#sprout spouts words

[buddicat]

is she 🏳️‍🌈

[monstersholygrail]

Two words: Faerie lawyer

Omg it could be like that meme with the monster deals.

You had gotten into some seriously issues and you had no idea what to do. Not only was human law enforcement up your ass, but the magical law enforcement was fucking you over on their glitter-covered cocks and leaving you to clean up the mess. No aftercare in damn sight.

But the real issue was that no lawyer, human or otherwise, wanted to take your case! They were all too scared. Not of you but what the hell you got yourself into. It wasn’t your fault. You were always weak for a charismatic douchebag who promised he loved you but then framed you for a series of crimes he committed. What can you say, you have bad taste.

It wasn’t until you were guided out of your temporary cell and into a questioning room to see a lawyer with his back to you that you finally had hope threatening to sprout within you. Until the idiot turned around and you instantly pick up on his Fae ears. The moment you sit down he starts to spout out some wonderful words of grandeur, promising he can get you off and set you free. Your brows rise at his word choice.

“And what will it cost me?” You finally ask once he’s done giving his whole sales pitch (mini-canons and sparklers included). A wicked gleam passes over his features and it sends a shiver racing down your spine. What kind of shiver? You know yourself well enough to figure it out.

“Oh, nothing much. I merely want to have your firstborn child. In exchange, I will help get you off.”

His words send another shiver throughout your entire body. Meeting his intense stare you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out how you can manipulate this to your advantage. You’re in a battle of wits with a Fae and you did not consider that possibility when you wondered the other day how long you could stay awake before insanity started to set in awaiting your trial.

“Deal,” you finally say. The Faerie’s eyes sparkle with mischief. Though it falters as you mirror the expression. “So when do we get to it?”

“HMMM? Pardon me?”

“You said you wanted to have my firstborn. Well, I’m ready to begin when you are.”

The Faerie Lawyer’s cheeks flood with color. His face turning warm under your suggestive and mischievous smirk. He squirms in his suit, the blasted outfit suddenly feeling too tight and too warm to keep on for a moment longer. His eyes blaze with lust and he looks just about ready to take you on the metal table standing between you two. The one you’re conveniently chained to.

He did not consider this possibility earlier when he decided to take advantage of being selected as your court-appointed attorney. But hey, he’s not complaining now.

[straykidsnerd255]

Hello! Saw your requests open, may I request oneshot with Jinwoo and a shy!reader who is kinda peeved that theyre all tall and attractive now? Like they were really into him when he was an E-rank but now are kinda worried that Jinwoo is too good for them now? (Bonus if they havent confessed yet and accidentally confessed without realizing)

"Where is my babyfaced beloved?? Your too damn tall. How will i kiss your forehead? Or ask for hugs? Or or anything???? Nyoooooooooo!!!"

(If you do decide to do this, thank youuuu!)

❄️-nonnie

Title: A kiss of reassurance

Pairing: Sung Jin Woo (w/system) x Shy Female Reader

Genre: Angsty, Fluffy Ending

Rating: PG

Song: Those Eyes by New West

Warning(s): Jealous reader, insecurities, swearing, Reader being very insecure and shy, Jin Woo being a bit oblivious to reader’s sudden and deeper shy attitude, Reader confessing her feelings for Jin Woo in front of him (He uses his shadows to appear in her living room while she is on the phone and hears her)

Summary: You hated the fact that Jin Woo suddenly sprouted like a damn tree. He was taller, handsome, and attracted all the ladies by just stepping out of his apartment. He reassured you multiple times that he wouldn’t leave you and hang out with someone else but something in the back of your head kept spouting lies and telling you he would. When talking on the phone with your mom leads to you accidentally spilling about your feelings for Jin Woo, you don’t realize that the man himself is standing just a few feet behind you.

Word Count: 2009

Thank you so much ❄️nonnie for sending in this cute request! I hope you enjoy it! Had fun writing this little one-shot<3

You sat on your couch, arms crossed, and a scowl on your face. You and Jin Woo have been friends for a few years and you had the biggest crush on him when he was an E-Rank. He was just so adorable to you. You both were the same height so it gave you the perfect excuse to press a kiss to his forehead, or pull him into hugs, or even squish his face and call him cute. Now, he was twice your height, had sharper features, and was the heart throb around town. You….you on the other hand was shy. You were extremely shy and hated going out in public if alone. Jin Woo, other than his sister, was the only person that would indulge this small issue with you and would always go with you when you needed to go to the store, or just out for a walk.

A knock sounding on your door pulled you from your thoughts. Standing from the couch, you walked towards the front door and opened it. Your eyes widened when you saw Jin Woo standing there, hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face. “Your mom called and said you were not answering her texts and calls and got really nervous. Asked if I would be willing to come over and check up on you. Are you doing ok?” He asked, his head tilting to the side waiting for you to reply. You blinked before shaking your head. “I’m fine. Sorry my mom, you know, called you for this. Since you are here, would you like to stay for a bit?” You asked, your heart spiking like crazy. “Sorry Y/n, I was told I need to meet with the Hunter Association President to re-evaluate my rank. But we can hang out some other time. Is that ok with you?” He asked, his eyes searching your eyes.

You smiled and nodded your head. “Yeah, we can do that.” You said, even though your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. Jin Woo pulled you into a hug and you felt yourself melting at his touch. He had always been really gentle when hugging you, making you happy to have met him. You watched as he left your doorstep, waving with a small smile on his face. You returned the wave before walking back into your house and closing the door. You sighed before walking back over to the couch and laying down. For as long as you could remember, you had a big crush on Jin Woo. You loved everything about him. The way he would help you no matter the issue. How he was willing to protect you even if he was E-Rank. You hated the fact you were shy and wished that you didn’t have to burden Jin Woo with it. 

Passing out on the couch a moment later, you didn’t hear the key in the lock, twisting and unlocking your front door. Your mom stepped into the apartment and found you sleeping on the couch. A sigh passed through her lips before she walked to the kitchen and placed a few bags on the counter. She knew just how shy you could be and how anxious you get when you can’t go to the store with someone to walk with and talk to. She put the food away before writing out a little note before walking back over to where you were sleeping. She smiled softly and reached forward to tuck your hair behind your ear. She grabbed a blanket from the chair sitting in the corner and draped it over your body. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before standing up and leaving, and locking the house up. 

A few hours passed before you woke up. Yawning, you stood from the couch and walked towards the kitchen. Noticing the note sitting on your island, you picked it up and read it. A smile appeared on your face after realizing your mother was sweet enough to run to the store and get food for you. As you were standing in front of the stove making lunch, you felt tears suddenly fill your eyes. Confused, you touched your face and felt the tears slowly falling down your face. As you tried to figure out why you were tearing up, a thought materialized making your heart sink. ‘What if Jin Woo doesn’t need or want me anymore.’ You wanted to desperately rid the thought from your mind but it just wouldn’t leave. You turned back to the food on the stove, hoping that it would take your mind off that thought. 

You couldn’t stop Jin Woo from leaving your side. You were not dating him, hell, you weren’t even married to him. He could choose who he wanted to date and whoever he would marry in the future. You just wished he didn’t suddenly grow handsome and tall. You wished he stayed his cute little E-Rank self. Clenching the wooden spoon in your hand, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm down. There was no reason to get jealous but you just couldn’t help it. You hated seeing all those people surrounding the man you had considered your crush. Sighing, you finished up what you were making and plated the food.

As you sat down to eat, your phone began to ring. Standing from your chair, you walked back into the front room and picked up your phone from the coffee table and answered it. “Hi mom. What are you calling about? Oh, yeah I did see you note. Thank you for buying the food, although you didn’t really have too.” You said, listening to your mother say she didn’t mind and that she is more than happy to do so. You continued to talk with your mom even after you had made your way back to the table and sat down in the chair. You played with your food as you and your mom spoke for a little bit. Talking with your mom always pulled you from your thoughts, it was one of the many reasons you loved talking with her. 

Cleaning everything up after you finished eating, you went back to the living room and put on a movie before your phone began ringing again. “Sorry darling, I called for a reason the first time. I was wondering, I do know you have a crush on Jin Woo but, I have a friend that has a son a year older than you that would like to meet you. Maybe you and him could hit it off and start dating. Maybe that would help you take your mind off Jin Woo.” You could hear the sweetness in your mothers voice. She was just trying to help you, not liking how you were so sad everytime you both were out and about and you could see Jin Woo talking with another female. You closed your eyes and sighed. You knew it would come to this. 

“Mom, although I really appreciate what you are trying to do, I don’t think I can even remotely think about dating someone else. Jin Woo may not look like he did when he was an E-Rank hunter but that doesn’t change the fact that I love him. I don’t say anything to him because I don’t want to ruin our friendship. We have been best friends since we were like what, 15 years old?” you said, staring out the window, unaware of Jin Woo standing behind you, his eyes wide after hearing your confession. “I know that it will only hurt me the longer I bottle those feelings in but I am willing to do so if it means I can keep being friends with him. Plus, I could never tell him to his face that when he was an E-Rank his face was just so adorable that I always had to resist the urge to squish his face. More importantly, I would die if I told him I miss kissing his forehead when we were practically the same height.” You had a smile on your lips as you heard your mom laughing at your remarks before relenting and bidding her goodbye. 

You turn around and nearly jump out of your skin when you run into someone's chest. Lifting your head, you froze when you looked into piercing gray eyes. “I can’t tell what's worse. You having a crush on me and not saying anything, me having a crush on you and not saying anything, or the fact that the both of us had a crush on each other and we never said a single thing.” Jin Woo said, smiling with a raised eyebrow. You were a mess. Your hands were pressed to your face as it was dark red and heating up from embarrassment. Jin Woo took your hands in his and pulled them away from your face. He leaned down, peering up at your face while you did everything to not look at him. 

“Please look at me Y/n. I finally found out the girl I like reciprocates my feelings. What’s going on in the pretty little mind?” He asked, his hands moving to intertwine with your fingers. You looked down at your intertwined fingers and felt your heart leap to your throat. “I’m just worried. I’m shy, and I keep thinking that you could do so much better than me. You are way too good for me Jin Woo. I don’t think I can compete with the girls that surround you whenever we are outside.” You look at Jin Woo and notice the look in his eyes. Tilting his head a bit more, he leaned closer to your face. “None of those girls come close to you. Why do you think I would keep my crush at bay when I’m around you? I was trying my hardest not to ruin our friendship. You were always so shy when it came to that kind of thing so I just never tried. Is there something I can do to make you realize that I only want you?” Jin Woo asked, his gray eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. 

Gathering all the courage you had, you leaned even closer to Jin Woo, your breaths mingling together. “Maybe something to reassure me that I am the only one.” You whispered, watching as a smile appeared on his lips before he let go of your hands, he lifted his hands to hold your face so gently you couldn’t tell if he was actually touching you. He stepped closer to you. He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss. Your knees felt like jello as he kissed you. The kiss was gentle, but it was demanding. He was in control. Your heart hammered away in your chest but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. The kiss was like a blanket, warm and comforting. Pulling away, you both gasping softly for air. “Does that reassure you?” He whispered, his lips brushing against yours. You smiled, leaning your body against his. “Yeah. Yeah it does.” You said, still trying to catch your breath.

