#it's nonsensical and impossible to explain rip

[buildbuymode]

don's bachelor party was just him + his (technically platonic -- they have a history but it's strictly a former friends with benefits situation these days) bestie nina hanging out + freakin' out just a little about the fact that he's about to be ultra tied down. it's just cold feet for don, but nina is a little less here for the monogamy thing, and a lot less here for the marriage thing.

[boxturret]

Bionicle 2: Mysteries of Metru Nui

There are many, many parts of B2 that don't really stand up to scrutiny, but one of the most odd was Vakama's reaction to one of his earlier visions. Its at 14 minutes in if this video also at some point gets scrubbed from the internet in the ongoing censorship campaign.

UPDATE: The youtube upload of TLOMN that was referenced here has seemingly been removed since this post was written.

Vakama says that "[He] saw it, Metru-Nui was destroyed!" but even as a child I was confused by this statement, as the images shown in the vison the city looked fine, just a bit....purple.

There have long been rumors that this was a hasty, last minute edit, that originally the destruction was more explicitly depicted.

Someone that claims to have in their possession the movie contacted me recently about their experience trying to release it.

I don't know how I got my hands on the DVD, its just been something I had around all my childhood. I don't know if someone my family knew were affiliated with Bionicle, or Creative Capers, if I had known I would have bragged about it constantly LOL. So for my childhood this WAS Legends of Metru Nui for me, it wasn't until adulthood, and me getting back in to the Bionicle fan communities during COVID that I came across the version uploaded youtube and Biomedia Project. [...] So when I had the chance to go back to my parents a few months later I was able to dig out the old DVD I watched back then and ripped it. So as a joke, last BIO Day I thought I'd upload the movie in full to see if anyone would notice the change. [...] Then a few months ago I get an email from youtube that the video was copyright claimed by Lego and it had been taken down, I was really shocked.

He was kind enough to send me a copy of the email, and its genuine.

His youtube account was heavily penalised, and as the account has a lot of important things uploaded to it he didn't wish to risk it by trying again.

He sent me a phone video of the scene in question as proof.

As you can see, instead of simply being covered in a purple fog, the coliseum itself is exploding and collapsing.

The quality is poor, and the audio nearly impossible to make out, but if you compare it to the released version, the explosion might even still be in the final sound mix, just obfuscated to be the sound of a thunder clap.

Now, why was this hasty edit made? Most theories point to 9/11.

The September 11th terrorist attacks on the World Trade center in 2001 was very shocking and traumatised much of the united states of america. Some things released closer to the time were hastily edited to remove any imagery that might call back to it, for one Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty had a whole sequence from the ending where the giant Arsenal Gear crashed though much of Manhattan stopping just short of the Twin Towers cut at the last moment.

Now you may ask, "MGS2 came out in 2001, but B2 was 2004 why was it still censored" but that's simple, 9/11 left deep scars in the us psyche, even 2002's Lord of the Rings the Two Towers was heavily criticised in some circles for the sensational name trying to cash in on the tragedy, even though the book it was based on was nearly 60 years old. So its not outside of the realm of possibility that even in 2004 a piece of children's media featuring such a scene would be deemed in bad taste.

Even today, the long dead Bionicle fan site Bionicle Zone Power reactivates once a year to pay respects to the tragedy.

Now as to why TLG or someone at least posing as them would be so fanatical and judicious about this version of the film being released to the public, that's anyone's guess.

So that is the story of the weird scene in Bionicle 2: The Legend of Metru Nui. If only all of the nonsensical scenes in that film could be so thoroughly explained.

[14dyh]

17 from the new list? hange getting rejected

Get Over Her | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x gn!reader Summary: You helped Hange get over their rejection. Word count: 1.0k A/N: sorry anon i can't write about y/n themself rejecting hange so this happened :"")

It would have been impossible for you to miss it when Hange acts strangely– even for themselves. Being roommates for over a year, you've known how they take their coffee differently in the morning, never miss checking on Science Daily to tell you something fascinating, or how their footsteps sound when they're trying not to wake you up at night. 

You know Hange. 

Their pain wouldn't pass over your eyes and the way they ruminate in an excruciating manner that you're starting to feel the headache for them. It began with the rejection that happened weeks ago. Hange just came home, throwing over the flowers they failed to give in an empty bin and refused to say anything other than they got rejected, that's all, just kinda unfortunate this time, right? You knew better and recognized right away how the rejection slowly deteriorates them from the inside, even if they're trying to laugh it off by dousing those flowers with an organic-based chemical that speeds up the composting process (as Hange happily announced to you). At some point, you had to try and rip them away from that cruel cycle of never admitting their pain. Sometimes you would spend hours in the arcade, pull them along the quiet garden on the riverside to watch ducks, or watch plays and movies until you both pass out on the couch. From those moments, you managed to glimpse the sparkle in their eyes again which they lost a day later after seeing her. 

You want to shake Hange into reality and yell at them to get over her. But how can you manage to do such a thing when she looks like everything Hange had hoped for? 

She would pass by the hallway and everyone's attention would be stirred. Her grace and fragrance, or how she managed to stand out like a fascinating flower among a field of others. She was what Hange hoped to be the perfect opposite of their ideal paradox. But now they couldn't stand or act like themself whenever in the same room as her or not until they decided to space out and let their ideas absorb them. There were times that they would remain silent in school, but you knew that the sound of their thoughts was getting louder and louder to bear.

You were both in your dorm, studying in the dead of the night when they asked, "Hey Y/N? Do I sound annoying?" And it sounded more like a question out of curiosity than self-deprecation. 

"Well, not really..." you responded. 

"Not really? What does that mean?"

"I mean, why would you ask me? If ever you're annoying, I'll be the first one to get used to it so don't think I would mind that anymore,” you explained, sitting up from your bed as you tried to meet their eyes. Hange’s gaze remained far away. 

"So maybe I do sound annoying..." they pondered loudly before turning to you and continuing. "Was it my voice?"

Hange continued on and on, asking and piecing together information on that topic.

And you were getting tired and hurt from the inside as they thought that maybe their voice was annoying, or their humor, or their hobbies. You nudged their swivel chair with your foot. 

"Hey, stop that now. Why don't we go out? Maybe a midnight stroll or a snack. Anything to stop you from that nonsense."

You pulled them out of those thoughts again, taking the streets at midnight to walk around and get something to eat. To talk about anything else other than their rejection because you know it would make them break. The night faded into a deep dark blue and it was 2 AM. You forgot how you both ended up on the couch, drinking away your thoughts as Hange laid their head on your shoulder. They rambled on about funny anecdotes and fascinating theories that would concern anyone, and then they quieted for a moment before saying, "You know... I grew the flowers I wanted to give to her."

Hange only smiled before finally turning to you, "Heh, I like the sound of that."

They said in a quiet voice as though raising it any higher would cause them to break down. 

Then they chuckled before saying, "Those flowers were a cross-hybrid. And when I showed her, she said it looked like a weird sack of balls and I said noooo, it wasn't quite like that. It's supposed to symbolize how the sun dips on the fabric of space..."

They went on drunkenly, arms around you now as they leaned closer as if any attempt they would make to move away would result in great discomfort.

"And I thought it was a cute metaphor to relate her to the sun but... she only laughed at me. Not in a way you would laugh in amusement with my ideas. Somehow, it sounded mocking."

And that hurt, Hange's voice broke, prompting the sobs that came after. 

You held them close, a portion of your heart aching as someone made them feel ashamed of all the things you love about them. What angered you the most was that the girl never rejected them outright, maybe to keep Hange in a way to use them or entertain herself. You don't deserve any of that, your mind protested. You thought of Hange as everything wonderful that happened in this world, as all the poetry and love in your heart screamed. 

"I made a mistake... And I'm correcting that..." they muttered on your shoulder, on the verge of falling asleep. They held you tighter, their tears dripping down your shirt before they relaxed on your body. For a moment, you tried to make sense of their words, maybe they regretted falling for that girl after all and realized how much they didn’t deserve such treatment. 

As they drifted to slumber, still clung to you, your eyes found the small plant growing on Hange’s table that reminded you of the nebula you always talk about with them.

[ekrochford]

Maul x femreader NSFW self-insert fanfic (part 8/10)

[I'm reeeeeally beginning to think this is going to be longer than 10 chapters. Might need just one more.]

Part 8

You suspect it’s a dream this time, but that doesn’t soften the cold bite. It’s more than desert chill. Your dream self gets right out of bed on steady legs, stubbornly pulling you forward to the center of this sinister miasma, this phantom anger.

Something there… something that a small spark inside of you insists you have to see.

You’re standing over the pulsating rage tucked between Maul’s cloak, and from the eerie, liminal light emerges another color. Red.

It’s a lightsaber.

You stare at it, numbly unbothered in your dream. Only Jedi carry lightsabers. Maul isn’t a Jedi, is he? Why would he have this? The spark of the Force in your veins has never, ever compelled you so strongly. Almost against your will, it wanted you to see this. His lightsaber.

And within its metal heart… not blue or green, like the other Jedi. Red.

---

Dammit you want these visions to stop.

You lunge up out of bed, clutching the sheets up like some kind of shield. Something between you and the folded bundle of Maul’s cloak, lying less than three meters away, looking just as it had in yet another bone-chilling Force dream. You stare—your eyes are so wide, tears prickle the corners. Is it your imagination, or can you see the shape beneath the folds of cloth?

Claws rake gently up your flank, and you flinch. You rip your gaze from the bundle and look down.

Maul is lying next to you. His pale gold eyes are open and still. They catch the weak lamplight; outside, the lavender desert dusk has ended and the world is dark. You see his eyes flicker once—fast as a blink—following your stare to his cloak across the room.

“Dreaming?” he murmurs. It doesn’t really sound like a question.

You swallow and nod your head. The energy between you has changed. Hardened, thinned. The air feels brittle now, as if the wrong word could shatter it. Part of you wants to bolt from the room; another part scoffs at this overreaction.

A tiny part is afraid that Maul would prevent you from leaving.

With a deep breath to calm your heart (still clanging like an iron bell), you recline back into bed and bully your limbs into relaxing.

“Yes, something bizarre. Weird dream nonsense.”

“Hmm.” Maul has hardly blinked. The way he stares at you, you’re sure he’s about to ask what your dream was about. You grope around your imagination for something fake and harmless, some inane series of events that could reasonably explain your terrified reaction.

But Maul doesn’t ask. After another minute of watching you, gazing across the pillows with his unblinkingly yellow stare, he makes a low sound in his throat and pulls you into his arms.

You don’t fight it, but you hold your breath. It’s impossible to ignore the power in his body, from his corded arms wrapped around you, to the slab muscle of his torso, to his thick legs twisting with yours. It’s such a subtle reminder, you can’t be sure whether it’s intentional: he overpowers you, period. No contest.

He folds you in against him and nuzzles a searing kiss against your neck, under your jaw. And just like that, you’re no longer pretending to relax into his embrace. The tension in your body softens like wax. His mouth on your skin shuts off your thoughts like the flip of a switch, leaving your mind in luxurious, velvet silence.

Maul rolls over top of you, still running his lips over your skin. Without interruption, he turns you over onto your stomach so that his mouth can glide over your shoulder-blades and spine. His large hands take the place of his mouth, and he gives your trap muscles a slow, wringing squeeze.

The last of the lingering knots in your shoulders unravel. Maul squeezes again, and a sigh from the very bottom of your lungs wheezes out. He’s heavy, straddling your butt; you know he isn’t resting his weight on you, but his mass hovers over your back. You can feel him there, even with your eyes closed. An emptiness.

You frown. You don’t sense the Force in people, not often. Only in the ones that are very strong. A Jedi, for example, interrupts the air like a strong current, pulsing gently between the ambient flow of regular beings. You just don’t have the sensitivity to look closely at most of it; like microscopic organisms under low magnification, you can only detect the most obvious, the most jarring.

In the ambient current, Maul is a vacancy. A yawning blank space.

He squeezes your shoulders again and rubs his thumbs in a hard line up the sides of your neck. In fact, his fingers are very close to settling around your throat, even as he massages the muscles at the base of your skull.

“You are… a little Force sensitive, are you not?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you look back at him, but he’s too far in your periphery to see his expression in the dim light.

“I… yes, a little.”

“I would think that the Jedi would have… collected you.”

A shiver trills down your spine at the way he says that word. Jedi. His casual tone slanted just a little; he spoke the word like it was bitter to the taste. Like many who lived outside the law, Maul had no love of the Jedi. Not a surprise.

“They are involved in your University, are they not?”

“Yes, and no. The Jedi are involved in many projects, and I know they accompany some field researchers—some Jedi are conducting research of their own and utilize University resources, but that’s a long-standing agreement, all the way back to Chancellor Soh’s time…”

You trail off. Maul’s claws are tracing up your scalp from the base of your skull, gently scraping through your hair. Your skin feels like it’s shrunk a size as every hair on your body stands on end. He scrapes his claws back down, and your breath rattles out. You’d forgotten to breathe. Back up through your hair… then back down again.

“And they never tried to take you?”

“Um…” His fingertips disappear from your scalp, which seems to switch the power back on between your brain and your mouth. “I… I’m barely sensitive at all. Most kids—they start moving things or controlling animals or…” Maul’s hands press down your spine and you forget what you were about to say.

“I—I only hear things—memories—from old objects.” You groan as Maul presses against your thoracic spine, just behind your lungs.

“Breathe in,” he murmurs.

You take a breath in, and your ribcage expands outward.

“More. Deeper.”

You drag in all the air your lungs will hold and your back pops under the pressure of Maul’s palms. You close your eyes with a moan.

“I would have thought they would have snatched you up anyway,” he mutters.

Distantly, you think of the first time you saw him across the cantina. He’d looked back at you, come across the bar at you…

I apologize for the intrusion. I thought you were someone else.

He couldn’t possibly have thought you were a Jedi?

“Ma had no idea anything unusual was happening,” you continue softly. “She just thought I was playing pretend. And then, when I was a teenager, I felt like it was some kind of… I don’t know�� big grown-up secret.” You snort out a laugh. “Stupid.”

“It’s just as well.” Maul inches down your back until he’s working at the muscles of your lumbar spine. He doesn’t elaborate, just goes on massaging.

He reaches your glutes, and his hands only press harder and slower. But he’s not erect—you can’t feel him hard against you. If he’s not thinking about sex… what is he thinking about?

You lie there and consider how things must seem to him. “I don’t know any Jedi. Not very well, at least,” you venture. No response from Maul. “I don’t report to them, not even through the University. You don’t have to worry that I’ll… tell anyone about you.”

Where he’s straddling your legs, Maul goes very still.

“I am not afraid of Jedi.”

His tone sends a spike of fear bolting through your chest.

A second later, he’s warm again, turning you over by the legs. He holds one ankle and kisses it, eyeing you with a small and secret smile. He moves up your calf to your knee, up your thigh, by which time your trembling has changed from fear to something quite different.

“We should be careful not to disturb the neighbors with too much noise.”

