#i want to hold him so gently

[royal-songbird]

girl help i made myself sad while specifically writing about sad things. who couldve ever seen this happen

[chaosinterlude]

“lucifer is sadistic and mean!! he’s so serious and scary!!”

meanwhile,

he’s just a silly man who wishes for a domestic life with his partner and dog <3

[casualavocados]

I asked myself why I failed to notice. It was the first time we'd been apart that long. I found the birthday gifts you prepared for me in my room, from my 18th to my 21st. ...Shut up. I started to think about what you were doing back then. Were you celebrating my birthday all by yourself?

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 12

[mar1omar1a]

Man he looks just like his mom

[kaeyx]

Thinking about Beastzai sleeping next to you... You're tied up tight, blindfolded and maybe gagged, and he's spooning you from behind with his face buried in the back of your neck. Whenever you struggle he just grinds against your ass and gropes your hip and thigh, maybe even cupping your pussy. He's not trying to fuck you, just enjoying your body and how close you are to him, enjoying how deeply you belong to him and can't do anything about it. Maybe if you behave extra well he fucks you full of cum and slips a dildo into you, taping your cunt shut so nothing escapes while you sleep and you have something to clench around. Beastzai could even get you a little vibrator, keeping the remote in his hand while he kisses and bites your neck and shoulders, keeping it on a low buzz to tease you while he has his fun. That way you can't do anything stupid and he can enjoy your body, plus it helps you associate his presence, being restrained, and pleasure!

[snivel1]

Sweet little Kinininonito...

[mspaintbladie]

smol + sesame (from new merch)

[oldkamelle]

Still accepting Ideas? If so, Spy asking advice on Sniper on how to tell Scout that he is his dad.

[plinko-soup]

SINCE PPL REALLY LIKE MY CARY POST... i never finished this but its ANCIENT now. So i'll roll him out of my WIPs i think. I was going to finish this after my first cary drawing but I just lost motivation... Sorry Cary... maybe I'll draw you again soon <3

[eru-iru]

i want this fvcker in this cape so bad

[tatretot]

i see ur botw AUs and i raise u… ww AU 🌊⛵💨

[romance-rambles]

spirit world alkaid | the one i can hold

How were you to know the answer you gave him that night would take on a different meaning in the future?

1.3k, heavy(!!) route spoilers, fluff and angst, reader is mc, series: as the months go by

YOU MUST BE IN THE middle of a dream.

Two Alkaids watch you, lovely green eyes glimmering with faint amusement and concern. Neither of them have deigned to answer your question, and isn't that how most of your dreams go?

You've never had one like this before though...

The smile on his face inspires your thoughts to go down an entirely unhelpful route. This was the reason you'd been drinking in the first place. After all, you have a home to return to and the people who care about you are probably worried.

In the exact same way you'd been fretting over the Alkaid—Alkaids?—in front of you. He'd been gone for most of the day, busy with important currently-not-a-Spirit-Lord matters, and—wait.

Where was the second Alkaid hiding this entire time?

A frown tugs at your lips. You're not sure if you like this dream...

"Well then, which one do you like better?" the Alkaids ask, cutting through your thoughts.

They tilt their heads in curiosity, as if the answer isn't obvious. You don't even have to ponder the question. Alkaid is Alkaid, and the second Alkaid is Alkaid too.

The answer is both, obviously.

And, as it turns out, alcohol has ridden you of your weakness. Neither your hesitation, nor your embarrassment are available to talk you down from whatever it is you intend to do to hammer that message in.

You stumble out of the porch swing he'd crafted for you, in the same way he'd once crafted—or, rather, will craft in the future—a canopied hammock, jug still in one hand and your other one aiming for one of the Alkaid's hands.

It passes through his blurry image with ease.

As you blink at your hand, confused gaze tracing the lines on your palm, a scowl begins to form on your lips. Frustration begins to build, leaving your brain to feel as though it's being squeezed behind your forehead.

Once more, you reach for his hand.

Once more, the same Alkaid does not allow you to hold it.

Instead, they both chuckle softly. No matter how many times he invokes his spell, you can't see yourself ever not falling for it—hook, line, and sinker. Your indignation is now no more than a faint memory; and what's left of it is overwhelmed by the longing and desire that, all this time, you've been too afraid to put a name on.

Somehow, you are no longer afraid.

Lips parting, you watch him—both of them—reach out his hand.

This time, you can clearly feel his warmth. He laces his fingers together with yours and gently squeezes your hand. You return the favor, wondering if it's enough to make him understand—love is its name, and it leaves your heart beating loudly only for him.

Oh, you realize, he's real.

"Well?" he whispers, his gaze tender and loving.

Your gaze drops down to his soft lips, almost instinctively. It's infectious—his smile. Perhaps some of your self-restraint remains; you don't indulge in the first thought that pops into your mind. The lingering bruise on your pride, you think, probably plays a part in that too.

As your lips curl into its mirror image, you look back into his tranquil green eyes instead. The other Alkaid remains, still visible in the corners of your alcohol-fueled vision. He watches you rethink your decision with that same smile.

It irks you enough that any pain you derive from not choosing him transforms into self-satisfaction.

"The one...I can hold," you declare, pressing your forehead against Alkaid's. The tangible one, whose eyes widen slightly at your actions. "That's...the one I like."

You have your other arm thrown over his shoulder. If the jug of win in your hand bothers him, he doesn't mention it. Rather, it is only when your hand finds a comfortable place to rest and the jug stops bumping into his back that he inhales sharply.

That one, you fear, is on him. His skin feels much cooler than your hand, your tight grip on the jug's handle having left it warmer than usual. It's a first—usually, the opposite tends to hold true.

