, as if at any moment it would disappear into the vastness of the cosmos.
A hum of acknowledgment thrummed in his throat and he reached blindly to catch the hands so occupied with gently bringing him to stir. Chilly those hands were, but he’d brought them to his lips to kiss them all the same.
“My love, I’ve been hunting for you,” came the calm complexity of V’s muttering, a pleasant whisper above the singing world.
“Mmm,” Garrett groggily purred, slowly turning his head if only to feel yet more of his beau’s lingering touch. And, then, he stretched his body in full, thrusting his arms above his head and arching his spine as if a back alley cat readying himself to go on the prowl. Only, he wouldn't be chasing after any rats. “Just-” He yawned, stubbly maw stretching wide. “-keepin’ watch over the perimeter, babe.”
This earned him a half-hearted chuckle.
“A fine job you’re doing. When I woke to see you’d run off, I thought the worst. I’d never expected to find you napping on the lawn.”
Garrett opened his eyes and blinked away his sleep, reluctantly pushing himself up to his elbows and gazing upon the pale, angular face he’d loved so completely. Raven hair swept in idle waves a medium frame the curves and planes of V’s visage; High cheekbones, full lips, and a captivating, arresting gaze of verdant peridot - so unique a shade of green could only belong to this alabaster sculpture of a man, an angel in human flesh, and only Garrett could be the diligent and doting dog beneath his feet. He would serve him til the end of his days, as he promised in this life and the next, and he would without question nor protest. It’d become his duty, his sole purpose, to shield him with his heart and mind, his body and soul, and to love him, truly, without condition nor expectation of his own. How wonderful it was to love and be loved by V, how fulfilling - like they’d always been meant to share their time together, at the end and beginning of all things where the smears of a tangerine sunrise bled into the clouds, unburdened by the pains of ages long past and mistake long forgiven.
A crooked smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he grinned cheekily at V.
V did not smile in return, his expression withdrawn and grim and - frightened, lonely, tortured.
His grin dissipated just as quickly as it’d come, and Garrett found himself instinctively gathering the sorcerer into his arms, hands splayed across his spine. With utmost care and sincerity, he pressed his forehead to V’s, sensing unspoken upset and distress.
“What’s wrong, pretty boy?” he murmured, a deep baritone to flutter and mingle along shared breaths. “Somethin’ happen? Babe?”
V stammered briefly, but he was not some sputtering child without the vocabulary to see it through. Rather, it seemed he simply did not have the strength, thinking it better not to speak such thoughts into the world. Or, perhaps he was organizing them each, stuffing them away into all the right compartments, categorizing them as they ought to be in the grand library of his mind. He thought and he thought, pursing his lips and unfurling them all the same, repeatedly, and his grounding stare had drawn away, glancing every which way.
And V had felt a terrible weight begin to settle and grow in his chest, a painful knowledge taking root in his very soul where Garrett had so happily lived… He saw him in the ocean of blackness that succeeded the passage of life, and he watched him crumple and die over and over again in the vast wreckage of Hell’s furious bid for power and the unstoppable war that precluded it. He hadn’t minded so much that he’d died himself in his own effort to survive, but couldn’t bear to suffer the truth of his mate’s despair and the trembling gasps of his final breaths, couldn’t stand the thought of him blaming himself for the cause and effect of a vicious, violent power struggle between the powers that be and all those who were lost in its sway. It need not be true for it to be a horror beyond his comprehension, and he’d have liked to believe he would’ve done anything to ease Garrett’s suffering in any life, any context - but, here, he could not, in the unconscious vagaries of his wakeful nightmares and sinister machinations of of his rotten mind. He had died epochs and eras before Garrett had finally shed himself of his purpose, deluding himself into heartfully believing he’d failed in his quest to find him and all the other members of their family. He was too good, a foolish man not unlike a golden retriever at heart, and no matter who or where he was, he would force himself to persevere at every cost to himself.
How he loved the devil so. How it burned within him. So much so that it dragged him out of bed and inspired only the desperate hunt for his mate.
“V?” Garrett pressed, snapping the warlock out of his thoughts.