He leans up and covers your mouth with his. One hand glides five clawed fingers back through your hair until he’s got a fistful of it, and then his kiss is quite inescapable. Even if you could remember why you should.

You realize he’s grown hard again about the time you realize that he’s squared himself between your legs.

“One more,” he whispers between your lips. “Just one.”

You don’t have time to answer before he’s pumping it into you, an inch at a time until he’s buried to the sack inside of you. You try to cling to his arms, but he’s moved his arms down until he can hook each of your knees over an elbow. The change in angle sends your mind into a cartwheel and you end up clutching the pillow under your head like a lifeline.

“I believe you mentioned this?” Maul teases, grinding himself in and out. “I’d almost forgotten… I told you that you could have anything you wanted, and you asked for this specifically…”

“Yes…”

“Shhh… I see you won’t be able to keep your voice down,” Maul remarks, amused. “I don’t think I can trust you to stay quiet.”

There’s something beyond this statement, but how are you supposed to read subtext at a time like this? With every movement, Maul is shattering your thoughts like waves on sand. Just when you think you’ve assembled them into something like order, they break apart again…

“Yes, I can…” you try to whisper. It ends on a moan, but you think you managed alright. “I can… be quiet…”

“Let’s find out.”

With your legs pulled up this way, your every nerve already simmering and your muscles already worked and sore, the feel of him riding into you is devastating. You clamp your lips together, aware of Maul’s eyes fixed on you. He doesn’t stop and he doesn’t slow down; quite the opposite. He begins to pick up speed. You have to brace against the headboard to keep from slamming into it.

A small gasp escapes you. You bite your lip and risk a glance at Maul’s face. He heard, all right; his composure is crumbled and his eyes almost glow as they take in your face, your hands braced over your head, your breasts jumping in time.

You gulp down the moan forming in your throat. You’re sure that this has become a game, too. Maul loves to play games… loves to tease… loves to push…

Harder and faster, Maul continues and it gets more difficult to breathe, let alone resist the urge to give in. You want to moan and possibly to shout, certainly you want to tell him that you’re coming yet again, and if he wanted one more out of you, he has it.

But you don’t. Stubbornly, you grind your lips shut, meeting Maul’s eyes. He’s beyond lost composure, now; he’s gasping for breath, teeth bared in a growl of animal pleasure.

The next instant, he’s bucking hard against you, spasming in release. His groan is rough-edged, sounds like it was dragged all the way up from his toes. Maul lets your legs back down—you can hardly move them—and collapses on top of you, panting, his face lying on your breasts. His cranial horns just brush your jaw, but you can’t possibly care.

See? I told you I can be quiet. The words float to mind, but you’re burned out like a candle wick. You can only lie there under him and breathe, and that takes all the concentration you have left.

But one thought does persist: you cannot, under any circumstances, fall asleep in Maul’s room again.

[If you like it, leave a tip!

See you next chapter!]

[jomiddlemarch]

And whilst our souls negotiate there  

Chapter 6

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Theo said, flicking his robe so it billowed quite Snapeishly, a trick Theo had learnt during their third year but only started using consistently after Snape himself had died, which Draco knew was equally a matter of respect and Theo’s disgust at seeming like an acolyte, when Snape had barely given him the time of day.

“I haven’t done anything new,” Draco said, frowning. Fizzy was making them something for tea, a proper cream tea Mister Draco not a cuppa, and that rune Hermione had used in the seventh chapter was troubling him, and Theo was looking at him with something like fondness? Dismay? It was hard to tell and Draco had used up Neville’s bilberry tonic already.

“I know that. I was being facetious. You’re a wreck and the place is nearly so, except that you have an exceptionally fine House-elf, and I can’t help but wonder why?”

“I told you, there’s an Incurable case I’m working on,” Draco said.

“That explains nothing. If it’s an Incurable, why are you wasting your time? And you don’t think Hermione is Incurable, so why are you repeating that nonsense?” Theo said. He settled himself in the chair across from Draco, louche and elegant and Draco thought that’s how you could come out of a War when your family didn’t throw you to the wolves.

And also, how the hell did Theo know about Hermione?

“Harry told me, I can see your little brain spinning wildly about like one of Luna’s mechanized fluxydunnarts, but I would have known by looking at you,” Theo said. In case Draco had not understood, he gave him an exaggerated once-over, shaking his head slightly at the state of Draco’s collar and tie, collar loosened, his four-in-hand knot askew, before returning his gaze to Draco’s face. “You’ve a certain expression when you’re thinking about Hermione that I recognize from fourth year, when you realized you fancied her and she was too smart for you.”

“Salazar’s ruddy prick—”

“I know you can do better than that. Fizzy, if you could make Mister Draco some cassoulet, I can get him to eat an actual meal for once, ta,” Theo said to the House-elf, who’d just set out the cream tea. 

Draco was too tired to argue. And at least Theo hadn’t asked for bubble and squeak.

“I don’t believe she’s an Incurable but this isn’t about belief. It’s about facts,” Draco said.

“It’s about magic. And if I’m not mistaken, love and friendship and winning against impossible odds,” Theo replied. “Facts are a distant fifth.”

“Witty quips don’t reverse massive spell damage and cascading neuro-idanic collapse, Theo,” Draco replied as Theo prepared him a scone with lashings of clotted cream and raspberry jam, all wandless work, with nary a crumb gone astray. 

“I’m touched you find me witty,” Theo said. “Eat that first and then we’ll talk. Or rather, you eat and I’ll talk. I’ve some experience with massive spell damage repairs—”

“You?” Draco said, unable to manage more of a retort without getting cream on his fingers or jam on his cuffs, his mouth already full in a manner that suggested he’d been raised by Weasleys.

“Just because you haven’t kept up with my career doesn’t mean I haven’t had one. I might be genuinely hurt except that I know you’ve been grinding away at Mungo’s and barely seeing daylight since well before Harry and Nev came to you,” Theo said. He smiled broadly, which Draco first took as a sign of their long friendship until he realized the grin was directed at Fizzy, who’d arrived with a steaming tureen of cassoulet with a freshly baked baguette tucked under her scrawny arm. “Lovely work, that, Fizzy and it’ll do him a treat, I’m sure. Draco, I know what you need—”

“To gain three stone at a meal with you?”

“A Pensieve. You need as much access to Hermione as you can get and her journals and the reports from the other mediwizards won’t suffice,” Theo said, ladling out a generous portion of the fragrant stew and then ripping off a chunk of the bread.

“You know she went to Lalibela,” Draco said. “Lalibela, Theo.”

Theo had the grace to blanch before he shrugged and raised an eyebrow.

“They haven’t your animus. And Harry would never have given them everything they needed, simply because he can’t,” Theo said.

“He can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t. Hermione saw to that as well. But she didn’t think to account for you. Let alone me,” Theo said. 

“What does Harry know?” Draco said.

“It isn’t what he knows, it’s what he observed without noticing,” Theo said. “It’s not enough to use a Pensieve, we’ll have to stack Legilimency and quite frankly, he’ll struggle to allow you in. We’ll cast tandem and we can use some of Hermione’s stored memories as a filter—”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Draco said.

“Of course not. I invented it. On my way over,” Theo said. 

“Will it work?”

“By Salazar’s ruddy prick, it bloody well better,” Theo smiled. “Finish that bowl and I’ll dish up seconds. You really are in a state—you don’t want me to, how do the Muggles say it, call in the big guns—”

“You wouldn’t call my mother,” Draco said, aghast. Some things simply weren’t done and Theo should know that. Draco’s relationship with Narcissa was tenuous at best; there were myriad reasons he was not suffering the same fate as Hermione and most of them were related to the choices his parents had made for themselves and for him since before he was born.

“Silly Draco. I’d call Minerva. Andromeda. And Neville’s gran,” Theo replied.

The Big Guns indeed. Draco took an enormous bite of cassoulet and mopped the bowl, then handed it to Theo to be refilled.

“That’s a good lad,” Theo said. “You’ve got some color back or in any case, what passes for color given your complexion.”

“I thought Harry had sent you over, but it was Neville, wasn’t it?” Draco said, accepting the heaping second bowl of cassoulet. “You’ve always been a chameleon, and you sound like Neville now.”

“There are far worse things,” Theo said and took a sip of his well-sugared tea. He failed to clarify whether he meant being a chameleon or emulating Neville Longbottom which meant both and given the current state of the Wizarding world, Draco could hardly argue that Theo was wrong.

“Do you think she’s hibernating or is Hermione occupying herself with reciting Shakespeare’s sonnets from memory, do you think?” Theo asked.

“Shakespeare?”

“She’s named after a character from one of his late romances. It stands to reason she’d have memorized the entire catalog, but she’s never been good at voices, so I think she wouldn’t start with the plays. Nimue help us if she’s onto ‘Much Ado’ by the time you get to her,” Theo said.

“I just hope she hasn’t gone mad,” Draco said.

“Mad? Hermione Jean Granger?”

“She’s always had her convictions to carry her through,” Draco said. 

“And now?” Theo asked.

“She doesn’t need them. She saved her parents. She saved Harry Potter and the whole bloody world. What’s left?”

“This is why you need the Pensieve, but unlike every elder wizard in our childhood, I shan’t make you learn some lesson by withholding critical information,” Theo said. “What’s left is her curiosity.”

[famousnerdtragedy]

A Love Beyond the Shadows

Yellowstone Fanfiction with slight Supernatural

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Arrival

The first rays of dawn painted the Montana sky with hues of pink and gold as you saddled your horse by the barn. The Yellowstone Ranch was already buzzing with activity, a familiar symphony of hoofbeats and the distant calls of cattle. Today, however, there was a new element in the air, a sense of anticipation as you prepared to welcome a new ranch hand.

She arrived in a beat-up truck, its engine rumbling to a stop. As the door swung open, out stepped a woman with an air of quiet confidence. She was tall and athletic, her dark hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. Her sharp green eyes took in the surroundings with a practiced intensity, as if she were assessing more than just the ranch.

"Morning," John greeted, extending a hand. "I'm John Welcome to the Yellowstone Ranch."

"Morning," she replied, shaking John hand firmly. "I'm Bella."

Before John could say more, Rip Wheeler approached, his rugged presence impossible to ignore. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Bella's, and for a moment, it seemed as if time stood still. There was an undeniable connection, a spark that neither of them could deny.

"Rip Wheeler," he introduced himself, tipping his hat. "Welcome to the ranch."

"Thank you," Bella said, her gaze never wavering. "I'm looking forward to getting started."

As you showed Bella around, explaining the daily routines and introducing her to the other ranch hands, Rip couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about her. Her competence and confidence were impressive, but it was her mysterious past that intrigued him the most.

Chapter 2: Revelations

Days turned into weeks, and Bella proved herself to be an invaluable addition to the Yellowstone Ranch. Her skills with the livestock were exceptional, but there was an unspoken depth to her, a history that she kept close to her chest. Rip found himself drawn to her more and more, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

One evening, as the sun set behind the mountains, casting long shadows over the land, Rip and Bella found themselves alone by the corral. The air was cool, and the distant call of a coyote echoed through the silence.

"Can I ask you something?" Rip's voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Bella looked up from where she was leaning against the fence, her green eyes meeting his. "Sure."

"Your past... I've heard whispers. They say you were a supernatural hunter. Is it true?"

Bella's expression darkened, her gaze distant. "It's true. I hunted things most people don't believe exist. It was dangerous work, but I was good at it."

Rip nodded, respect and admiration in his eyes. "Why did you leave that life?"

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "It takes its toll. After a while, I realized I wanted something more, something real. The ranch... it felt like a fresh start."

Rip reached out, taking her hand in his. "I'm glad you're here. You've brought something to this place, something I didn't know was missing."

Bella's heart pounded in her chest as she squeezed his hand. "I'm glad to be here too, Rip."

Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past

Despite Bella's desire to leave her past behind, it occasionally caught up with her. One night, a figure from her former life arrived at the ranch, a reminder of the world she had left behind. He was a fellow hunter, his presence bringing with it an air of danger.

"Bella," the man greeted, his voice cold. "We need to talk."

Rip stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in. "Who are you?"

"Name's Jack," the man replied, his eyes locked on Bella. "I'm here on business."

Bella stood her ground, her gaze hard. "I'm done with that life, Jack. You know that."

Jack smirked. "You don't just walk away from this, Bella. You know that too."

Rip's grip tightened on Bella's hand. "She's not interested. Leave."

Jack's smirk faded, replaced by a look of understanding. "I see. Well, I hope it works out for you."

As Jack left, Rip turned to Bella, his expression serious. "You okay?"

She nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Yeah. Thanks, Rip. For everything."

Chapter 4: A Bright Future

With each passing day, Rip and Bella's bond grew stronger, their love deepening into something unbreakable. They faced the challenges of ranch life together, their shared strength and determination forging a new chapter at the Yellowstone Ranch.

One evening, as they stood on a hill overlooking the vast expanse of the ranch, Rip took Bella's hand in his. The stars above twinkled like distant diamonds, casting a soft glow over the land.

"Bella," Rip began, his voice filled with emotion, "I will make sure our future is as bright as possible because I've loved you since I first set eyes on you."

Bella's breath caught, her heart swelling with love. "I love you too, Rip. More than anything."

He pulled her close, their lips meeting in a kiss that spoke of promises and a future filled with love and adventure. As the night sky enveloped them, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united in their love and commitment to the Yellowstone Ranch.

In the heart of Montana, amidst the rugged beauty of the Yellowstone Ranch, Rip and Bella found not only a place to call home but also a love that transcended the boundaries of the supernatural and the everyday. Together, they embraced the future, ready to face whatever came their way, knowing that their bond was unbreakable and their love eternal.

[doodledoinks]

EVERYWHERE AT THE END OF TIME

Everywhere at the end of time is by far one of the biggest, most influential and addictive things I have ever listened to. Its an incredibly beautiful yet devastating representation of dementia and Alzheimer's yet it feels so... Soothing?

I am incredibly afraid of getting Alzheimer's and/or dementia and having seen what it does to people only increases that fear. By no means am I trying to say that I enjoy listening to the rollercoaster that is EATEOT, only saying that from an artistic point it feels incredibly unique and different compared to anything I've seen before.

I'm gonna basically summarise the 6 stages of EATEOT for those who don't know what it is first:

Everywhere at the end of time (EATEOT for short) is a 6 part project spanning 6 and a half hours of listening time. It contains ballroom music from the 1920s-1930s. It is by no means the largest project out there- with albums inspired by it being in some cases 9 hours long- but what it covers in those 6 hours is phenomenal. It starts out with a sample from the start of "Heartaches", by Al Bowy, before slowly but meticulously deteriorating into unrecognisable static.

BRIEFISH SUMMARY OF EATEOT

Stage 1- The calm before the storm

Stage 1 starts out with looping samples from segments of ballroom music, seemingly whole and in no state of corruption. Whilst there is the occasional pop here and there it doesn't feel disorientated.