You shivered when his hands moved from your face and slid down your arms. His fingers intertwined with your fingers again. “Does this mean I can publicly call you mine?” He asked, a mischievous smile appearing on his lips as you blushed. “If I can call you mine.” You said, loving the way his ears turn red. You both didn’t say anything. Just basking in the new emotions and the fact that you were finally dating the hunter you had fallen in love with. His smile is only for you, his hugs, and his kisses. Only for you. You leaned forward, pressing your face into his chest and smiling to yourself. Sure, you were sad that he didn’t have the baby-like face anymore, but you were happy that he was yours, and you were his.

[kiaxet]

HOW ABOUT THAT @somerandomdudelmao DISASTER TWIN REUNION, HUH

Went a little feral to the tune of 2.2K words of self-indulgence. What else is new?

~~~~~~~

Donnie can't sleep. More accurately, he won't sleep. Not until he's done. He'd never been one to leave a project unfinished; death and resurrection hadn't changed that.

He taps incessantly, repetitively, on a keyboard and screen, the motions long since past inputting data and now only serving to keep him awake. The repetition is soothing, easy, and - counterintuitively - he finds his head drooping forward into sleep-

And he snaps back upright. No. Not until he can confirm Leo is okay.

Leo is behind him, he knows. Breathing. In bed. Asleep. Very much alive. And-

He jumps and whips around as a thud sounds behind him. "What the-"

Leo is on the floor.

Well, that answers the question as to whether his twin is awake.

For a fraction of a second, part of him wavers uncertainly. He loves his idiot twin. The question he hasn't been able to answer is whether his reaction to Leo waking up will fall on love or idiot twin-

"Leo!"

He can hear the exasperation in his voice, and yep, it's the latter. He takes a knee next to Leo and hauls him into his arms, lecturing him all the while, and if he can hear the annoyance in his voice then Leo sure as hell can. Sleep deprivation for the purposes of keeping his brother's soul alight had done nothing for his temper. "I swear to God, all you had to do was make a sound! Why are you such a difficult patient?"

He deposits Leo carefully on the bed - "Sit still!" - and checks him over, running every scan he can think of and making sure his brother's new body really is in good working order, spouting increasingly irritated commentary all the while. Of course the fall didn't hurt him - Leo is tougher than that, and Donnie does better work than that - but he still can't help the rising anxiety in his throat.

This almost didn't happen.

"-stupid, stupid selfless idiot!"

Donnie almost couldn't save him.

"Grrhh-"

Leo nearly died for real. Permanently beyond Donnie's reach. Well and truly gone-

"Do you have any idea how close you were to having nothing left to save?"

And now here Leo is, in perfect health, sitting on Donnie's bed with a big dopey grin on his face as Donnie chokes on his anxiety and damn near shakes himself apart-

Oh for fuck's sake.

"Hey. Are you even listening?"

Leo speaks up for the first time since he's woken up, voice shaky from disuse. "D-Donnie?"

And that is not a goddamn answer to anything Donnie has been saying, because of course it isn't. It's Leo. He's always had his own priorities. "Yeah. No. You're not fucking listening." Donnie heaves a long-suffering sigh, sinking back into the routine comfort that irritation at his twin provides. "At least you're talking." Small favors. "Although I'm surprised you're not throwing your stupid jokes at me." Even smaller favors.

He stops short as Leo's hand closes around his wrist, drawing Donnie's arm to Leo's plastron. "You're real," his brother breathes, looking from Donnie's hand to Donnie himself with tears streaming down his face. "You're real!"

And then, in the space of a thought, Leo's joy breaks, his smile turning desperate. "Are you?"

For a moment, Donnie stares at his twin, wondering at the sudden change in expression. He takes a breath-

And the part of him that had lain dormant for so long after he'd woken up - the part of him that had been screaming for his twin's safety ever since they'd recovered the few scattered embers of Leo's soul - gasps to life, blooming like a time-lapse video of a flower and reaching to the edges of Donnie's soul. Leo had called it their twin sense, and Donnie hadn't had it in him to argue after a while. Whatever it is, it's back, connected to Leo's renewed presence, and-

Donnie's heart floods with emotions. Relief and joy sprout quickly and are nearly swept away in a tide of exhaustionanxietyfearfearfearfearFEAR-

But down beneath it all, steady against the rising wall of terror, is the little blue spark of hope that his brother always carried. His core. The thing that let him continue on in the face of insurmountable odds, and lent that same strength to everyone around him. A ninja's greatest weapon.

It's Leo. It's Leo-

And Donnie can't leave him alone in his fear. Not when there's no need for it. Not when they're safe.

He lets that breath out, and sits next to Leo on the bed. "Mhm. I'm alive. And you're alive. We're safe. The Krang are gone." That's all the news that's fit to print, or at least the most important parts. What else does he have to say?

Oh.

"I'm sorry I..uh…"

He's sorry he what? Died? Left a mess for Leo to deal with? Didn't do enough while he was alive to keep everyone else alive in turn after he was gone? Kept his brother's soul in a fucking mug, because that was the only way he could ensure he wouldn't break it while Leo was still fragile? All of the above?

…yeah, it's all of the above.

He owes Leo one hell of an apology, and he's never been good at any of this, so instead he shrugs haplessly and leans forward, pulling Leo into his arms and hanging on tight.

It's a matter of moments before Leo has him flat on his shell on the bed and is sobbing into his arms. Normally he'd hate seeing his twin cry, but it's proof of life - proof that Leo made it, that his soul is intact enough for him to still be Leo, that he's alive and awake and here - and Donnie will take it.

And if he's squeezing Leo back pretty hard himself, well, that's fine too. Nobody else needs to know.

~~~~~~~

Donnie is yelling at him.

Donnie is strong enough to have picked Leo up off the ground, well enough to be on his feet without support, running tests and reading Leo the riot act over his latest boneheaded maneuver - in this case, forgetting he was missing an arm and falling out of bed.

Donnie is yelling at him, because Donnie is here to yell at him.

And Leo is smiling, because he couldn't be happier. He lets the words wash over him, draping over his shoulders like a favorite cozy blanket that he'd lost so many years ago, and he basks in the warmth that is his brother's voice and smiles.

It's enough to interrupt the yelling for a question, though he doesn't really hear it - just keeps smiling, and says Donnie's name, and it's so nice to be able to say it with a smile now, because Donnie is here-

-he is, right? This isn't just a dying hallucination on Leo's part, right?

(It couldn't be- he remembers his death, remembers breathing his last, remembers being trapped- but this-)

He reaches out, taking Donnie's wrist in hand, and pulls his brother closer to him. "You're…real…" It certainly feels real - skin and scales, softer than his own, and his fingers barely fit all the way around the wrist instead of encircling them with room to spare - and he stares down at it, tears rolling down his face as he finally looks back up at his twin. "You're real!"

The Krang show you what you want to see.

The thought strikes him unbidden, turning his joy and relief to ice. It's a well-known fact: a Krang infection can show its host what they want to see, visions of comfort and family and home, and extract intel from the host's reactions. He knows that- he knows that, and-

And he'd died surrounded by Krang- and even if he couldn't see or hear or feel, he knows he'd been held captive-

But it's Donnie- he wants this to be real- he needs this to be real- he wants his twin back so badly he can't think, and the idea that this could be a Krang hallucination is almost too much to bear-

"Are you?" He can hear how choked the words are as they leave his lips, but he needs to know-

And Donnie stops, and sits down next to him, and tells him everything he wants to hear - everything he could've ever wished for. They're alive. They're safe. The Krang are gone. It all sounds too good to be true.

And then Donnie offers him an apology and a sad half-smile, pulling him into a strong hug-

And the ice in Leo's mind shatters in a flood of warmth as his twin sense opens for the first time since Donnie's death. He feels his twin's irritation, and deep-seated exhaustion, and a choking wave of guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt-

And beneath it all, steady and strong as ever, the thrum of unending determination, powered by an unfathomably deep well of love. It's the backbeat to the melody of Leo's life, the point-counterpoint to his own heartbeat- it's something he'd never had to live without until he did, but it's back, rushing in to fill the silence he'd known with the strength to go on and the knowledge that he is loved loved loved, strong and overwhelming and all-encompassing in the way only Donnie can love-

It's something the Krang could never imitate.

This is real. This is all real-

He throws himself against his twin, toppling them both over on the bed as he clings to Donnie, unable to stand even a fraction of an inch of space between them, as though he could push their hearts together through their plastrons, and he cries, sobbing out worry and terror and grief and the slow, crushing exhaustion of a losing battle finally lost. He cries as though the world was ending - and it had, once when the Krang had invaded and again every time he'd lost a member of his family, over and over until he'd sent his last hope through a portal that had cost his littlest brother his life and succumbed to death himself.

And now he's alive. Here, wherever here is, with Donnie. Clinging to his twin, and being held in turn as Donnie gently sits them both up, never letting go as Leo cries himself out.

It takes a while - long enough for Leo's gaze to settle into a stare and his thoughts to settle into a comfortable static. He's alive, Donnie is alive, and he has no fucking idea what else is going on, but he's just going to be okay with that for now.

His thoughts rouse enough to inform him of something wrong - the line of tension Donnie is carrying down his neck and over his shoulders. That won't do. Leo could try to massage it out with one hand, maybe try to get Donnie to talk about it, but Donnie never likes to talk about it, and Leo isn't one for slowly soothing away tension when he can just take an axe to the release valve instead. Plus, it gives him something definite to focus on, instead of…this whole situation. Whatever 'this whole situation' actually is.

Donnie had mentioned his stupid jokes, right?

"H-hey Dee?" His voice wavers from disuse, thick with tears, but he pushes through. "Why did- why did the tree buy a camera?"

"What?" Oh, Donnie is not going to see this coming. Excellent.

"To do a photosynthesis." It's nowhere near the level of pizazz he normally uses for a punchline delivery - he's still too tired and frazzled and clinging to Donnie entirely too hard for that - but that beautiful pause of a terrible joke sinking in tells him it had hit home nonetheless. Donnie moves - he can hear the telltale slap of face meeting palm - and then breaks down into helpless laughter, smacking the back of Leo's shell as the tension Leo had felt in his twin's shoulders abruptly relaxes. Good. It worked.

"This is so fucking stupid," is all Donnie manages as his laughter fades, and he slumps fully against Leo with a murmur. That's...abrupt. Sure, Leo had felt Donnie's exhaustion, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad. He takes hold of Donnie, gently laying him down on the bed to rest-

Remember what happened last time Donnie fell asleep next to you.