“It’s-It’s nothing,” he insisted, but the wolfish demon saw through him and pressed some more, his stare unwavering. He relented, sheepishly. “I…thought I’d lost you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might think it silly–”
“No, never,” Garrett said encouragingly, brushing their noses together, but it was far from it. He could still hear the rasping ache in his wordless voice as he collapsed into murk and blood, flashes of a bitter, acrid memory poisoning the addled mind. “Tell me what’s wrong; Let me help you, swee’heart.”
“It’s just– Oh, darling, I had an awful nightmare of you... at the beginning and end of all things.”
#cerberus x warlock#dmc v x oc#dmc v x male oc#dmc v#v is not vergil#dmc5#dmc5 v#devil may cry#devil may cry v#dmc fanfiction#dmcv fanfiction#dmc5 fanfiction#one shot#death /#angst /#nightmares /#blood /#gore /#insects /#maggots /
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@vendettavalor SAID:
“ you should be scared of me. i like that you’re not. ” - Sushi and Djarin
MEMES FOR THAT SPECIFIC BRAND OF SHIP.
The statement was quick to pique the mandalorian's curosity, creating pause in the way he'd examined the returned armor. Had he the capacity, he would have brought it back to the Covert for repair. Perhaps turned in the loose beskar he carried for a new piece, allowing the remnants to be reforged and passed down to the foundlings. But with the circumstances, he knew he needed that repair sooner over later. And he knew Sushi would be the one to trust. A helmeted head rose, gaze curious as it fell on the woman.
"Haven't given me a reason to be."
While the statement had perhaps come out flatter than intended, there was a genuineness behind his words. A mutual respect that showed in the way he'd slowly nodded his head, both as an affirmation of his statement and an approval of the repair job. He simply began to piece the armor back on himself.
"I know you are capable in combat, and I know stepping out of line with you would be a bad decision." A smile formed in his words as he spoke his praise, head tilting a bit as his attention returned. "If anything, that's admirable. I know the others would believe so."
#(interaction)#(m: din djarin)#(v; ashes to stardust)#(s: din djarin / idra talretok)#vendettavalor#( he respects and admires her so much bro )
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@tacticalvalor said: Paz had his suspicions, but seeing the face of the Mandalorian his compatriot had brought to aid them…
It brought a sour taste to his mouth. One that has lasted generations.
He sized Bo-Katan up as she'd ended her discussion with the armorer, and bit his tongue only until she had gotten close enough to pass. Then he stepped, blocking her exit.
"Apostate is a generous term for you, Kryze. Consider yourself lucky, being at the mercy of Djarin and the armorer."
A thinly veiled threat. If he had things his way, well… He'd be the one in possession of the Darksaber, just as his ancestors would have wanted.
// because writing Paz on the dash has made me want to get him into trouble ♡
⚔️ Random Asks // ALWAYS ACCEPTING! ⚔️
“Paz Vizsla.” Bo-Katan stares him down. She remains unintimidated by him blocking her path- nor is she one to buckle under his imposing height and the assured death glare he’s shooting her through the visor of his helm.
This is the descendant of Pre Vizsla. The traitorous monster who so willingly turned the blade of their people over to an outsider and allowed him to destroy Mandalore. The weakling who killed her sister.
"You're just like your father." That's not a compliment. That forced smile that borders on the edge of polite and smug says as much, and the sharp, knowing tone of her voice only accentuates the fact. "Just as stubborn, just as proud, just as treacherous, and just as self-entitled to the point of stupidity. It's no wonder he fell so easily to an outsider. The same outsider he so easily allowed himself to be fooled into giving up Mandalore to."
Oh, she wasn't holding back. If he was going to spit on her family's name, she was going to skewer his. He wasn't there after all. He hadn't seen what Maul and his monstrous ogre of a brother did to their planet, their people. He didn't see how she stood by Vizsla up until that point, only to watch him and Satine pay the price for his shortsightedness. He didn't see how Pre practically invited the Empire to their door and led to their homeworld's ruin. But she did.