Stage 2- Unfamiliarity

Stage 2 feels like a more gunned down version of stage 1, with the music being more staticy and hearing a lot more vinyl pops between tracks. It feels off compared to stage 1 yet still recognisable. Towards the end it crumbles further, before segmenting into stage 3

Stage 3- Feelings of confusion and fear

Stage 3 is when it really sets in, with the first track containing 2 samples layed over eachother in an effort to create a sense of confusion in the listener. You hear the music being reversed, broken down and just ripped apart; with bits of clarity here and there it still feels painful.

Stage 4- The dread solidifies as everything fades

Stage 4 is by far one of the hardest parts to listen to- more specifically when you hear HELL SIRENS in the middle of it, thanks Leyland for that one. But it feels horrible. The audio is in shambles, there's still some music legible but only barely. It feels to me like trying to listen to what your neighbour's watching on tv whilst there's a government speech going on in your room. It's just painful.

Stage 5- The advanced plaque entanglements

K1 is where you know that afterwards is not pleasant. There's brief periods of clarity that fight to be there, begging for a chance to stay with you. At this rate it's impossible to hear the music, just warbling nonsense. Is practically impossible to explain stage 5 given that it is just backwards and forth nonsense in your ears

Stage 6- The end arrives with cavalry.

Stage 6 is the end, it is where the Caretaker as a character just ends. There's practically no way of knowing what is going on, it feels almost ambient in a way. Then you reach it. You reach the terminal lucidity. A choir, church? The orchestra that is death wraps her arms around the caretaker- leaving the listener with a minute of silence.

MY THOUGHTS ON EATEOT

EATEOT is one of the greatest, most powerful things I've heard. Hearing a song I love (heartaches) get split apart and thrown into probably ¾ of the album is honestly depressing. The whole album is. Everything about it is depressing. It wasn't intended to be a nice fairytale of sounds, more so a boxset of torment on the soul and ears. If you told me to take 6.5 hours out of my day to research dementia I would've spat in your face and said a few words. BUT if you said to listen to it and then go and explain it to random internet people then Idve been delighted to. The hell sirens in stage 4 absolutely terrified me when I was half asleep in maths, but I'd listen to it again either ways.

Everywhere at the end of time is not intended for people in a difficult mental state, so please if you are struggling with metal health then get help.

With all being said

LISTEN TO EVERYWHERE AT THE END OF TIME

Thank you for listening to my lecture :-)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, “Errors,” and Animorphs

So in a different post I ranted about how a tiny non-distracting unfixable difference between two shirts is not an error in Jurassic Park.  IMHO, a continuity gap is only an error if:

It draws attention to itself and distracts the audience

It could’ve been fixed pretty easily in-story

It makes character, plot, or setting nonsensical

Animorphs has continuity gaps of its own.  And I have opinions about what we readers do and do not count as “error.”  First, an example that’s clearly an error:

I wondered if Tobias had heard my thought. I concentrated. Tobias, can you hear me? «Yeah,» he said, «I hear you.» “Did you hear my thoughts before that?” I asked. «No, I don’t think it works that way.  You have to think at me for me to hear.»

—#1: The Invasion

Tobias briefly hearing Jake thought-speak in #1 breaks the rules of the setting; several other books (#2, #23, #31, #33, #46) clearly state that it’s impossible to thought-speak if one is human and not in morph.  It’s an easy fix: the re-releases and audiobooks delete this moment, and the graphic novel makes Tobias unable to hear Jake.  It distracts the audience: I’ve gotten 5 or 6 separate asks over the years of people going “I was rereading #1, and the weirdest thing...” It’s an error.  I can’t say what happened behind the scenes — K.A. Applegate toyed with a thread that was later dropped, or decided to introduce a limitation for plot fuel at a later time.  But it’s an error.

Second, an example that I don’t think counts as an error:

I returned to my life, feeling strange and out of place. That night Jake came over. We went outside. "I tried morphing the Tyrannosaurus," he said. "Nothing. Didn't work." "You could ask Ax. He may know why." Jake laughed. "Yeah, but even if he explains it, I still won't understand it."

—MM2: In the Time of the Dinosaurs [Cassie’s narration]

The kids not being able to morph dinosaurs outside of the Cretaceous Era makes a lot of sense in context.  The whole book series would fundamentally change if they could use T. rex — that would become heavily a favored morph for many of them.  It kicks off all kinds of plot questions that demand answers: Where do the controllers think the “andalite bandits” got dino DNA? What anti-dinosaur measures would they be forced to adopt? Would the Animorphs’ whole strategy change around having those morphs? How would Rachel feel about everyone but Tobias suddenly having a much stronger morph than her? Would they even bother with contemporary animal morphs afterward?

If the kids are morphing dinosaurs all the time after ~#18, then the series loses a lot of its uniqueness.  Applegate has said that most of the inspiration for the series was about trying to help kids understand what it would really be like to be inside an animal mind, with as many animals as possible.  That’s part of why so many of the plots hinge on giving the Animorphs an excuse to learn a new morph (e.g. #4, #17, #27, #47, #52) so that we can experience the coolness right along with them.  That’s why the war is explicitly about fighting for Earth, nonhumans and all (#7, #23, #53).  If it’s not a menagerie of six different critters — including one immigrant from space — rolling up to battle, then it’s not Animorphs. No, it makes no dang sense that sario rip morphs stop working once the rip gets unripped.  But the series acknowledges it, and it allows us both to have a unique animal-based story (dinosaurs! Heckin dinosaurs!) without ruining its own premise.

Third, one that I find fascinating because it’s kind of right on the margin:

"What I don't get is why I have to be a girl wolf," Marco grumbled. "We had one male and one female," Cassie explained for the tenth time. "If two of us morphed into the male, we'd have two males. Two male wolves might decide they had to fight for dominance." "I could control it," Marco said. "Marco, you and Jake already fight for dominance, and you're just ordinary guys," Rachel pointed out.

—#3: The Encounter

Later, Tobias’s narration uses the word “alpha” to describe Jake’s morphed behavior — howling and peeing to mark territory, challenging another wolf pack to protect his own.

There is scientific consensus right now, as of the 2020s, that the term “alpha” is an inaccurate descriptor of pack-lead behavior, and that dominance fights between adult males are almost nonexistent.  That although wolves usually run in a phalanx-like shape with one middle-aged male and female at the point, this isn’t the result of dominance fights but rather an effort to have the physically strongest wolves absorb blows from rogue prey animals or rival predators.  That the dominance fights observed in captive wolves in the 1970s were the result of an ecology error, putting wolves from rival packs into single enclosures.  Fox (1972, 1973) gave a reasonably accurate description of how wolves behave if you put a bunch of adult strangers in a zoo together: the young adult males fight, the winner of that fight wins first access to food, and the mate of the winner gets the most resources for her puppies.

However, time rolls forward, and advances like hidden cameras (and the resurgence of wild wolf populations) allow us to watch wolves without needing to capture them first.  Mech (1999) follows some such wolves around, and quickly realizes that dominance and submission aren’t nearly as important among wolves who chose to make a pack.  Stahler et al. (2002) figure out a better way to introduce stranger wolves in captivity, and get full cooperation among young adult males.  Nowadays drones and radio collars get 1000s of times the wolf data Fox had to work with, and reveal intense cooperation with little more than play-fighting among puppies.

The Encounter comes out in 1997.  Mech publishes the first big take-down of the alpha concept in 1999.

Did an error occur anywhere in this process?

No, in that Applegate presumably doesn’t own a Time Matrix and published a book based on the scientific consensus at the time about how wolf social dynamics worked.

Yes, in that the error is pretty distracting — I get drawn up short by it every time I reread #3, and I know others have too.

No, in that the error was corrected in the graphic novel adaptation.

Yes, in that the error is still present in the audiobook, and Michael Crouch delivers the moment about Jake being backed into a dominance fight with all of Tobias’s exasperated humor.

No, in that the error allows for some character moments, both silly (Jake peeing on trees) and sweet (Jake being ready to take on an entire rival pack alone, over a rabbit he doesn’t want).

Yes, in that the error takes away from one of the series’ most fundamental purposes, to educate kids about animals.

Anyway, books are great, science is imperfect, and I think the more we all engage with amateur criticism the more we’re all going to learn about what counts as an error in fiction writing with inspiration in scientific reality.

[soleilnomoon]

hiii may i request cotton candy, frozen yogurt, lemondrop, donut hole, and cream puff with whipped cream and caramel as toppings? for law from one piece, tyia i love your works! 🫶

hello, hello ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა thank you for reading my work 💛💕and ty for your patience! i had a lot of fun with this one, bc i love seeing law suffer <3

2.1k, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+, mdni; tiny bit of angst, there's fluff somewhere i promise, & smut. law is a lil needy & sees the light™ & reader likes to ignore their feelings abt things; feat. only one bed trope, oral (m receiving), mutual pining, all that good stuff. they're both stubborn af tbh.

despite not actually caring about the matter, despite feeling a little relieved that you came to him for help, he still manages to grit out, “please explain to me why any of this is my problem?”

if looks could kill, trafalgar law would’ve been six feet under since the moment he found you making coffee in the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder once, shoot him a look that tells him he should stop talking, like, right now, and continue to keep your back turned to him. you bravely ignore the inclination to go back and forth with him, and butter your toast quietly, hoping he’ll stop pestering you long enough to finish your breakfast.

“i could just set up a cot for you in the hallway and call it a day.” his suggestion is ludicrous, and he knows it; he simply wants to see your reaction, a deep-seated desire to see the crack in your facade finally resurface after many, many weeks. you’re quite good at that, at masking your emotions — possibly even better than him — but it’s a difficult task, one that you struggle with daily. there are moments when he is genuinely sweet — they’re rare, but they exist; and there are moments where you want to rip his head off and yell until your face turns red (and it won’t, not really).

a huff glides out of your mouth and you turn around to face him properly. “you will not,” you say confidently as he sits languidly in a chair, legs spread wide, as if he has all the time in the world to talk to you. “also stop trying to piss me off, i know what you’re doing. it won’t work.” you’re very certain about that, actually; you raise a brow at him, as if you’re daring him to contradict your statement. “we need the extra room, besides you barely sleep as is, you won’t miss your bed at all.” it’s really because law is particular about who occupies his space; and since the polar tang is housing some unexpected guests — castaways that needed safe harbor to the nearest island — you volunteer for them to use your room temporarily. which means you need somewhere to stay.

no one else has the audacity to volunteer to room with their captain, but you’re a little different than the rest, aren’t you? he enjoys your presence more than he lets on, likes hearing you talk about nonsensical things like dreams and desires, likes the way you’re easily riled up — and he doesn’t actively try to do it on purpose, not really, anyway. you boldly told the others that you’d just sleep in your captain’s room, since he barely uses the bed as is. the others shared looks with one another, ones where they tried to contain their i told you so expressions. you ignore that and the way your face heats up at their insolence and move some of your things into law’s room for the time being.

law holes up in his office for most of the day, going on his third day of not sleeping, and while he knows it’s not practical to stay up like that, he can’t help himself. eventually, fatigue does find him, grips him by the throat and hauls him over to his room — he doesn’t bother fighting it. freshly showered and too tired to care, he thought you’d be asleep by now, but you’re wide awake. it’s nearly impossible to fall asleep like this — law’s bed is big and wide, leaving you with more space than you know what to do with. it also smells like him. and even though you wish that the scent was unpleasant, you know it’s a fruitless endeavor, because he always smells good. so you sit up when you hear him open the door, mouth hanging open to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

for some reason, dealing with law during the day is vastly different than dealing with him at night. there’s more intimacy involved with the latter, since your crew mates are asleep or resting somewhere, leaving you to deal with law on your own. wordlessly, he climbs onto the bed with you, opting to lie on his side with his back facing you. despite how tired he is, he also can’t fall asleep just yet. he can tell you’re burning to say something slick, so he beats you to it.

“it’s really not a big deal,” he says with a yawn before rolling onto his back. “the bed’s big enough for both of us.” he closes his eyes, determined to use whatever remaining energy he has to will himself to sleep. your presence is overwhelming, though, a heat rippling underneath his skin, making him clench his jaw to dismiss those feelings — the ones where he wants to pull you on top of him and hold you close. your eyes never leave his face and instead of fight him on it, a sigh coasts out of your mouth — resigned, yet a bit hopeful.

he glances at you suddenly, startling you out of your thoughts; your heart racing as you swallow back your bravery and scoot back a bit. “w-what?” you ask, hands clutching one of the pillows in front of you — as if it can protect you from whatever he’s preparing to say next.

“you’re looking at me.”

you stare at him wide-eyed, pillow pressed firmly against your body; whatever argument you tried to build quickly shatters the moment his dark amber eyes sweep over you — taking in the thin shirt and shorts you’re wearing — and render your brain absolutely useless. so you blink and blink, hoping to scrape together some words that sound appropriate enough to say.

“they’re my eyes, am i not allowed to?”

you could kick yourself for your foolishness, but instead you toss the pillow at his face when you see that damn trademark smirk of his climb onto his lips. he doesn’t know what possesses him, but he laughs at your antics and, invigorated by your uncanny ability to bring out his playful side, pulls you close. with your chest pressed against his, you inhale deeply and regret it immediately — you’ll never be free of him at the rate you’re going.

“if all you want to do is look, then by all means,” his lips brush against yours as he says that, long limbs tangling with yours when you give in and finally let go. the last time you kissed him, it was in the heat of the moment, and you’d slapped him for it afterward — because you couldn’t handle any of the vulnerability involved. he’d laughed at your reaction, mostly because the slap was harmless, and he barely felt the sting and only laughed again when you ran away. law told himself back then that he’d just wait until you were ready before pouncing again.

this time, however, is different. very, very different.

your tongue flicks against his upper lip, soft enough to make him grab you by the back of your neck and drop heated kisses on your lips. you’re too flustered to function, but you’re cognizant enough to kiss him back, returning each of his heated kisses with needy ones of your own. tongue swirling hotly around his, you roll so you’re on top, teeth nipping his lip as you straddle him. you pull back to look at him, eyelids lowering as you roll your hips and grind down on his growing erection. his hands grip your hips tightly to halt your movements, and you smile down innocently at him.

“you…,” he grits out, breathes through his nostrils, and starts again, “if you like me, you can just say that, y’know.” it’s presumptuous, he knows, but he also knows that if he doesn’t back you into a corner properly, you’ll weasel away quickly. and he can’t have that — not now. an ache bubbles deep inside of you, making your skin feverish, so you buck your hips against his a few times. he stares at you darkly, a forbidden sort of hunger taking hold of his thoughts, and his large hands grab onto your ass firmly, a shudder coursing through you at the contact.