He gasps sharply at the thought - not again NEVER again - and keeps his hand steady as he moves, laying both fingers gently against Donnie's neck and feeling for his pulse. It's easy to find, strong and steady and even, like it had been before the infection had taken Donnie's vitality and then his life.

But he's alive, and healthy, and sleeping. He's okay. And Leo-

Leo moves his hand to the side of his own neck. His pulse is also easy to find, quickened with the adrenaline of an unknown situation and multiple consecutive shocks to his system.

Okay. Take stock. Assess. Figure out a plan from there.

He's alive. Donnie's alive. The Krang are gone. And everything else…is a big fat question mark, with no easy answers and no indication as to where to begin looking for them.

Well.

Uh.

"What the fuck," Leo whispers to the room at large, as though the walls could answer.

~~~~~~~

(A world away and still very close, a younger pair of twins cling to one another the way a drowning man clings to driftwood: desperately, clutching tight, as though letting go will spell their doom. Neither of them know where the emotions came from, or why; all they know is that each of them are damn glad the other is alive, and they'll do everything they can to make sure that continues to be the case.)

(What the fuck, indeed.)

[ryomens-vixen]

Please make a second part to your Sukuna grieving headcanon because I will physically hang myself and whirl around as a corpse since I cannot take this angst !!!

Your wish, has been granted! ⭐ I'm sorry if it's short

Grieving!Sukuna headcanons pt2.

Plot/Summary: Each year on your d3athdate Ryomen emerges from his temple to wreck havoc upon any and every neighboring town and village in a thousand mile radius or more. Many townspeople think it'd be better to put the King of Curses out of his misery, but the others have a different idea in mind. Resurrecting the one person that can tame this maddening beast...

Content: Fluff, Angst, happy Sukuna, Necromancy, pet names.

Word count: 🤷🏾‍♀️ sis ion know good luck.

Grieving!Sukuna Pt1

Grieving!Sukuna Who grumbled in agony after hearing your sweet voice call out to him. Thinking that it may just be another illusion of his, one that haunted him ever since the death of the love of his life.

Grieving!Sukuna Who slouched in his throne shielding his ears from your voice that called to him again. All he could think in that moment was the tears in your eyes and the way you fell cold in his arms as he held you that day.

Grieving!Sukuna who placed another hand over his own eyes because the mere sight of you pained him beyond belief oh, but when you climbed up the bones below his throne eagerly to greet your Lord, did he finally open his eyes-

Grieving!Sukuna who stared at you in disbelief as you greeted him in that strange way you always did- what was it? Ah, you always fell to your knees at his feet, taking the nearest hand of his to perch your lips upon. Oh did he miss the way your soft lips feverishly kissed the back and palm of his hand.

"Are these damned Eyes of mine deceiving me... Or"

He grabbed her face in between his thumb and pointer like he always did in response to your greetings. He chuckled, "Have I truly gone mad over these years."

Grieving!Sukuna who could almost feel his heart burst out of his chest from just hearing that sweet, sweet melody.. Your voice. But who could blame him for questioning your mere existence? You literally passed away right in his arms- he could still feel how cold your body had became after the hours he had held you.

"My Lord, How I wish this was all the trick of thee eye, but... When I arose from my eternal slumber there was a strange man with a staff over me- H.. He spoke that if I do not come to you, then there would be hell to pay! "

She took his large hand into both of her own and gently, but loving nuzzled the palm of the hand with her cheek. "So far seeing you in such a state is hell enough to me... I never thought I'd see the day where you shed a te-"

Grieving!Sukuna who sprouted an extra mouth in the palm of hand which he used to passionately and desperately kiss you with.

Grieving!Sukuna Who leaked such fluids from his eyes that Dampened his face for years in the sight of you. Yet his hand just wasn't enough he wanted to feel your lips against his own, Ryomen craved it as if he'd die without such a thing.

"Damn you, woman.. How I ached for you, grieved for you, craved you, and you just- *Silence* *Inhale & Exhale* There you are spouting nonsensical nothings of necromancy... Well I'll be damned if I didn't take advantage of it."

Grieving!Sukuna who sweeped you into his arms with the quickness. Holding you by the fat of your thighs, one hand around waist the other on the arch of her lower back. The kiss that he pulled her into was damn near suffocating~

Grieving!Sukuna who would barely let you break away from such a breathtaking kiss. Each time you attempted to pull back Ryomen would growl, grip you tighter as he bit onto your bottom lip to pull you back in.

Grieving!Sukuna who finally after a bit of coaxing pulled away, then hide his face in the nape of her neck so she couldn't see such an embarrassing sight... The king of Curses, crying.

"Y- You must NEVER speak of this to no man or be prepared to-"

"Meet my untimely demise, My Lord? I would Never utter a word!?"

All he could muster was a deep chuckle to try to cover up his obvious sniffling. "Good Girl, So you truly are my sweet concubine, my naive wife, my little pet~"

"My Lord, I was always yours... Even in death"

Sorry this probably sucked so much ass, but thank you for giving me a chance to write something I'm not very good at aka fluff!

[the-lonelybarricade]

What Do You Know About Love - (6/?)

Summary: When Elain discovers a centuries old love letter, written in secret and never sent, she decides that she's going to be the one to finally deliver it. Even if finding its intended recipient means going on a mission with Lucien Vanserra. Set post ACoSF.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 6: Fearless

Chapter 6 - Leaning Against the Sun

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter

-

“Do you even know how to embroider?”

It was the first question Lucien asked once they were alone. He'd propped himself against one of the large white-stone columns in the central room of their connecting suites. An upward spiral was carved into the surface at his back, as if a great giant had once taken hold of it on either end and twisted.

He was surveying Elain as she wandered the spacious suite they’d be sharing for the indefinite future.

“Of course I do,” she said, roaming curiously toward the ivory fountain sprouting from a small water basin in the center of the room. It featured an eagle with its wings splayed to their full length, cawing to the sky. Water spouted from its beak, forming a glistening arch that streamed back into the basin below. The eagle gripped two copper cups in its talons, presumably for drinking.

“So she can read and embroider,” Lucien drawled. “A woman of many talents.”

“I can throw, too,” she said, lifting one of the cups from the stone eagle’s talons. “It would serve you well to keep that in mind.”

“Can and will hold vastly different meanings, Elain. Don’t make threats you don’t intend to keep.”

She surveyed the cup in her hand and briefly considered lobbing it towards his head. Those sorts of violent thoughts didn’t occupy her mind often, but— “You sound as if you want me to.”

“I would find it very amusing,” he admitted.

Then she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. With a small huff, Elain pivoted her back to him, a clear statement that he was being ignored as she placed her cup beneath the eagle’s spouting beak. The metal rang pleasantly through the chamber as it began filling with water.

“I wouldn’t drink that,” Lucien cautioned, pushing off the column. She raised her head just enough to watch him dodge two heavy clay pots of lotus flowers in her periphery. Their scent wended through his as he passed, carrying over a sweet and masculine combination that made her mouth go a bit dry.

“Why?” Elain raised the cup higher for inspection.

She feared he would come up beside her, yet was strangely disappointed when he deposited himself atop one of the four chaise lounges around the fountain, pushing aside a pair of brightly dyed pillows to join the hundreds of others scattered across the floor.

“They do things differently in the Day Court,” Lucien said, plucking a berry from one of the small, circular tables laden with fruit. Rather than eat it, he burst it between his thumb and forefinger, spreading berry juice over his hands. “Here, their daily life is much more… communal. Meals, baths, prayer, grooming, it's all done in shared company. Whereas these private rooms are typically only used for two things.” He offered her a lazy grin. “Fucking or sleeping.”

Elain flinched. The way he said that word, the way it rolled off his tongue. She was thankful the room was dark, so he couldn’t see the bumps shivering down her flesh. The sun had only just started its descent, but its light was held back by the thick drapes pulled firmly shut across each archway leading out of the center room.

Through the closed archway in the middle, she could see a thin seam of sunshine, threatening to flood the chamber if she pulled back the red cloth. It must have led outside, or at least to a brighter room.

No doors, she’d noted while the attendant had led them through the palace. No locks. Only drapes.

“You’re crude,” she said.

Lucien shrugged. “It’s the truth. You could choose not to believe me, of course, but you should know that any food or drink in this room is intended to further those two purposes.” He grabbed a fig off the table and held it towards her, his fingers still dripping in juice. “Would you like to discover which?”

The only light radiated from the small domed fire pits hanging by golden chains in each corner. It was warm and sensual in what she imagined consistent with all things in the Day Court. And it did no service to her now, gilding his silhouette so that he was glowing like some ancient Sun God, descending from the heavens to tempt her into wickedness.

She met his eyes, ignoring his offering. “What happens if I drink the water?”

“It’s not water,” he crooned.

“What happens if I drink it?”

He arched a single red brow. “Are you brave enough to find out?”

“You’re insufferable,” she complained.

“You’re stalling.”

Elain stared at the bronze mug in her hand. “They used to warn us that if you eat or drink anything in Faerie, you’d be trapped there forever.”

If you drink Faerie wine, you’ll be stuck for all of time.

It was too late for her now, Elain supposed.

Lucien’s eyes glittered with humor. “When Feyre first came here, she believed I couldn’t speak an Untruth.”

“A laughable concept, indeed.”

“Lady,” he chided, placing a hand on his chest in mock offence. “I always speak nothing but plain truth.”

Elain waved the mug pointedly between them. “And yet, you still won’t tell me what it will do.”

He looked at the mug in her hands and laughed under his breath. “It will feel like swallowing starlight. You’ll see and taste the world in colour and song. And then you’ll be so drunk I’ll probably need to fish you out of the reflection pool like a soaked kitten.”

“It’s alcohol, then,” she said, sniffing it. At most, it smelled like rosewater. Or a warm breeze sweeping through a summer garden.

“Something like it.”

“And the fig?” She reached for it, but Lucien snatched it away.

“This…” A flush crawled up the column of his throat. He shook his head, setting it back on the round table. “I really wouldn’t recommend eating. The Day Court loves their aphrodisiacs.”

Oh. Elain studied the pile of fruit with renewed horror, noting the sheer amount they’d been supplied. Helion didn’t know she’d be coming, but he had known Lucien would be. A wretched part of her couldn’t help wondering if the supply of aphrodisiac was customary for every room, or if there was some precedent of Lucien’s past visits to the Court.

He knew what they were used for, afterall.

“You barely got any sleep last night,” he said. The humor and teasing had dropped away, and now he was looking at her with something close enough to concern that her chest tightened. “Maybe it would be best to save the ambrosia for another time?”