And she would not take any disrespect lying down.
"Be careful, o protector of the watch-" It goes unsaid, but her tone speaks loudly. You couldn't even protect your own child. How dare you claim to have more right to anything. "That you don't end up just like him."
#// SHE IS GOING TO KILL HIM SOMEONE HELP#ask : is this what you wanted#mutual : all of my best friends#tacticalvalor#( cm : bo katan kryze )#response : i know it gets better from here#( v : ashes and stardust )
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@vendettavices SAID:
[ games ] our muses play strip poker / sexual games with each other - Wrecker and Piper
KINKY SCENARIOS.
Wrecker was never one to shy away from a challenge, even if it were perhaps in his best interest. Case in point? Playing poker against the likes of Piper Bagley. And not just any normal game in this instance. Oh no, he was playing strip poker against the likes of Piper Bagley.
And losing horribly.
Armor piece by armor piece, the wrecking ball of a man was stripped down to his briefs, now sat only one more loss away from total exposure. Piper, on the other hand, confidently sat nearly dressed. Nearly, beause she had let her hand slip and took the opportunity to remove her shirt. To fluster her companion even further by proudly showcasing her chest, and accentuating the movement that followed each of her own. Suddenly, those briefs of his began to feel tighter. Heavy heart began pounding, both in arousal and anticipation as mismatched eyes looked over the cards in his hand.
Oh no. He lost.
"Ahh, you knew you were gonna win." Dejected, but spoken with a lighthearted enthusiasm.
He harbored no hard feelings, even if he was a little cranky with himself for not being able to pick up the game's rules in their entirety after so many rounds.
"Guilty as charged." The merc mused, a low purr accompanying her words as her own mismatched gaze trailed over the broad figure sat before her. "You even wearin' something, love?"
A suprisingly timid nod. The slow standing to reveal the briefs clinging to his form, especially now that an odd heat began to creep up his spine. A curious mixture of embarrassment and arousal developing under the focused inspection. He felt he should cover himself, but at the same time... didn't. Felt some sort of pride in the way Piper squirmed in her seat at the sight.
Felt a very pointed curiosity as she mumbled something about 'helping him with that', and as she replaced her position in the chair with one at his feet, knees tucked neatly beneath her legs as deft hands made quick work of the remaining garment. Lips soon followed the movement of her hands, opting to press almost doting kisses to the length of his erection before guiding the tip against her tongue. A strong hand found itself entangled in her hair, hips barely able to resist the urge to buck against her. To thrust the thick member further into her mouth, sliding against her tongue as drool spilled out past puffy lips. She encouraged it the best she could from her position, lightly scratching at his thighs whilst moaning and bobbing her head in rhythm with the needy thrusts. And it wasn't long before Wrecker gave one final push, fingers lightly tugging on the hair surrounding them as he'd spilled, flooding Piper's mouth with the taste of him and watching as long strands of cum and drool connected them as he'd pulled back.
What a sight it was.
#(interaction)#(m: wrecker)#(s: wrecker / piper bagley)#(v; ashes to stardust)#(usfw)#(cw: kink)#vendettavices
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@maximuses said: “ in my arms. “ -> obi wan and tavs ♡
⚔️ Gentle Hugs Meme // ACCEPTING ⚔️
Some days were better than others.
That was the motto Octavia had chosen to live by. 400 years of existence had taught her a great deal about how to approach the general hardships of everyday existence. And the fact of the matter was, not every day was good. But not every day was bad either. Some were just better than others, especially given her own situation.
And today was one of those days where it could be better.
She was tired. Very tired. A kind of bone-deep exhaustion that made keeping her eyes open and focused difficult and had her swaying on her feet. Hunger gnawed at her, but rolling nausea kept her limited to little more than her usual green tea sans ginger or honey. The gentle pattering of the rain outside provided a lulling ambiance perfect for rest - something she could not have now. And she was too tired to even feel frustrated over it.