“shut the hell up,” you say in lieu of the confession he failed to drag out of you, “you’re talking way too much right now.” because talking means you’ll fall into a trap and you’re not equipped to fight him just yet. so, you wiggle out of his grasp and pull his underwear off. he props himself up to look at you, almost asking if you’re sure, but ultimately shutting up when you grab his stiff length and slowly drag your tongue along the tip. an involuntary hiss flies out of his mouth, but you’re too preoccupied with tasting him to notice. to say he’s dreamt of this moment would be an understatement; watching you talk, drink, and eat only fueled his fantasies late at night.

not religious by any means, he swears he’s having some sort of a spiritual awakening — or something close to it — when your plush lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue licking and swirling before you open your mouth more. he lets out a soft, “fuck” and strokes your hair as you take in more of his cock, bobbing up and down, tongue flat against his length. unlike you, when he’s pushed to this point, he can’t control himself or his movements. his hips jut forward and you gag a bit, tears prickling your eyes; you use your hands to stroke and twist around the rest of his length as you hollow your cheeks. your mouth is wet and hot, melting every bit of his resolve, and he understands that he’s placed himself in a predicament that he won’t be free of until you’re good and ready to let him go.

you pull his cock out of your mouth so you can breathe a bit, but you’re quick to suck on the thick head with vigor, enjoying the way his pre-cum drips onto your tongue. “you keep asking me to tell you how i feel,” you say at last, hand caressing his balls before your mouth nips at the skin playfully; his hips buck forward, and he bites down on his fist to stop himself from moaning your name. “but…” you take your time flicking your tongue against the length of his cock, slurping as you take him in your mouth again.  “do you really need me to say it?” your uncanny ability to peel back his layers, should frighten him, but it doesn’t. he grabs onto your hair and you relax your jaw as he pushes his cock further into your mouth; you let him set his own pace this time, his hips roughly thrust his cock inside as he fucks your mouth.

in an attempt to ignore your own arousal, you focus instead on the way his cock hits the back of your throat, the force behind his movements making you sputter and choke. drool slides out of your mouth, saliva running down your chin — he thinks you’re beautiful like that, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, a dazed look in your round eyes. it gets to be a bit too much, a tightening sensation in the pit of his abdomen making him grip your hair harder, knuckles blanching from how tight he’s holding. he inhales sharply as his orgasm carelessly pulses through his body, rendering his body useless, despite the messy way he’s thrusting his hips. you take it, though, endure until he’s satisfied, his cum thick and hot in your mouth. his vision leaves him momentarily, blurring your face as you swallow and lick the remainder of his cum off his cock — dutiful, yet mischievous.

he lets go of your hair once your mouth is off him; you lick your lips and plop down onto the bed beside him. he stays silent for a while, unable to speak; fatigue accompanies his silence, and he runs his hand down his face before rolling over to nestle his head in the crook of your neck. you freeze but inevitably stroke the back of his head, eyes closing as his breathing settles. what he wants to tell you, is that even though he knows how you feel, he’d rather hear you say it instead; but that’s another argument for another day. for now, he’ll just enjoy the taste of sleep — and you’ll continue to lie to yourself, to tell yourself that you didn’t need this as much as he did, that saying certain things means bringing forth truths that you’re determined to keep buried no matter how desperately they want to come out.

[noa-ciharu]

FuuKam [double) ---- i believe in your ability😎😎 even it is short---

Ofc i can't keep anything short so 1.5k of mostly fluff. TRC universe as fluffy x!fuukam is close to impossible to even imagine, let alone write.

Edit: my mistake I answered the wrong ask lmao guess imma be needing those glasses.

Anywho, without further ado:

22 (playful teasing) + 28 (surprising with favorite treat) + little bit of 9 (exchanging gifts):

“Get out of my sight before I make you”

Second later sound of footsteps died down. Kamui needn’t turn around to know Fuuma stood few feet behind him. Noone else in their right mind would seek him out; at the dead of night only would if base was under attack.

Plus, the scent. It was far too familiar to Kamui’s liking. Given how much time they’ve spent in intimately close proximity, nothing less was to be expected. Bitter pill to swallow, but it simply was the fact.

“So mean Kamui”, Fuuma puffed, faked woefulness. “What if I have something for you?”

Curiosity got best of him, Kamui glanced over shoulder. Pitch black darkness, however vampire abilities allowed him to discern Fuuma’s hand was in pocket; perhaps he, indeed, brought something and wasn’t teasing him for sake of teasing.

It’s been day or two since Kamui last feasted on this one human in particular. Humans are too fragile, demise is inevitable if they lose too much blood. It would be distasteful to lose only willing prey in this universe, let alone to recklessness. That wasn’t the sole reason Kamui would rather avoid Fuuma’s preventable death, but only one he was willing to admit.

Kamui raised up and began crossing distance between them. “Do you have a death wish?”, he murmured under breath, loud enough for Fuuma to hear him. He halted once got couple inches away from Fuuma. Kamui eyed his exposed neck and tried to dampen down rising bloodlust.

Fuuma smiled in a way that made Kamui wish to wipe that grin off with both his fist and lips. Then he eased hand out of pocked and extended the object forwards. It was a pink heart-shaped … something? Understatement to say he was puzzled.

“This is for you”, tone half amused half flirty, like Fuuma was expecting the bafflement.

Soft chuckle from Fuuma. After slight pause he offered - “It’s chocolate”

Ah. Kamui has definitely heard of human treat named as such but never had spark of curiosity to find out what the whole hype was about; brushed it off as ‘yet another humans’ nonsense’. Before Kamui could pounder on how he ought to proceed about whole ordeal Fuuma shoved gift into his hands. Seeing no reason to refuse, Kamui accepted the package; extended nails and ripped package apart.

He lifted cover up and there they were – dozens of tiny brown heart-shaped things. Those gotta be chocolates, he reflected on seeing similar stuff in shops in more civilized universes.

“You’re in such hurry to unwrap my gift, I’m flattered”, Fuuma gloated further, went as far to wink at him. Kamui had to bite back impulse to elbow him.

“Shut up or you’ll be the next thing these nails will slash through”, he settled on threatening instead. Of course they both knew Kamui won’t really do that. Hence Fuuma only beamed further. Smug bastard.

Kamui was in no shape or form familiar with humans traditions, he had no clue why Fuuma opted for such gift. Blood packages would have been far more useful, desserts and human food in general served no purpose to vampires.

“Vampires don’t eat chocolate. I don’t need this”, Kamui explained and shoved box back towards Fuuma. He didn’t accept it back.

Instead Fuuma made and exaggerated mournful expression and released equally exaggerated moan of distress; lamented like world was ending. “Kamui you wound me!”, Fuuma cried out, even went as far to wipe away fake tears.

“What an impolite way to refuse my romantic gesture”

Romantic huh? Oh right, humans associated light colored and heart-shaped stuff to ‘love’ and ‘romance’. So sentimental, so unneeded. Looks like his human succumbed to that idiocy as well. Kamui sighed and retraced nails; sharply gazed up att Fuuma and wordlessly demanded further elaboration.

Fuuma got the message that such traditions were unfamiliar to vampires as he muttered rushed okay and pushed on - “In world I’m from we celebrate holiday called ‘Valentine’s day’. All the lovers gather, share gifts and celebrate -“

“don’t describe our relationship in such disgusting way”

“- hush hush Kamui, it is a fitting description. Since I have no way of knowing when precise date is here but I’m sure a full year has passed, I decided little celebration is due“

“So a little token of appreciation”

Fuuma finished with sheepish grin, telltale what was on his mind – idiotic fantasy of them being lovey dovey. Of course it was some romantic stupidity , Kamui reflected; then frowned further. Obviously this meant something to Fuuma, otherwise he would have gone out of his way to contact multidimensional witch for that gift. Did he have no shame at all? Unbelievable.

Objectively observing the situation, Kamui had no real reason to refuse; chocolate would do him no harm. Frankly speaking, his appetite was whet, both figuratively and literally.

“Would you try one? For me?”, Fuuma prompted further with fake kicked puppy look. Manipulative bastard.

Kamui sighed; closed eyes as one look of Fuuma’s triumphant grin would evoke homicidal rage within him. Then Kamui gave one of chocolates a try.

Taste was…. It definitely was something. Sweet and syrupy, maybe a bit overtop; but Kamui find it that he relished in saccharine taste. Chocolate literally melted on tongue, made mouth water. Never before has he tasted anything similar, anything so sweet; flavor got him addicted in heartbeat in way that only blood could. Kamui’s eyes winded the moment he realized what he’s been missing all these decades.

He instantly was aware of one thing – no, one fact. He craved more.

“Good?”

During all that life-altering awe, it slipped Kamui’s mind he was under Fuuma’s keen eye. How stupid of him to let guard down like that, gotta be romance and chocolate’s fault. He’d be damned to admit chocolate got his mouth watering for more.

“….no”, Kamui lied, badly.

Without sparing Fuuma a glance he turned around and strolled back towards log he previously was seated on. Of course Fuuma followed him in a heartbeat; sat beside him and grinned like love-struck idiot. Their knees touched; Kamui’s heart skipped a beat, face heated up. Maybe there was something in chocolate to make him act like pinning teenager.

Fuuma leaned in and whispered into his ear - “I knew you’d like it”

Such husky tone, such close proximity, Kamui couldn't help shivering. Per impulse he pushed Fuuma away; self-preservation kicked in. That didn’t deteriorate Fuuma in slightest, he chuckled softly and fetched one of chocolates for himself.

In that moment something flashed in Kamui’s mind. Before he could reflect on what ought to be said and what better is left unsaid, Kamui asked - “You said gifts are meant to be mutual shared?”

The moment words left lips Kamui knew mushiness rot his brain alive. There was no other explanation for his behavior tonight. Anyhow, this too, gotta be Fuuma’s fault.

“They usual are”

“I don’t have anything for you”, Kamui replied resignedly. He stole one glance and Fuuma and spied a mouth-splitting grin along with playful glint in eyes. Unfortunately (or fortunately in this case), Kamui was far too familiar with what that over cheerful expression meant.

Fuuma opened mouth and beamed like he won the lottery – “Well, you ca-”

“No, I’m not giving you a kiss or whatever your perverted mind came up with”, Kamui glared and cut in.

Fuuma closed eyes and smiled sheepishly; raised palms up and laughed - “Caught red handed”

Falliing victim to previously denied impulse, Kamui elbowed him gently; perhaps Fuuma took it more as flirting for he only continued laughing. Vague blush raised to cheeks, Kamui tore gaze to side.

His eyes fell to chocolate box. Craving returned at lighting speed. He wanted to…

“Can I feed you rest of the chocolates?”

Do you even think before you speak, Kamui wanted to hiss back. Still, he wanted to taste those sweet sweet chocolates again and picking them in front of Fuuma felt like a defeat in a way. But on other hand, accepting Fuuma’s offer in a heartbeat would be fatal blow to pride, he’d be damned to give in so easily.

Kamui pouted and murmured under breath - “I’m not a baby to be fed”

“You’re missing a point”, Fuuma laughed and ruffled his hair. Before Kamui could retort and pushing him away Fuuma retreated.

Instead of listening, Fuuma picked one of chocolates and lifted it to Kamui’s lips; clearly ignored is half-baked protests. Still, Kamui puffed and refused to open lips; no matter how oh so much he wanted to.

“Just on this occasion Kamui. You’re always so cold and while I like your feisty attitude it only make me want to be lovey dovey with you more”, Fuuma teased further, expressed his yearnings and overall appeared like kicked puppy.

Deep down Kamui knew he was being manipulated into giving in to fluffy idiocy; knew refusal wouldn’t hurt Fuuma nearly as much as he pretended it would. Yet still…

Kamui sighed, parted lips and closed eyes. Even behind eyelids he could visualize Fuuma’s beam.

[charmixpower]

I'm sure we've all seen @/4kidstv's power swap post, with the context of magic Winx coming back

So I was thinking about s4, and the tragedy that is Believix (despite how good it looks) and how nonsensical it is (how the fuck can it harm the Wizards?? Like seriously, shouldn't they be able to absorb these attacks too?? This is before most of the world believes in the Winx, so it can be because the Wizards are some how weakening due to belief, however the fuck that works—)

Anyways, I'm sure you all know how little sense the Wizards of the Black Circle's powers make, so I won't talk your ear off about how Believix is confusing

But the idea of Fairy Hunters being able to fuck with a Faries powers is goddamn amazing!! But the writers accidentally wrote themselves into a corner with the passive ablity of magic absorption, which makes all spells useless before making Believix into a deux ex machina without properly explaining why Believix works and Enchantix doesn't (except to spend the whole season dissing my girl Enchantix)

The context I just set up speaks for itself, right? We know where I'm going with this, yeah?

The Wizards of the Black Circle's powers! Except it's like the magical version of body horror

The Fairy hunter's abilities come down to magical enegry manipulation. They can absorb a fairy's power and send it back to them when they concentrate (it's not a passive ablity like in the show), they can switch around people's powers if they trap them in a magical spell circle (essentially switching out the girls magical core's), reflector spells are they're bread and butter, and they're their one of like 2~5 known groups actually able to steal someone's powers permanently (I say someone like the person they're stealing from is still alive, that is not the case)

This both makes them very good at their thing of hunting magical users as all their powers are specifically based around fucking up a magic users, makes the guys useful one last time before higher levels renders them completely meaningless as the Wizards arnt specialized to handle guys with swords lmao. Like they have attack spells, and I really need to iron out a lot of things this whole post is just ideas in a rambly mess, but this isn't their area so they fumble a bit

This is ALL because I remembered how they have Mitzi powers??? Where the FUCK did they get that from? They're not faries so how did they make Faries? Simple, they have the ability to manipulate magic and magical core's so they just shoved the power of Magic into Mitzi

The Dark Fairies are low magical people with the magical cores of dead faries inserted in their body (which is not safe mind you). Plus it gives a reason for a name as cool as Disenchantix to have something genuinely horrifying and badass attached to it. Mitzi the Disenchantix fairy of Mirrors, for example. That magical core was ripped out of the actual fairy of Mirrors

(Disenchantix was such a let down, plus it would of been so much more fun of Valtor gave the Trix a new transformation based on the magical things he had stolen. Like the Trix empowered by the spell of the elements, that would fuck!!)

So Disenchantix would be from an Enchantix fairy, Disbelieveix would be from a Believix fairy, ect. It's like the normal fairy forms, made of real fairy magic, but twisted and wrong. The Disenchantix forms would look like Enchantix, but like with shorter gloves or arm warmers. They sandals wrap all the way up their legs or only cover part of the foot. It's like the uncanny valley of the magical forms

This comes with the draw back that the Wizards cannot attack directly because that's not how their magic work, in good news for them they own magical artifacts....artifacts that can be broken 👀👀 or stolen 👀👀

Or on the other hand they can use the magic they stole to augment themselves, giving themselves the ability to shape shift....run fast....sound waves...what the fuck does Ogron do again??