"Your hand's warm," he says, closing his eyes. "I wonder...does this mean you don't need me to warm it up anymore?"

"No!"

You pull away, distraught. The jug of wine bumps into his shoulder. In your rush to chide him for playing with your feelings, you miss the reddish hue his antlers have taken on.

Alkaid chuckles warmly, transferring some of his warmth to your hand before he allows you to fully slip away. "Alright, I'm sorry."

He says your name adoringly, in the way you've heard lovers speak of each other. The hint of mischief in his gaze as he pleads innocently for your forgiveness should have you turning your nose up at him.

"Will you forgive me?" he asks, watching you cross your arms.

You both know what the answer to that is. Still, you keep your silence.

On a nearby tree, some of the light pink flowers transform into a bright red fruit. At Alkaid's silent command, a vine reaches out and carefully plucks out an apple. But instead of offering it to you, it leaves the fruit in Alkaid's waiting hand.

"I'm sure you haven't had anything to eat." He offers you the fruit, stifling a laugh at your miffed expression. "For you. Please?"

"I haven't...forgiven you yet." Despite your words, you still take a bite of the apple. It's sweet, though you find its taste difficult to savor when the man in front of you is much sweeter. "But since...you said please..."

His softly smiling expression doesn't change at your words. You find its much harder to tease him these days—especially when his blunt but earnest tendencies tend to put you on the losing side.

"I'm afraid that leaves me with a problem," he says. "I don't want the woman—the woman I care about to be mad at me."

You consider his words for a moment. Not the content, but the way he stumbled over his words, changing course to an entirely different phrase. There are only so many phrases that can be said with that same intensity—like a secret confession, hidden amongst the most ordinary of words.

You want to tell him that the woman I love has a better ring to it. You want to tell him you'll stay—for him. For them.

"I can...think of something," you whisper, tightening your grasp on the once bitten apple. "Stay with me...forever."

And I'll stay with you.

Surprise blooms across his expression. Along with it comes the scarlet hue that colors his cheeks, the one you never seem to be able to mimic in your paintings. He reaches out and caresses your hair.

Your disappointment at his perceived cowardice is brief and easily brushed away.

"I will." Alkaid vows softly.

You believe him.

YOU MUST BE IN THE middle of a dream.

Alkaid watches you from the steps on the porch, lovely green eyes glimmering with sadness. Adorning one of his antlers is starlight given a mortal form, the very same flower from which you'd attempted to make a garland for him. His smile betrays nothing of the fact that he broke his promise.

He says your name and then—

"You like that porch swing a lot. I'm glad."

This is how a lot of your dreams start out these days.

You tighten your grip on the vines that hold up your porch swing. By now, you've given up on any pleasantries—and on shooing him away, or walking away yourself. He always comes back the next day. He always wears that flower.

You are always sitting here, even though you've long since moved back to the world you once called home. The heart wants what the heart wants, doesn't it?

And though you can no longer hold him, your heart still only wants him.

"Stay with me," you say, as always, your voice just barely above a whisper.

And, as he always does, Alkaid vows softly, "I will."

You've long since stopped believing him.

[gasstationpopcorn]

[astranauticus]

stultifera navis rerun AKA thinking about Iberia hours again because a lot of the Iberians have such fascinating relationships with the concept of home but specifically Thorns and Lumen are eating at my brain. like where do you call home when the place that is your home Just Fucking Hates You? Elysium's rewinding breeze specifically makes a point to hammers home how differently Iberia treats its Liberi and its Aegir

(which is especially interesting since this comes right after a conversation where Purestream commented on how despite Leizi being a high ranking government official, there are still some experiences that are universal for all Yanese people - because the experience of what Iberia itself is like isnt universal for all Iberians)

But all that being said, Thorns also straight up states that Aegir is not his home, and yeah, how could it be? How could a place you've never been to, never truly known, ever be your home? How could it ever feel like a home?

so where do you go when the place that you are from hates your people and the place your people are from is completely unfamiliar and alien to you? Thorns' answer at the end of the conversation with Aya is: my home is where i chose it to be. my home is where there are people I care about and people who care about me

in the complete opposite direction, Lumen's oprec asks: why do you still stay in a place that wants you gone? because the people of Gran Faro like Jordi well enough but when push comes to shove, they will want the only Aegir in town gone

and yet, when Rald the messenger offers him a chance to leave Jordi turns him down and when he's forced to escape Gran Faro after the people there literally try to send him to his death (or worse) at the hands of the Inquisitors he keeps trying to go back because like everyone in stultifera navis, Jordi is clinging to his own dreams of a golden age

but the shape of that dream is unique to every character and for Jordi, his dreams are deeply, inseparably bound to the Eye of Iberia, the legacy his parents left behind

and it's this dream of becoming someone great, of bringing about that golden age that his parents devoted their lives to help create that ties Jordi to this nothing town because despite everything, despite the mistrust of the townsfolk and the hostility of the Inquisition and the danger from the ocean, he simply cannot leave it behind

(or, because i personally dislike the official translation,)

"I just see this place as my home"

so yeah. not sure what overall point i was trying to make here i'm just. deeply in love with these stories about chosing what is and isn't your home, of saying you will not call a place your home because it has given you no reason to or saying you consider a place your home even though it has given you every reason not to. deeply unwell about them <3

[ghostthostt]

astarion & virtue. more of them

[tricoufamily]

yeah hugo Never liked being around jacques as a kid even before his mom died and before he even really knew why. always hated it when he had to hug him, wanted him to stay longer on his business trips, bristled and got angry every time he heard jacques's childhood nickname for him that he hated ("bush baby"). his mom just kinda didn't register any of this and thought everything is fine hugo is just very very clingy and the nickname is cute surely he's not actually upset over it and