Shuffling into the living room of her small studio in the city, she noticed her partner looking up from the latest book she'd brought him from the library. He knew so little about this world, but he was eager and willing to familiarize himself with it and its unique wonders that differed from his own galaxy's. One thing he could count on though - books held knowledge no matter where you went. Once he'd started reading, he was difficult to stop. But the shift of her aura as she entered the space drew his gaze up to her. He glanced over her weak and weary shape, noting how she leaned on the couch for support. Wordlessly, he bookmarked his page and set his latest fixation aside to usher her over with open arms.
A weak smile played on the Myth's lips as she stumbled over, slowly settling into the Jedi's lap and curling against him with a deep sigh. The familiar scents of mahogany smoke and oak moss that clung to his robes soothed her senses as he brought his arms around her in a gentle yet secure embrace. There was no thought or protest that came from her mind as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck and obeyed the simple command he gave her.
"Rest."
#ask : is this what you wanted#mutual : all of my best friends#maximuses#dynamic : i still got a whole lotta love for you#[ obi wan kenobi x octavia abara tbt. ]#( v : ashes and stardust )#( ocm : octavia abara / the eclipse project )
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Francis in Russia for the playlist ask please!
This was actually astonishingly fun, and much easier than I expected, because there are so few Russian bands from the time whose lyrics I can find in English and whose music I'm happy to stream right now. Despite that, I'm probably going to have to have a daily listen to Go_A just to balance it all out.
Feared before God and the Devil
A band AU playlist for hiding your feelings behind the Iron Curtain
Falco - Einzelhaft [solitary confinement]
Boney M. - Rasputin
Mark Bernes - Журавли [zuravli/cranes]
Steve Miller Band - Abracadabra
Mashina Vremeni - В добрый час [v dobryi chas/good luck]
Dschinghis Khan - Moskau
Kino - Ночь [noch/night]
Eurythmics - Sexcrime (1984)
Akvarium - Пепел [pepel/ashes]
Strannye Igry - Metamorfozi [metamorphoses]
Kino - Растопите снег [rastopite sneg/falling snow]
Akvarium - Танцы на грани весны (tantsy na grani vesny/dancing on the verge of spring)
Mashina Vremeni - Пока горит свеча [poka gorit svecha/while the candle is lit]
Kino - Проснись [prosnis'/passers-by]
Akvarium - Рок-н-ролл мертв [rok n roll mertv/rock and roll is dead]
Joanna Stingray - Love is No Joke
Bauhaus - Ziggy Stardust
Eurythmics - Greetings from a Dead Man
Pentangle - Lord Franklin
Comments below the cut, as usual!
Apparently Abracadabra was a huge disco hit in Russia. Same with Rasputin and Moskau, so...I’m hardly going to leave the bangers off the playlist! I snuck Falco on as a kind of bridge to the Russian stuff, and because the lyrics fit so well.
The Mark Bernes song was the last one he recorded - he was a beloved Soviet celebrity of Jewish ancestry, and ‘Cranes’ was recorded when he knew he was dying. Kino, Akvarium and Strannye Igry are all underground rock groups from the ‘80s (all from the Leningrad scene) whose music was smuggled out by Joanna Stingray and released on the compilation ‘Red Wave’, which came out after Francis gets back from Russia, but opens the door to these artists being able to use official recording studios and play officially sanctioned venues. Mashina Vremeni are a Moscow band formed at the same time.
Purely by chance, I find that the Kino song I put on Francis’ pining playlist was actually recorded in English by Joanna Stingray in the late ‘80s. So I put her version on here, and I am considering the potential, as a parallel to the ‘yunitsa’ nickname, of Philippa not understanding the original lyrics very well and then being blindsided when she gets hold of the Joanna Stingray version.
Eurythmics’ 1984 themed album is there for the air of menace, for Francis and his band being followed everywhere by KGB agents including Ivan and his documentary crew. Bauhaus bring a gothy ‘80s vibe to Ziggy, and probably encapsulate the way the world sees Francis and his constantly changing array of backing musicians. And Lord Franklin for being sad and near-death in cold places far from loved ones/kind of a Willoughby reference though I haven’t yet figured out what his parallel is in the AU.