It's impossible to actually steal a living person's magic because their magical core will produce new magic, so swapping the base enegry of the magical core's is as close as they can get while still handy caping the winx

Plus it would give a reason they need Sophix and Lovix, they're pretty weak right now and are really wanting for a power boost before they get their asses kicked. I'm imagining it being given by Diana and Aurora instead of the hand out faries tho. After convincing the vengeance faries to maybe not attack the humans, the Winx are allowed to connect with the external magical cores the Major fairies keep around

(they're three types of magical cores 1 The one that people have inside their bodies ala inner fire alta, 2 planets magical cores aka the second Sun of Solaria and that stuff that Valtor keep stealing magic from, 3 relative ones like Cloud Tower's heart. This is an example of the third type)

Maybe Nebula has on too and each pair of girls gets to vibe with one of these transformations while they fight the Wizards, cheating to reach higher powers while everything is wrong

Once the Wizards are defeated they spell is reversed automatically

Bonus! They're at the same level as Roxy during this season!!! Which could make the Bloom+Roxy arc so much more interesting

And it would make the Fairy Hunters that much more intimidating without trying to pretend that they're magically stronger than Valtor (who is implied to actually have destroyed some planets). They're just smart and creative. They're strength isn't in raw power like Valtor's is, it's in knowing their enemy like the back of their hand and using their magic in creative ways

Make them less like in canon where they just beat the shit out of people and win, and more like actual hunters. Specifically ambush and endurance predators. They collect information before they attack (which means that they give a lot of down time in the season for the vengeance faries while they plan and stalk lol)

Also!! I know I cut Wizards from my rewrite but I'm bringing the word back but in a new context. Wizards are defined as people who can use both witch and fairy magic. I define fairy magic kinda like alta fire bending, and witch magic like the other kinds. Fairy's make their internal magic external, while witches manipulate external magic (Faries can manipulate whatever their the fairy of but that's because it connects to their internal magic, like a fire bender bending pre-existing fire). Haven't decided if they can be born naturally like that or if you have to commit several drastic human rights and ethics violation to aquire that kind of power (to let Valtor's and the Wizards fucked upness speak for itself), but I like it

Ok, I think I've rambled about everything relevant. Thank you for listening to me scream about this idea

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

(Because - as has rightfully been pointed out - the angel needs his cuddles, too.)

--

“Crowley?”

“Nnnnh?” The sprawl of limbs dozing on the sofa shifted, resolving into six feet of lazy demon.

“Can you help me with this?” Rising up on his toes, Aziraphale gestured with the book in his hand. “I can’t quite reach the top shelf.”

“Don’t you have a stool or something?”

“It’s on the other side of the shop, and you’re right here.”

With another groan, Crowley rolled off the sofa in a strange, almost fluid motion, and sauntered across the room. “Where does it go?”

“Just there.” He pointed again as Crowley took the book, glaring at the top shelf. It was, in reality, slightly too high for either of them to reach.

Crowley stretched, standing on his own toes, one hand resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder for balance, until he could just barely get the corner of the book into the gap between two others, and shoved it hard into place.

“There. If that broke the thing, s’not my fault.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of…thank you, my dear.”

“Mmmh.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a half-grin before wandering back towards his favorite resting spot.

Behind his back, Aziraphale pressed his own hand to where his shoulder still burned with lovely heat.

--

“Crowley? I think I could use a hand again.”

“Are you serious?” he groaned. “You going to tell me you can’t reach your own mugs now?”

Aziraphale glanced at the cupboard again. It did look too low for that, didn’t it? “Of course not. I…I think I should reorganize my wine. I need you to hold some bottles for me.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Some of those wine bottles haven’t moved in over a century. Why would you need to do this now?”

“That…” He felt a flash of embarrassment, quickly turned it into indignation. “That’s hardly any of your concern, now is it? You come to my shop, day after day, just to lounge about. This isn’t one of your – your ancient temples, you can’t just laze around while the human worshippers fan you and feed you peeled grapes…”

A shadow fell across Aziraphale, and he turned to see Crowley, leaning against the doorway to the little kitchen, lopsided grin on his face. “That’s a very elaborate fantasy you’ve concocted.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and turned back to the wine, grabbing a few bottles at random. “It’s not a – a fantasy. I know what you used to get up to in Egypt. And Greece. And a dozen other snake-worshipping cultures.”

“I was hardly—oof.” He grabbed the bottle of red that Aziraphale had all but thrust into his stomach, long fingers dragging across the back of Aziraphale’s hand, leaving behind a trail of fireworks.

“Good. That.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, staring at a row of champagne bottles. “That should go in the, er, Italian section. Tuscany.”

“You going to arrange them geographically now?”

“Of course! Region, then year, then type of grape. Perfectly logical. These are from, um, Piedmont.” He held out two more bottles.

Shrugging, Crowley put the first on the table and reached out. Aziraphale stood perfectly still, so that he couldn’t miss Crowley’s smallest finger brushing against his thumb in passing.

--

“Now what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m – I’m sweeping under the sofa. Kindly move those – those pipe cleaners you call legs.”

“You never sweep.”

“That’s entirely untrue.” Aziraphale reached as far as his arm would go, vaguely sliding the brush from side to side. Shuffled a little to the left, until his shoulder bumped up against Crowley’s calf, fire bursting through him again.

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, and in an instant the legs were gone, neatly folded up beneath him.

Blast. Aziraphale glanced up with feigned concern. “You better not be putting your boots on…ah.” Crowley wiggled his toes, covered in a black snakeskin sock that was a little too skin-tight and convincing. With a grin and a shrug, the demon curled in on himself again, neatly out of the way, and turned his attention back to his mobile phone.

“Right. Well. Good.” Aziraphale ducked his head, and scrubbed hard at the floor.

--

“Crowley, help me move this chair.”

“Crowley, hold this ladder while I climb.”

“Crowley, hand me that cloth, I dropped it again.”

“Crowley…”

“Crowley…”

“Crowley…”

--

“Crowley, come over here, I need your hands again.”

“Are you going to pay me for all this work?”

“Nonsense. I’m exploiting you, like any good capitalist.” He pressed his hands down on the cover of the book, sharp scent of glue filling the air. “Come along, I can’t actually go over there to get you.”

Another string of garbled syllables, and once again Crowley stood at his shoulder. “What are you doing this time?”

“I’m rebinding this book. The glue sets overnight, so I need you to hold it while I get something heavy to put on top.”

“Um.” A long pause. “I can get something heavy for you.”

“No, I need you to hold this.”

Another pause, this time the silence tinged with suspicion. “Don’t you have a – a press or something?”

Aziraphale kept his eyes firmly forward, away from Crowley. “Will you just…stop asking foolish questions and do as you’re asked?”

Two hands slapped down onto the cover, perfectly between Aziraphale’s without touching either of them. He could feel the warmth of Crowley’s shoulder, so tantalizingly close.

“Well?” Crowley finally prompted. “Aren’t you going to move?”

“No.” He swallowed. “Not when you’re holding it wrong. Look. You need to be here, in front of the book.”

“Yeah. Where you’re standing.” Aziraphale could feel the look Crowley shot through his glasses.

“Oh, fine.” Removing his hands, Aziraphale stepped back and to the side, letting the demon take his place. “No, not like that! Honestly, my dear fellow, you need to pay more attention.”

“Wha—?”

Before he could think better of it, Aziraphale’s hands shot out, carefully encircling Crowley’s waist, just above the hips. “Center yourself,” he said, nudging to the left as his arms soaked in wave after wave of heat. Not enough. “And a little closer.” An infinitesimal push, enough to bring his chest almost, almost against Crowley’s back. He ached for it, that last bit of space.

Well. There was one option.

“Good. Now. Just need to position your hands correctly.”

Leaning forward, Aziraphale placed his hands on the backs of Crowley’s, pressing against his back. His feet shifted, and now his chin rested on that black-clad shoulder, and his legs bracketed Crowley’s, his arms rested against Crowley’s…

Every part of them, together.

With his eyes closed, everything else fell away, except for Crowley, his presence fluttering under Aziraphale’s skin like a second heartbeat. He drank it in, more and more, trying to fill every empty space inside himself, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough—

“Angel?”

In an instant, he was back in the shop, stumbling away. “Yes. That. That should…I’ll…”

Aziraphale spun and hurried away, closing his ears to the worry in Crowley’s voice.

--

“Crowley? Can you—”

“Nope.”

“I…” Aziraphale tried to muster up his indignation again, but after the bookbinding fiasco, it was impossible. “Of course. I’ll just…”

“Nope, I need your help.”

He turned, slowly, to where the long shape of his companion sprawled across the sofa, one foot over the arm, the other dangling off the side, hands folded behind his head.

“What…what do you need.”

Crowley lifted one hand and pointed to a shelf behind the sofa. “That one.”

“I…” Aziraphale moved closer, trying to see what he was pointing at. “You want a book?”

“Mmmh. Right there.”

Frowning, he took a few more steps. “Isn’t that a dictionary?”

“Nnh? No, not that one, that one.” The finger didn’t move.

“Why…why can’t you…?”

With a snort, Crowley dropped his hand, tucked it behind his head again. “Sprained my back doing all your chores. I’m out of commission. I need a book to entertain me during my long convalescence.”

“And what happened to your clever little telephone?”

“Finished it.”

“You…you finished it?”

“Yup. Browsed the whole internet. Found the end. Lousy twist in the last chapter.”

From the tilt of his head, Aziraphale could tell that Crowley’s eyes were shut, lost in the perverse joy of his silly claims. That should have made this easier, but he still hesitated as he leaned across the sofa, rested his hand on the back. His arms passed over the top of Crowley’s head by several centimeters.

“Did you mean…this one?” His fingers hovered over a likely tome.

“Hmm. Nope. Further down.”

A step to the side, knees coming close to where Crowley’s leg carelessly hung, as if it were too much work to pull it onto the sofa with the rest of him. “This one?”

“One shelf down.”

He bent even lower, until his stomach hovered, just above—

Crowley struck, fast as a serpent, his lazy sprawl suddenly a flurry of motion as arms and legs grappled Aziraphale, constricted, twisted around to slam him into the sofa cushions, to lie there with Crowley straddling his middle, hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered so that he could hardly breathe.

“Good. Now. What do you want?”

“I…” Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t…”

“Yes. You do.” One hand shot up and ripped his glasses off, tossing them aside, then pressed down again on the angel’s chest. Golden eyes bore into him. “Bless it, Aziraphale, all day you’ve asked me to do everything except for – whatever it is you need! Just tell me!”

“I…” He pressed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way his skin burned, electrified, alive. “I can’t. It’s…it’s foolish. It’s too much…”

“Angel.” Softer now, so soft it could break his heart. “Nothing will ever be too much. Just ask.”

“No…”

“I can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

With an effort, Aziraphale managed to press one trembling hand against his eyes. Tried hard to steady himself. “Crowley. I…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel…cold. Empty. Alone, even with you here. Like something inside me just…died, and left me hollow…”

The weight shifted, easing off his shoulders, and when he looked, Crowley was sitting up. Further away.

“Do you…did Heaven do something to you? When you left?”

“No.” How his voice shook! “No, I – I thought that at first, but…in truth…it’s been coming on…for simply ages.” The shop grew misty, and Aziraphale closed his eyes again. “A little worse every time I – I felt my superiors’ disappointment. Every time I failed at a task. Every…every time I visited Heaven and realized…I didn’t belong.” He tried to rub his eyes again and found they were wet. “No…no this isn’t anything but…my own…inadequacy.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true! I’m not…not strong they way you are.” His hand reached out, grasping, and found Crowley’s, wrapping gently around his fingers. It surged through him again, warmth, strength, solidity. Everything Aziraphale lacked. “I can feel it in you. It’s beautiful. And I want – want to drink it in, fill myself, but I’m bottomless, I just take, and take, and it’s not enough. It will never be enough!” He pulled his hand away, ready to flee from the sofa, to hide from his shame. Ready for his only friend to pull away in disgust at his selfishness, his greed.

Instead, Crowley lowered himself, stretching his long body across Aziraphale, head tucked under his chin, hands resting on his arms. “Is this better?”

It swept through him again and again, with every beat of Crowley’s heart. Not just heat. Something that Aziraphale had been lacking, craving, for more centuries than the Earth had existed.

Love.

A sob escaped him, pitiful, even as he drank it all in, greedily, more than he ever deserved, possessive arms twisting around Crowley as if to pull him into Aziraphale’s chest.

“S’alright,” Crowley murmured, and his hand pressed against the curve of Aziraphale’s cheek, brilliant as starlight. “How’s this? Any different?”

“Yes, it’s…” There was no hope he’d ever be able to control his voice again. “It’s stronger when…ah…when we touch…directly.”

“Got it.”

And just like that, the weight on his chest vanished, leaving him empty and cold again.

Of course.

Aziraphale sat up, trying to wipe his eyes dry, humiliated by the loss of composure. “If you want to leave,” he managed, blinking them clear, “I won’t…”

Crowley stood before him, jacket and tie discarded, fingers flicking down the buttons of his black shirt.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“You said touching directly, right? Skin to skin?”

“You…you can’t be serious.” A different sort of heat began to race into his cheeks.

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged, rolling the shirt off his shoulders as he did. “If it helps you…”

“No, my dear – you don’t understand. I want more than – than you could ever give me. I’d – I’d drain you entirely if I could.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He pulled off the last layer, a blac vest, then bent forward, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Besides. Everything I have is yours. Our side, remember?”

Aziraphale bowed his head, fists clenched in his lap. “You…can’t mean that…”

“Angel.” He felt the warm press of Crowley’s forehead against his own. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

Slowly, slowly, Aziraphale tugged at his bowtie, trying to remember how to loosen it.

--

Moonlight filtered in through the bookshop windows.

Crowley lay on the floor, Aziraphale curled up against his bare chest, arms around his shoulders, one leg hooked over his knees – clinging to him like a lifeline even in sleep. Some of the strain was finally starting to leak out of his furrowed brow, though he was still a long way from looking like himself.

The fingers of one hand ran through Aziraphale’s curls, carefully, rhythmically. Crowley had never seen the angel sleep before, but as soon as he’d started carefully scratching at his scalp, those blue eyes had begun to drift shut. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but if there was even a chance that this was helping him rest, Crowley would be damned, blessed, and cast into the void before he’d even consider stopping.

Everywhere they touched – which was just about everywhere – Crowley could feel something, an energy buzzing off Aziraphale’s skin. He’d felt it before, many times, but never this distinctly; it curled into him, whether he wanted it or not, flowing through his veins, keeping his heart beating.

“Y’know,” he whispered, slightly worried that the motion of the air would be enough to waken the angel. “You really shouldn’t have worried. Steal my strength? Ridiculous.”

Aziraphale shifted, just a little, pulling himself closer.

“I don’t have a blessed ounce of strength of my own. Or warmth. Solidity? Give me a break.”

A cloud must have moved out of the way; the moonlight suddenly grew brighter, and the pale angel seemed almost to glow in the silver light. Ethereal beauty.

“No. Whatever I’ve got, whatever’s kept me going, for thousands of years – it all comes from you.”

His angel shivered, just faintly, and Crowley quickly miracled up a thick blanket, wrapping it around both of them. Aziraphale sighed, fingers kneading and relaxing across Crowley’s skin.

“So you see, s’not a problem if you need it all. It’s already yours. Everything I have. Everything I am. Yours.”