Ambrosia. Elain sniffed again. Did it come from flowers, as its rosy scent suggested? There wasn’t anything like that she knew of in the Night Court. Not that she imbibed very much outside of the polite glass of wine. Certainly not like Feyre’s Inner Circle.

Lucien was right in that she was tired. The weight of her body was setting in, her limbs heavy in odd places and practically begging for the reprieve of sleep. But she thought it sounded pathetic to finally leave the Night Court and spend her first night in bed before dinner.

She was here to find the letter’s recipient, but also because she wanted to push herself out of the comfort of familiarity she so often clung to. Nesta and Feyre so easily flung themselves into this new world, with all of its strange rules and customs. And Elain knew she was doing herself a disservice by hanging on to the human world as much as she was.

In the Night Court, they humored her human inclinations, but she expected it would be much more difficult to ignore the Fae world here. Where the food was spelled with magic and the fountains flowed with ambrosia and her mate would sleep on the other side of a piece of cloth.

Elain wanted to be brave about it all, the way her sisters were.

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien said, his eyes widening as she pressed the copper rim to her lips and tilted her head back. “Enough,” he hissed, lunging forward to stop her from drinking it all, but it was too late.

The cup was empty.

She giggled as she showed it to him, then dropped it to the floor with a clatter.

Lucien groaned. “Elain. A sip of that would have been enough to send you on your ass.”

He wasn’t wrong about the starlight. Her veins were filling up with it, bursting with the first rays of the sun. She tipped her head back and released a long breath, feeling her lungs empty. And when she breathed in, it was the scent of summer skies and woodsmoke that filled her chest.

Lucien watched her warily from where he’d sat up on the chaise lounge, blinking with eyes that smouldered like pools of molten copper and gold. His hair glistened in the low-faelight, coils of hot metal, and below his skin—she’d never seen it before, but she swore that light was shining beneath his cheeks.

He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

The wariness in his expression cracked, spreading into a smugness she pretended to loath, though her heart fluttered at the sight.

“Thank you,” he said.

Oh gods. Had she said that aloud?

“Maybe I should let you drink more often.”

Elain covered her burning cheeks beneath her palms, her balance swaying. “I didn’t know it would set in this quickly.”

“You drank an entire mug.”

He stood up, reaching like he intended to steady her, but Elain clambered back—and nearly collapsed over a marble bench in her attempt to escape him. She fell against it with a hardened oomph, the breath rushing out of her all at once.

Lucien’s hands settled on her shoulders before she had the chance to tumble backwards. “Easy,” he said. “Why don’t I take you to bed?”

“While I’m uninhibited?” She said, with a soft hiccup. “That’s not very polite of you, Lucien.”

“Is that to say you’d find the idea tempting?” He smirked. “How curious, the way your true thoughts come out now.”

He was teasing her again and she couldn’t even remember why she was supposed to be bothered by it. His face was so close to hers, hovering just above while his warmth bled into her shoulders. And she remembered what it felt like to kiss him, the way his tongue felt sweeping into her mouth, how she'd memorized the taste.

It would be so easy to do that again, she thought. Just tip her head and her lips would be against his and it would feel so good.

“You kissed me on the Solstice,” she said, staring at his lips. They were a soft burgundy color, the bottom more full than the top—but only slightly. She knew if she sunk her teeth into them, he would make the most delicious groan.

Lucien’s eyes darkened. “I did.”

“And then you left.”

He searched her face. “I told you I would.”

“You never came back.”

“No,” he said, voice solemn. “But you never called on me.”

“I wrote a letter,” she said, finally dragging her eyes away from his sinful mouth. To meet his. “But I never found the courage to send it.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Lucien swiped one of his thumbs higher, arching it over her shoulder to the start of her collarbone. Then back. Elain’s eyes fluttered shut, relishing in the trail of exploding heat he left in his wake.

“Is that why you want to deliver this letter?” He asked thoughtfully.

Elain opened her eyes, unsurprised to find he was staring at her. “I have a hundred letters I’ve never sent. To you, to Graysen, to old friends from the human realm. I often wonder how different my life would be if I’d had the courage to send them.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to.” That far-off look in his eye said he was recalling a memory, and the wince that followed suggested it was not a pleasant one. “Letters written in haste can cause detriment. Your life may have been different if you’d sent them, but not happier. Not always.”

The sad, self-wallowing letters she’d penned to Graysen would certainly have been humiliating if they’d ever left her writing desk. But was he referring to the letter she’d written to him? Did he think it would have been a mistake to call on him instead of Azriel? She’d ended up calling on neither, in the end.

“Do you think it’s possible?” She asked. “To find the male that the letter was written to?”

Lucien considered the question for a moment, continuing to stroke his thumb at her shoulder as he did. If he kept it up, Elain was certain she’d fall right to sleep.

“I think that sometimes things are better left buried in the past,” he said, finally, his voice soft. “Have you considered that he might have been the one to hide the letter, in the end? You might be delivering a keepsake of his heart’s biggest wound.”

Elain hadn’t considered that. But she shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

“How do you know?”

The iron ring she kept tucked in the drawer of her nightstand was how she knew.

“If he loved her, he would have kept the letter safe. And I think they did love each other.”

“I suppose so,” he said, with a certain melancholy that tempted a million questions to her loosened tongue.

She somehow managed to suppress the most personal ones. “Lucien?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I see your hand?”

Lucien drew back to survey her intention. Then he dropped one of his hands from her shoulder, careful to keep her steady with the other, and held his palm into the space between them.

She took his palm in both of hers and was struck immediately by the observation that his hands were so much larger, littered with flecks of scars and calluses that spoke of weapons she’d never seen him wield. The thought of it intrigued her, all the centuries he’d lived that she knew nothing about.

With a featherlight touch, she dragged her fingers from the center of his palm to the tip of his thumb. He shivered at the touch, pulsing a foreign satisfaction through her.

“Helion cut you,” she said, drawing her fingers over the healed wound, aware that he was watching her with unguarded curiosity. “I could smell your blood.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

Elain clenched her teeth. “It made me angry.”

“It was just a small cut.”

“I know,” she said, blinking at the healed-over skin. There was no scar to show for it. She swallowed. “But I wanted to kill him for it.”

Lucien’s voice was strained. “I don’t think that would have gone over very well.”

“Why did he do it?”

“I thought he was doing it to taunt me,” Lucien admitted. “But now I think he might have been testing you. And you did a good job hiding it—I thought you didn’t care.”

A familiar burn kindled behind her eyes. Elain sniffed. “You keep saying that.” Her fingers tightened around his. “It’s not true.”

“I believe you,” Lucien said, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss atop the crown of her head. “Let me take you to bed. That ambrosia will make you drop like a stone any minute.”

Elain shook her head, but Lucien grabbed her anyway, lifting her into his arms like she was as light as air. If she thought his scent was heady from a distance, it was nothing compared to having her nose pressed against the junction of his neck and shoulder. She took a deep inhale that she knew wasn’t subtle when his chest shook with laughter.

“Don’t mock me for this in the morning,” she said, tucking her face tighter against him. He was so warm. So solid where he cradled her against his body.

“I would never dream of mocking you, Lady.”

Liar, she thought. Or maybe she said it out loud again because Lucien snorted. She couldn’t believe that Feyre had ever believed he was incapable of telling an untruth. Of all the fae she’d met, he was easily the most mischievous.

Lucien said nothing as he carried her into one of the adjoining bedrooms, brushing aside the cloth drape to reveal a dim bedroom. She squinted, but was unwilling to raise her head from its comfortable resting place against his shoulder to examine the room in any true detail.

“I can hear your heart,” she whispered to him.

He paused when they came to the bed. She thought at first he must have been debating how to set her down politely, but the longer he stood without moving, she realized it was something else. He didn’t want to let go.

That was fine by her. He was warm. Warmer than she imagined the bed would be.

“I can fall asleep like this,” she told him, shutting her eyes. “If I do, will you promise to carry me all night?”

Lucien laughed, but he made no such promise. At least not one that she heard. The warmth was beginning to consume her, blurring at the edges of her thoughts until they fizzled away. And all that was left was the heat and scent and presence of her mate, and his steady heartbeat counting her slowing breaths as it lowered her, gently, into darkness.

[blaseballbrainrot]

Sometimes the best form of self care is to make stuff where the target demographic is One Person aka Me! Anyway blesties here's my blaseball Dandy's World au because >:3

Many many words and abilities below:

Toons

Fireball the Star

Role: Distractor Health: ❤❤ Skill Check: ★★ Speed: ★★★★ Stamina: ★★★★★ Stealth: ★★ Extraction: ★★★

Unstable - Active Creates a small area that boosts the speed of any Toon inside it. The area lasts until the floor is completed or another one is placed. 80 second cooldown

Roamin' - Passive Gains a 25% speed boost during the first and final 15 seconds of a floor

Bari the Mug

Role: All-rounder Health: ❤❤❤ Skill Check: ★★★ Speed: ★★★★ Stamina: ★★★ Stealth: ★★ Extraction: ★★★

Best Friends - Passive Toons within radius get a 25% stealth boost

Mick the Microphone

Role: Extractor Health: ❤❤❤ Skill Check: ★★ Speed: ★★ Stamina: ★★★★ Stealth: ★★★ Extraction: ★★★★

Feedback - Active Swaps place with the nearest Twisted within range and briefly stuns them. Does not require line of sight. 100 second cooldown (Cannot target Rodger, Connie, Razzle & Dazzle, Fireball or Dandy) 

Chitin the Crab

Role: Shrimpo but slightly less terrible Health: ❤❤❤ Skill Check: ★★ Speed: ★★ Stamina: ★★ Stealth: ★★ Extraction: ★★

get chitin’d - Passive Occasionally says something annoying. Has no other effect

Twisteds

Twisted Fireball (Main)

One of the Main Characters of Dandy’s World. This Twisted has been pinned to the floor by Ichor and cannot chase Toons directly, he instead uses spouts of Ichor to disrupt and attack. These spouts will only slow Toons at first, but standing on them for too long is dangerous. Be careful to not get cornered!

[Note: A few permanent spouts are scattered around the map which only slow toons before damaging them to prevent him accidentally creating inaccessible areas. The ones he directly attacks with do almost quick damage similar to Sprout's tendrils]

Speed: N/A Attention Span: Average Detection Radius: High

Research Trinket: Stardust Energy Bar Passively charges a speed boost while standing still to a max of 15%. The boost is consumed while moving

Twisted Bari (Uncommon)

This Twisted lost her eyes to Ichor but is no less deadly than any other. Her remaining senses are so finely tuned that she will prioritise hunting stealthier Toons that other Twisteds may miss. Thankfully, she isn’t very persistent and will quickly lose track of what she’s chasing.