The photos are from a Russian digital archive. The musicians is an untitled photo by L. Zhaleiko, and the child and dog is ‘friends’ by Valerie Shustov.
1) '[On cold channels, the illusion of free choice / Doors of steel locking out time / Pink-orange filters, chemistry is enlightening you / If you're not capable of living, you're gonna die, too / Your guilt will never be forgiven]'
2) 'He ruled the Russian land and never mind the Tsar / But the kazachok, he danced really wunderbar / In all affairs of state, he was the man to please'
3) '[A day will come I'll join the cranes in flying / In their flock through evening glaucous haze / From high above I will be sadly crying / For all I knew and loved in those days]'
4) 'I heat up / I can't cool down / My situation goes 'round and 'round'
5) '[Let it be like the thread was never tightened / Not worth running, not worth staying back / It's been like this forever- easy to speak,
Harder to play out, especially to sing]'
6) '[Moscow / Foreign and mysterious / Towers of red and gold / As cold as ice / Moscow / Who really knows you / knows a fire burns / in you so hot']
7) '[Well, but I've always loved the night. / And it's my business - to love the night, / And it's my right - into the shadow to go away.']
8) 'And so I face the wall / Turn my back against it all / How I wish I'd been unborn / Wish I wasn't living here.'
9) '[My efficiency increases with each passing day; / I love my walls, I call them "home". / I receive signals from different sides; / I sleep and see ashes in my dream.]'
10) '[I thought that the crying was laughter, / I confused the darkness for light, / Confused death for life / And myself - for someone else!']
11) '[I cannot live without her anymore. / Help me, / Please, help me... / I cannot live without warmth anymore, / Help me, / I’m begging, help me...']
12) '[I could write an epic story, / But why would I risk loosing my camouflage? / I could take a canvas and a brush. / But it ain't gonna change anything.']
13) '[there are some days when you lose your heart / and there're no words, no music, and no strength left. / on days like these i was away from myself / and never asked anyone for help.']
14) '[Every day you get back home when it's already dark / Every day you travel in subway when it's already dark / As for her, she lives in the centre of all cities / You want to to have her near you / But you've got to travel home 'cause it's already dark.']
15) '[Elbow to elbow, a brick in the wall; / We stood too proud, we paid triple the toll. / For those who have waited, for those who have marched, / For those who will never forgive us that.']
16) 'When the night's standing still / I can hear you play your guitar / But the tune, it seems so far / I took time to drink Slèzá / Your floor is my ceiling / So near but sometime away / But my beats with no delay / Alone in Russia, price I’ll have to pay.'
17) 'So where were the Spiders / While the flies tried to break our balls? / Just the beer light to guide us / So we bitched about his fans / And should we crush his sweet hands, oh...'
18) [instrumental]
19) 'With a hundred seamen he sailed away / To the frozen ocean in the month of May / To seek a passage all around the pole / Where we poor seamen do sometimes go...'
#band au: ringed castle#character: francis crawford#playlists: period appropriate#really proud of this tbh
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Bat Minute of The Phantasm - Minute 40: The Abe V Club (with Alex Robinson)
The Joker shoves Valestra down into his chair. Not out of anger, oh no… he just wants to know what’s on his mind! Of course...
Sal reveals why he’s here - it’s all about The Bat. First he whacked Chuckie Sol, then Buzz and now he’s after Valestra. Guano Man, really?
Sal has a fair point for him too - once The Bat gets done with him, surely he’ll go for The Joker next... and his hands are just as doity!
The next episode follows on Wednesday.
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The Bat Minute theme song is by the band Rat Bit Kit and Ash Lerczak (aka Doc Horror) of Zombina & The Skeletones and Double Echo.
Today's guest:
Somebody has to save our skins - joining this investigation, from stars afar, is our Grand Moff, our Deck Officer, our Godfather and Stardust. He's the Maker himself - it's Alex Robinson! Alex has managed to pull himself away from the lure of blowing his fortune in Canto Bight in order to bring a safe and secure society to Gotham once and for all! He's been in this fight since he was six years old and he sure ain't stopping now!
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