--

Crowley was wrong for two reasons.

First, the warmth they felt hadn’t begun in Aziraphale, any more than it had in Crowley. It was a different kind of force, generated by their proximity to each other, and flowing constantly from one to the other, an eternal cycle. The strength belonged to both of them, and neither of them.

Second, of course, it would never run out. After all, love is increased – never diminished – by being shared.

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE FIVE || CURSE WOMB MUST DIE II 

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + violence + mention of blood + mention of organ + mention of death + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 24 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 4.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : curse womb must die I

↳ next episode : after rain

↳ barista’s notes : back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ and we have ended the detention centre arc and now will be moving on to the training arc! isn’t that crazy, you have finished episode five ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ i’m not really good with fight scenes, so if you care confused, don’t hesitant to ask me anything to clarify! WE ALSO FINALLY MEET THE SECOND-YEARS!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique 

Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai : 3:35-3:40

Sentan Hakuja : Wiki Page

‘Cursed Energy Web Technique’ : video (4:23-5:27)

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

“If you can, please send a grade one sorcerer or higher but that won’t be necessary if I don't die,” you sternly commented, leading both Fushiguro and Ijichi to shiver at the statement you just announced.

Still shaken at what you had just said, Ijichi sent himself off before closing the window to prevent any cold raindrops from coming at him as he drove away from the area you and Fushiguro were standing in right now.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, I ain’t going to listen to you at all then Fushiguro,” you stated with a frown painted on your face before looking back at the building behind his body.

Taking your katana, you looked at the bottom of the handle to find a metal loop at the bottom with a red charm tied before it was simply slowly unwinded by you as you prepared for the worst that was about to come.

“What are you doing L/N?” Fushiguro asked in a worried tone, causing you to turn to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Just preparing for the worst Fushiguro”

                                               ꕥ

The rain was still unsettled as you stared at the building of the detention centre that was in front of you with a nonchalant look present on your face. Carefully, you hook your katana on the side of your left hip rather than the usual spot of your back since you knew you were going to need extremely quick access to your weapon if your prediction of what was going to happen was going to become a reality.

Suddenly, there was a swift but noticeable change in the air causing you to grab Fushiguro’s sleeve to pull him closer to you in case of any attacks that would happen since he was standing behind you, out of your central view.

“The Innate Domain’s closed off, the special-grade is dead!” Fushiguro stated to you in a shocked but quiet tone, causing the grip you had on his sleeve to tighten since the feeling in the pit of your stomach was becoming agonising to the point where you wanted to vomit it out.

Yet, you weren’t fearful for yourself but rather the wellbeing of the shikigami user behind you and the classmate, who was still inside the building at this current moment in time.

“We just need Itadori to return safely now,” Fushiguro hopefully whispered, yet you had given no response since you knew that the chance of the mentioned classmate coming back with himself out rather than Sukuna was extremely low.

“That’s almost impossible, from what I can recall, him and Sukuna haven’t even agreed to a bi-” you began to explain, only for a sudden aggressive presence to stop you in your tracks to which Fushiguro also felt as you both froze on the stop you both were standing in right now.

“Sorry, but he’s not coming back”

A familiar voice from behind you spoke leading to both of you and Fushiguro to freeze on the stop before you came to the sense that what you had predicted was proven right. However, you didn’t foresee that he was coming straight to the both of you, even when he had threatened it clearly before Fushiguro dragged you away to search for Kugisaki.

“Don’t be so frightened, I’m in a good mood right now, let’s chat for a bit,” Sukuna calmly mentioned as he processed to make his appearance in front of you both since you refused to look in the opposite direction.

“This is what he gets for trying to use me without any kind of pact, feels like he’s having some trouble switching back,” Sukuna pronounced as he turned to the side.

‘To be honest, it was surprising for him to switch back after eating the finger without the pact’ you thought before letting out of Fushiguro’s sleeve once you was comfortable that he was out of harm's way, ‘besides that should be enough cursed energy for now,’ you internally spoke before taking a quick glance on the same area where you hand was as you processed to place the same hand on the handle of your katana.

“Still, though it’s only a matter of time,” Sukuna stated, as he gripped onto Itadori’s school jacket before unexpectantly ripping into shreds to showcase his muscular upper body, revealing the strange back marking he adorned on his chest.

“So, I thought about what I can do right now,” the King of Curses uttered before raising his hand to suddenly puncture a hole within the middle of his check, shocking both you and Fushiguro from his gruesome action as hints of blood started to pour from the corner of his lips.

‘Shit! I haven’t finished preparing,’ you pondered in a panic manner, as your hand was still on your weapon’s handle, transferring some of your cursed energy to your katana, making sure it had reached to the tip of the blade within the wooden casing for what you were planning to execute.

“Wh-what are you..” Fushiguro stuttered as he looked at the scene in complete horror, only for a massive pool of blood to pour in the middle between Sukuna’s legs before forcibly ripping out the most vital organ needed for Itadori to come back alive.

“I’m taking this brat hostage,” Sukuna declared, as he proudly and sadistically presented the heart he had taken out to you and Fushiguro, causing you to internally become repulsed at the scene since you still needed to concentrate shifting a tiny amount of cursed energy needed to your katana.

“Hostage?!” Fushiguro snarled as he shifted back slightly.

“Yeah, I can live without this, but that ain’t true for the brat,” Sukuna informed you and Fushiguro, as he then tossed the heart to the side like it was a piece of trash he needed to get rid of quickly.

“Switching out with me means he dies. Also, for good measure,” Sukuna mentioned before revealing a finger in his hand causing you to look at the cursed object he had just now swallowed with widened eyes.

‘I thought it wasn’t his finger that the special-grade curse consumed! Fuck!’

“With that, I'm free as a bird, you can be frightened now, I’ll kill you both for no particular reason,” Sukuna declared as he flexed his hand leading you to rapidly unleash your blade from its black wooden casing for the first time since the unfortunate day as you were now prepared to fight against the King of Curses.

“Our positions are reversed now,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath (to which you heard) before he determinedly looked at the curse right in front of him as he positioned himself in a fighting stance causing a wave of anxiety to consume you.

‘One of his divine dogs are already down, if he risks another shikigami, that possibly will also get destroyed in the process’

“You just don’t get it, he’s..Itadori’s coming back even if that means he’ll die, that’s just who he is,” Fushiguro determinedly stated while staring down at Sukuna.

“You give him too much credit, this guy’s just a little tougher and denser than other humans” Sukuna countered back with a smirk on his face before processing to wipe off the blood staining his lip with the back of his hand. 

“Just a moment ago, he was scared out of his mind, on the verge of death and prattling on about his regrets and all that nonsense, I know for a fact he doesn’t have the guts to kill himself,” Sukuna taunted as he smiles smugly at both of you.

‘A special-grade has the ability to used Reserve Cursed Techniques, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to use it on his heart, I just need to slide down somewhere around his chest area to force him to do that’

Shifting your eyes to the side, you noticed Fushiguro’s hands were shaking leading you to internally sigh since you knew he was thinking the same idea as you, while probably debating the fact on how he could make Sukuna revive his heart before Itadori switches back as well as how he was going to battle against a special-grade.

“Should I make the first move then?” you rhetorically asked, before swiftly throwing your katana towards Sukuna like it was a spear, only for him to dough the weapon even at its immense speed.

“You think that was going to hit me?! Maybe you ain’t the fighting type as I suggested!” Sukuna roared in amusement, not noticing how you seemingly suddenly grabbed onto thin air (like you were holding onto a hanging support handle on a bus) before pulling your arm back in a fast motion, resulting in the attacking blade unexpectedly return back to you as quick as it was thrown, for it to then slash a massive slit on Sukuna’s cheek causing the curse to look at you in complete surprised before you swiftly moved forwards towards him, grabbing the handle of the travelling blade to attempt to slash down on your targeted area, only for Sukuna to dodge as quickly as he could.

‘Damn, but that should be fine for now’

However, before you could even attempt to get another chance of getting a slit around his check area, you heard incoming footsteps from your side leading you to deck down as you suddenly saw a leg swing above your head, indicating to you that Fushiguro had made a move to attack the cursed vessel, yet once again Sukuna managed to dodge against as well as the incoming punches that came along with Fushiguro’s attempts.

“Interesting, not only the girl managed to injure me but you use shikigami, but you’ll still come at me yourself?” Sukuna questioned, as he seemed amused at both of you and Fushiguro.

However, before he could mention another word there was a light pressure placed on his right shoulder causing him to turn back, only to find you in a lower stance with your index and middle finger to be pressed upon his shoulder blade.

“Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai,” you chanted, before a high-density of cursed energy was discharged from the tip of your index finger to form a concentrated bolt of lighting leading it to pierce a noticeable hole on Sukuna’s shoulder surprising him as well as Fushiguro, since you angled it well away from him getting hit before you once again attempted to swing your katana down upon his back to execute your plan only for him to dodge it come again.

‘Fuck sake! You make it so easy to hit you the first time but when I want to slice you down, you suddenly dodge it!’

However, before you could use another cursed spell, a shikigami made its way to attack Sukuna leading you to discover it was Nue only for Sukuna to once again avoid the strike of its sharp talons before Fushiguro aims to get a hit at Sukuna, only for the King of Curses to block them with his arms. Yet you couldn’t help but internally smile the second you saw the wrist that you were holding onto earlier had made contact with Sukuan’s arms.

‘If plan A doesn’t work out, B will do just fine for now’

However, your hint of internal happiness quickly ended once you saw Fushiguro take a hit from Sukuna’s fist causing hints of blood to escape from his mouth leading you to quickly stand up straight as you rushed over to the scene. Yet, before you could even attempt to attack the curse again, you felt a presence underneath you causing your body to instinctively move again before a large snake appeared from the ground catching Sukuna within its mouth lifting him in the air as he was stunned with surprise at the fact of his sneak attack.

“Gang up on him!” Fushiguro yelled out to his shikigami, leading Nue’s wings to surround itself with purple lightning as it attempted to land a hit on Sukuna, only for him to duck at the right moment before it tried again, only for it to have the same result.

“Fushiguro, deactivate the snake now before it’s destroyed!” you screamed at your fighting partner. However, before he even got the message you suddenly saw fragments of what seemed to be the snake’s skin falling down in front of you before noticing Sukuna was already behind Fushiguro, tightly gripping onto the back of his dark blue sorcerer jacket.

“Hey, what did I just say? Let’s use the open space!” Sukuna shouted, before aggressively flinging Fushiguro up in the air before following the sorcerer himself, leaving you behind to witness his inhuman strength.

‘Shit, they’re going to get to the edge of the evacuation area!’

Reaching into the depths of your skirt pocket, you quickly pulled out a long, white cloth before letting it spin around you at a large radius as it slowly began to enclose the gaps that were making you visible to the world.

‘Sentan Hakuja,’ you internally chanted before the cloth coiled you complete before speedily teleporting you in front to what seemed to be like a construction site or an abandoning building, you weren’t quite sure. However, what you were sure of was that Fushiguro and Sukuna hadn’t noticed that you had arrived despite the vast entrance you had made from your cursed technique - but what you were most afraid of was the fact the Nue was gone, causing you to worry at the fact that now that shikigami was destroyed.

“What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well,” Sukuna announced, causing Fushiguro to look at the King of Curses in both confusion as well as frustration at the fact he had mentioned you, worried if he was about to get killed, Sukuna would hunt you down next.

“Whatever, either way, that won’t be enough to fix this, you’re risking your life over stupid shit,” Sukuna stated as he pointed the hole on his chest. However, it seemed like you had enough of the conversation.

“Activate!” you yelled out before stabbing your katana to the ground, causing both males to turn around to finally notice you. However, it was too late for Sukuna to have the opportunity to counter what you were doing as he felt something restraining his arm’s movement before noticing what seemed to be a blue web-like strand attached to both his shoulders, yet when he turned to you, you seemed to be in the same situation but with one arm free.

“L/N!” Fushiguro yelled out in a panic before noticing that you were not at all afraid but rather calm despite the situation that you both were in now.

“What is this?” Sukuna questioned, as he observed the web-like structure you had created only for you to glance at him with a deadpan expression on your face.

“It’s just a simple web I created from pure cursed energy that is retaining the both of us right now,” you answered as you continued to peer at the confused King of Curses, who was trying to rip away from the strand-like he had with the shikigami snake, only to no avail as he struggled to move his whole upper body in general.

“How come? You didn’t touch me except for the cursed technique you used?!” Sukuna roared as he glared at you only for you to then let out a sigh of frustration.

‘It’s such a drag to explain…’

“I transferred some of my cursed energy to Fushiguro’s wrist as well as to my katana, so when they made contact with you, it allowed me to connect the strands of the web to those areas where you had been hit, also the protective spell I placed on the back of Itadori’s neck before we went in the detention centre was surprisingly still intact, allowing me to track you and the chain at the end of my katana to restain you further,” you thoroughly explained, before clicking your fingers causing the sudden but slow reveal of the long black chain (attached at the end of your handle - on the metal loop where the red charm was) that you had concealed with your cursed energy to appear surrounding you and Sukuna at a large radius while the extra length was tightly wrapped around his upper body.

“That was how I pulled my katana back at the beginning of the fight if that’s what you were also wondering,” you commented, leading Sukuna to look at you with a larger smirk than what you thought his reaction would have been.

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?” Sukuna asked, before laughing causing you to look at him suspiciously, yet you couldn’t let that bother you at all, right now all you needed was for Itadori to switch back even if he was going to die.

“Even though I technically didn’t save you, Fushiguro did but I would like to give my answer I guess,” you commented before running your hands through your wet hair trying to push away the strands that were concealing your vision slightly. 

“I should have exorcised you back then, in fact it’s my duty as part of the L/N Clan to, but I know you’re a good person at heart Itadori, I knew that since the day I saw you back at school and probably Fushiguro saw that as well when he decided to save you,” you explained with a smile, as you began to notice the markings gradually disappear from his face and body causing you to slowly deactivate the cursed energy web that was immobilising you and Itadori while the chain that was coiled around him slowly began to loosen its grip on him.

“It was for selfish and emotional reasons but that’s fine though,” Fushiguro stated as his posture relaxed once he noticed that you were slowly lowering your guard, “I’m not a hero, I’m a jujutsu sorcerer, so I’ve never once regretted saving you,” he then announced with a smile on his face.

Suddenly, itadori looked at you with a smile on his face before turning to look at Fushiguro, who was behind him. “I see, you really are smart, Fushiguro, Gojo,�� you’ve put more thought into this than I have,” Itadori mentioned with a smile, as he pushed his hair back, “I think your conviction’s a proper one, but I don’t think mine is wrong, either,”.

Suddenly, more blood started to drip down from his wound causing you to move forwards to make sure that Itadori didn’t fall down completely. “Oh, sorry, I’m almost done for, guess I won’t have to worry you guys, Kugisaki, or Gojo-sensei, live a long life,” Itadori faintly stated to you both before falling straight into your arms causing you to fall to your knees due to his heavyweight causing your skirt and high-knee socks to become soaked in the rain that already bathed your hair and face.