Speed: Below Average (roaming) High (chasing) Attention Span: Low Detection Radius: Average

Research Trinket: Coffee Mug Gives a stealth boost depending on speed. Slower Toons get a bigger boost

Twisted Mick (Rare)

In lieu of walking, this Twisted sporadically teleports around searching for Toons. Watch out for the telltale pink glow where he’s about to be and get out of the way! He isn't very fast while chasing but can easily surprise unaware Toons. 

Speed: N/A (roaming) Very Low (chasing) Attention Span: Above Average Detection Radius: Average

Research Trinket: Tangled Wire  Highlights nearby Twisteds while extracting (cannot be seen by other players)

Twisted Chitin (Common)

This Twisted's extra legs give him a slight speed boost compared to other common Twisteds, but he otherwise doesn’t have any special abilities and remains too impatient to stay focused on one Toon for long.

Speed: Above Average Attention Span: Below Average Detection Radius: Average

Research Trinket: Crab Claw Reduces max stamina by 15. It hurts!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Oi noble bell herbivore! What's someone like you doing walking around in a place like this? I would've slept soundly by now, but the click of those shoes of yours made my ears tick. Tch, along with you muttering about judgment, blessings, and God makes it noisy. Heard things about you from Radish sprout and the others, heh. You're mad. Now I do hope you keep the flame inside you, though. *Sighs* wouldn't want my napping spot to catch Hellfire.

I would recommend reading these headcanons after this interaction ^^ I think they serve as a good follow-up to this initial encounter.

Like Fire, Hellfire.

"It's Rollo Flamme," he sternly corrected the man stalking toward him amid the flowers and foliage. The hairs on the back of Rollo's neck stood up, sensing danger. "I do not believe I owe anyone an explanation for simply roaming the school grounds. They are open to any approved visitor such as myself."

The lion beastman bore a face he had seen in various texts: a prince from a far-off land. A Kingscholar, the second-born. Indeed, despite his wayward locks and shirt that practically hung half open, he carried himself with a natural grace only befitting that of one with noble heritage.

Another horrifying mage to add to his growing list of enemies.

Rollo grasped for his safety net, his beloved handkerchief. It swiftly covered his burgeoning grimace.

"All humans are herbivores to me," the Kingscholar scoffed, “and you marched right into a lion’s den. You’re just asking for trouble.”

Trouble—that was the last thing Rollo wanted, not on this (supposedly) cordial visit. It would draw too many eyes to him, attract too much unwanted attention. He forced himself to bend into a stiff bow.

"... Your grace." When he was met with silence, Rollo cautiously lifted his head. "I do apologize if my presence and proclivities have disturbed you. I will make myself scarce on my way out."

"Hoh?" A smirk on the lion's lips, and amusement flitting in his deep voice. "Now this is rich. You're giving me a death stare, but the words you're spouting are straining to stay nice. Radish Sprout and the others were right about you—you're pretty two-faced, hmm?"

"I'm afraid that this is how I always look. It is the one and only face I was born with.”

"That's the second time I've heard someone claim that as a defense. And that other guy?" The beastman was very close to Rollo. Showing his teeth, breath nipping at his skin. "He tried usurping the throne for himself."

“Did he now.”

Rollo’s tone was neutral in spite of the anger curling in him. He was disappointed, but not surprised, at the conferred secret. Mages were doomed to ruin one way or another, seeking power when they were weak and abusing it once it was in their hands.

They will ever know true solace. His mouth pinched.

The prince’s eyes glinted—not from sunlight streaming in through glass panes, but with a lazy interest. “… I smell it on you, you know. That cloying stench of magic. You’ve got it caged up like some poor, feral animal.”

The large cat circled his prey like a shark. Each stride he took was long and effortless, slowly riling up the unease in Rollo. Toying with him.

The wet heat of the Botanical Gardens was suddenly registering in full force. The fabric of Rollo’s robes clung to him, as if it, too, wished to retreat from the wild cat in its proximity. Discomfort settled.

“Unlike you Night Raven College miscreants, I am able to resist such sinful desires. I won’t let them spiral out of my control.”

“Sooner or later, that beast will want to be freed,” the lion coyly purred, “you can’t keep it contained forever. Your mask will slip—and with it, a grip on that dark fire.”

“… My, rather presumptuous of you to make these bold, accusatory comments to a man you just met. I’m aware that lion beastmen have a keen sense of smell, but I might make a recommendation: keep your nose out of other peoples’ matters.”

He threw his head back and laughed—rumbling and resonant against their glass cage. “I’m sure we’ll have to chance to become better acquainted with one another. It’s part of a prince’s duties to host important foreign dignitaries… and I’m nothing if not the paragon of princeliness.”

The sarcasm wasn’t missed.

Rollo allowed himself to openly frown. “You certainly haven’t been playing the part of a dutiful host, let alone royalty of any sort.”

“Oh?” He feigned, a hand drawn to his chest in mock shock. “Where are my manners?”

This time, the lion bowed to Rollo.

His facade, matching. Airs put on. Two playing at the exact same game.

“Leona Kingscholar,” he declared. The name itself was palpable and weighty. “A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Sir Flamme of the Shaftlands. You simply must pay a visit to Savanaclaw during your stay on Sage’s Island. I think I speak for my entire dorm when I say we’d love to have you for dinner.”

Rollo sniffed. “As though anyone would be convinced by this flattery.”

“Yeah, sure. Act tough and see where that gets you. I know you’ve got to visit us all eventually.” Leona tapped his temple with an index finger. “Social grace and all.”

“… Tch.”

Rollo didn’t want to admit it, but the (infuriating) man was right. His grip on his staff tightened.

“… I humbly accept your kind invitation,” he grumbled through gritted teeth. “Thank you for this invaluable opportunity.”

“Heh. Don’t pop a blood vessel yet.” Leona put a hand on Rollo’s shoulder, nearly shoving him over with a firm pat. (He didn’t look sorry about it as he baked off.) “Like I said, watch yourself. Wouldn’t want to be going and accidentally causing a forest fire, would we?”

Rollo’s eyes went hard.

His next words, dangerously soft.

“No, I suppose we wouldn’t.”

[buddicat]

everyone talks about featherfern but has anyone pointed out how littlepaw blushes when volepaw returns

[h4venpha]

⸺ kiss him

✦ vash the stampede x nicholas d. wolfwood ✦  contents: contents: oneshot, SFW, hurt and comfort, mentions of getting shot, mentions of violence ✦  WC: 613 ✦  notes: ngl i jst wanted to write this bc of a specific two second scene i saw in a movie. also yes i combined trimax and stampede vash and imagined 98 wolfwood. SUE ME (uhh not proofread bc im sleepy)

vash’s eyes flicker dimly as he listens to the muted hum of the worms flying outside. its colder and darker than other nights, even here in the cheap motel they managed to gather enough scraps to sleep in for the night. the bed is creaky and smells like old linens but vash prefers it over decking it out in an alley behind crates and trash bins. 

wolfwood’s embrace is warm and firm with his arms wrap around his neck and a rough hand gently running through his mess of blonde and black hair along with curious feather appendages sprouting from his head. 

vash buries his face into wolfwood’s shoulder, pouty lips pressing upon his dark blazer as he sniffles. “‘m sorry about today.” 

wolfwood isn’t fazed at all. “for what?” he grumbles softly.

“for everything.” vash nuzzles further into the crook of his shoulder, his dark eyebrows furrowing up as his eyes watered more than he wanted them to. “for getting involved in that fight, for getting you hurt— for letting you get shot—“

“spikey,” wolfwood draws out. “none of that, ‘kay? i don’t want any of that t’night from you.” his tone is firm, but he means well. it's all too easy to recognize when vash is going to spiral and spout some bullshit he’s heard before more than once during nights like these. “‘s nothing i can’t handle.” wolfwood lets a breathy laugh escape him and vash wants nothing more than to grab it out of the sacred space of a motel room they’ve created and store it in his mind.

“that doesn’t mean it’s all right for you to get shot.” vash says rather defensively. “it’s still my fault, i-i should’ve covered you.” his arms wrap tighter around wolfwood’s waist as if they were still in the middle of the shoot out.

“how could ya have? you were protectin’ that woman across the street, i saw you.” wolfwood says while he gently thumbs at the small feathers by his temples. “listen, i can handle myself alright? quit yer worryin’ about me.” with being tucked into his shoulder, wolfwood can feel when vash frantically shakes his head in response.

“i can’t do that, wolfwood. you know i can’t. i wanna be there to protect you…” vash sniffles as his voice goes watery.

“and you are, you are, okay spikey?” wolfwood reassures and gently prys vash away from his shoulder to look at him. and oh is he gorgeous. big, fat tears rolling down his glowing face as his plant marks dimly glimmer, his wings and feathers flicking reactively as they reach and tug at wolfwood’s fingers and arms, aching for him to come closer. wolfwood wants to kiss him senseless. “you’re doin’ the best you can and i’m proud of ya, alright?” 

vash hiccups and breaks into a quiet fit of cries. his head hurts and he’s drained, but wolfwood is here and cooing and wiping away at his eyes with his thick, warm thumbs. 

“y’ big ole baby.” wolfwood chuckles softly when vash pouts at him with his bottom lip jutted out and big, glossy eyes. “c’mon, no more cryin’, yeah?” wolfwood coaxes gently and leans in to kiss his puffy eyes before tilting his head and smiling warmly. and vash feels himself falling apart under wolfwood’s warm hands and his bufferfly-soft kisses and his kind words— he feels himself letting wolfwood gently break him down into a mush of tears and snot.

wolfwood cups his face and leans in without hesitation to press his firm lips to vash’s trembling ones. vash knows he tastes like salty tears but wolfwood doesn’t mind it and only smiles into their slow kiss.

[khruschevshoe]

Izzy Hands and Black Pete Hands-Spriggs

I am caught off guard by you

Like a wave I'm pulled into

It's a feeling I can't fight

Like a wildfire deep inside

You're taking my heart by storm

I'm lost in your love

-Ruelle, Storm

Izzy laughs, a hollow, wretched sound thanks to his dehydrated throat. "You picked the wrong people to torture. I don't know who's feeding you your information, but Blackbeard's not my captain anymore. He's not anyone's."

The Spanish sailor rears back, teeth bared, to break another of Izzy's knuckles, to punish him for the way he misled them. Izzy doesn't close his eyes. He doesn't flinch. He looks the man dead in his eyes, taking this one small victory-

Then a blade sprouts through the sailor's guts, and he gasps in shock. Izzy smirks despite the pain boiling his knuckles, an agony never forgotten despite the limb the toes were attached to being long gone as the sailor tips over to the side, blood spouting from his mouth.

Izzy's smirk instantly shifts into a tired but genuine smile when he sees the hero behind the blade. Pete has never been the most gifted swordsman, but it doesn't take a master to plunge a sword into the back of a man. It only takes someone with enough dedication, enough bravery, enough stubbornness to agree to infiltrate a vessel of the Spanish navy. (And also someone, apparently, who has black grease paint smeared around his eyes like the strangest racoon Izzy has ever seen.)

And all of that contributes to the most devastatingly lovely sight that Izzy has ever seen.

Izzy is woozy, but the words that have been floating in his head rise naturally to his lips. "I love you," he says, and it's as easy as breathing.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, i'm a dead man walking here (but that's the least of all my fears)