The rain only grew heavily as seconds went by, only reflecting on the disappointment and devastation that was coming from both you and Fushiguro, as you both stayed silent letting the rain consume you both for the time being.

Maybe after the rain, he might come back.

‘Please come back’

                                               ꕥ

“So you had your suspicions?” you questioned your adopted father, as you leaned against the railing of the balcony, while he stood next to you leaning against the same railing.

“There was a special grade there, sending the first-years to rescue five who may or may not be alive is out of order, even if you are capable of exorcising it Y/N,” Gojo explained causing you to realise where this was going.

“So what you are saying is, since you indefinitely suspended Itadori’s execution, that got some higher-ups upset, leading us to go do that mission, in order for Itadori to be killed?” you suggested, leading Gojo to turn silent at your comment, leading you to get the answer you were expecting even if no words were exchanged.

“You’re strong though Y/N, you effortlessly fought like Sukuna was just a normal curse,” Gojo complimented you, only for you to give him no response since it was not a good time for you to be praised.

You failed at saving Itadori.

“As a special grade like your father, I need you to look out for Megumi and Nobara for a while, train them to the best of your abilities since we got an event coming up!” Gojo cheered, leading you to present him with a glare.

‘What a drag...I really can’t be bothered to be in an event’

“I’m going to check on the others Gojo-sensei, I’ll see you later,” you stated before standing on the feet as you than processed to walk away with your hand up, as a way to wave him ‘goodbye’.

“Call me dad for once Y/N~” Gojo shouted, leading you to groan in annoyance before making your way to the entrance, where you knew Fushiguro and Kugisaki were since Gojo did take you away from them when he found you sitting with them on the stone steps near the entrance of the school.

After some time, you finally managed to reach your destination as you found yourself standing at the top of the extra steps above your classmates, before noticing a few new faces further below, leading you to become perplexed since you weren’t expecting any other sorcerers to come by today - well...that’s what Gojo said.

“Don’t tell me the other student died as well?” the female sorcerer question, leading you to look in her direction in confusion since she seemed a little familiar to you for some reason.

‘Ah, she was the person I saw when I moved into the dorm, but she didn’t really see me’

“I’m right here,” you commented, leading to everyone that was in your view to look up at your direction to find you standing with your arms crossed before you steadily made your way down the steps as you processed to stand a step above between Fushiguro and Kugisaki, who were still seated on the same spot they were in when you had left them for a few minutes.

“You don’t even have a scratch on you,” the female sorcerer commented, as she noticed you didn’t have any patches or bandages like the other two first-years had once you observed you.

“She’s a strong sorcerer,” Fushiguro commented, leading you to kick his back before commenting that he was a strong sorcerer as well.

“Ah! Are you the special grade, Gojo was mentioning about?” the large Panda asked, causing you to give him a glance before answering, “I don’t believe I’m a special-grade sorcerer but if that what my drag ass of an adoptive dad ranked me, then I guess I am,”.

“Who are you guys?” you then asked since it seemed like they had already done their introductions for Kugisaki. Although, it seemed like your female classmate was in the same sort of confusion as you since she noted to you that she had no idea who the fellow sorcerers were.

“Our second-year upperclassmen,” Fushiguro nonchalantly answered before he continued by introducing them to you and Kugisaki.

“Zenin-senpai is the best of all the students at wielding cursed tools, that’s the Cursed Speech user, Inumaki-senpai, he can only speak in ingredients of onigiri and that’s panda senpai,” Fushiguro introduced everyone causing some questions to manifest in your head.

‘Zenin ha?..she doesn’t seem like the one that my mum was talking about, so I don’t have to suspect her but is there anything else to add for Panda-senpai?’

“There’s one more, Okkotsu-senpai, who is the only one I can openly respect, but he’s overseas right now,” Fushiguro added, before slowly standing on his two feet.

“You’re not adding more about the panda named Panda?” Kugisaki asked as she looked up at the shikigami user to gain some information, only to be ignored.

“Man, sorry about this and when you’re in mourning...please forgive us for that,” Panda apologised before placing his hands together as a sign to be forgiven, even though that sign reminded you about something else.

‘Ah...that’s the same hand gesture for one of my cursed spells’

“The truth is, we’d like you to participate in the Kyoto Sister School Exchange Event,” Panda explained, causing you to recall about an ‘event’ Gojo had mentioned to you.

“Oh, that’s what he meant,” you whispered before Kugisaki interrupted you by repeating the event’s name in confusion.

“What’s that?” Kugisaki asked as she turned to Fushiguro looking for the answer.

“It’s a get-together with the other Tech school in Kyoto, though isn’t that event mainly second and third-years?” the erratic-haired sorcerer answered your classmate before questioning the invitation since all of you were first-years.

“And those stupid third-years are suspended right now, so you need to participate,” Zenin explained, causing you to look to the side with an annoyed expression on your face since you realised that this meant you had to cover up your tracks more than you were bothered to do.

“What do you do at this event? Smash Bros? I won’t lose if it’s the Wii version, I’ll Meteor Smash so you can’t come back” Kugisaki randomly mentioned with a determined look on her face as she formed a fist, causing you to look in her direction with a confused face since you didn’t know how she came to that conclusion in the first place.

“Then let’s make a 3-man team, the exchange event has the principals of the Tokyo and Kyoto schools each propose a form of competition to be held for an entire day over the course of two days, though that’s how it is on paper,” Panda informed you and Kugasaki, who were oblivious to what this event was in general.

“Every year, the first day is a team battle, and the second day is individual battles,” Panda explained, leading Inumaki to agree with him by saying ‘salmon’ as his confirmation to his classmates' explanation.

“Individual and team battles? We fight?! Against other jujutsu sorcerers?!” Kugisaki shouted after realising what the event really entailed, causing you to look at her before lightly smacking the back of her head.

“You just realised that?” you asked in a dumbfounded tone.

“Yeah, it’s a jujutsu battle where anything but killing goes,” Zenin confirmed with a huge grin causing you internal sigh at the fact that you had to hide the use of your cursed technique since that would blow your cover entirely.

“We’ll train you up well so you won’t get killed. Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Panda declared before he started to throw some air punched after every ‘yeah’ he said.

“Wait, do you have time for that? I thought we were short on jujutsu sorcerers,” Kugisaki asked since she concluded that there were only six of you right now.

“That’s a good question, For now, we are. The glim emotions people harbour from late winter through spring cause an outburst of curses in the early summer, so that’s our busy season,” Panda explained as Zenin then explained that some sorcerers are busy all year long, but since things are settling down soon, it should be fine.

“So, you’ll do it, right? You just had a partner die on you, after all,” Zenin asked, as she was waiting for all your responses.

“We’re in!” Fushiguro and Kugisaki simultaneously answered with determined looks on their faces before turning back to look at you, waiting for your answer.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, you knew that you had no way out of this since they looked so motivated for you to join, even if you disagreed with them.

“This is such a drag, but fine, I’ll join in too,” you replied with a small smile on your face leading them to nod at you before turning back to your seniors.

“But if I decided this training and exchange event is pointless, I’m quitting instantly,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“Same here,” Fushiguro commented, causing you to kick both of them on the back much to their surprise.

“So you drags make me do this event, only for you to dip when it’s pointless for you, besides I heard there are some interesting sorcerers in the Kyoto side, so prepare yourselves,” you stated before stepping down the few steps you were in front of before standing between them.

“Well, people this cocky are all more worthwhile to train,” Panda mentioned with his arms folded with a determined look on his face.

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki said in a softer tone.

Looking up to the sky, you couldn’t help but brisk in the sunlight that was shining lightly down upon you, leading you to raise your hand over your face in order to not be blinded.

‘I wonder how I’m going to hide from this one now?’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[lilithbasically]

PITA

Pt. 9

*Minors DNI*

(Bakugo x Reader)

Warnings: Vanilla sex doesn't exist in my head so: spanking, quirk play, degradation, praise, oral (f receiving; don't worry, he'll have his turn later), fingering

This'll be a little different from the rest because I won't be doing Bakugo's POV for this chapter. So, it'll have a mix of Bakugo and reader reactions and feelings and whatnot.

< Prev. | Pt. 9 | Next >

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As soon as Bakugo crossed the threshold of your bedroom, clothes were being ripped off, thrown to god knows where, and you were dropped onto your bed.

"Katsuki...please..."

"I've got you baby. Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

Ripping your panties off, he settled between your legs on his stomach and pulled your thighs over his shoulders to admire his view. Trying to pull your knees together to shield you from his eyes, Bakugo growled and kept them open.

"This is mine...don't fuckin hide from me, baby. You're beautiful."

"Katsuki...s'embarrassing...don't stare...," you murmured.

"How the fuck am I supposed to not stare, Y/N?" He asks, removing your legs to plant a kiss on your collarbone, "How am I supposed to ignore," kissing between your breasts, "how absolutely fucking gorgeous," a kiss to your hips, "you are?" Finally, pulling your legs back over his shoulders, he landed a kiss against your clit.

"Fuck, Katsukiiiii, please...I need you..."

"Y/N...you can't be saying my name like that...I'm trying to be good here, baby..."

Before you could say anything else, Bakugo started giving little kitten licks to your clit while inserting a finger into your core, making your back arch and moans fly out of your mouth.

"Fuck, Katsuki..."

Pushing a second finger into you, his mouth still focusing on your clit, he struggled to keep his composure. His dick was straining painfully against his boxers and just the sight of you was enough to set him off but he was absolutely determined to make you fall apart before he even considered his own desires. Because just like with everything else, Bakugo had to be the best.

"Goddamn, baby...please fuckin cum so I can fuck you...fuckin hell..."

"Oh god, Katsuki...fuuuuhuuuckkkk...daddy, please...please don't stop...oh god...," your hips jerking, coaxing him to give you more.

"Whatcha need, babygirl?"

"Ahh...you, daddy. Please I need you...wanna cum...fucking pleeeease...," you whined.

As soon as his lips surrounded your clit and he curled his fingers up, you fell over the edge; a moaning, writhing mess. His name falling from your lips like a prayer and he couldn't have been more in love with how you sounded.

Reluctantly pulling his mouth away, he sat back to let you catch your breath. You just tasted so fuckin good...he could keep his face buried in you for hours, and definitely fucking would at some point. When he thought about the greater reward waiting to happen though, he felt his impossibly hard cock grow even harder and twitch in anticipation.

Crawling up to hover over you, he planted sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder, up your neck, across your jaw, and finally met your lips with his. "You good, baby?"

Still panting and coming down, all you could think about was Katsuki's dick stretching and filling you. Unable to form words, you meet his gaze and give him a small nod.

Breathing a small chuckle, he reached his hand up to tuck stray hairs behind your ear, "Sorry, baby. You need to use your words for daddy."

Licking your lips, you finally find the ability to speak, "I'm perfect, Katsuki. Please...please fuck me..."

"Fuck, Y/N...," he breathed.

Lining up with your dripping core, Bakugo starts to slowly slide into you. He knows he's big so he tried to take his time even though his body was screaming at him to just fucking impale you. When you rock your hips up into him, any minuscule semblance of restraint he had was gone. Slamming his hips against you, he sheathed his length into you in one fluid motion.

You couldn't help it. He'd built you up so fucking much and you needed to feel him so bad that when the tip of his dick rubbed all the spots that made your vision blur, and his thickness stretched you so deliciously, you came. Eyes rolling back, teeth biting into your bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping your throat, you came and you came fucking hard.

"Fuck, baby...did...did you just cum?"

Panting and rolling your hips up into his, you whined, "Couldn't stop it, daddy...m'sorry..."

"Holy fuckin hell, baby," Katsuki groaned as he grabbed your hips pulling out of your heat excruciatingly slow just to slam right back in. Lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders, he set a brutal, cervix bruising pace.

"Fuck, baby...fuck...," he groaned, your moans and pleas fueling his desire, "need'ta be deeper...need'ta fill you...fuck, Y/N."

Stopping only to flip you to your stomach, he pulled your hips up, lifting your ass in the air. Activating his quirk letting a few small explosions light up, he landed a sharp slap against the curve of your ass, eliciting a sinful moan from the lips of the woman he was so madly fucking in love with.

Lining up, he leaned over your back to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. Bringing his lips to your ear, Bakugo asked, "Are you gonna be daddy's good little slut and let me fuck you stupid?"

"Fuck yes, daddy. Whatever you want...please...," you pleaded.

A satisfied groan left Bakugo's lips as he thrust into you, forcing your back into a formidable arch, you felt his balls slapping against your clit, bringing you dangerously close to another orgasm. You could barely register his words but still managed to whimper about how deep he was...how big he was.

"Goddamn, baby...need you to cum again. Please, cum for me...need to feel you milk my cock, babygirl. Let go...daddy's got ya...fuck you feel so good. Wanna fill you, baby...fill you up with my cum...wanna see it drip from your perfect little cunt."

"Katsukiiiii, please fill me. Please, oh fuck, oh god, I can't- I need..."

"Let go, Y/N...I'm right here, I've got you..."

Trailing a hand from your hips around to lay gentle circles over your clit, Bakugo leaned forward to bring his lips right behind your ear to whisper, "Be a good girl and cum."

On command, you felt chills break over your skin, the dam breaking, welcoming in the euphoria that was named Bakugo Katsuki, "Fuuuuuuuuck, daddyyyy..."

As soon as he felt your walls squeeze around him, he painted them with thick, white ropes of cum. Breathing heavy, he smoothed his hand up through the valley of your breasts to pull you up by your throat and hold your back against his chest. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, he turned your head to swallow your dying moans with his kisses as he kept deep, slow thrusts, fucking his cum into you. Because as much as he wanted to fuck you stupid, he wanted to show you just how much he loved you even more.

Both of you finally coming down from your highs, he pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling out of you to pull you down to the bed with him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You laid there for a while, Bakugo rubbing nonsensical patterns into your arm and back, you doing the same to his chest, listening to each other breathing.

Bakugo cleared his throat and chuckled, pulling you closer to him he said, "Huh...I guess you did end up calling me daddy after all."

Smacking him on the chest you giggled, "Ohhhh my god you're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Oh no fuckin way, PITA. That's one of my favorite memories. Your face was so damn red," he laughed.

"It's not my fault you were sculpted by the gods, okay? Geez."

Lifting his arm from under you, he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you. His signature smirk plastered on his face, "You wanna get cleaned up and get some dinner with me?"

Just as you opened your mouth to agree, someone knocked at your front door.

"Were you expecting someone?" Bakugo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nu uh, maybe it's Layla. I haven't talked to her since yesterday so she may have gotten worried about me..."

His scowl grew deeper, brows furrowing, "Worried about what, baby? Being with me?"

Worry and something akin to fear flashing through his eyes, you felt your heart squeeze in your chest, "Oh god no. Um, this may be a conversation better had over--," you started to explain until an unwelcome and familiar voice sounded through the door.

"Angellllll...I know you're in there..."