Listen, was I expecting to love these two so much? No, no I wasn't. Was I so absolutely glad to see the way the two of them ended up having one of the most solid, supportive, affectionate dynamics in the entire crew? Hell yeah! The fact that their relationship begins with Pete whittling Izzy his new leg? And the fact that he does it again after Izzy's leg is stolen from him when Izzy and Archie are taken by the Spanish? THE FACT THAT IT IS USED AS A METAPHOR FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP? Dead. Gorgeous. 10/10. This scene, where Pete is the first one in to rescue Izzy during the Santa Joana situation, gave me everything I ever could have wanted. The two of them and Lucius really flesh each other out well, and I'm crossing my fingers that the promised Gravy Basket fic involves one of the three of them.

@possumsmushroom @yuenity @polikate @bricksbloggyplace

[epiolatrys]

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪 ; the undying embers of voracity within a vortex, the pit of emptiness that devours.

—✸ dead dove : do not eat! includes mentions of suicide, metaphorical reference to cannibalism, religious imagery & symbolism. not beta read. art used by yamayurah.

a single moment is all it takes, a mere few seconds for lips to slot into each other—tongue tangling with one another as it births a hunger ; voracity consuming, burning like a flame that trails onyx within its path of disarray. and for a few lasting minutes did gogol's head go hazy, perhaps it were from the lack of air within his lungs that sprouted this gin—and—tonic state : ecstacy.

for a brief passing of time, he had a taste of the freedom he so desperately craved. the necessity of oxygen that constricts the basis of humanity—it was a cage he had managed to crawl out of with a newfound bliss.

and it was addicting.

satin—donned fingers lace through tresses of inky black, desperation creeping upon ivory skin as his movements become erratic, distressed—almost animalistic in its wake. and fuck, the touch of another rekindled a newfound fire within the jester's core ; an unrelenting tear of sweat breaking from the side of his temple, to the arch of his cheekbone, down to the curve of his chin.

and with time—heat hugs skin, gogol's thick and long digits fumbling with the constriction of his clothes ; loosening the collar of his eccentric attire—loosening himself of fabric and adornments.

breathless, he whispered through the time frames wherein he parted, " I'd kill for you— " he gasped sharply, panting as he tore off his upper garments—taking a dagger from his pocket with his sharp eyes burning into an ember, clasping dostoevsky's hand into his whilst the other remains onto the tousled locks of ink.

a muddled, clumsy stitching of words growled from deep within his chest—ukrainian, the ravenette discerned ; with a penchant for linguistics, making out a few groans built of curses.

the blade on dostoevsky's palm : it had golden initials engraved along its body, figures of nikolai's mother tongue emphasizing an ownership. the bulkier build had grasped his fragile wrist, roughly edging the blade close to the jester's own neck, offering the sight of his jugular vein—reverence.

" mind, body, soul—it is all for you to take and to end. govern over my person, and let me sacrifice my name to you, fedya. "

his voice grows with a sincerity, melding within the space where their breathes entangled—letting dainty, ivory fingers push him into a wall. pallid lips twist into a cheshire grin, the force of his digits unbecoming of such a faint person.

" you wouldn't. " a smile portrayed of his assurance—to the words spouted in a probing.

a smirk grows to his lips, " oh, how you wound my heart, dearest friend—! do you think me to be some heartless cretin without the capability to revere—? alas ! you wound me so . . . " with a faux jesting of tears, and as mirth sparkled beneath dual optics—the clown wipes a lonesome drop of imaginary sorrow. twinkling with a sort of merriment playing across his gaze. though, the breathless quality of his voice seemed to seep through despite the acquisition of seamless transposition in emotion.

" cease the theatrics, jester—for when the moment comes that I personally tear your veins apart, that overcoat ability you possess will simply redirect the tip of the weapon to the side of my own neck. isn't that right ? " a hostility carved his features, punctuating the threat as his gaze turns inimical.

" my, such bite, and to your own friend ! though, I must admit ; my surprise to such a careless answer, from you of all people—it almost made me drive a knife to your throat. " dostoevsky smiles at this, fingers moving from the clown to his lips, as if in a state of ponderment. eyes squinting with a certain kind of glee.

" I wouldn't put that past you, guileful entertainer. although, you expect too much from dear, old me. my friend, do not expect with towering scales, for the disappointment that afflicts you when failure comes—is devastating. " gogol grins, pronouncing his playful nature as a finger idly plays with a twirl of dostoevsky's hair—his lips pressing a chaste kiss on to the locks of dead starlight. whilst his head lowers into a bow, his eyes remain locked onto the other's violet vitality.

the dual sheen along gogol's eyes could, admittedly, carve a hole into one's skull, from the simple burning of his gaze.

" oh ? I hadn't anticipated for you to spoil me so, dos—kun ! I will keep your words in my mind—quite a rarity for such compassionate phrases from you—of all people—grace me ; truly, this must be marked as a day of importance ! " the latter keens with an ardent sparkle, dostoevsky only keeping the split of his lips whilst a deep chuckle reverbrated from his throat, mind wandering as the air becomes thick.

" nikolai. "

the addressed halts, ears perking at the velvet that rolls his name, standing as he towers over the other with his height—a faint blossom of pomegranate flushing his cheeks. in typical dostoevsky fashion, he merely lets the pad of his finger trace the side of gogol's jaw, trekking from the arch of chin, to the winsome painting of rose apple staining his lips.

his finger pauses—thumb replacing the pointer, roughly thrusting the thicker digit into gogol's mouth.

the surprise on gogol's face falters a mere fraction of a second, letting the other do as he pleased—yielding as a testament to the webbing of oaths he had sworn ; and with a glint of mischief, dostoevsky leans forward—the air between them mingling, as would the entitlement of smoke to touch with a veneer of fickleness, a complexity that roamed only with a single notion ; whilst the mellow proclamations of an enchanting perfume whispers bewitchment against the spewing of fumes. a type of poetry that arranges an ensemble that hangs fluidly along the draft, settling upon the planes of prosaic literature—like a butterfly kissing a corpse, a saint touching a sinner.

" go on then, show me how you worship. "

it was unabashed, the profoundness of liquored titillation that shrouded the choice of his words—it almost made the jester's knees buckle, the sheer power that emanated from the protruding intrusion of the devil's enticement into his ear, irking a desire to glorify.

a jagged lust euphemized as an affection—trickery a pulchritudinous amendment of the inkings named blasphemous tenderness ; a gathering of destitute souls in which humanity is an absence that gouges itself out, reaping the meager spillage of a vitality named love.

ironically, they are unable to love.

and that is what kept them together.

' cry out, ' a cacophony would goad, an effigy of providence falsifying something as pure as love.

and the realization dawned upon the damned.

he was wrong.

oh, so wrong.

and that is when his lips thinned with thought : love isn't pure, sweetened—it is destruction incarnate ; maims it does and brutality it vows—evil.

love was the name of careful hands that caress your neck with the gentleness of an angel's feather, coaxing a warmth within your body—only to strangle you with a ferocity, stop your breath, devour your heart—cannibalizing ruination.

because that's what love is, isn't it ? an enigma that once roamed with clemency and a benign heart, a victim to fate's cruelty as it becomes a mere shadow of devastation. feeding off of souls corrupted with the curse named such a disgustingly cloying name.

revenge—that's what it was.

love was the act of vengeance for envy—green hubris. another palliation for the vice of forsaking.

a smile graces gogol's face as he obeyed with a brief pause.

they were meant for each other.

the clown, with prying eyes, kisses at the finger with a delicacy. skin pressed tightly against the plumpness of his lips, mimicking a beast tearing its prey apart. yet, this was with a calculated carefulness.

there was something about the fragile scene that displayed a brutality unlike the meticulousness it posed as. be it how ivory snarls beneath dostoevsky's gaze—or how the hellsaint's violace eyes seemed to glint with malevolence. it felt like a forsaken eternity.

the way reddened flesh of lips glide along the tips of his thumb, alternating between each digit of his hand until the jester reaches his thin, almost dainty looking wrist ; features twisted with a warmth that held no tenderness, nor familiarity to the normalcy of humans. yet, held an intimacy that was truthfully, and utterly theirs.

the man hailed as the devil, with a face of indifference, leans to whisper into the clown's ear. and he whispers sweetly.

" I wonder so, how long will you last keeping this charade up, nikolai? "

with a cynical shade along his words, gogol only keens as if a realization had come to his eccentric little head ; the russian only cementing this fact.

he had realized that what they had was too great to be reduced to the mere dullness of love and humanity's obsession with emotion. what they had held no name, but a type of obscure affection only they possessed.

@deadromanticism : do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.

[shylilbunny15]

Prompt #2 pt 2

Writing Prompts

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    ・┆✦ʚStormed By Oddsɞ✦ ┆・

Bang

Villain jolted awake, sitting up to glance where the sound had came from. An exhausted sigh escaped Villain's lips as to no surprise, the sound had been another log hitting the door. Villian took a mental note of the storm's progress. Probably not stopping yet. No matter, still had a plan to come up with.

Feeling much better, Villian ran a hand over his forehead, noticing his fever was practically gone. 'I don't remember taking anything..'. Biting his lip in discomfort, Villain beared mind to his messy clothes. Noticing Hero asleep against the couch beside him. Her state, no better. Both were sweaty, covered in nature's own debris, as well as completely soaked from the rain.

Villain, placed a hand on Hero's forehead, noticing the red blush on her face. She was fiery. 'Did she not treat herself'?  Villain knelt beside Hero, lightly shaking her. "Hero...Hero, wake up"!

Hero's eyes fluttered open, looking up at Villain through half lidded eyes. "Mm...good...you're awake". Hero gave a weak smile.

Villian looked away, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. "D-Did you not treat yourself, Idiot"?..

"Mm...I suppose I f..forgot." Hero's words started to slur.

Villain took in her current state. "Come on..get up, we need to get cleaned. That's the reason we're suffering from fever".

Villain pulled Hero up, holding her up, leaning the smaller being against himself.

"Haa... let's go..you can shower then rest."

"C-Couldn't....I couldn't..m' sorry." Hero wailed. Villain looked at Hero, surprise exhibit on his face.

"W-what are you spouting about"?!

"Can't lose you, too. S' my fault, but not losing this time." Hero let out a shaky breath as Villain led her to his bedroom and into the bathroom, sitting her on the counter.

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"Just clean up and I'll be ba-" Villain turned to leave, only to have Hero grab the cuff of his sleeve. Villian looked back, before turning himself to face her. Surprised was an understatement. Yet, Villian couldn't exactly tell himself what he was feeling. Perhaps concern?

Hero's head hung low, face as red as beets. Her cheeks were stained with tears, glistening as more flowed from her eyes and off her lashes. Hero seemed to be fighting back the urge to say something, but what put her in such a mood? Did calling her an idiot hurt her feelings? That was only meant to put the mood at easy.

"D-Don't go" Hero's voice cracked. "Please" Hero looked up at Villain, before slumping off of the counter, right into Villain's arms. Hero buried her head into Villain's lower chest, gripping his shirt. "M' sorry okie?...M' sorry"

Villain felt himself tense up at the sudden outburst. He'd never seen Hero in such a state. Not that she was always sunshine and rainbows. No, Villain knew Hero was human. He'd seen her get upset from time to time. This however, was a side he'd never seen. Hero was often playful, and bratty. It's how they were with one another. It made the days easier to pass. Villain and Hero, both nemesis. They knew they were enemy, however, their relationship was less than that. Rivals...frenemies? Of course, they knew that they disliked one another, but nothing to the point of having a vendetta against one another. Just a simple dislike that had sprouted from their first fight, and over the years.

"What's gotten into you Her-"

"I know m' messed up....but I couldn't lose you, too... couldn't just sit...let you die...need you here.. n-not alone." Hero slurred, shaking, and trembling against Villian.

"Hero... it's fine... I forgive you, okie?.." Villain cupped Hero's face, making her look up at him. "I forgive you..I'm not sure what this is, but don't beat yourself up about it"

Hero gave a slight nod, before crumbling into Villain, leaving him to hold her up again.

"I wish I could help you, but I don't think it would be very appropriate" Villian sighed.

"Hero.. you'll have to muster up some strength, and at least clean yourself in the shower a bit, I think it's best you take a bath."

Hero only gave an exhausted "mm".

Villain, reached for a large white towel, before throwing it over Hero, watching as it draped down to her legs. "Sigh...forgive me..."

Hero looked up at Villain like a ghost in a sheet.

"Strip" Villain ordered.

Hero obeyed, relieving her body of the dirty clothing, until all that was left was the towel engulfing her from her head to legs.

"Alright, just hold on to me" Villain murmured. 

Hero leaned her head again his shoulder, grabbing Villain's wrist, as he guided her into the shower, turning it on before closing the glass door behind himself, back turned from the view. Villain ran a hand through his wet hair..."Definitely a lot of history she's hiding..".

Moments later, Hero turned the water off, before knocking on the glass door, Villain leaned against. Villain moved to the side, allowing hero to emerge from the shower, with the towel once again engulfing her from her head to her legs. Hero leaned against Villain, wobbling in the process.

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"Gosh...you're not getting any better.." Villain led Hero over to a fairly large undermount tub. Turning his back once more, as Hero slipped herself into the steaming hot water, completely engulfed to her shoulders.

"Alright...I'll leave you here for a while...when you're ready, just knock again. I'll go find something for you to wear" Villain  left the bathroom, hearing Hero respond with an "okie".

The fever was definitely taking one hell of a toll on her. Villian knew there was no way Hero would be acting so calmly. Hopefully she would not remember this. Resting against the wardrobe, Villian ran a hand through his jet black hair, attempting to release bad nerves through a sigh. "Idiot... should have taken the medicine first instead of worrying about me..". 

Facing the wardrobe, Villain started his search for Hero's clothing. Realizing that it would prove to be a bit of a task, given that it was Hero who was staying here. "Shit, just my luck". Villain pulled garb after garb out of the wardrobe. The clothing was either too exposing or too big which Villain was sure would fall right off of Hero's frame.

Finally settling for a dress, Villain quickly grabbed a fresh towel and spare undergarments, before knocking on the door, and entering the bathroom. "Your clothes are here on the counter".

"I nee..mm" Hero whined, slurring as she looked out of the window.

"I'm not helping you". Villain snapped. "You'll have to manage on your own".

Quickly leaving the bathroom, Villain sat himself on the foot of the king sized bed. "What kind of Hero gets themselves caught in a Shadow Storm..pathetic". Villain found himself growing flustered, as he continued to think of the given conflict. Covering his mouth, Villian distracted himself with thoughts on their next move for the mission at hand. The mission was starting to prove more problematic than he'd assumed it would be.

Hearing a bit of shuffling, before the sound of a door opening, Villain looked up to see Hero leaning against the door, face flushed with fever. Hero's breathing had definitely grown to wheezing. Her movements were rather uncoordinated, as she tried to stand straight.  She looked completely vulnerable.  Villain wondered if he flicked her would she simply crumble.

However, Villain's attention was quickly drawing from Hero's state, to her attire.

It definitely was a good pick.

The dress was almost a perfect fit, if not a little short. It snugged Hero's form quite well. Falling loose in all the perfect places, stopping at Hero's mid-thigh. Truly a sight for Villain. How unlucky his rival be so tempting. Hero's wet hair, framing her face. Water droplets traveling from her roots, down lush locks, dropping onto Hero's chest, and attire.

Villain fell back onto the bed, arm resting over his eyes, as he tried to divert both his eyes and mind away from the sight before him.  Villain blamed his thoughts on his feverish state. However, Villain knew the truth. Hero, in sooth, was ravishing. How troublesome that they turned out to be enemies. Villain would definitely have trouble keeping himself from thinking about their issue at hand once this was all over.

"Feel weird.." Hero mumbled, through half lidded eyes.

Villain sat up abruptly, supporting Hero, as he guided her to the large bed, laying her down, under the blankets. "One moment". Villian rushed to the bathroom, cleaning up Hero's clothing, before grabbing a fever reducer, and returning to Hero's side. "I'll give you two tabs" Villain opened the pill bottle, before slipping two between Hero's lips, handing her a glass of water. Villain's eyes didn't leave Hero's form until he was sure she swallowed the medicine.

"Alright" Villian averted his gaze, setting the pill bottle on the bedside table. " Rest, I'll check on you in a bit".

Hero gave a small groan of protest, before giving in to sleep. "I want 4 times the payment for this trouble" Villain stood, grabbing his own change of clothes and towel, before going into the bathroom, closing the door. Villain allowed his thoughts to wander as he stripped himself, and went into the shower.

"Seems like there's a lot Hero isn't saying".

Villian recalled Hero's behavior and small breakdown. Maybe Hero was holding in a lot more than she showed. If so, it definitely taxed her mentality. Hero seemed broken, almost regretful in the moment of her outburst. "Hiding from secrets are we?.." Villain vacated himself from the shower, before sinking himself into the undermount bath.

Villain felt a smirk exhibit on his face. "Well Hero, let's see just how long you can hide, before I find every inch of  enigma"~

           ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Villain sat himself on the lounge couch positioned near the corner of the bedroom. Notebook in hand, Villian looked over the ideas in which Hero wrote down before falling unconscious. "Going in with just the two of us could work... however there are a few flaws". Villain took a sip of his hot tea, relishing in the warmth it brought to his chest. "No backup, we'll both be at a higher risk of getting caught...maybe we'll meet up with Task Force 114 and Faccina' Squad- if they stick to the mission." Villian listed as he wrote pros and cons.

Villain's eyes scanned over Hero's form, as she stirred in her sleep. 'perhaps with more rest she would be better by tomorrow '. Villain stood, stretching, before placing the notebook on the bedside table. Hero's hand reached out, grabbing Villain's sleeve, leaving to meet Hero's sleepy eyes...pleading.

"Jeez Hero... you're honestly rash when you're sick. Villian slipped himself into the other side of the bed.

"Can't fail the mission..do whatever it takes"

Hero mumbled.

"What if you need something I can't provide? I suppose this is fine, as I would like to keep an eye on your recovery as well as make sure you're not snooping around."

"M' okie...I'll tough it out ".

'I knew it. Hero's definitely got a lot of history'.

"You're lucky I managed to pull some strength together, otherwise you'd probably be spiraling into the highest fever you've ever had. What kind of idiot doesn't take medicine for a Shadow Storm?"

"Sh... Shadow Storm"? Hero turned on her side, facing Villain.

"Yes..please tell me you know that's what's out there.."

Hero only shook her head.

"Hero! What the heck! You do know what it is, no?"

"..."

"Of course. I should have noticed. A Shadow Storm isn't just any regular storm. It's often formed by the negative emotions of a person depending on the severity it can be fatal to anyone in its path. Many people have negative emotions, yes. However, not always to the extent that it forms a Shadow Storm. It tends to take quite a lot, also the reason many people like to be alone when they're" upset" . 

Hero gave a soft nod, blinking lazily.

"It can also be done manually, many steely castors tend to do so when trying to catch someone or fight on a large mass of land. I believe that's how we got split up from our teams. I'm not sure if it was a castor however I have reason to believe so do it the Strom following us. Had it been aimlessly roaming, I'd have assumed someone nearby was in a rather sour mood.  Anyway, like any storm you could get sick by it, however it's much more severe and often disorients the affected person. The fever tends to sneak up on you, and the storm itself tends to follow, and eventually fade away. You may or may not experience the castor's mood, or dramatically changing your mood which is where it gets it's name "Shadow Storm".

"Right"..

"Rest up, Hero". Villian laid on his back, closing his eyes.

Hero gave a quiet "Kay" before swiftly falling into slumber.

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Honestly, the worst fever I ever had, I couldn't move, I was delirious, and I was stressed so bad.

Aside from that...part 3 may be soon. Until then Sweet Dreams ~ 🖤🐇🖤

[muraenide]

When Jade next visits his mushroom haven, he'll find a variety of differently shaped containers made for holding flowers or other naturally growing plants (like mushrooms). What's more interesting is that each is shaped like a gargoyle, complete with functional spout to function as a drain to keep the soil from growing overly swamped with water.

Around the largest one is tied a card with a few words written across it:

I believe you might have use for these.

M.D.

@fireandfae

Jade lets himself into the greenhouse that afternoon, carrying a wide selection of gardening tools to perform his routine maintenance on his prized botanic display. The Science Club and he had agreed to share the greenhouse an eon ago when he'd just established the Mountain Lovers club, and so part of the greenhouse now belongs to him, free to use at his disposal.

Fortunately, the space was large enough for him to cultivate what he needed. Mushrooms were terribly humble living things that didn't require a large amount of space or any form of complicated setup to flourish, but despite that Jade still performed minor procedures such as removing any wild ferns that had begun to sprout. Today surprised him when he realized that they'd already been taken care of despite his absence for the past week.

What an endearing thing to do. He taps a finger to his chin. Every bit of dirt, sprays, and hay had been removed from the pots. Every misaligned plant was reassembled to perfection that would have been impossible to do by hand. He could still sense the lingering particles of magic in the air. It appears that whoever did it had not spared a thought of getting their hands dirty. His eyes then grow captivated by the new pots the mushrooms now reside in that clearly had not been done by him, eyes trailing the rows of gargoyle pots until it reaches the largest pot with a modestly attached card.

He reaches out to take it and flips it open to reveal its message:

I believe you might have use for these. M.D.

Jade smiles, taking little time to connect the dots between the initials and the name of the writer. It's hardy a puzzle, or perhaps it had not been one at all. Was this a return gift for the silly mug he'd given him? Jade had almost forgotten about it, to be honest. As opposed to his parents, gift-giving was not something he took too seriously to heart or something he kept track of. It's a little silly to think something inexpensive could be measured by value. But who knew Malleus Draconia was one who enjoys leaving behind mysterious gifts... It had certainly left him feeling as if he was forced to accept them.

[foodandfolklore]

The Wonderful Tea-Kettle

Tea and teapots are a big part of Kitchen Witchcraft, and just Witchcraft in general. Tea Pots are one of those gadgets that can easily hold all four base elements. The material they're made can help heighten their properties. A keeping a metal tea pot, such as one made of iron or brass, can help protect your home. Brass is especially good at harnessing solar energy. A ceramic tea pot may help conversations. They can also be more easily decorated, and thus the symbols on them can have their own meaning to the owner.

Tea Pots are also chock full of prosperity and cooperation. You can have a friend over to chat over a cup of tea, and a small amount of tea leaves can make a lot of tea. But tea pots are also symbols of calm and solidarity. Sometimes you just need a bit of time to yourself to relax. And, I don't know why, but when my Kitchen Starts to get chaotic and messy; once I clean out my used tea pot and put it back where it's supposed to be, I feel less overwhelmed about cleaning the rest.

The following is a western retelling of a Japanese folktale about a shape shifting tea pot. In the original story, the creature the tea pot shape shifts into is a Tanuki; a kind of raccoon dog. But this retelling by William Elliot Griffis in 1908 refers to the creature as a badger. Because, at the time, that was closest thing they had to translate.

A long time ago there was an old priest who lived in a temple and was very devout. He was also very poor. He cooked his own rice, boiled his own tea, swept his own floor, and lived frugally as an honest priest should do.

One day the kettle in which he boiled water for his tea got broken, and he did not know what to do, as he had no money to buy a new one. But the next morning, behold! a shiny brass tea-kettle was sitting outside his door. Overjoyed he returned thanks, and built a fire in the square fireplace in the middle of the floor. A rope and chain to hold the rice-pot and tea-kettle hung down from the covered hole in the ceiling which did duty as a chimney. A pair of brass tongs was stuck in the ashes, and soon the fire blazed merrily. At the side of the fireplace, on the floor, was his tray filled with tiny teacups, a pewter tea-caddy, a bamboo tea-stirrer, and a little dipper. The priest having finished sweeping the ashes off the edges of the hearth with a little whisk-broom made of hawk's feathers, was just about to put on the tea when "suzz, suzz," sang the shiny tea-kettle spout; and then "pattari—pattari!" said the lid, as it flapped up and down, and the kettle swung backward and forward.

"What does this mean?" said the old priest with a start; for, wonder of wonders, the spout of the kettle had turned into a badger's nose with its big whiskers, while from the other side sprouted out a long bushy tail!

"Ho, ho!" cried the priest, with a long string of Japanese words which would sound strange to you. And in terror he dropped the tea-caddy, spilling the green tea all over the matting, as four hairy legs appeared under the kettle, and the strange compound, half badger and half kettle, jumped off the fire, and began running around the room. To the priest's horror it leaped on a shelf, puffed out its belly and began to beat a tune with its fore-paws as if it were a drum. The old priest's pupils, hearing the racket, rushed in, and after a lively chase, upsetting piles of books and breaking some of the teacups, secured the badger, and squeezed him into a keg used for storing pickled radishes. They fastened down the lid with a heavy stone, and felt sure that the strong odor of the radishes would kill the beast, for no man could possibly survive such a smell, and it was not likely a badger could.

The next morning the tinker of the village called in and the priest told him about his strange visitor. Wishing to show him the animal, he cautiously lifted the lid of the cask, lest the badger might, after all, be still alive, in spite of the strong vinegar pickles, when lo! there was nothing but the shiny brass tea-kettle. Fearing that the utensil might play the same prank again, the priest was glad to sell it to the tinker, who on his part secretly thought the priest had been dreaming, and was glad to give another kettle in exchange for it, and some cash to boot. He carried it proudly to his junk shop, though he thought it felt unusually heavy.

The tinker went to bed as usual that night with his tiny paper shaded lamp just back of his head. About midnight, hearing a strange noise like the flapping up and down of a pot-lid, he sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and there was the bewitched tea-kettle covered with fur and sprouting out legs. In short, it was turning into a hairy beast.

"Don't beat me or shut me in a vinegar keg," it said, "for I am really kind-hearted and wish you well."

"What can I do for you?" asked the tinker.

"Feed me a little rice now and then, and don't put me on the fire as that stupid priest did. Look here."

Going over to a corner of the room and taking a fan from the rack, the badger climbed up on the frame of the lamp, and began to dance on its one hind leg, waving the fan with its fore-paw. It played many other tricks, until the man started up, and then the badger turned into a tea-kettle again.

"I declare," said the tinker as he woke up next morning, and talked the matter over with his wife. "I'll just 'raise a mountain' on this kettle. It certainly is a very highly accomplished tea-kettle. I'll call it by some high-sounding name and exhibit it to the public."

"You've been dreaming," scoffed his wife; "that's only an ordinary brass tea-kettle."

"Just watch it and see," replied the tinker.

So they watched the next night, and sure enough it turned into a badger again.

The delighted tinker hired a professional showman for his business agent, and built a little theatre and stage. Then he gave an order to a friend of his, an artist, to paint scenery, with the sacred mountain Fuji yama in the background and cranes flying through the air, a crimson sun shining through the bamboo, a red moon rising over the waves, with golden clouds and tortoises and such like. Then he stretched a tight rope of rice-straw across the stage, and the handbills being stuck up in all the barber shops in town, and wooden tickets branded with "Accomplished and Lucky Tea-Kettle Performance, Admit One,"—the show was opened. The house was speedily filled, the people coming in parties, bringing their teapots full of tea and picnic boxes full of rice, and eggs, and dumplings made of millet meal, sugared roast-pea cakes, and other refreshments; because they came to stay all day. Mothers brought their babies with them, for the children enjoyed it most of all.

Then the tinker, dressed up in his wide ceremonial clothes, with a big fan in his hand, came out on the platform, made his politest bow and set the wonderful tea-kettle on the stage. At a wave of his fan, the kettle ran around on four legs, half badger and half kettle, clanking its lid and wagging its tail. How the children shouted; and so should you and I if we could only have been there! Next it turned into a badger, swelled out its body and beat a tune on it like a drum. It danced a jig on the tight rope, and walked the slack rope, holding a fan, or an umbrella in its paw, stood on its head, and finally at a flourish of its master's fan became a cold brass tea-kettle again. The audience were wild with delight, and as the fame of the wonderful tea-kettle spread, many people came from great distances to see it perform.

Year after year the tinker exhibited the wonder until he grew immensely rich. Then he retired from the show business, and out of gratitude took the old kettle to the temple again and deposited it there as a precious relic. The old priest was given a goodly sum of money to do nothing else but take care of it; and all his life it had all the rice and dumplings it wanted. After his death it turned into an ordinary kettle, and has stayed so ever since. If you don't believe it, you can go to the temple some day and see it for yourself.

[chouhatsumimi]

Words from Nukoduke, vol. 4, part 4

Words in bold are particularly relevant to the story, and words in italics seem like they’d be worth remembering outside the context of the manga. Bold and italic together means they’ve probably appeared somewhere in Nukoduke more than once. Kinda long list but it’s for a whole volume… actually it’s too long for tumblr, so splitting into four parts.

供え物 そなえもの offering (e.g. to the gods), votive offering / ofrenda 誠実 せいじつ sincere, honest, faithful / sincero, honesto, fiel 重視 じゅうし regarding as important, attaching importance to, taking a serious view of, putting emphasis on / importancia 作務衣 さむえ, さむい samue, monk's working clothes 匂わせる, 臭わせる におわせる to give off (a smell, scent, aroma), to smell of, to perfume (a room, etc.), to hint at, to suggest, to insinuate 天然 てんねん nature, spontaneity, natural airhead / natural (belleza, gas) 未亡人 みぼうじん widow / viuda 純文学 じゅんぶんがく pure literature, belles-lettres 茶葉 ちゃば tea leaf, tea leaves ようやっと finally, at last, at length, barely, narrowly, hardly, only just 威圧感 いあつかん intimidating air, sense of intimidation 人望 じんぼう popularity 嬉々, 嬉嬉, 喜々, 喜喜 きき merry, joyful, gleeful / contento, satisfecho, alegre 引っかく, 引っ掻く, 引掻く ひっかく to scratch, to claw / arañar, rascar, rasguñar 野性 やせい wildness (plants, animals, etc.), uncouth, rough, unpolished / silvestre, salvaje 看板娘 かんばんむすめ pretty girl who attracts customers to come inside a shop ぴちぴち, ピチピチ bursting with youth and energy (esp. young woman), vivaciously young, spunky, energetic, (fish) jumping around energetically (e.g. when caught in a net), bursting (e.g. seams), tight, splattering (e.g. cooking oil) 男勝り, 男まさり おとこまさり (of a woman) strong-minded, spirited, mannish / (de una mujer) mentalidad fuerte, animada, hombruna 舎弟 しゃてい one's younger brother, underling (e.g. in yakuza), junior male peer, sworn younger brother 寡黙 かもく untalkative, quiet, taciturn, reticent, uncommunicative / callado, tímido 女房 にょうぼう, にょうぼ, にゅうぼう wife (esp. one's own wife), court lady, female court attache, woman who served at the imperial palace, woman (esp. as a love interest) / esposa 僭越ながら せんえつながら by your leave, with your permission ちまちま small, compact 狭き門 せまきもん the strait gate (in the Bible), the narrow gate, high barrier (to enter a highly competitive school, company, etc.), difficult hurdle, difficulty, obstacle ひた隠し, 直隠し ひたかくし hiding at all costs, desperate cover-up, doing one's best to keep (something) secret ひた隠す, 直隠す, ヒタ隠す ひたかくす, ヒタかくす to cover, to cover up 独学 どくがく self-education, self-instruction, self-study / estudiar de modo autodidacta, autoaprendizaje 快諾 かいだく ready consent 厳格 げんかく strict, severe, stern, rigid, rigorous, tough / serio, duro, severo, inflexible, rigor, austeridad 涙腺 るいせん tear gland, lacrimal gland 資格 しかく qualifications, requirements, capabilities / calificaciones, requerimientos, capacidades 暴挙 ぼうきょ violence, reckless action, (an) outrage 古株 ふるかぶ old-timer, veteran, senior, old stump, old roots 息抜き いきぬき taking a breather, relaxation, vent hole 吹き出す, 噴き出す, 吹きだす, 吹出す, 噴出す, 噴きだす ふきだす to spout out, to spurt out, to gush out, to jet out, to sprout, to bud, to burst into laughter, to blow (smoke, etc.), to send out shoots (of a tree) / brotar, soplar hacia afuera, empezar a soplar 実体験 じったいけん real experience, actual observations 天才肌 てんさいはだ (person) seeming like a genius, (having) the temperament of a prodigy 急ぎ足, 急足 いそぎあし fast pace, quick pace