Bakugo felt your entire body go rigid, saw your eyes gloss over, heard your breath go shaky before you choked out, "That. That right there is why I thought Layla might be worried."

__________________________

@lordmypantsaresocool @riot-race @fatbitchgeek-blog @sunflowers-rae @totally-not-bakus-hoe @whatever-the-fuck-i-dont-care @suckerfor-fanfics @aomi04 @narcoleptiiic @missalienqueen @sweetienans

[deadbeatdadjokes]

“It’s cool dude. You can just pick it back up later”

aka that thing I told my friend after he got his ass beat by King Spade that I didn’t realize had horrifying implications/consequences until I saw that post by @girlwiththegreenhat and tags by @tysonfurybattlepass that both talked about how in the Chapter 1 soundtrack the game over track comes right after Spade’s fight theme and like uhhh hmmm.... :((((

But like uhhh yeah what would happen to Lancer if Spade had actually won? Nothing good, I’m sure.

(But here’s a non-sequitur excuse to attempt writing Jevil)

Time floats by at its leisure, tangled and lost within the swirl of the sky that turns, endlessly on and on into a blurred kaleidoscope of color he can’t escape.

He didn’t want to escape.

Everything made more sense here, in spite of his many attempts to explain until he was purple in the face, he found it a waste to argue anymore with the rare visitors who only sought to torment him further from beyond their bars until the door ultimately vanished one day.

He doesn’t mourn their loss so much as he laments the lack of company, but if freedom came with a price, it was a debt paid most willfully to have the faces meld into an antiquated tapestry, their voices like melodies of a song unsung for decades if it severed their desperate cling to him.

They’d had their chance at escape. They’d shunned him then, but it was he who was laughing now.  

He had no trouble amusing himself, and the carousel turns steadfast either way.  

That is, until one day, it stops.

The stagnation makes him dizzy, and he sits, more irate than he should be that the dark fountain seems to reach him even here, in his one haven of all places.

The sky flickers, glittering fractals hardening like unforgiving stone and the sudden rotten stench would have compelled him to retreat had he remembered how to stand on solid ground.

It’s under siege. He doesn’t know how he knows and he’s angry that he does, he swore he’d left that place behind long ago and yet it still plagues him with its existence, or rather, it’s threat at non-existence that he’d normally be quite keen to celebrate, had it not been equally eager to drag his world down with it.

It only builds. It cries in anguish, and darkness oozes through him like the blood of the fatally wounded that nevertheless attempts to rally him to arms for a cause he’s long abstained from when there were more pressing concerns…it truly was an impossible task to describe the bigger picture to those who were so short-sighted, so blinded by their own greed and selfishness-

Anger mounts. He tries to combat the stillness, that rushing, roaring sound in his head by bouncing himself but in his agitation the movement becomes too aggressive for it to procure the pacifying effect he was hoping for.

The floor is more abrasive than he remembers it being.

The world is smaller than he remembers it being.

Colder, darker…

Just as suddenly the world begins to revolve again.

Nothing but the silence he’s used to. The sky he’s used to.  

He can still feel the steady thrum of the fountain, churning on as if it had only been his imagination, though he’s quick to forget the sensation, to shed the tether so long as it’s been made optional.

Of course he’s entirely puzzled, but makes short work of that, too.

He knows better than to seek clarity from nonsense, but that was the way they chose to live. Even if it does produce a smaller, inexplicable pang of grief in him from time to time.

It doesn’t concern him. The one rule he abided by. He moves on swiftly, content to let the incident be engulfed by the rippling folds of the technicolor horizon.

In spite of his wishes, it’s soon split, gouged out and carved roughly, and the unsettling shape of a doorway is ripped from the spatial fabric.

He readies himself-they wouldn’t take him-they wouldn’t imprison him again-

But whatever opens the cell door takes little interest in him.

Instead, the giant looming silhouette discards something crumpled and battered, littering his prison’s unwanted garbage into his own world by some delusion of superiority-

Though…the visit isn’t entirely unwelcomed, as his curiosity successfully quashes his annoyance at the disturbance.

He looks on. He listens.

“A pity you’ve gone insane,” it says, in a cadence he could almost place from a distant memory, “you could have been a hero. But instead you’ve chosen to stand against me.”

The lump he’s apparently speaking to remains silent, unmoving…the only evidence there’s even someone there at all a mere faint shiver as it regards them.

A call from beyond. Someone asks a question about the rest-

It answers, loudly.

“Dispose of them-! Tonight, we celebrate our victory!”

A pause, then more quietly, though no less intense.

“Though you have robbed me of much of its satisfaction…” it sneered, and he’s nearly bored at all the uninvited worthless political grandstanding they’ve spilled over until the oncoming softness its tone adopts gave him reason to halt his oncoming jeer.

“My son…I will be too occupied mourning your loss. I warned that the Lightners would kill you, and so they have. There was nothing I could do to save you.”

The distinct clang of metal makes him jump since he isn’t used to it, but the loud, sudden noise doesn’t seem to alert the lump, or even startle them.

Before long everything fades away, the world stitches itself up again and the door disappears, irritating brutish figures along with it.

The lump stays. Doesn’t disappear as he half-expects but he’s excited by the unexpected nonetheless.

A playmate…? There’s definitely a prisoner shrouded within that darkened silhouette that laid splayed upon the floor just far away enough from the world to acknowledge it’s turning…too far away to acknowledge their freedom.

Stuck still in the prison they hadn’t yet realized they’d escaped from. They’d understand soon how frivolous it all was, how meaningless their old life stood to reasonable context they’d never been given until now. Soon…

“Uee hee! It’s been ages!”

He scampers up. It’s quite small, smaller than anything he can remember almost…

“Want to play a game?” He asks, though doesn’t wait for an answer.

It never comes anyways.

He kicks it gently with the side of his foot in the hopes it will stir but nothing seems to work.

He conjures his magic, sharpened spades match the ruined symbols that mark them.

He releases them to just graze the outline of them laying there, useless and lame and boring, and its almost an insult to his embellishment for it to appear so lifeless amidst the bright and sparkling.  

“Oh, you’re no fun, fun!”

His foot connects again but this time he uses it to roll it over entirely.

His curiosity gets the better of him yet again, and he stands over its small frame to get a better look at it, so long as it was going to loaf around in solemn silence he wanted to see what type of person he was dealing with.

As he approaches, it recoils. He laughs in victory but as the child uncovers itself to reveal the hue of the sky reflected off of its water-stained cheeks, flushed and bruised in an ugly concoction of colors he never realized clashed so violently-

Child…it…he-he was a child…why…? How did he remember…? He remembered this child from somewhere-?

The sudden sentiment brings him to his own knees as he backs away, and they spin together.

His entire body is already similarly colored, battered, littered with gashes and bruises, throat red and angry, parts swollen and torn and useless…and yet he did little to acknowledge his pain outside of his apparent lack of utility.

“…seems someone already played without me…” He mutters, disappointment marred with a streak of genuine sorrow.

The little one sniffs, whimpers in a way that pulls him, suspends him over an iridescent inseparable mix of memory and fantasy.

It’s familiar…? He sees a face appear. Nearly identical to the child’s. Decidedly much younger-an infant-but somehow he recognizes this one more, though he can’t be sure he’s ever seen it in person.  

He…remembers(?) the tears, and though he hears himself laugh there’s a comfort in it than bears no hint of spite or malice. The pool of thought reveals to him a clarity he never thought possible in those days…he remembers being there-the baby cries but he’s there too-

He remembers-he produces a trick he’d been working on with-

He conjures the shower of diamonds that glistened in the dim light of the throne room, that shone just in front of the baby’s face in a way that never failed to elicit a giggle from the little prince as he watched mesmerized, distracted from whatever was causing him such pain.

He…?

Does he remember how?

He settles near his face, taps him on the shoulder and he lifts his head the smallest amount-

His muscles move on their own to replicate a display he’d seen in a dream once…diamonds dance in the air with a lightness he also didn’t remember.

The child stares, holding his breath.

But it’s clear as they finish he’s only staring through them. There’s no light behind his eyes as there once was…was there…? He’s tensing not in anticipation, but rather in fear, as though they were truly strangers to one another.

Weren’t they…? He’d never seen this face before, so heavy, laden with remnants of a world he’d long left behind…

Perhaps it was only another illusion.

The thoughts slip away, out of his fingers and away with the shimmering reflections he allows to dissolve in the air they weren’t compatible with anymore.

It’s not long before equilibrium renders him bored yet again.

The…he…it numbly lowers its head to rest on the ground as soon as the magic dissipates…back to the inanimate object it seemed more than content to exist as for as long as it took its memory to fade too.

“Have it your way!”

He bounds away, content to carry on about his business in a world that would have him, unencumbered by the residual misery of the hell that undoubtably lied in wait just on the other side of the cell door, for them to be turning on one another like this for such arbitrary reasons…

Loneliness still nips at him so long as the remedy lies there motionless, tangible in a tailspin that’s countered by the ever-turning carousel…

Well, it wasn’t any of his concern.

Much like the carousel, it would come around eventually.

[danniburgh]

Hunger; a RushBit Drabble

Drabble no one asked for in commemoration of National Eat Her Out Day:

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Word count: idk i wrote this in the app

A/N: it's national pussy eating day, man, let Javi celebrate (this is canon RushBit, after chapter 25)

fic index // Masterlist

gif: @bestintheparsec

The grocery bags were heavy on your hand, you damned the time the store had changed from paper to plastic, as the handles were almost digging through your hand while you tried to unlock the door.

“C’mon you little piece of shit,” you mumbled when you shoved the wrong key into the doorknob; you made a mental note to mark the keys with colors or maybe just a new keychain, as you hadn't memorized yet the keys to your new house. You introduced another and turned, it unlocked “there we go.”

You pushed the door open and walked in, not bothering to try and close it with the things you were carrying threatening to snap the bags open and spill over the floor, the house was silent and fresh, you wondered if Javier had left the AC on before leaving, but thanked if he did.

You rushed to the kitchen and left the bags on the counter, a sigh of relief left hour mouth and you opened and closed a fist to bring back the circulation in your hand.

You turned around and walked to close the door, not wanting the cool air to leave the house as the summer noon air was almost boiling. Before you could close it, the figure of Javier rushing towards the house caught your attention over the corner of your eye.

You frowned, amused at the way he was sprinting closer and closer.

“Why are you running?” you yelled at him just before he arrived to the porch steps.

“You're home early.” he let out in between pants, stepping towards you.

“I had nothing else to do for they day,” you explained with a smile, raising your hand to brush a strand of his hair out of his sweaty forehead, Javier’s hand found its place on your waist and he guided you backwards to walk into the house “are you okay?” you asked him, silently laughing at the way he was trying to recover his breath while he closed the door with his free hand, Javier nodded “why were you running?”

“I’m hungry.” he let out softly.

You frowned, Javier smirked at you and his other hand gripped at your waist, he brought you closer to him, your lower belly clashing against his crotch. You raised your eyebrows at the realization of what he was craving.

“Oh.” you hummed out.

“Yes.” he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek as your smile grew. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’re all sweaty.” you muttered, Javier hummed.

“That’s never bothered you before, baby” he whispered against your flushed skin, you giggled.

“And you’ve been working,” you whispered, Javier hummed in affirmation, “go wash your hands.” you ordered him softly, Javier huffed.

“I’m not gonna use my hands.” he growled, as he wrapped his arms around your middle and picked you up, you let out a loud laugh.

“Put me down!” you yelled over his head, Javier chuckled a no and walked the short distance between the entrance to the living room, tossing you unceremoniously onto the couch as you almost drowned in laughter “salvaje” you teased him, sitting up on the couch as he knelt down in front of you.

“Preciosa,” he called you, sliding his hands on your thighs and leaned up to trap your lips on a kiss.

His lips were dry and smooth at the same time, his kiss was deep and almost messy; you buried your hand inside his hair, dampened with his sweat and tugged softly, making Javier growl against your mouth and reach for your shirt.

“Take this off or I’ll rip it.” he mumbled against your mouth, you giggled again and distanced yourself from him to pull up the shirt and take it off, Javier helped you with your bra, unhooking it dexterously and pulling it from your arms.

“Happy?” you teased him, Javier nodded with a smile on his face and his eyes on your chest.

“Very.” he whispered and buried his face inside your boobs, kissing and nibbling at the flushed skin, licking around the nipples as he unbuttoned your jeans, you helped him take them off by lifting your hips and he slid them down, leaving you naked and vulnerable in front him.

Without saying a word Javier took your knees and parted your legs, you wanted to ask him what did you do right for him to receive you home by getting you naked and kissing up your thighs to do it twice a week, but as his kisses and nibbles traveled further up on your skin and he looked at you in the eyes as he kissed your mound, all thought left your mind.

Javier parted the lips of your pussy open with his tongue, making a soft moan escape from your mouth; he flattened his tongue and ran it from your slit to your clit once again and wrapped your hooded bundle of nerves with his mouth, sucking gently.

“Fuck,” you gasped, his hands were holding your legs open for him and one of yours found his wrist, gripping it, as the other kneaded your own breast “again.” you pleaded.

Javier chuckled against your pussy, the vibration of the sound reverberated against you and made you sigh in pleasure, he sucked at your clit again, moving his face slowly from side to side.

He didn’t stop looking at you; he bit gently your clit and licked down again to shove his tongue inside your cunt; his mouth was feasting on your pussy while his eyes feasted on your face.

He loved making you feel so much pleasure you couldn’t even keep your eyes open; your mouth was parted as he licked inside you and swallowed the slick that leaked out of you; your breath hitched as the scent of your sex invaded his entire body and the taste of your insides almost cloyed his tastebuds; your body shook as he felt his cock begging for attention inside his jeans.

Javier kept going; licking and tasting and slurping at you, nibbling and flicking at your clit as his ears took in the moans and whimpers and gasps you were letting out.

Right before the scorching coil he had built inside of you strained apart and broke, you started mumbling nonsensical praises to him; your hand landed on his head as you pressed him impossibly closer to you, telling him how good it felt, how much you loved him, how amazing he made you feel.

You came with a scream of his name and a hard tug of his hair; Javier helped you ride your high with his tongue as you opened your eyes with a blissed smile adorning your face and your chest rising and falling with new air. You pushed him away from you and raised your arms open for him to lean up and kiss you, sharing your own taste with you.

“What was that for?” you asked him in a whisper as he helped you lie down on the couch and joined you on it, Javier chuckled and brought you closer to him, making you feel his erection through the denim of his jeans.

“Can’t I eat my woman out in peace?”

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dick aneurysm: @starlightmornings @ezrasbirdiealso @purplepascal042 @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @wyn-n-tonic @mesmorales @charnelhouse

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1 @absurdthirst @thoughtfulpandawasteland @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @helloannbananalove @diogodxlot @sarahjkl82-blog @pedritobalmando @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen @callsigncatfish @feminist-violinist @jasmincita @pascalove @eury-dice3 @gingaahhhh @athalien @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics