#Mountain is a sight to behold out in his element..

[sanctum-vii]

flustered

A (little bit late) Mushy May Day 20: Gardening doodle.

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for setting up the prompts!!

[megamindsecretlair]

heyyyy sugarplummm, you already know why i’m here🤭🤭🤭. i’d love to a request for teddy richmond??? im thinking smutty smutty down to the ground, but i NEEDDDD overstimulation from oc to teddy and him tapping out??? some crazy crazy shit LMAOOOO please and thank you, i would forever be in your debt🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

A/N: Hope I did it justice! I read a FILTHY fic from @planetblaque, make sure you check her fic out here! Good & Plenty

Ruined

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, face sitting, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry has been spending more time in the gym lately, preferring to retreat into his head like he often does. Tonight, however, you aim to take his mind off of his worries if only for a little while.

Word Count: 3,232k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll don't ask about this man no more! I need to focus on this book, lordt LOL. He has rotted my brain, enjoy! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your favorite part of your nightly routine was watching Terry workout. He was never more so in his element then when he was pumping iron, blasting his metal music, and in the zone. He became so focused, lifting weights, leg day, arm day, biceps, triceps, and whatever else he managed to hone into a deadly weapon.

You joined him most nights, but quickly became entranced in the way he lifted his body doing pull ups. Or working his legs out on the machine. Your home gym was nothing to sniff at. Making him deck it out in all of the equipment he ever wanted when he got his settlement from Shelby Springs. 

You liked using the bike mostly, setting a program, and pretending to ride up the side of a mountain. You were able to zone out, picturing the mountain air and the subtle breeze. It was a wonderful sight to behold but did little in comparison to Terry’s massive form. 

Terry had been a little distant lately, spending more and more time in the gym instead of resting. You entered the gym now to find him facing the wall of mirrors along the far wall, watching himself as he lifted heavy weights in his arms, doing curls. 

Something was bothering him. You bit your lip as you watched him. What could it be? 

He was focused, not even noticing that you were standing in the doorway. He wore a dusky blue tank and black shorts, compression shorts underneath showing off massive thighs. His earphones were in his ear, probably listening to his favorite band. 

You thought over what could possibly be his problem… it occurred to you. It was the anniversary of all the shit that went down. Losing his cousin, violence, racism. You sighed, wondering why he didn’t say anything. Then again, he wasn’t the type of man to burden others with his thoughts. 

You sauntered into the gym, taking off your pajama shirt as you did so. You wore no bra underneath so you were bare to the heated room. Your eyes were trained on Terry beside you, soaking through his tank top with sweat. The tattoos on his forearm moved with him, the star and moon on his arm curling.

You stopped beside him, taking off your sleep shorts and panties in one fell swoop. You grabbed your own set of weights and went through a series of light reps, stretching out your limbs and loosening up your body. 

Terry looked over at you and then faced forward. He did a double take, nearly dropping the weights in his hands. He caught them at the last minute, placing them down on the dumbbell rack. 

“What you doing?” He asked, a smirk curving his face. He took out one of his earbuds.

“Working out, what does it look like?” You asked. You didn’t look directly at him, opting to look at him in the mirror. That was easier. Easier to admire his face without having to look at his eyes dead on. Sometimes it seemed like he looked right down to your soul. 

He licked his lips, siding up to you. He was huffing with exertion, reaching up to grab your shoulder. You sidestepped him, tsking at him. “You didn’t finish your workout,” you said.

“You gon’ do me like that?” His voice. Good god. He pitched it even lower, sounding put out and superior at the same time. 

“Finish your workout. Go on,” you said. You switched up your stretches, adding in lunges and stretching your thighs. 

Terry admired what you were doing, the jiggle in your ass, and the sway of your breasts as you moved. He looked at you in the mirror and you smiled at him. He nodded and then yanked off his tank top. 

You faltered in your own routine. His body was insanely ripped. Like a lifelike painting. Like an artist painted each and every ab. You admired the way his body moved. Effortless. Easy. His eyes were trained on you as he took off his shorts and compression shorts, letting his dick spring free.

He was already semi-hard, long and thick, as the tip slapped against his inner thigh. He pulled his other earbud out, tapping away on his phone to put on a playlist you both enjoyed to pump through the house’s speakers. “Coming Undone” by Korn began to blast through the speakers and the dirty beat had you feeling excited. The vibrations in the floor tingled your bare feet. He moved back to retrieve his weights, standing beside you as you both got into your workout routines. 

No words were spoken as you looked at each other, eyes dragging along each other’s bodies like a physical caress. His wide chest glistened with sweat as he pumped his arms, curling those biceps that you just wanted to sink your teeth into.

Your plan was to take his mind off of things, coax him into relaxing, and then talk about what was in his head. But you were making your own self bothered, staring at his lean hips, thick thighs, and strong legs. 

Your pussy throbbed, as you stared at his dick moving with his effort. Wet slick starting to pool between your legs. 

You grunted as you lifted shaking arms to put away your weights. You weren’t as skilled as him and that was okay. You would work yourself up to his level. Sculpting your own body the way you wanted. 

You free-stretched, lifting your arms above your head and pushing out your chest. The room seemed to get hotter. You felt every inch of Terry’s gaze on your body. Everywhere his eyes roamed, your body tingled. You were connected to him on a deep, spiritual level. 

Terry put away his own weights, the metal clanging above the music playing. The song continued to blast, making your body sway to the chorus. Terry stalked forward, licking his lips, eyes looking his fill as he approached you.

“Time for pushups,” you said. 

Terry smirked, encroaching into your personal space. He leaned down to kiss you and you turned your head at the last minute, making him kiss your cheek. He chuckled. “You think you’re cute,” he said against your skin.

You shrugged, a big smile on your face. “Just a little,” you said. You pinched your fingers to show him how much. He laughed, sinking down to his knees. He got into position, facing the mirrors. You climbed onto his back. He tested a few push ups before flicking his eyes towards yours in the mirror.

Wordlessly, he began. He lifted you with ease, not a grunt on him as he kept going, kept pumping his arms. Sweat dripped from his face. You felt his muscles bunch between your legs. You giggled, excited from the high of being lifted on his powerful back. 

“Good Daddy,” you purred on top of him.

Terry stopped, staring at you. You smirked and leaned forward, redistributing your weight so you didn’t hurt him. You licked the shell of his ear and he shivered from head to foot. “Such a good Daddy to me,” you moaned in his ear. 

Terry shook his head, starting up the push ups again. You rubbed his back, caressing him, scratching your nails against his skin. He groaned, body shuddering again. You continued to tease him, running your nails anywhere you could touch. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. 

“I can’t wait until you’re all done, sweaty, feeding me that long dick of yours,” you purred in his ear. 

Terry stopped again, arms extended. He smirked at you. God, he was fucking beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He literally took your breath away whenever you saw him. A sigh carried off in the wind. 

Music thumped as you looked at each other. Your thoughts were probably broadcast all over your face. You took a quick peek at yourself. You were perched on top of him like a lazy, feline goddess. Brown skin gleaming, eyes low, bottom lip between your teeth. You looked so pretty like this. Felt pretty. Felt amazing because he made you feel like you were flying every time you were with him. 

You moaned, thinking of him. Of how wonderful he truly was to you. An entire gift. You rubbed yourself on his back, finding that little bit of friction to keep you going. “Oh shit,” you moaned, head falling forward onto his shoulder. You moaned, getting yourself there.

“Hol’ up.” Terry’s rough voice cut through your fog. He lowered himself to the ground and he rolled to the side to let you off. You climbed off of him and then faced him on the floor. 

“You think you get to play with what’s mine?” He asked. He got to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

Your thighs tingled as he stepped into your personal space. He grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the weight bench. He straddled it, laying down. You hopped onto him, and he groaned. He must feel the slick between your thighs rubbing against his stomach. His muscles flexed beneath you and you closed your eyes, pussy fluttering. 

“Mine,” he growled, winking at you. He pulled you to slide over onto his face, lips sliding through your folds.

“Oh, god,” you sighed and moaned. 

Terry hummed, licking his lips. You felt the entire motion, pussy growing wetter from the action. He began to lick you in earnest, moaning between your legs. You gripped onto the weight bar above the bench, held on for dear life, as your legs shook. 

The song switched to “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. Terry followed the erratic beat, flicking his tongue across your clit rapidly, making you shake and twitch on top of him. “Oh, fuck, Terry, shit, oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Terry chuckled, gripping onto your ass and spreading your ass cheeks. Terry wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled. You screamed, your toes pushing you off of him from the ground. Terry held on, using his tongue to tease around your entrance. 

Stars were blinking on and off in your mind’s eye, lower belly burning with desire. “Terry,” you begged, voice weak and pathetic. Oh fuck, you were about to cum. You began to sink onto his face, putting all your weight down when Terry moved his lips. He pulled away from your entrance right before you were about to cum. 

You groaned, leaning back to look at his eyes. There was something deeply erotic about those mesmerizing eyes staring up at you from between your thick thighs. He winked at you and then pushed you off of him. 

He sat up so that you straddled his lap. “Ready to stop playing games?” He asked, wiping your essence off.

“Who’s playing?” You asked. You blinked at him innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck. His dick was nestled in your ass, growing harder as you rubbed yourself against him. He hissed, hands flying to your waist to steady you. 

You kept moving, kept rocking and rolling your hips so that your wet pussy rubbed against him. “Baby, the games have just begun,” you leaned down and whispered in his ear.

He pulled back, his eyes crinkling as a smile split his face. It was a predatory grin, full of evil intent as he kissed you. You sighed, nibbling on his big, juicy lips. He suckled your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moaned, canting your hips forward once again. 

“Another Way” by Sleep Theory came on, turning up the heat. The heavy beginning reverberated under your skin as you scratched at his nape. You moaned into each other’s mouths. Terry’s hands on your waist were no longer hindering you from rubbing on him, grinding on him. 

Terry cursed, his hand slipping between your legs. “Good fuckin’ girl. Getting wet for Daddy,” he said in awe. 

“You make me so fuckin’ horny, I can’t stand it,” you confessed, capturing his lips with yours again. It was all true. The way his body felt beneath your questing fingers. Tracing every vein, every muscle, every inch of skin. It all served to turn you on more, drive your desire higher, reaching new heights. 

“Let me train that throat,” he said, more of a command than a question. You smirked as you slid off of him, already planning your method of attack. 

Terry scooted forward on the weight bench, and you gripped his thighs for stability as you lowered to the floor. You smiled, grabbed his dick, and rubbed the bead of pre-cum across your lips. 

Terry moaned, licked his lips, tilting his head at you. Your pussy throbbed at the way it made his eyes narrow, made him look cocky. You aimed to change that. You opened your mouth, sucking him down and he groaned as you took him down to the base. 

It was hard, no lie, considering his size. But fuck, you were greedy. You breathed through your nose and then slowly dragged him out of your mouth, making sure to lick every inch of him. 

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back. He grabbed the sides of your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek, before moving your head faster, making you take more of him. 

Silly boy. You resisted, pushing against his hold. He grunted before he let up and that’s when you took over. Giving him the sloppiest, messiest, nastiest head you’d ever given him. “Shit, let me get out yo way,” he breathed, his moans competing with the sounds of the song playing in the background. 

You stroked him as you sucked him off, his tip leaking cum. The salty taste of him made you moan, made your thighs tingle. You moved your fingers between your folds, rubbing your own clit as you sucked him off. 

Curses flew from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck, he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. His mouth dropped open, jaw going slack. He groaned, eyes crinkling with the effort. You took him deep, near gagging, bobbing up and down on his length like you were trying to suck the soul out of his body.

“Shit, slow down,” he said, voice growing needy. 

You didn’t listen. You kept going, kept going faster, shaking with the effort. Rocking back and forth on your fingers and bringing your own pleasure back to the front. Back from where he teased. 

“Damn girl,” he moaned. His jaw flexed with restrained effort. You moaned around his dick, humming, flicking your tongue across his sensitive tip. You suckled him there, drooling. Your saliva and his pre-cum dribbled down your chin. You locked eyes with him, spat on his dick, and then sucked him back down. Returning to the pace you set, sucking with extra pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” he panted, his hips pushing up. He tapped your cheek softly and you reluctantly pulled off of him. His huffing breaths were better than the music. His eyes turned deep blue like a lagoon, drunk with pleasure. 

His eyes narrowed, staring at you like you stole something. You licked your lips, licking up any extra taste of him. He watched you do it, before he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him.

He kissed you, lips soft and sweet. You opened your mouth to him, to his exploring tongue, to the bite of his teeth. You moaned, hands trapped by your side. 

He stood up abruptly, pulling you over to the mirrors. He wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing your back against the cold, smooth glass.

You yelped, trying to get away from it. Your skin was too heated for it, too sensitive. “Terry, please,” you moaned.

“My turn, baby girl,” he said. He grinned, sliding into you with no preamble. Your mouth dropped open with a scream as he split you open. 

“T-T-,”

“Shh, shh, Daddy’s got you,” he cooed as he moved in you like he was punishing you. He was relentless, moving like a jackhammer. Like a well-oiled machine. He held your legs spread open, taking his dick.

“T-too, mu-uch,” you cried, pussy flooding his dick. He was pounding into you so good, your vision turned black. Your ears began to ring. Your back tapped the mirror, shaking it, with the force of his deep thrusts. 

“Too much?” He asked.

You held onto his shoulder, nails digging. “Too good, too good,” you moaned. 

He moaned with you, synching up your sounds and bringing a new level of intimacy to the moment. He stared in your eyes, nose to nose, heavy breaths fanning across each other’s faces. The wet, dripping mess you made was leaking down your ass and leg, growing wetter. 

“How ‘bout now?” He asked. He increased his thrusts, angling you so that he was fucking up into you. The tip of his dick rubbed against a deep spot inside of you, rubbing up into you and making you see stars again. His dick was huge, splitting you, and god it felt so fucking amazing. 

“Meanie,” you whimpered, grip growing weak. 

Terry kissed along your jaw, your cheeks. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ good for me. Such a good girl, creamin’ on this dick. You always know just what Daddy needs, huh?” He asked. 

“Daddy, please! Please let me cum, please, please,” You begged. 

His dick throbbed and you crumpled, falling into that abyss of pleasure. Where it filled up your entire being. All of the teasing and edging just sent you overboard, losing yourself and finding yourself in an endless loop of give and take. You twitched and jerked, moaning loud in his ear. 

“Fuck. Grip that shit. Show Daddy you love it,” he said. “Show me. Show me.” His thrusts grew frenzied, hips out of alignment, as he lifted one of your legs higher on his hip and then groaned as he climaxed.

His hot, pulsing seed filled you to the brim. “Ahh, that’s my good girl. Take all of me,” he cooed. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

You lazily found each other’s lips. He stilled against you, deeply lodged inside like he lived there. Like he didn’t want to leave. Hell, you didn’t want him to leave either. If you could live like this, you would. Never going a moment without him buried in your pussy where he belonged. Where he was always meant to be. 

Terry kissed your temple and slowly, so slowly, pulled out of you. He looked down as he watched himself exit, a thick load of cum spilling out behind him. Your pussy contracted, trying to push him all out. You shivered as the cum slipped down, leaking onto the ground. 

“Ruined,” he said, smug smile to accompany his words. You looked up at him and kissed him, needing his lips on yours just one more time. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled against yours, leaning back just far enough to look you in the eye.

“I think I have a few ideas for the sauna,” he said.

“The sauna?” You asked. He fucked you so well, you didn’t think you could walk straight at the moment. However, there were plenty of areas to sit in the sauna. Light bulbs flashed in your mind, thinking of what dirty schemes he was up to.

Terry grinned, turning away from the mirrors and heading towards the sauna. You giggled and talked to him the entire way there.

The end.

There will be more, but seriously ya'll. Stawp distracting me! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x40 - The Four Heavenly Kings of the Mountain of Evil! Dark Masters / Enter the Dark Masters

Previously on Digimon Adventure: The Chosen Children discovered Vamdemon's ultimate weakness: Forceful, repeated nut shots. After wailing on his vulnerable point until he fell over and died, they bid farewell to their loved ones and fucked off via rainbow magic without explaining anything to most of their confused, scared parents.

It's cool, they'll be back in like a minute. Thanks, time dilation!

The Four Heavenly Kings are a quartet of Buddhist devas who preside over the cardinal directions. They're kind of a big deal in Buddhist mythology and they come up a lot in Japanese pop culture. Anime and video games love the Four Heavenly Kings.

They're the Kais and the Supreme Kais in Dragon Ball. They're the Saint Beasts in Yu Yu Hakusho. The Elite Four in Pokemon. The Four Giants that must be rescued in Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. They're all over the place.

Notably, despite being called "kings", they are rarely the top of the hierarchy and typically serve a single master who stands above them all. The Heavenly Kings bend their knees to Taishakuten, supreme ruler over all devas. He governs from the peak of a great mountain at the center of all directions.

So where you find Four Heavenly Kings in media, you will often find a supreme lord of the center who sits above them. (Though not necessarily always; Yu Yu Hakusho, for instance, omitted that part.)

Digimon, too, has its Four Heavenly Kings. In fact, like Dragon Ball, it has multiple sets - with the penultimate villains of Adventure 01 being a corrupt and evil version of the concept, which is also not uncommon with Heavenly King portrayals.

They were not the first to come up with "Four Heavenly Kings BUT EVIL" and they will not be the last. Heavenly King references are a fun and easy way to fill in the top-dog super-elite enforcers for your primary bad guy.

So, without further adieu, we open this episode on the introduction of the titular Dark Masters, who govern four of the five traditional elements: Water, wood, metal, and slapstick comedy.

Spoiling their names a bit but I'm not gonna spend this whole scene calling them Clown Bro and Gatling Puppet. Piemon, pronounced "Pee-eh-mon" and not "Pie-mon", kicks us off. He's secretly monitoring the humans back in Japan, observing the Chosen Children preparing to return.

He's doing this through the truly ingenious method of pointing a giant-ass telescope at the reality tear in the sky and looking at Japan with his eyes.

Piemon: Those fools wear masks of fear, waiting in futility for peace to return. Such a wonderful sight to behold! MetalSeadramon: (bursts from the water) This is stupid! We should attack! Pinochimon: Their flow of time moves differently from ours. We should take our time and pick them off one by one. Like him! Mugendramon: (silent, but for heavy breathing)

The camera slowly pans up Mugendramon's metal body. I'm not 100% certain on what Pinochimon is suggesting here, but I think he wants to use Mugendramon's cannons to, like, shoot up into the sky rifts and snipe humans while they're frozen in the glacially-moving time of the other world.

A horrifying thought. We should probably close those rifts.

The dub understood the assignment with Piedmon.

Piedmon: Hahaha! Those bit players are frozen with stage fright! Hopelessly waiting for the moment they'll be saved! And yet, there's an unseen twist to the plot! MetalSeadramon: I say we cut to the punchline and go straight for the action! Puppetmon: Oh please, that would be boring! I want to play this drama to the hilt! Let's pull out all the stops and give 'em what they paid for.

Piedmon's voice is basically perfect. He's being performed as an overenthusiastic virtuoso. For Puppetmon, they go a different direction; Pinocchimon is voiced like a young boy, while Puppetmon has this scratchy sneering voice like a little weasel man.

Far from the bestial roar of the original, the dub's MetalSeadramon sounds like a twenty-something young man with a southern twang in his voice. Interesting choice. That could get annoying or be hilarious. We'll see where that goes.

Machinedramon does not get to breathe heavily into the mic because they cut the part of Pinocchimon's line that calls him out and puts attention on him. So now the camera pans over him for no apparent reason while Puppetmon is talking.

Depending on whether my understanding is right, I could see them changing his line because holy shit that's violent and dark or because they, like me, weren't exactly sure what he was saying. Might be censorship, might be "Huh?"

Piemon: The Chosen Children will return soon. Our boredom is at its end. Now! Let us leave the dressing room! The stage curtains are rising!

Spotlights shine on each of the Dark Masters to punctuate his words.

Piemon: The title is: The End of the Chosen Children!

In the dub, Piedmon continues off of Puppetmon's changed line.

Piedmon: I'm in complete agreement! A quick victory would be a letdown. The DigiDestined will be on Spiral Mountain soon; We must rehearse before they get here. It will be their FINAL PERFORMANCE!!!

As a silence-breaker, he introduces them each individually to the audience when the spotlights come in.

Piedmon: MetalSeadramon! Puppetmon! And Machinedramon! I present to you the downfall of the DigiDestined!

The dub's front-loading a lot of proper nouns, though they never have a chance to name Piedmon. They even name-drop Spiral Mountain early.

While the Dark Masters make their plans, the children arrive in the Digital World and take stock of their surroundings.

Taichi: Are we back? Mimi: I think so.... Koushiro: We should be. Takeru: Is it night-time? Yamato: Looks like.

Sora looks up and suddenly lets out a shriek.

Sora: EHHHHH!?!? EVERYONE, LOOK!!!

Looking up into the sky above, they can see the island of Hokkaido floating in the sky above, as if the blue sky were the ocean. Hokkaido is one of the biggest parts of Japan, so this is very much like looking up and seeing Texas distantly floating upside-down in the air.

Group: WHUUUUUUH!?!? Taichi: H-HOKKAIDO!?!? Yamato: IS THAT EARTH!?!? Koushiro: We're able to see Earth from here, the same way we could see the DIgimon World from Earth earlier.

Poor Koushiro having to explain the obvious to his shocked colleagues. Sitting there like, "Come on, guys. We already know this is happening."

As a small microaggression towards my kid, Taichi's uncertainty and Mimi's confirmation is flip-flopped in the dub so that Tai's certain and Mimi's confused.

Tai: Well, it looks like we're back. Mimi: Back where? in the Digital World? Izzy: That's affirmative. T.K.: It's dark. Matt: Yeah! It's kind of weird!

The resulting line doesn't make a lot of sense. Where do you think we went back to, Mimi? The McDonalds we bullied Joe at? Not to be outdone, however, Matt promptly forgets how night works to take the pressure off of Mimi's dumb question. XD

I think they all have cosmic jet-lag.

Sora does not shriek when she notices the sky.

Sora: HEY!!! LOOK UP THERE!!! Group: WHUUUUUUH!?!? Tai: Talk about weird! Matt: Could that be Earth!? Izzy: It's merely speculation but it seems to be a reasonable facsimile. We see Earth from here like we saw the Digital World from Earth.

They cut the regional reference to Hokkaido which I actually think was a bad call. Japanese kids could reasonably recognize that island in the sky but Americans have no idea what they're looking at. It just looks like an ink blot.

So when the kids are like, "IS THAT EARTH!?!?"

Like.

Is it? Doesn't look like Earth to me. That is a weird dark shape in the clouds, not a planet. This is a confusing moment in the dub.

This might have been a good time to have, say, Joe chime in with a line like "I recognize that island; It's one of the biggest islands in Japan!" That way, the kids watching would understand what they're supposed to be seeing, because it is not clear at a glance with zero comprehension of Japanese geography.

Suddenly, Jou hears something rustling around in the brush.

Jou: Hm? Gomamon? What are you doing down there, Gomamon?

He walks over to where the sound's coming from, sifting through the grass. Gomamon pops out of Jou's duffel bag nearby.

Gomamon: Jou! I'm over here! Jou: Eh? Then who's this--GYAAAAAGH!!!

Chuumon erupts from the grass, attacking Jou and clawing at his face while screaming in a panic. The ground shifts, opening up a chasm beneath Jou, and Chuumon leaps away to safety.

Gomamon: JOU!!!

Jou grabs onto the newly created cliffside for dear life.

In the dub:

Joe: Hm? Gomamon? Hey, where are you? (Joe follows the sound, but Gomamon pops out of Joe's duffel) Gomamon: Joe, I've been snoozing over here! Joe: Huh? Oh, well we'll just save the world without you then-- (Joe gets attacked, then falls off a cliff) Gomamon: JOE!!! Joe: Wh-whoa! ...I didn't need this.

Again, weird scripting choice here. They replace his last line with a snarky gag, but visually Joe returns his attention to the spot he was investigating (and gets attacked for it) without indicating why he's still poking around that patch of grass.

Joe's understated whine of a silence-breaker is fantastic, though. He's so used to peril at this point that his reaction to falling off a cliff is basically a stone-faced, "Really. Okay." XD

Koromon, Tsunomon, Mochimon, Tokomon, and Pyocomon all take Jou getting attacked as encouragement to evolve into their Child-stages, ending their recovery periods. Plotmon remains Plotmon and Palmon trips, falling on her face in a funny moment in the middle of the dramatic charge.

Agumon, Gabumon, Patamon, and Palmon all move in on the attacker in the grass, but Hikari calls out.

Hikari: STOP!!!

Approaching the grass, Hikari crouches down and gently, softly addresses the terrified Digimon hiding in it.

Hikari: Don't be scared. You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you. You can come out.

Trembling in fear, Chuumon slowly emerges from the grass, then collapses in front of the kids.

Palmon: It's Chuumon! Mimi: You're right! That's Chuumon from File Island! (Chuumon opens his eyes at the sound of their voices.) Chuumon: Mimi-chan? Palmon?

We briefly flash back on better, or at least less despondent days, when Scumon and Chuumon met Mimi way back when.

Chuumon: I'm glad... you came back....

That's all Chuumon manages to get out before passing out.

In the dub:

Kari: HOLD ON!!! (Kari approaches the grass and crouches down) Kari: Come out! You're among friends. We won't hurt you. Don't be afraid. (Chuumon emerges) Palmon: Oh my goodness! It's Chuumon! Mimi: He looks terrible; What he needs is a complete makeover. (Chuumon opens his eyes at the sound of their voices.) Chuumon: Mimi? Palmon? (Brief flashback of meeting Mimi) Mimi (V.O.): Something bad happened. Sukamon and Chuumon used to be inseparable! (Flashback ends) Chuumon: I'm so glad you came back to save us....

They remove the part where Mimi ID's Chuumon as specifically the one from File Island, which is kind of important because there was a separate Scumon and Chuumon among PicoDevimon's shitty recruits earlier. Then again, the dub might not know those are different Digimon, given the confusion they had about Kuwagamon "following us from File Island" during the Etemon arc.

It's fine, though, because the flashback that follows does the job anyway. Plus she still calls them out in her silence-breaking flashback narration, so nothing is lost by the replacement of this line with a signature Mimi Quip.

It's actually Kari's dialogue that I take issue with. Not for the lines she says but the tone of voice. Rather than the soft, gentle tones that the original uses, she talks to Chuumon in her normal speaking voice. It's a small thing but it dampens the emotional impact of the moment and its demonstration of Hikari's sensitive empathy.

It doesn't ruin the scene, though; It just means the tone of the moment isn't as strong as it would otherwise be.

Suddenly Jou calls out, reminding everyone that he's still dangling off a cliff.

Jou: HEEEEEY SOMEONE HELP!!! Gomamon: Oops, I forgot!

Gomamon bounds over to the edge of the cliff to help Jou, only to be stymied by his biological limitations.

Gomamon: Waugh!? Jou: Gomamon, give me your hand! I can't climb back up on my own! Gomamon: (looks down at his flipper) Now, when you say to give you my 'hand'....

This is a callback to the Unimon episode way back on File Island; Jou's first spotlight episode. There, he'd ribbed Gomamon for offering to lend a "hand".

Taichi and Yamato arrive, looking at the ravine beyond Jou.

Taichi: This is...! Yamato: AH! Taichi: Jou, climb back up!

Jou briefly looks down, seeing that the ravine is deep beneath him, and shrieks. He scrambles to pull himself up, while Taichi and Yamato grab him and help pull him back onto the grass.

Jou: Help me! Yamato: Come on, hurry! Taichi: Grab on!

Once Jou's safely back on the ground, the three boys look into the deepening ravine, watching chunks of the landscape crumble and fall into it.

Yamato: What is happening here...?

In the dub:

Joe: Would somebody mind helping me!? Gomamon: Whoops, I forgot all about ya! (Gomamon runs over to Joe) Joe: You forgot. I'm hanging here by my elbows and you're off in la-la land! Gomamon: (looks down at his flipper) Gee, I wonder what it's like to have elbows? (Tai and Matt arrive) Tai: Joe!? Figures. Matt: Huh!? Tai: Hey, quit fooling around! (Joe looks down and shrieks; The boys pull him up.) Joe: Just help me, will ya!? Matt: Work with us! (Matt looks at the collapsing landscape) Matt: What's happening!? Everything's gone wacko!

The "hand" bit is replaced with Gomamon getting distracted by a non sequitur. Tai's dialogue is rewritten to be mean to Joe.

While everyone's dealing with Jou and Chuumon, Koushiro tries to contact Gennai.

Tentomon: Have you found Gennai-han? Koushiro: No, I haven't been able to get through.

Meanwhile, Mimi cradles Chuumon in her lap while the group gathers around him.

Palmon: He looks a lot less scared after seeing your face, Mimi. Piyomon: He must have been running on pure adrenaline. Sora: The poor thing.

Chuumon wakes up in Mimi's lap.

Mimi: Chuumon? Chuumon: Mimi-chan? You're really Mimi-chan! Mimi: That's right. What happened to you? Chuumon: (silently flinches away from the question) Palmon: Where's your pal Scumon? Chuumon: He's... He's dead!

Making that admission, Chuumon starts bawling. We cut to a flashback of Scumon and Chuumon living carefree lives on File Island.

Chuumon (V.O.): After Mimi-chan and the others left File Island, we spent our days peacefully like usual. Then, one day out of nowhere....

A huge earthquake rips through the island. Scumon and Chuumon run for their lives, but Scumon falls into a massive chasm that opens up. Chuumon calls after him, but a wave of darkness ushers up from the chasm, blowing him away.

Chuumon (V.O.): The powers of darkness enveloped the world. Then, to make it easier for darkness to rule, they reshaped the entire world....

In media, it's generally agreed that if you don't see a body, the character's going to come back. Digimon don't leave bodies behind, however, so just take my assurance that there's no trick here.

Scumon is actually dead. We will not see him again until 02, after he's had a chance to reincarnate at Primary Village. He was one of probably many casualties unluckily caught up in the Dark Masters' upheaval of the landscape.

In the dub:

Tentomon: Are you trying to get a hold of Gennai? Izzy: Well, I'm not playing Solitaire! (Cut to the kids gathered around Chuumon in Mimi's lap) Palmon: Chuumon's a mess! I wonder what happened to him. Biyomon: Well, whatever it was, it wasn't very pretty! Sora: Poor thing! (Chuumon wakes up) Mimi: Ah! Chuumon! Chuumon: Mimi.... I wasn't dreaming; It's really you after all! Mimi: Poor thing. Why don't you tell Mimi all about it?

I had issues earlier with Kari's voice but Mimi's tone here is perfect. I love the way she uses her own name as an emotional prybar to get Chuumon to open up, having recognized the unique influence she has in this moment.

Palmon: What happened to your friend Sukamon? Chuumon: I-I... I'm afraid I lost him.... (Chuumon starts bawling and goes into flashback) Chuumon (V.O.): After you guys left File Island, Sukamon and I went on with life as usual. You know, eating, eating, and more eating! When suddenly.... (The chasm rips apart File Island and Sukamon falls into the darkness below) Chuumon: I never saw him again! A powerful evil force took over the land, causing all kinds of bad things to happen! Then it rebuilt the Digital World so it would be easier to conquer! I've been hiding ever since.

The dub doesn't directly state that Sukamon's dead, but they don't unwrite his death either. They leave Sukamon's fate up in the air.

The kids have some questions about that last thing Chuumon mentioned.

Taichi: They reshaped the world? Koushiro: Into what?

Cut to an ambiguous length of time later; The sun's risen, so they must have been traveling a while to get here. Still carried in Mimi's arms, Chuumon shows the kids to the base of a colossal, twisting landmass composed of various biomes streaked up from the earth below.

Chuumon: Some places here or there are ruins of what they used to be, but most of it has been twisted up into that mountain. It's called Spiral Mountain.

Like many proper nouns in the Digital World, the name "Spiral Mountain" is in English.

Yamato: Spiral Mountain? Joe: I can't believe the Digimon World has changed so much....

Yeah, the Dark Masters reshaped the world into their own literally twisted version of the compass center Shumisen; The great mountain at the center of the universe upon which sits the heaven of the devas.

In the dub:

Tai: You mean the Digital World is completely changed from what it was? Izzy: How is it different? (Chuumon shows them to Spiral Mountain) Chuumon: Everything's been discombobulated and taken apart! The Digital World has been relocated way up there! It's called Spiral Mountain! There's nothing left here of the old world except some ruins! Matt: So you're saying it's all up there. Huh. Joe: Color me cynical but nothing surprises me about this place.

"The Digital World has been relocated way up there" is an awkward way to explain this. The Digital World hasn't been relocated; It's been reshaped, with most of its geographic mass twisted up into Spiral Mountain.

We are, right now, standing in the Digital World. We're just in the scant non-mountain bits that were left over.

As an aside, I like Joe's parting quip at the end of this exchange. XD

Taichi has more questions for the traumatized Chuumon.

Taichi: What happened to the other Digimon? Like Leomon? Chuumon: I don't know. But I've heard that everyone who's gone against them has been destroyed.... Sora: Against who? Chuumon: (hushed whisper) ...the Dark Masters....

The phrase "Dark Masters" is also in English.

Taichi: So then we have to fight these Dark Masters. Chuumon: FIGHT!?!? YOU'LL NEVER WIN!!! NEVER EVER!!! Taichi: Hey, we brought down Vamdemon! Mimi: It will be okay! As long as all eight of the Chosen Children are together, we can save the world!

Mimi's trying so hard to reassure Chuumon, but the very thought of these kids trying to resist the Dark Masters chills him to his bones.

In the dub:

Tai: Where did all the other Digimon go? Are they up there too? Where's Leomon? Chuumon: I don't know. But from what I've been told, they'll destroy anything that tries to get in their way! Sora: Who will? Chuumon: Who? The Dark Masters! Tai: Well, they couldn't be too much tougher than anybody else we've wrestled with before. Chuumon: No way! They'll beat the pants right off of you! Tai: We got rid of Myotismon, so we can get rid of them too! Mimi: Don't worry about it. As long as the eight of us are together, we'll keep those big bullies away from you!

This whole exchange is semantically very different, particularly when Chuumon gets in a pissing contest with Tai about how tough the Dark Masters are rather than panicking and screaming. But it's all lateral changes, I think. Same ideas expressed differently, nothing objectionable or especially noteworthy.

Suddenly, a deep, bestial laugh fills the air around the kids.

MetalSeadramon: HUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! CHOSEN CHILDREN!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!!!

The ground in front of them explodes into smoke and debris, then MetalSeadramon's titanic body erupts upwards from the smoke.

Chuumon: IT'S METALSEADRAMON!!!

Alright! Go ahead, Taichi. Go fight him. We'll wait here. :P

(In seriousness, Taichi's assessment was fair. The Dark Masters are each on the same level as VenomVamdemon. Chuumon has a different frame of reference because Ultimate-stage Digimon are so rare and mythical as to basically be unheard of.)

In any case, it's time for MetalSeadramon's rundown. He's an Ultimate-stage Data-type Cyborg Digimon; The Data Ultimate for the Deep Savers evolution tree, evolved from MegaSeadramon.

Narrator: MetalSeadramon. An Ultimate-stage Digimon whose entire body is covered in Chrome Digizoid, the strongest metal. He boasts colossal power and tremendous speed.

"Chrome Digizoid" is English. Well, Digizoid is a made-up word, but "Chrome" is English and Digizoid is English-like.

The kids run for it. MetalSeadramon moves quickly, swooping through the woods and smashing through the group. Though he fails to get a solid hit on anyone, he sends the kids tumbling to the ground in his wake.

Yamato: (trying to get up; pained) How can he move so fast with a body that huge!?

Over in the dub:

MetalSeadramon: HEEEHEHEHAHAHA!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, DIGIDESTINED!!! (MetalSeadramon erupts from the ground) Chuumon: OH NO, IT'S METALSEADRAMON!!! Chuumon: (rundown) This guy is one real hard nose! And I mean hard nose! Take my advice: This is one train that you would rather miss. (MetalSeadramon attacks, knocking the kids down) Matt: (trying to get up; pained) Okay, if that's the way you want it, we can play rough too!

Another instance of the dub swapping out dialogue to make the kids look stronger and more battle-hungry.

Chuumon's diegetic rundown sucks. The original rundown gives salient explanations for why MetalSeadramon is a force to be reckoned with. Dub Chuumon just says "He's really tough, trust me."

Getting up, the kids and their Partner Digimon prepare to fight back.

Taichi: Let's go, Agumon! Agumon: Got it! Yamato: Gabumon! Sora: I'm counting on you, Piyomon!

All eight Partner Digimon evolve to their Adult forms to throw down with MetalSeadramon.

It does not go well.

In fact, it goes tremendously unwell. Fighting him at -2 stages was a terrible idea.

Tailmon does manage to jerk aside before he can fucking eat her but they're still losing this fight badly. And embarrassing themselves in front of Chuumon who was already convinced the kids were screwed.

In the dub:

Tai: Let's go, Agumon! Agumon: Gotcha! Matt: Now it's our turn!

Sora's line gets snubbed. Rude.

Love the confidence on Matt, though. "Now it's OUR turn!" exclaimed while basically whipping out a switchblade to face down a gatling gun.

The dub makes minor edits to MetalSeadramon's brutal beatdown. The shot where his tail slams into Togemon is cut down; We see her go flying but we don't see the hit that threw her.

Dub Angemon inexplicably calls his Hand of Fate attack while getting bodied like the rest. They got to do their stock animation attacks and then get bodied, but he didn't get to do a stock animation attack first so I guess he got jealous.

Similarly, when Gatomon lunges at MetalSeadramon's face and immediately has regrets, she calls Lightning Paw in the dub. The original Tailmon was just... trying to tackle him in the face. Which is a terrible idea, so having her at least call an attack there makes sense.

Flying overhead, MegaSeadramon makes victory loopies in the sky.

Takeru: ANGEMON!!! Hikari: Tailmon.... MetalSeadramon: HUHAHAHAHA!!! As if you could win against me! Mimi: Why is this happening!? It's eight against one! (Koushiro suddenly looks up from his laptop with alarm) Koushiro: MetalSeadramon is an Ultimate-stage Digimon! Adult-stages can't win against him no matter how many there are! Taichi: He's Ultimate-stage!? Jou: Why does our first opponent have to be such a powerful one!? MetalSeadramon: You're finished. ULTIMATE STREAM!!!

MetalSeadramon's Ultimate Stream fires from the cannon on his nose, annihilating the landscape around the Chosen Children in a massive energy explosion. The eight Partner Digimon all wrap themselves around their partnered children to shield them from the blast.

Seriously, though, I said it for dub Matt earlier but I'll say it again here. You gotta love the sheer cockiness. Riding high on their victory against Vamdemon, they thought they could stroll in here, throw a few Meteor Wings and Mega Flames around, and the Dark Masters would roll over and die for them.

They thought VenomVamdemon was as bad as it gets. They were not prepared for more Ultimate Digimon.

In the dub:

T.K.: Angemon! Kari: Oh no! MetalSeadramon: (loopies) YOU SHOULD KNOW YOUR POWERS AREN'T STRONG ENOUGH!!! Mimi: How come he's beating us so badly!? (Izzy suddenly looks up from his laptop with alarm) Izzy: Ah! It's because he's a Mega Digimon, and even eight Champions can't overtake one Mega! He's stronger than all of us combined! Tai: Then we're lost without more power! Joe: Ever notice we're always in the wrong place at just the wrong time? MetalSeadramon: Now it's time to take one nasty ride!

Dub MetalSeadramon does not call his attack.

We go to commercial following MetalSeadramon's attack and come back to the kids recovering in a dark place.

Angemon: (cradling Takeru) Takeru, are you hurt? Takeru: I'm okay. Thank you, Angemon.

Angemon nods, but then they hear a low, bestial growling. Angemon whips his head around. There's something out there in the mists that he can't make out. He sets down Takeru and picks up his Holy Rod.

Takeru: What is it? Angemon: There's something here. I'll go take a look.

In the dub:

Angemon: (cradling T.K.) T.K., are you alright? T.K.: I thought I was broken, but I guess I must be okay!

The dub frequently misses sound cues for plot points that are strictly auditory, but they do capture the bestial growling that sets off Angemon here. Points for that.

T.K.: What's the matter? Angemon: Wait. I'll be back.

Angemon takes to the air, trying to scout ahead. In the distance, a metallic whirring sound revs up, and two bolts of light begin to glow in the mist.

Then they fire.

Before he knows what hit him, Angemon's pummeled by twin cannon shots.

Takeru: ANGEMON!!!

Regressing into Patamon, he flops helplessly across the grass, landing in front of Takeru.

Takeru: Patamon! Patamon, hang in there!

Mugendramon wheels forward out of the mist. And I do mean wheels; He doesn't actually walk, but rolls forward motionlessly like his feet have roller skates under them or something.

He roars aggressively, saying nothing. Koushiro checks his laptop, bringing us into our second Dark Master rundown.

Mugendramon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Machine Digimon. The Virus Ultimate from Metal Empire, completing the set with WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon. His name is derived from the Japanese word mugen, meaning infinite, and of course dramon/dragon. Mugendramon is the Infinite Dragon.

Koushiro: (laptop) Ah! That's another Ultimate-stage Digimon! Narrator: Mugendramon. An Ultimate-stage Digimon who wields unbelievable power. His special attack is Mugen Cannon.

Angemon took two shots from the Infinite Dragon's Infinite Cannon. It's a wonder he's even alive.

Over in the dub:

T.K.: ANGEMON!!! (Angemon reverts to Patamon and flops on the ground) T.K.: Oh no! Poor Patamon! (Machinedramon emerges) Izzy: (laptop) Ah! Be prepared for another Mega Digimon! Izzy: (rundown) He's called Machinedramon. This metallic mutant can blow out a Digimon just like a birthday candle!

The original rundown for this wasn't exactly super explanatory. It just said "Fucker strong." Izzy says the same but in the weirdest way possible. He's trying to make a quip out of it but, sorry Izzy, they can't all be winners.

Everybody Super-Evolves to face Mugendramon, except Angemon who is still slacking. Once in their Perfect stages, they have a plan. The plan is "Get him".

Not a great plan. Taichi endorses it because of course he does.

Taichi: Get him! Beat him up! Hikari: But we can't win.... Taichi: Eh?

Rushing Mugendramon in a mob, the Digimon try in vain to close distance. Mugendramon kicks back, enjoys his firing position, and mows them all down in a barrage of Mugen Cannon fire. This was a terrible plan of attack.

In the dub:

Tai: Come on, guys! Show him what you're made of! Kari: Hope they're made of something strong enough! Tai: Huh!?

Kari seems more onboard with this plan than Hikari was, though still more realistic than Tai about their chances.

Mugendramon keeps up the assault. One of his shots hits Angewomon, knocking her out of the sky. Hikari tries to catch her but her tiny child body gets crushed under Angewomon's larger bulk.

Good effort, Hikari. Eyes were a little bigger than your arms, though.

Mugendramon's assault destroys the landscape beneath the kids, and they fall deeper into the dark place. Then they gradually drift to a stop, still floating in the air.

Koushiro: We stopped. Mimi: Where are we? What's going on?

Mimi's question goes unanswered as more pressing priorities emerge. WereGarurumon suddenly, out of nowhere, throws a punch at Garudamon and clocks her across the face. Garudamon recovers and comes back with a right hook.

Yamato: What are you doing, WereGarurumon!? Sora: Stop it, Garudamon! You're on the same side!

Garudamon and WereGarurumon continue fistfighting.

Garudamon: I'm not doing it on purpose! WereGarurumon: My body... It's moving by itself! Sora: (confused) Your body's moving by itself?

An unseen force suddenly jerks Sora's arms up into an odd pose. Cut to Jou, hanging from Zudomon's horn, who's jogging in place.

Jou: W-What's going on!?

In the dub, Mimi makes a salient point about their odd predicament.

Izzy: We stopped! Mimi: I can't complain. It's sure a lot better than falling on our heads. (Digimon start fighting) Matt: Hey, can't you two take a break for one minute!? Sora: Yeah, come on! We're all supposed to be on the same side! Garudamon: I can't control it! WereGarurumon: That's right! Our bodies are doing this all by themselves! Sora: (skeptically) All by themselves, huh? OH! (arm pose) Joe: (forced to jog in place) I've always hated any form of exercise; What's happening to me!?

Dub Sora straight-up doesn't believe them when they explain they're being controlled. XD

It's Koushiro who finally notices the thin strings connected to each of them.

Koushiro: Ah! There are strings attached to us! We're being controlled! Pinochimon: Hehehehe... You finally figured it out. Koushiro: Who are you!? Pinochimon: Why don't you use your special little computer to find out? Here.

Using Koushiro's strings, Pinochimon manipulates him into typing at his computer to pull up Pinochimon's profile. Pinochimon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Puppet Digimon. He's the Virus Ultimate from the Wind Guardians line, sharing space with Piyomon and Palmon's evolutionary paths. His name and design are obviously based on Pinocchio.

Koushiro: Ah! He's Ultimate-stage! Narrator: Pinochimon. An Ultimate Digimon who places Number One in awful personalities! His special attack is Bullet Hammer.

Number One with a bullet, you say? A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it?

Gotta love the gradual decline in the these rundowns.

MetalSeadramon - He's ultra fast and powerful not to mention gigantic! Plus his armor is made from the strongest metal in the Digital World! Mugendramon - He's unbelievably powerful. So powerful, you guys. Pinochimon - ...he's very mean.

At this point, Piemon's rundown will just be "Piemon. (long silence) What a dick!"

The dub changes Pinochimon's name to Puppetmon.

Izzy: We've become string puppets! And someone's operating us! Puppetmon: (mocking) Hah hahaha hah! Well, aren't we a little smarty pants!? Izzy: Who are you!? Puppetmon: Wanna know? How about if I help you look up my profile on your special computer? Watch! (Puppetmon manipulates Izzy into typing) Izzy: (gasp) He's also a Mega Digimon! Izzy: (rundown) Puppetmon has a controlling personality and a rotten temper! Get him mad and he'll bop you with his hammer!

He'll probably shoot you with his hammer, actually, but the dub may be trying to avoid saying "Bullet Hammer". Though you can still clearly see that the head of his hammer is the cylinder of a revolver.

Snerk. Good, uh... good luck with that, dub team. I cannot wait 'til we get to his episode.

Upon meeting Pinochimon, Mimi wants to file a complaint.

Mimi: (furious) Again!? Why do these Ultimate-stage Digimon keep appearing one after another!? Lilimon: Mimi.... Pinochimon: Now, fly to the Last Stage!

Pinochimon yanks the kids' strings, sending them flying through the void. Then he addresses the Digimon left behind.

Pinochimon: You guys should hurry after them. BULLET HAMMER!!!

The revolver cylinder on his hammer fires off like a minigun, spraying the Partner Digimon and knocking them all out of their Perfect forms. Most regress to their baby forms, save for Agumon, Gabumon, and Tailmon as usual.

In the dub, Mimi's complaint to the management turns into her firing off a fantastic Mimi Quip.

Mimi: If you have to hit something, you should bop yourself for how you look in that stupid helmet! Lillymon: MIMI!?!?

Savage. Even Lillymon's shocked by Mimi's ferocity.

Puppetmon: I'm gonna have to let you go for now! (Puppetmon sends the kids away) Puppetmon: But I promise to destroy you! PUPPET PUMMEL!!!

Though they censor out the name of Pinochimon's Bullet Hammer, the footage of it firing remains unedited.

The children wake up at a Greco-Roman coliseum, groaning in pain. Based on the surrounding area, we seem to be in the desert from the Etemon arc, or what it's become in the reconfigured world.

A jovial clown balancing on a ball rolls out onto the stage.

Clown: Hello, good children! I'm here today to tell you all a funny story!

The clown holds up crudely-drawn crayon pictures to illustrate his story.

Clown: A long, long time ago, there were eight Chosen Children and their Digimon. The Eight Children and their Digimon were foolish enough to climb Spiral Mountain, where they all met a tragic fate at the hands of the Dark Masters. The end. Takeru: (angry) What was that!? That wasn't funny at all! Clown: I just told you what sort of destiny awaits you. You should be grateful. ^_^

Poor Takeru totally fumbled his Sense Motive check when the random clown arrived. XD He was actually expecting to be entertained. Did not catch the vibe of this conversation at all.

In the dub:

Clown: Well, hello there, boys and girls! And welcome! Today, I'm going to tell you an amazing story! (The clown holds out his crayon sketches) Clown: Once upon a time, there was eight DigiDestined. They went with their Digimon companions to try to save the world. The children and their Digimon discovered that in order for them to do it, they had to climb up to the top of Spiral Mountain. But to their dismay, the Dark Masters defeated them. So sad! T.K.: Hey, Clowny! Nobody's laughing at your story! Clown: Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Did I happen to mention the story is true? I wanted to give you a preview of the plot!

Pretty faithful, I'd say.

Suddenly, the clown's guise fades away and reveals him to be Piemon.

Piemon leaps to the top of a nearby column, laughing as he goes. From here, we go into our final rundown for the Dark Masters.

Piemon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Demon Person Digimon. Fittingly, he's the Virus Ultimate of the Nightmare Soldiers and the original Ultimate evolution for Vamdemon, as well as Phantomon.

Yes, over the course of this show the kids have had to fight their way through the entire Nightmare Soldiers evolution branch of Devimon -> Vamdemon -> Piemon while also taking a break to punch it out with Monkey Elvis.

As I mentioned before, Piemon's name is not "Pie-mon". It's pronounced Pee-eh-mon, because it's a reference to the comedic character Pierrot from traditional European pantomime performances.

His dub name Piedmon, however, is "Pied-mon", a reference to clowns being hit with pies. This is because the dub didn't trust American nine-year-olds to be familiar with Victorian-Era European Mime Lore. XD

Mimi: Wha--!? Chuumon: WAAAAAUGH!!! IT'S PIEMON!!! Narrator: Piemon. A phantasmal Ultimate-stage Digimon who comes and goes unexpectedly. His true nature is shrouded in mystery.

What a dick!

No, like MetalSeadramon, that is a pretty solid infodump. It tells us to expect Piemon to be a walking WTF.

To summarize what we've learned here: MetalSeadramon is huge, fast, and invulnerable. Mugendramon is unbelievably powerful. Pinochimon is unpleasant at parties. And Piemon has bizarre and esoteric abilities.

This all serves to set up the conflicts to come. Yes, even Pinochimon.

Over in the dub:

Piedmon: Hahahahahaha! Fools! Mimi: (gasp) Chuumon: AHHHHHHHHHH!!! IT'S PIEDMON!!! Chuumon: (rundown) He's a Mega Phantom Digimon of the worst kind! You never know what he's going to look like next!

This is the closest a Dark Master rundown gets to relaying the original information. Good job, Chuumon.

Just once, can we run into a Phantom Digimon of the best kind? Where's Ghost of Christmas Presentmon? That guy seems like he'd be fun to hang out with.

Finally, Taichi and Yamato are at their wit's end with all these Ultimate Digimon and decide to match power with power.

Taichi: We won't lose to you guys! Agumon! Yamato: Gabumon, I'm counting on you!

Agumon and Gabumon Warp-Evolve to face Piemon Ultimate to Ultimate.

Taichi: Go, WarGreymon! Show him what we're made of! Yamato: MetalGarurumon! Take him down and save the world!

WarGreymon leads with Gaia Force. Piemon sidesteps the attack. MetalGarurumon follows up with Cocytus Breath, but Piemon breaks out one of his swords and slices through the slushie onslaught.

In the dub, Tai kicks us off with a retort to Piedmon's story earlier.

Tai: Well, I think your plot needs a few rewrites! Agumon! Matt: Gabumon, you can do it! (Warp evolutions) Tai: Yeah! Let him know we mean business, WarGreymon! Matt: MetalGarurumon! Teach that joker a lesson he'll never forget!

Pretty snappy comeback for Tai there, especially to a thespian like Pie(d)mon. It's one thing to call him a dick but shit-talking his craft is really throwing down the gauntlet.

Too bad about those whiffed attacks, though.

After maneuvering through the pair's offense, Piemon comes back with his own signature move: Trump Sword.

It's sword-throwing. He throws swords.

Direct hits on WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon score instant KOs, reverting them back to Agumon and Gabumon.

Jou: I-It can't be! Sora: We can't win even with two Ultimates on our side? Mimi: He's just an Ultimate too, right? Piemon: Even though we are on the same level, you have only recently acquired your new power. You're mistaken if you think that is all it takes to win. Agumon: (pained) I'm sorry, Taichi....

Piemon was able to outfight WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon simultaneously, not because he's stronger than them but because he has much more experience in the Ultimate state. As a natural Ultimate who achieved this level the hard way, by rising through the ranks of Perfect and Ultimate evolution, he simply has them outmatched in skill and experience.

From there, Piemon goes on to give his team their formal introductions, despite Koushiro having already identified each of them. He's a showman; Let him have this moment.

Piemon: Permit me now to introduce the members that make up the Dark Masters. MetalSeadramon! (MetalSeadramon explodes from the ground, roaring) Piemon: Mugendramon! (Mugendramon smashes through columns to enter the coliseum, also roaring) Piemon: Pinochimon! (Pinochimon just sort of appears) Pinochimon: Personally, I wish I could have had some more fun with you. Piemon: And myself, Piemon. (Piemon remains a dick.) Piemon: Time flies in the blink of an eye when you're having fun. Now then. Who should die first?

In the dub:

Joe: This is bad news. Sora: Even two Mega Digimon couldn't put him down! That's really bad news! Mimi: Not to mention he's a fashion disaster! Piedmon: Your two Megas are newly Digivolved. How can you expect them to compete against an experienced and, might I boast, superior Digimon? Agumon: (pained) Tai... Sorry....

Mimi's question is replaced with a Mimi Quip. Fortunately, Piedmon still delivers the important information anyway and we get a Mimi Quip out of it so it's cool.

Piedmon: Please permit me to present my fellow actors in this captivating and charming comedy of errors! MetalSeadramon! (MetalSeadramon explodes from the ground, roaring) Piedmon: Machinedramon! (Machinedramon smashes through columns to enter the coliseum, also roaring) Piedmon: Puppetmon! (Puppetmon just sort of appears) Puppetmon: You thought you were through with me, but I wanted to have some more fun! Piedmon: And myself, Piedmon. (Such a dick.) Piedmon: We'd like to begin by asking for audience volunteers. Who would like to be the first to be destroyed? Oh come now, don't tell me you have stage fright!

No lie, I am loving the dub performance for Piedmon. They understood the assignment.

Piemon's eyes scan the group before falling on Mimi.

The moment she realizes he's looking at her, Mimi bursts out into tears, screaming and crying at the top of her lungs.

Mimi: No... NO!!! I'M JUST AN ORDINARY GRADE SCHOOL STUDENT!!! WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO DIE HERE!?!? Sora: (gently) Mimi-chan.... Mimi: I WANTED TO DRESS UP IN FASHIONABLE CLOTHES AND EAT MORE YUMMY THINGS AND GO ON A TRIP ABROAD AND-- Piedmon: Your whining is starting to hurt my ears! I'm going to start with you.

Just like that, Piemon gets target lock.

Mimi melts down in both versions, but the dub's meltdown is a bit different.

Mimi: I didn't even want to go to camp in the first place! I just wanted to go to the mall! Can't somebody else save this silly world besides me!? Sora: (surprised) Mimi!? Mimi: I want to be a normal kid and not have any big responsibilities! I mean, come on, is that too much to ask!? It's not fair! Piedmon: Ack! Your incessant whining is getting on my nerves! You will be the first one to go!

Original Mimi's meltdown is about the unfairness of having to die at such a young age with so much of her life still ahead of her. Dub Mimi's meltdown is about how much she doesn't want to be a child soldier which is valid but contextually off.

It feels like the dub team is trying to fill in a Mimi meltdown from scratch to avoid going as dark as the original subject matter. They do a fair job; It doesn't feel like it came out of nowhere. But lines like "Can't someone else save the world?" and "I don't want responsibilities!" still seem divorced from the specific grim predicament she's actually in right now.

Having made up his mind Piemon swiftly draws a hidden dagger from his sleeve and tosses it at Mimi.

Without hesitation, Chuumon leaps out of Mimi's arms, taking Piemon's knife to his chest. Chuumon falls prone on the ground, the knife disintegrating as quickly as it appeared. Weeping, Mimi scoops him back up in her arms.

Mimi: Chuumon! You have to hold on! Chuumon: Mimi-chan... When I reincarnate... Go on a date with me.... Mimi: CHUUMON!!!

With that utterly inappropriate yet entirely in-character bit of emotional blackmail, Chuumon disintegrates into pixels and joins his friend Scumon in death.

(So far as we know, she does not honor his last request, nor should she.)

The dub cuts the shot where the knife plunges into Chuumon, but keeps the shot of Chuumon falling to the ground with the knife stabbed into him.

Mimi: Chuumon! Speak to me, you poor thing! Chuumon: Mimi... It's time for me... to be deleted.... Mimi: CHUUMON!!!

His last request doesn't make it in; No surprise there. But they pull no punches about the fact that Chuumon definitely and without question died violently.

Someone, however, is not impressed by Chuumon's sacrifice.

Piemon: What a stupid Digimon. There's no reason to protect each other when you're all going to die here anyway. Taichi: We won't let you get away with this! Dark Masters: (all laugh together) Piemon: So, who's next?

Before he can pick his next target, another old friend suddenly cuts in.

Piccolomon's Pit Bomb does no damage whatsoever but flashbangs the Dark Masters, allowing him to make off with the Chosen Children. He carries them to safety within a cloaked invisibility sphere.

Takeru: Piccolomon! We were hoping to see you again! Piccolomon: So was I pi! Koushiro: You were able to reach us by creating a barrier that the enemy couldn't see? Piccolomon: That's right pi! Taichi: Piccolomon, we made it this way believing that as long as the eight of us were together, we could save both worlds. But-- Piccolomon: It's true that the eight of you are together pi but that alone isn't enough to win pi. Sora: What are we missing? Jou: Tell us! Piccolomon: (somberly) Unfortunately, we don't have time for that pi.

A wave of energy suddenly hits the barrier. What little time Piccolomon's trick bought them has run its course.

In the dub:

Piedmon: Chuumon was a fool!

The dub inserts a commercial break after Chuumon's death, then we return and watch him die again.

Mimi: T_T Oh, Chuumon! Piedmon: So, now that he's out of the way, who would like to be the next one to make their grand exit? Tai: Piedmon, you're gonna be washed up when we're through with you! Dark Masters: (all laugh together) Piedmon: Be my guest. Piximon: PIT BOMB!!! (Piximon takes the kids and bails) T.K.: Hey, Piximon! Perfect timing! Piximon: I missed ya! Izzy: Prodigious! You cleverly used a barrier to avoid detection. Piximon: I sure did! Tai: But you said it was possible to save the planet if the eight of us were all together! How come it's not happening, huh? What's up, Piximon!? Piximon: The truth is, being together is not enough. There's something else that you need to do to beat 'em. Sora: How are we going to find out if you won't help? Joe: Yeah, enough riddles! Piximon: This is something you will discover on your own.

The dub's gotten its wires crossed about the plot again. Piximon never said anything about the eight of them; His episode was well behind us when the Eighth Child plot point was introduced. Tai's beef should, as always, be with Gennai.

In the original, Piccolomon's like "Look you need more than just being physically present but I don't have time to explain because we are seconds away from getting murdered."

Piximon, on the other hand, is being cryptic for funsies.

Pursuing Piccolomon's invisibility shimmer, the Dark Masters gain ground. There is no escape.

MetalSeadramon: Found you. Piccolomon: I'm going to stop them pi! Make your way to Spiral Mountain while I hold them off pi! Yamato: You're going to stop them!? They're all Ultimate-stage! Piccolomon: I know that pi! Even if I can't win, I can still put up a fight pi! Taichi: I'll fight with you! Piccolomon: ARE YOU STUPID!? You're the last hope for the world pi!

MetalSeadramon hits Piccolomon's barrier with a direct shot from his Ultimate Stream. Piccolomon waits and lets the barrier absorb MetalSeadramon's shot, then emerges to fight the Dark Masters.

Piccolomon: I'm sure you can find pi what you're missing! When you do, you'll be unstoppable pi! Now go, Chosen Children!

Piccolomon smacks the barrier with his spear, sending it flying off much faster than before.

In the dub:

MetalSeadramon: Aha! Here you are! Eheheheheheha! Piximon: I'll try to stop them. Meanwhile, make a run for it and climb to the top of Spiral Mountain. But you better move it! Matt: You can't stop them! They're all Mega Digimon! Piximon: I know I can't win, but I should be able to distract them long enough for you to get away! Tai: I'll stay with you! Piximon: No way! Besides, we need you on Spiral Mountain; We're counting on you to beat 'em!

Though MetalSeadramon's nose beam went unnamed last time he used it, this time he calls the attack.

MetalSeadramon: RIVER OF POWER!!! (MetalSeadramon blasts the barrier bubble) Piximon: (emerges) Please go now. You have a very important task ahead of you. Once you succeed, no one will ever be able to stop you again. I know you will make me proud of you!

Strong parting words for what will be their final meeting.

As an aside, I love the name "River of Power". That is a fantastic "not-touching-you" name-like to Ultimate Stream. Well punned.

Sad that we lose Piccolomon calling Taichi a moron to his face. "I'm gonna sacrifice myself for you." "And I'll help you do--" "NO."

No sooner has Piccolomon sent the Children away than he hears Piemon call out to him.

Piemon: Piccolomon, is it? Do you honestly believe that you, a Perfect-stage, could win against us? Piccolomon: Say whatever you want pi!

From the barrier bubble, the children see a bright flash of light illuminate the coliseum once more.

Hikari: Piccolomon is dead. Narrator: After paying a heavy sacrifice, the children finally arrive at Spiral Mountain. But their fight with the Dark Masters has only just begun.

Boy, what a fun and joyous final adventure we've embarked on!

The dub changes things up here. They add some silence breakers as the bubble flies away.

Matt: He's stronger than he looks! Gabumon: He'll have to be!

Then they cut straight to the final shot of everyone watching from the barrier.

Kari: Do you think it's possible he can do it? Gabumon: I don't know, Kari! I hope so!

From there, we cut back to Piximon confronting the Dark Masters.

Piximon: Rrrgh! Piedmon: How can such a powerless Digimon even think about defeating us, hmm!? Piximon: Just call me a crazy little Digimon! Narrator: Will Piximon hold off the Dark Masters long enough for the DigiDestined to reach Spiral Mountain? Watch the next Digimon: Digital Monsters.

The explosion that indicated Piximon's death has been cut, as has the shot of the kids' bubble arriving at Spiral Mountain. But don't worry, they're planning to remix the shit out of this last scene at the start of the next episode. We'll see what became of Piximon; You just got to wait a week with hope and anticipation in your heart before coming back to watch him brutally die.

Weird choice but okay.

Assessment: I remembered this arc being dark but I forgot how quickly it gets dark. Remember the "goofy" harassers from File Island THEY FUCKING DIED. But don't worry, the virtuous trainer who helped Taichi figure his shit out is here and he ALSO FUCKING DIED.

To set the tone, this episode is a bloodbath right out of the starting gate. They want you to know that nobody outside our core eight is safe anymore. This is war and people are going to die.

The dub keeps up and handles itself pretty well. It even manages to keep up with the darkening tone using euphemistic language but refraining from talking around the deaths happening onscreen. Yes, that includes Piximon's, even if they did kick it out to next episode.

Even down to the execution scene, there's none of that "Capture them, put them in a cage!" stuff that previous arcs would have employed. "Who would like to make their grand exit?" is flowery but unambiguous in its meaning, especially after explicitly killing someone onscreen.

We're in for a fucking ride.

[666melvin666]

MEET BOB

TW: Death of a baby dragon, Fighting

Bob's colossal wings beat rhythmically against the brisk ocean breeze as he soared through the skies. The endless expanse of the sea stretched beneath him, its waves crashing against each other in a symphony of untamed power. The world below was a tapestry of blues and grays, a breathtaking panorama that had captivated the hearts of sailors and poets for centuries.

Hours passed in a timeless dance between earth and sky, and finally, the distant horizon revealed the outlines of land. The distant kingdoms were shrouded in an aura of cold mystique, their landscapes blanketed in pristine white snow that glimmered like diamonds under the touch of the sun's fading light.

He hated the cold but for now it would make a suitable place for a nest.  With a graceful descent, Bob's massive form touched down on the icy terrain near the outskirts of Abekan. His landing sent snowflakes scattering in every direction, each delicate crystal reflecting the hues of the setting sun. The air was cold and crisp, a welcome change from the warm currents he had left behind over the ocean.

Bob's keen eyes roved over the snowy expanse, taking in the jagged mountain peaks, frozen forests, and tranquil lakes that characterized the kingdom. He could feel the ancient magic that was woven into the very fabric of this land, a magic that whispered tales of frost giants, enchanted creatures, and long-forgotten legends.

As he wandered through the wintry landscape, Bob's senses remained alert to his surroundings. The soft crunch of snow beneath his massive claws, the distant echoes of howling winds, and the faint shimmer of the Northern Lights painting patterns across the night sky – all of these sensations converged to create a symphony of natural beauty that resonated deep within his monstrous heart.

It was during one of his exploratory flights over the snow-capped mountains that he sensed a subtle shift in the air – a presence that was both familiar and unexpected. Bob's instincts guided him towards the source, and before long, he found himself face-to-face with a smaller ice dragon.

The ice dragon was a stunning creature, its scales shimmering with an ethereal luminescence that danced with the colors of the Northern Lights. Its eyes, a brilliant shade of icy blue, held a mixture of curiosity and caution as they met Bob's gaze.

The frigid air of the cold landscape was suddenly pierced by a blazing inferno as Bob, the seasoned red dragon, summoned the primal force of fire from within him. The flames roared and crackled, an embodiment of raw power that bathed the snowy landscape in a radiant, fiery light.

The young ice dragon's reaction was swift and instinctive. He let out a fierce growl, his eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and fear. His breath crystallized in the air as he countered Bob's flames with his own elemental prowess, exhaling a freezing blast that attempted to repel the encroaching fire.

The clash between fire and ice was a sight to behold – an awe-inspiring dance of opposing forces that played out against the canvas of the wintry kingdom. The air itself seemed to tremble with the intensity of their confrontation, and the ground beneath them quivered as if bearing witness to their titanic struggle.

The young dragon's hisses and growls filled the air, an expression of his determination to defend his territory. His wings beat against the icy winds as he attempted to take flight, his powerful muscles propelling him into the air. Yet, the fiery assault was unrelenting, pushing him back and forcing him to remain grounded.

Bob's flames surged forward, a relentless tide that engulfed the young dragon's icy defenses. The crackling of the fire mingled with the hissing of the ice, creating a symphony of clashing elements that resonated through the kingdom. The young dragon's scales shimmered as they bore the brunt of the fire's onslaught, his body tense with the effort of repelling the searing heat.

But as the battle raged on, it became evident that the young ice dragon's efforts were waning. The relentless assault of Bob's flames began to erode his icy defenses, his resolve gradually giving way to the overwhelming power of the fire.

Realizing the inevitability of his situation, the young dragon's growls transformed into a mournful cry – a final, defiant lament that echoed through the frozen air. His wings flapped desperately, carrying him into the sky in a last attempt to escape the fiery onslaught.

Before the younger dragon could fully comprehend the situation, Bob was upon him, his massive form casting a shadow over the fallen creature. With a triumphant roar that echoed through the skies, Bob sank his teeth into the younger dragon's vulnerable neck. The grip was unyielding, driven by the raw power that came with age and experience. The young dragon thrashed and writhed beneath Bob's grasp, his claws scraping against the earth as he fought desperately to break free. The icy breath that had once been his weapon now held no sway against the relentless assault of the fiery jaws that clamped down on him. His struggles grew weaker with each passing moment, his energy draining rapidly.

The red dragon jaws tightened with an unyielding grip around the younger dragon's neck, a deafening crack shattered the air. The sound echoed through the frigid landscape, a grim symphony of finality that reverberated within the very bones of those who dared to witness the brutal clash.

Time seemed to slow as the young dragon's struggles ceased abruptly. His once defiant form went limp, his eyes losing their fiery spark as life ebbed away. The world itself appeared to hold its breath, as if in acknowledgment of the irrevocable shift that had occurred.

Slowly, as if releasing the breath, he had been holding, Bob's grip loosened, and the lifeless body of the fallen dragon slipped from his powerful jaws. It fell to the ground with a soft thud, surrounded by the pristine blanket of snow that had borne witness to their conflict. Just as the red dragon planned to dig into his meal a roar of agony tore from his throat, echoing across the frozen landscape as his wings flared out involuntarily. The dragon's fiery eyes shifted from the lifeless body of his fallen foe to the source of this unexpected assault.

And there she stood, a figure both diminutive and daring, her presence a stark contrast to the sheer magnitude of the dragon. Clad in furs and leather, the woman exuded a fierce determination that was as unwavering as the frigid winds that whipped around them. Short blond hair danced in the icy currents, framing her face like a halo of sunlight against the wintry backdrop.

Her stormy gaze met the dragon's, her expression a mix of defiance and resolve. With a poised yet swift movement, she drew another spear from her back, her actions a testament to her unyielding courage in the face of such a formidable adversary.

The dragon's instinctual rage flickered, caught in the crosscurrents of emotion. But then, as their eyes locked, something extraordinary happened. His fiery aura of anger and dominance seemed to waver and dissipate, replaced by a softer intensity that bordered on reverence. His massive form, once poised to strike, now tilted downward in a regal bow, an acknowledgment of her presence that transcended the brutal realities of their encounter.

Instead of retaliation, a low rumble of sound reverberated from the dragon's chest, a resonant purr that mingled with the icy winds. It was a gesture both unexpected and astonishing – a dragon's version of yielding, an offering of respect.

The woman, though initially taken aback by this unexpected change, held her ground. Her grip on the spear remained firm, her eyes narrowing as she studied the dragon's reaction. She had faced countless challenges in her harsh environment, but this encounter was unlike any she had ever experienced. “why did you kill HIM?? AWENSER ME!! HE WAS A PUP YOU FERAL BEAST!” The half orc practically screamed into the dragon’s enormous face. The dragon, Bob, fixated on the woman, his piercing gaze holding a mixture of surprise and intrigue. The sheer audacity of her words had sparked something within him, a curiosity that cut through the centuries of his existence. He had expected fear, submission, perhaps even further aggression, but not this – not a defiant demand for answers and an expression of grief for a fallen foe.

As her words echoed in the frigid air, a low growl resonated from deep within Bob's chest, a sound that held a myriad of emotions. He watched her, his immense form still, the air around them seeming to shimmer with an unspoken tension.

The woman's voice, filled with sorrow and anger, continued to pierce the silence. Her words were a challenge “Answer me at ONCE!!! I know you dragon´s are cruel but killing a pup of your own kind?! WHAT SAY YOU NOW??” The dragon's eyes bore into hers, and then, almost imperceptibly, he lowered his massive head, his gaze shifting from her to the lifeless body of the young ice dragon. There was a momentary stillness, a pause in the dance of their interaction.

And then, with a resonant exhale that billowed out as a cloud of steam, Bob spoke. His voice was a deep rumble, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath them. “It would have grown and become a danger to me...I needed to kill it before it could become a threat” The woman's expression remained unyielding, her eyes locked onto his. Bob's nostrils flared as he continued, his words a reflection of the age-old traditions that had shaped his existence.

“It was a pup! A youngling barely a year old! You should be ashamed of yourself!” she screamed in his face. Bob's massive form remained grounded, his attention shifting from the woman to the approaching guards. With each powerful step, the guards closed the distance, their expressions a mix of concern and urgency. Bob's keen senses picked up the distinct scent of the dog-like odor emanating from one of them, a scent that spoke of familiarity, perhaps even camaraderie.

As the guards reached the scene, John's voice rang out, a mixture of warning and worry. "Patty, back away!"

The woman, Patty, turned her gaze briefly towards the guards, her expression still marked by a combination of grief and defiance. Her eyes met Bob's once more, a silent exchange that conveyed a shared understanding of the unfolding situation.

The dragon's nostrils flared as he regarded the guards, his posture neither aggressive nor submissive. His stance was a display of neutral vigilance, a readiness to respond if necessary but also a willingness to engage in a dialogue.

"Easy, big fella," Jack's voice was calm, a soothing attempt to defuse the tension that lingered in the air. He extended a hand towards Bob, a gesture of non-threatening intent.

John, the guard with the dog-like scent, remained cautious, his eyes fixed on the dragon as he positioned himself protectively in front of Patty.

"We don't want any trouble," John's voice carried a firmness that belied his smaller stature. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, a silent reminder that he was prepared to defend those under his charge.

Bob regarded the guards, his instincts attuned to the nuances of their words and actions. And so, with a final, lingering look, the dragon turned his gaze skyward, his wings unfolding as he prepared to take flight once more. The guards watched in a mixture of awe and trepidation as the magnificent creature ascended into the heavens, his form becoming a speck against the vast expanse.

As Bob disappeared into the distance, a sense of wonder and uncertainty hung in the air, a reminder of the fleeting encounter that had bridged the divide between human and dragon. John's eyes widened in a mix of shock and concern as he hurried towards Patty, his heart pounding with worry. He reached out instinctively, his calloused fingers gently grasping her shoulders.

"Oh god, are you okay?" His voice was a mixture of relief and exasperation, his gaze sweeping over her form, searching for any signs of injury. The intensity of the situation was etched on his features, his brow furrowed with a combination of fear and frustration.

"Patty, that was a dragon! Are you insane!?!?" His words were a mixture of incredulity and disbelief, his tone a blend of genuine concern and a touch of scolding. He couldn't fathom how she had managed to confront such a formidable creature, and his mind raced with a thousand scenarios of what could have gone wrong.

Patty's gaze met John's, her own eyes reflecting a stubborn determination that matched the fire that blazed within her. She offered a faint, wry smile, the corners of her lips curling upward despite the gravity of the situation.

"I'm fine, John," her voice held a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, a testament to the complex emotions that had driven her to face the dragon head-on. "It was a calculated risk."

John's expression shifted from exasperation to a grudging admiration as he assessed Patty's resolute demeanor. He released a sigh, a mixture of relief and resignation, realizing that Patty's daring spirit was unlikely to be tamed. "Calculated or not, Patty, you scared the living daylights out of me” John scolded harshly.

[sirenjose]

Theory: Norton and Golden Cave are connected to Cyaegha, not Gla’aki

Cyaegha is a large green eye with tentacles said to be sealed in a large cavern under the mountain Dunkelhügel, the "Dark Hill". The inhabitants of the small village Freihausgarten are descended from a cult that once worshiped Cyaegha. Once a month, on the night of a full moon, they are drawn to the temple on Dark Hill by a hypnotic call from Cyaegha. Once there, they hold sacrifices (sometimes human sacrifices), but Cyaegha only cares for the day of its release. At the same time, the worshipers strengthen Cyaegha’s seal. After the ritual, the participants have no memory of the events.

In the Call of Cthulhu game, Cyaegha is said to give his followers certain blessings:

Regeneration: blessed with automatic healing, immune to disease, but as a consequence their body becomes permanently disfigured and corrupted

Light Aversion: can’t stand in bright light (causes damage)

Dark Eyes: removal of eyes allows perfect night vision (light causes blindness)

Cultists may remove their eyes to be granted by Cyäegha a form of psychic sight to those it considers most worthy helping them to better “see in darkness”

In the Call of Cthulhu game, Cyaegha has certain skills:

Dark Mesmerism: can enthrall players with its mind, like a hypnotic call, that pulls humans to where it resides. If the target falls under this spell, they act zombie-like and without will, forced to move to Cyaegha or perform a task (for a certain amount of time)

Drain Light: causes all light sources to go out in a 1-mile area, causing a zone of darkness to descend on the area, through which moon, star, sun, or other light cannot pass

Bestow vitality: heals people nearby of any wound, illness, or disease, but they are marked by Cyaegha, and should they do anything against him, their flesh begins to corrupt (causing damage)

Further description of Cyaegha:

“The green eye in darkness sees all. Look not upon its eye lest you spy the darkness behind and within. Be not caught by its writhing and boneless limbs lest you become wrapped in the darkest night and choked of life. Behold the one-eyed demon, this dark sun with tentacled mane, and know your life is at its end.”

“Total darkness, the blackest black, and the absence of light are all hallmarks of Cyäegha. A terrible freezing cold descends on areas wherein rituals to the deity are performed, not just a lack of warmth but a chilling of the soul can be found in such places. Despair and/or contempt may stir within those who are touched by the entity or who witness its cult ceremonies.”

Connections:

A large green eye, like the 1 in Golden Cave.

Sealed underground, which fits the underground tunnels of the mine.

Tied to darkness (title of “The One in Darkness” and is from the story “Darkness, My Name Is”), which connects to Norton becoming a prospector to avoid the “darkness of the mine” (+ his fear of “dark” and enclosed spaces).

Earth elemental, which relates to Golden “Cave”, Norton being a miner, and his like of ore, minerals, etc…

Worshipers don’t remember what they do (conducting rituals). This could relate to the Golden Cave trailer and Norton’s official IDVJP reply where he writes “Don’t Forget”. Maybe even his response to Alice in his 3rd letter when she asks him how he survived and he responds to ask the police because “Their investigation is much more detailed than anything I can describe”. Maybe he can’t describe it as well because he doesn’t remember.

Cyaegha’s hypnotic call could be similar to how the meteorite is said to affect Norton (according to the Famitsu Article). It could also relate to how the announcement for Lily’s essence, which connects to Golden Cave, includes the fact that “As phosphorescence gradually erodes the skin, the inhabitants of the underground begin to yearn for captivity”.

The worshipers are said to perform their ritual once a month on the night of a full moon. In Lily’s essence backstory, it says “Every month, on the day when the moon was at its brightest, they hold a competition”.

Cyaegha is capable of healing or granting regeneration. This could relate to Norton’s focus on survival, as well as how Highway Cavalier in COA 4 is granted a “strong lifeforce”.

Those healed become disfigured and their flesh corrupts. Norton is “disfigured” due to the mine explosion, while Lily’s essence talks about the phosphorescence “gradually erod[ing] the skin”.

Cyaegha’s blessings includes making his followers unable to stand bright light, removing their eyes for night vision, and granting regeneration but they become disfigured as well as granting vitality but their flesh will corrupt if they act against Cyaegha. The ghouls in Golden Cave have a zombie-like appearance, are only found underground in the mine, and don’t appear to have eyes (may have removed them based on if the marks where their eyes should be are scratches?). In addition, Norton himself is “disfigured”.

During the story, the narrator has a dream where the moon turns green then into Cyaegha, with a claw reaching out to him. Time of Reunion has a scene that parallels this very well (though in reverse), specifically when we see Hunter Norton’s eye peering through the door Orpheus is hiding behind, fingers visible through the cracks, but then the scene transitions, during which we see his eye turn into the moon.

Cyaegha is essentially utter nihilism, and is devoid of all except contempt for life. Hatred is a big theme with him. Norton himself as a strong hatred of the rich.

1 place describes Cyaegha like this: “The green eye in darkness sees all. Look not upon its eye lest you spy the darkness behind and within. Be not caught by its writhing and boneless limbs lest you become wrapped in the darkest night and choked of life. Behold the one-eyed demon, this dark sun with tentacled mane, and know your life is at its end”. Norton’s Orfeo card has a description that has some similarities to this, as Norton’s card (once translated) says “Don't meet his gaze while you're still in this hell”. This could go with how people are said to go insane if they look at Cyaegha.

To me, it feels like there are more connections to Cyaegha than to Gla’aki:

Gla’aki mainly has the meteor, though it is described as so big it had a city on it, with Gla’aki under a trapdoor in the center of the city, not to mention its crash is what created the lake. In contrast, the meteorite in Golden Cave was never described to be that big, and its impact was mostly only to cause the mine to become unstable.

Gla’aki has undead, but so does Cyaegha. When he heals people, they become disfigured, and their flesh can corrupt if they go against him. The fact the ghouls in Golden Cave don’t seem to really have eyes, it fits with how Cyaegha’s followers would remove their eyes for special vision

Gla’aki’s followers pretty much die as soon as they get stabbed and don’t have too many individual thoughts/actions, while Cyaegha can control them and they wont remember afterwards. This fits better with how Norton is not dead, has no marks on his chest (from any spines), but he does make a comment about “don’t forget” (and comments to Alice the police investigation can describe things better than he can).

Gla’aki is hiding in the lake, while Cyaegha is actually sealed underground. Not to mention Cyaegha is tied to “darkness” and the element of earth. Which all fits better with how Norton was in Golden Cave, not Lakeside, along with Norton wanting to avoid the “darkness of the mine”.

Cyaegha is specifically described as a large green eye. Gla’aki’s eye color is never described (that I’m aware of), at least not specifically green, which we know the eye in Golden Cave is.

(For Comparison, here's the summary of Gla'aki's stories)

Inhabitants of the Lake

Gla’aki arrived on a meteor that hit earth (he directed it) and formed a lake. On the meteor was a city, though all the denizens died as the meteor hurtled through space. A private group (cult) led by Thomas Lee built houses near the lake. They encounter something unexpected at the lake, become servants to it, and are said to still be there.

Narrator Thomas Cartwright rents one of the houses (the rest nearby are empty). The previous owner (according to the estate agent) muttered strange things when he was selling the home, including about spines, losing your will and becoming part of it, a city, how someone has to keep the boxes in the daytime due to the green decay, and about something called Gla’aki. The night he rents the home, he has nightmares. 1 is about skeletal hands emerging from stones glowing blue. The 2nd is about him being captured and brought to the lake, seeing eyes appear out of the lake and being stabbed through the chest by 1 of Gla’aki’s spines. Later, he’s exploring the houses, finds manuscripts with details about gla’aki, before later attempting to escape (after 1 of his friends is made into 1 of Gla’aki’s undead followers, and unlike the old undead which decay in the light, the new undead don’t have this same weakness), but Cartwright is stabbed by a spine while fleeing from Gla’aki’s minions, though he snaps it before the fluid comes.

The Last Revelations of Gla’aki:

Gla’aki can:

Transform his followers:

Due to knowledge of him

Transformed into malformed people, their bodies out of proportions (things too large or too small), rubbery, no hair, odd looking

Warp reality:

Corrupts other people’s dreams, makes them his, them reshapes their minds to make them his

Go wherever he pleases:

No longer needs to use spines to control people

Psychic knowledge enough to transform people

Additional references:

From the book "Darkness, My Name Is": "They saw that it was a gigantic eye staring down at them. Around the eye, the sky split; deep clefts opened through which darkness began to ooze, a darkness blacker than the night, which crawled down as a set of slimy tentacles, taking on more form, more definite shape... something was standing, outlined against the black sky, something which had tentacles of darkness and a green-glowing eye" From the Call of Cthulhu rulebook (about Cyaegha): “Some speak of a terrible curse that afflicts those who live in isolated areas where the possibility of Cyaegha worship exists. It is said that the One in Darkness can possess the unwary and convert them to his cause. This unspeakable hypnotic suggestion appears to start in a wayward individual who then slowly converts others until a coven or secret group is formed with enough members to open a direct channel to their new master. Some tales speak of one coven that was able to leech power and magical learning directly from Cyaegha. Their diabolic rites were not meant to free or empower the god, but rather to siphon off the god’s energies for their own benefit. The tales equally speak of a terrible, yet unnamed doom that came to those who practiced this inverted form of worship."

From Malleus Monstrorum - Cyaegha:

utter nihilism, only contempt for life

in an "empty" prison said to be able to travel to certain locations on earth, manifesting at regular intervals yet held in check by ancient magical wards.

Some believe it can't travel but has multiple "shards", each independent but connected, unable to rejoin with one another. One location is Freihausgarten, Germany, where a magical ward causes the locals to unconsciously perform certain rituals to ensure Cyaegha remains trapped

Each location guarded by the "Vaeyen", lesser entities said to be connected to it. 5 on earth trapped in statues of vulturine aspect. Said to stand in a ring around the hill under which Cyaegha lies. Elsewhere, they're said to be incorporeal or take different forms. Death or removal of the Vaeyen weaken the wards on his prison. The names of them are: Green Moon, White Fire, Winged One, Red Fire, and Black Light

Served by the "nagaae", which Cyaegha can create or summon from shadow/darkness to kill/gather followers, obtain items, etc...

cult performs sacrifices (sometimes human) and venerate the shadows Cyaegha sends forth. But they are also under an Elder spell forcing them to strengthen his bindings. They are drawn from their beds while asleep and wake with no memory of the events. The magic appears engraved into the land, affecting anyone who joins the community and lives there for 12 months.

people touched by him, often via discovering a tome or something and find their path diverted to him. Such folk tend towards nihilism or at least apathy toward the world around them. Doesn't take long for loners to become vessels to his will.

ceremony to remove eyes and be given psychic sight

ritual performed in total darkness grants each attendant vitality, healing them, granting them rapid healing and health

some cults feed off Cyaegha, siphoning his power to keep him trapped, but this won't end well for them

encounters with his cult usually for those who work/venture under towns, or are charged with looking for reasons behind sudden power cuts that bring extended darkness

those who anger Cyaegha may face the nagaae

[voidsentprinces]

Their steps struck at the sand and stone of the very bottom of the ocean floor. Unsettling the undisturbed soil untouched by mortality and only ever pushed hither and thither by ocean tides. Their steps coming to a precise and united haunt. Alisaie’s eyes grew large at the sight.

“By the gods,” She whispered, her eyes beholding an unfathomable sight. Joined she was by the other Scions, a sight of great magnificence. A landscape herefore unforeseen in their many ventures. For to describe it as simply a city or a settlement would do it little justice. It was, without hyperbole, a landscape. Where one would expect mountains, hills, or forest. Here rose from the great crevice of the ocean, towers of metal and glass. Piercing up into the dark canopy of the Tempest. In stark contrast to the Crystarium’s whose singular tower lanced at the light burdened sky.

Her other twin audibly swallowed as he took in the sight, a frog in his throat as he summoned up the words to form the sentence, “When, the Ondo spoke of city, I did not think they meant an actual city!” Alphinaud’s eyes trailing across the horizon, as the spires of iron and glass had curvatures wrapped around few and far between. Accenting them as if punctuating a sentence, as if stamping an envelope. In them they looked upon this sight as if it was a love letter.

While many could not deny when looking upon Ul’dah that blood and stone was poured into its construction, Gridania was made to be closer to its vaunted elements or Limsa Lominsa grew from many ships anchoring together. Here before these travelers of another star was granted perfection only able to be seen and crafted by a artiste. Even Ishgard’s many cathedrals built in devotion to the Holy See and the Fury paled in comparison to these simple constructions. Made out of furvor, longing, and somber reverence. Letters left on unmakered graved. The last tender kiss of a couple, now forever apart. Lingering affection left unfulfilled forevermore.

The sorceress ever witty and sharp to retort stood speechless, as she too struggled to find her own footing, “Then...” Her voice trailed off briefly before she found the resolve, “We are seeing the same view!” The milked over eyes of her blind eyes shimmer as if placed in front of a roaring blazing light, “The remnants in the Ondo settlement solid, material structures, but these...” She spoke in breathless wonder, “Everything here PULSES with aether. ‘Tis an enchantment on a monumental scale!” Y’shtola ever the master of magical arts, for the first time since they had met her in cove near Summerford Farms all those days ago. Sounded awestruck, in wonder and terror as one might hear from a tempered priest speaking of their Primal. This sight in both physical and aetherical sense was an understatement to even begin to consider.

Yet despite its majesty, it would behoove them to stand in wonder any longer. Somewhere within these spires stretching further than even their eyes could catch. Was the Crystal Exarch, long lost G’raha Tia and Emet-Selch, Ascian. Here in the darkness, where not even the light of sin could breach. He awaited them. Their body audibly cracking from the strain of light held abreast and so, one by one, they made their way towards the faux landscape to discover wherein the salvation of the First was held.

[adenial]

Lays on the floor, atop the rug in his cabin and stares up at the stars while the fire crackles and pops softly nearby. There's definitely space for Lovek too.

ㅤㅤgentle eyes make gentle sweeps across the floor , before flittering back to the book in his hands -- eorzean sight seeing logs , knowledge and know how of a nation unknown to him in every aspect but it's horrors , it's primals . years ago , when he was another man , when fury borne of fear was all that was known to him and his ilk , this land was one among many certain to take them apart . ㅤㅤfrom the bounty of la noscea's jungles to the frozen landscapes of ishgard's mountains , from the desert not unlike garlean snowfields in it's barreness to the wrathful will of the elements in the forests of gridania , lovek had been learning it all . ㅤㅤfor too long , perhaps . the itch to retire from his reading is harder and harder to ignore -- fatigue makes the muscles in his eyes ache , the small of his back sore , his crossed legs beg for a stretch , without even mentioning the sight his eyes keep swiveling over towards . ㅤㅤhis book has already found a place on the table , among a stack of papers , from his overzealous diligence , while his eyes watched the warrior of light stretch out comfortably on the rug littered with pillows and blankets here or there , a monument of creature comforts . ㅤㅤmaru hadn't disturbed him much throughout his day , but that didn't mean that lovek's eyes hadn't watched in moments of respite . in fact , quite the opposite was true : he'd catch glimpses , glance his way every now and again , turn momentarily as maru would walk past him , all without very many words -- just the natural want to follow , to keep him close in his thoughts , enjoying maru purely for existing beside him .

ㅤㅤbut he was aching for a bit more now that exhaustion had caught up with him , not that he'd say so . no , he'd never admit to it . he'd simply slide from the table , seat himself beside the lazing miqote , before flumping down on his back to stare up at the phasmascape as well . ㅤㅤstars glimmered and glanced above them in a show of beautifully artificially recreated light , the phasmascape the perfect illusionary to a window , and lovek quickly relaxed bathed in it's light . ㅤㅤa sigh , heavy and tired , falls out his chest . eyes close shut , before flickering back open , and he smiles at a joke only interesting probably to himself . ㅤㅤmaru would , probably , be the best representation of eorzea at it's best . after all , it's through maru that lovek decided to finally sit down and learn instead of turning his head . and lovek , probably one of the best representations of garlemald outside of cid garlond to maru ... ㅤㅤlike the phasmascape above them both , then . the house , eorzean in it's entirety . so far from the homes kept by the people lovek loved , but comfortable none the less with time and effort . and there , centered perfectly in the ceiling above them , a taste of home . magitek through and through . a coexistance . ㅤㅤlovek felt his hand begin to move slowly to maru's , clawed finger tips gently sliding against his skin before he fully twines their fingers together . a coexistance . ㅤㅤhe smiles wider , and turns his head to look at maru . it's a small moment , certainly fleeting in nature , but dazzling to behold . stars seem to reflect on maru's eyes , and lovek turns towards him . silently , without a single word , coexisting together , lovek closes his own eyes , ready for a well deserved nap .

[imaginaryshorts]

The Summit Awaits: A Tale of Time and Skull

In the remote stretches of the Himalayas, cradled in the icy lap of Mount Kirenzi, there lies a mysterious sight – a skull teetering atop the glacial summit. But this is no ordinary skull. Weather-beaten yet defiant, it is a relic of a time lost and a tale forgotten.

Our story is of an ancient civilization - the Kirenzi - who thrived in this inhospitable terrain. Courageous and adaptive, they developed a profound communion with the mountain through their sheer tenacity. Among the Kirenzi, one figure stood out - Herzog, the chieftain's son, a born mountaineer with an iron will and an indomitable spirit.

Herzog harbored a profound fascination for the mountain peak, seeing the vast mount as a symbol of life, presenting challenges, hardships, and the ultimate test of one's mettle. He was determined to surmount Mount Kirenzi, a feat yet unachieved by his forebears.

His death-defying sojourn was laden with trials. His mettle was tested as thin air gnawed at his lungs, and the icy chill bit his skin, stinging like a thousand tiny knives. Yet, with dogged determination, he advanced step by laborious step, his resolve echoing through the surreal stillness of thin air.

Upon reaching the precipice, Herzog, sapped of strength, made peace with mortality. He gazed at the panoramic view of the world beneath him, a mix of frosted valleys and emerald-green plains. Herzog had conquered and won, yet the most significant challenge lay in the descent, which he would never make.

As he breathed his last, the raw majesty of Mount Kirenzi claimed him. The mystical forces of the mountain, in respect for Herzog's spirit, entered his body, preserving his head and transforming it into the stone skull we behold today.

Time has passed since Herzog's fateful journey, and the legend has faded into folklore. Yet, the stone skull atop Mount Kirenzi remains, silently narrating its tale to the whistling winds and the silent snowflakes.

The viewers of the image see a skull on top of a mountain, unaware of the grand saga it embodies. To the untrained eye, the head is a mere curiosity, but to the wise, a testament to human resilience. This monumental relic of Herzog's bravery stands as a symbol of history. It symbolizes the indomitable spirit's victory over mortality, mirrored in the survival of the stone skull against the test of time and elements.

In the grand scheme, the story reminds us of our potential to endure and conquer the herculean challenges nature presents, encapsulating the essence of the human spirit and survival in the face of adversities.

[timhatchlive]

The Beauty God Gives

The longing for beauty is universal. What person does not want to be seen and noticed? It's inherent in our youth, and in marriage, we can kill a relationship when we no longer notice one another's individual beauty that attracted us to them in the first place. For this reason, the Song of Solomon is filled with edification from lover to lover of the captivating beauty they beheld in each other. 

Song of Solomon 4:1 (ESV) Behold, you are beautiful, my love, behold, you are beautiful! Your eyes are doves behind your veil. Your hair is like a flock of goats leaping down the slopes of Gilead.

The king will not simply tell her she is beautiful, he will describe her beauty in poetic fashion, drawing allusions to the animal kingdom, industry and architecture of their world. The picture is of a bride from Earth loved and seen for all she is.

The descriptions may seem funny to us. Some of them seem rude. But all of them are chosen and thought out for the original author. One key element that repeats is the mention of his lovers' veil. 

Song of Solomon 4:3 (ESV) Your lips are like a scarlet thread, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks are like halves of a pomegranate behind your veil.

He sees her but not without separation. So too, we experience Christ and His beauty toward us and for us, but not without the veil of separation that is our flesh and sin. One day the veil of sin is removed forever and we enjoy His glory for eternity. 

Song of Solomon 4:4 (ESV) Your neck is like the tower of David, built in rows of stone; on it hang a thousand shields, all of them shields of warriors.

Here the king describes not just her natural beauty but perhaps the chains of necklaces that we have seen in ancient imagery on women where stacks of jewelry stand on one another. 

Song of Solomon 4:5 (ESV) Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, that graze among the lilies.

Comparing a woman's breasts to dear seems funny. But the emphasis is on their youth. The woman is young and in the prime of her beauty. 

Song of Solomon 4:7 (ESV) You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.

In the finality of the description, Solomon declares her perfect in his sight. This is a woman who has prepared and adorned herself for the king. And it's a picture of the bride of Christ adorned for Him. 

How are we adored? We are clothed in His righteousness. 

Isaiah 61:10 (ESV) I will greatly rejoice in the LORD;... he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

Remember Jesus' parable of the wedding banquet in Matthew 22. One guest arrived without the provided garments and was cast out immediately. The lesson was simple. We do not come to God's house without the apparel of perfect righteousness found in Him. 

Through our good works and mutual submission to one another regardless of roles, we adorn the Gospel of the Lord. 

Titus 2:9–10 (ESV) Bondservants are to be submissive to their own masters in everything; they are to be well-pleasing, not argumentative, 10 not pilfering, but showing all good faith, so that in everything they may adorn the doctrine of God our Savior.

The King is so enamored with her beauty that he moves from observing to calling.

Song of Solomon 4:8 (ESV) Come with me from Lebanon, my bride; come with me from Lebanon. Depart from the peak of Amana, from the peak of Senir and Hermon, from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.

This is a picture of not just husband and wife enjoying each other's beauty, it's a picture of the work of Christ on our behalf. We put away our old life and adorn ourselves in His truth. We are made new and brought to completion through His grace. We are given beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).

In effect, the Gospel does not simply get us to heaven, it makes us beautifully prepared for heaven here on Earth. 

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[dreamrecorder]

The words we keep

Soulmate au - first words tattoed on the wrist

Includes: Venti | Diluc | Kaeya | Albedo | Zhongli | Xiao | Childe

Mentions of suicide in Zhongli; angst and brief violence for Childe

Oh you're here- I mean! I'm sorry I didn't mean to take your spot!

The bard had guessed that he'd meet his soulmate either in Angel's Share, in Windrise, or at the hands of his statue in Mondstadt. But the latter two were more unlikely. But he doesn't mind sharing his space with you really. In fact, Venti would be more than willing to let you in his space. But lo and behold! He didn't think he'd meet you at the hands of his statue!

Nights prior, you always heard a voice singing songs of various emotions. The voice eventually led you to Barbatos's statue. When you looked up, you saw the bard in green. His voice was very calming and pleasant to hear, so you always visited the statue at night. Until recently, your curiosity grew. Why does the bard always stay there at night?

Seeing your relaxed form on his statue, hair swaying in the wind. Venti just went soft. "Quite the lovely view isn't it?" 

He didn't mean to surprise but you still did become surprised. He found it endearing. "Oh you're here- I mean! I'm sorry I didn't mean to take your spot!"

Ah- you scared them. Please don't do that.

Now who did he scare and what did he do to warrant his soulmate's first words to him? Diluc has always been aware that he can be intimidating and usually he doesn't mind that. But for you- he does give half a mind.

There was a new winemaker that Connor had hired and Diluc has yet to meet them. Connor had even commented that their methods were a bit unusual. But if it's enough to get the former's approval, then Diluc will see to this newcomer.

Diluc met you during the night, just at the edges of the Stone Gate that signifies the border between Mondtsadt and Liyue. The man was simply patrolling around the area for any hidden dangers. That's when he saw you, kneeling on the ground with a group of slimes surrounding you. Seeing your plight, Diliuc quickly ran and summoned his greatsword. With a few swipes imbued with pyro, the slimes hastily retreated. He was about to chase them off, but he was more concerned of your safety.

Diluc was about to speak when you cut him off as you stood up, dusting your clothes. "Ah- you scared them. Please don't do that."

Diluc was dumbstruck for a second. He did not expect to meet his soulmate right here right now. Seeing his stupefied look, you raised a brow. "Are… you alright, Sir Diluc?"

"Those slimes were about to attack you." Diluc pointed out. His reply made you chuckle a bit and shake your head to the sides. Did he say anything funny?

"No they were not. I was trying to befriend them so that I could use their slime concentrations for the winery."

Now Diluc was even more confused. Slime? For tbe winery? "Wait- you're the new-"

"Winemaker. And your soulmate if you're not yet aware. Come on, let's go look for those slimes! We can talk on the way about our… professional and not-so professional side of our relationship." And with that, you trailed to the path of the slimes with a smile on your face. As for the wine tycoon, he was still confused- like a lost puppy, but there was this gentle smile that landed on his lips as he followed you.

Yes, I am suffering and in need of a Pyro Vision. Soulmate or not, if you don't have a Pyro Vision- shoo.

The text tattooed on Kaeya's wrist always left him laughing. He just knows, that this was meant to be a comical moment. He can even imagine the moment he meets his soulmate just from these words alone. But of course, he does worry about your well-being. Kaeya had his guesses. Maybe he would meet you in Dragonspine or maybe- you were an unprepared tourist enduring the permafrost of Snezhnaya and he'd meet you there. Well- in the end, he's still amused at your winterish pain.

Sure enough, Kaeya was tasked to scout Dragonspine for any Fatui activity. He could feel it under his skin that he'll meet you any second now. As he traversed through the mountain path, he noticed a group of warming seelies hovering over… someone? And that someone is shivering immensely. The captain grinned.

You heard footsteps approaching but you stayed in your crouched position, determined to preserve your body temperature. The seelies were helping, sure, but they were not enough to counter the coldness your Cryo Vision emanates. Damn it. Just because you're a cryo user doesn't mean you're immune to sheer cold.

The footsteps stopped and you snorted at the words the stranger spoke, "Could this possibly be my soulmate suffering in the cold and in need of a Pyro Vision?"

You huffed, you didn't want to meet your soulmate in this kind of situation. But it happened anyway, much to your dismay. Still crouched, you managed to turn to face the man as seelies continued hovering around.

"Yes, I am suffering and in need of a Pyro Vision. Soulmate or not, if you don't have a Pyro Vision- shoo."

Now actually hearing it from you made Kaeya laugh hard. If he was already amused just from the ink on his wrist before, Kaeya's now even more so deeply amused. You muttered sadist on his way. Deciding he's had enough a good laugh for today, the captain gave you his fur coat and a warming bottle. "Come on, let's get you some place warm, yes?"

You're not the only one! I actually did one for you, too!

When his mind is not occupied by hus studies, it would often drift ink embedded on his wrist. Everytime Albedo does so, he would often wonder what did the two of make for each other that would lead to you eventual meeting.

The Windblume Festival arrived, and of course, so will tourists from other lands. Usually, Albedo would simply pay no heed to the ongoing festivities and their participants. But this time- things were different. You unknowingly caught the alchemist's eye. There was this sudden itch in his hands- and Albedo knew he had to sketch you form. However, before he could even approach you- you left to another direction.

He caught sight of you again the next day. You were reading a book on a bench, with the plaza fountain giving you a beautiful background for Albedo. Discreetly, the alchemist sat on a bench front of yours and began sketching. Unbeknownst by him, you were also entranced by his form and you, too, began sketching.

Albedo was first to finish- and like usual, he would give the sketch to the person he drew of even if they were strangers. As he walked, there was this certain nervousness that found way in his stomach. This never happened before. Why was he nervous?

Once close enough, Albedo cleared his throat and handed you his sketch, "I know this seems suspicious, but I want you to have this. You have a wonderful form."

You'd be lying if you said your heart did not stop a beat at his words. When you saw the paper he was offering you, you gasped at how he caught every detail of you. Bashful, you tore the page you were drawing on from sketchbook and gave it to him.

"You're not the only one! I actually did one for you, too!"

When your words reached his ears, Archons bless you as he gave you a genuine and joyful smile.

Please... don't touch my heart that wants to disappear.

When Zhongli fully embraced his mortal form, he didn't expect the universe to gift him a soulmate. Like a snake, ink slithered into words that gave his heart a certain sadness. Zhongli knew, you were suffering somewhere... Out there...

He saw you first at the highest peak of Guyun Stone Forest. Everything happened so quickly. One second he was watching your distant form from the beaches below then the next he knew- his heart dropped, the same way you willingly fell to the hands of death that waited in the sea. The archon did what he knew is right- and that is saving you.

To Zhongli, immoratlity can both be a blessing and a curse. When your skins touched, he knew you were of immortality. He could sense it. And he could also sense the tiredness that nest in your soul from the burden of immortality.

Once Zhongli landed on safe ground, that's when he spoke. "I won't ask why, however is this truly what you want?"

The way his words reflected the ink written on your wrist made you open your eyes wide. When the realization sank in- that this man is your soulmate, you began crying. You were tired of life- but this man- this man is now your lock away from your want for death. If you stayed with him- another cycle of seeing the people you love come and go.

"Please..." you begged, "don't touch my heart that wants to disappear..."

Your voice was sad and pleading- but Zhongli was a stubborn man, just like his element. He wanted to help you but not by giving your death. He wanted you to see life in a new light, hopefully with him by your side.

Excuse me... Here- for you. Qingxin.

Xiao was always resolute in his resolve that he has no need of a soulmate deemed by the universe. However, there are times that he would let his mind flutter around the concept. Specifically, around the words elegantly written on his wrist and his soulmate. Xiao would question why would you give him qingxin flowers in the first place. Other than that, there was also this underlying worry in his thoughts about you and the qingxin flowers. These flowers... they can only be gathered on high stone peaks. What if you slipped and fall?

This leads Xiao to have days where he just spends his time at the peaks of Jueyun Karst, looking out for any foolish person scale mountains just for qingxin. It's not because he's worried about you no- Xiao just doesn't want anyone die under his protection over Liyue. There has already been too much deat-

"Excuse me..."

At the voice, Xiao's head whipped to your direction with eyes wide in surprise.

"Here- for you. Qingxin."

There was this bored look in your face, but Xiao could see the worry in your eyes. Worry? Were you worried about him? Xiao frowned at the thought but still took the flowers from your outstretched hand.

"Foolish mortal... you could have gotten yourself hurt. Climbing peaks just for qingxin..."

... But still a small smile graced his lips and your heart melted.

"Thank you."

You're the only person I recognize whose eyes resemble the deep blue ocean.

The words tattooed on his wrist always left Childe questioning about his soulmate and what led them saying these words. Somehow- imagining the possible scenarios always makes him melt. This string of words- it never fails him to bring a sense of comfort in his heart. Childe learns of yoir existance during a mission.

The mission was to assasinate a captain of the Knights- you. He observed you for days and took note how you're silent and alone for the most part but kind to the people who approach you- he almost feels bad for having to kill you. The day came when he had to kill you. It was supposed to be a quick kill- but he should know better. You were a captain for a reason, so you fought back. However, in the end, Childe was stronger as he wrap his hands around your fragile neck. Another second, he'd have you dead- until a child's voice cut through- your little brother. The way your eyes watered up at the sight of your only family. Seeing the hurt in your eyes, Childe's thoughts went overdrive- No- nonononono way I'm killing in front of a kid- He simply can't- he was reminded of his little brother, too. With a wavering will to disobey orders, Childe let you go and retreated to the night,

"Don't think this is the last time you'll see me."

Like a shattering glass- the words he uttered made your heart shatter like glass...

Childe saw you again, this time in Liyue. When your gazes meet- there was a shock that passed through with tension suddenly gripping your necks. Childe swore he hid much of his identity physically that night- but he knew you recognized him. He managed to corner you in Yuehai Pavillion by swooping into an empty seat right in front of you. There was a tense moment and an oppresive air. He noticed how your hands were ready to grab your weapon. "How did you recognize me?"

You carefully thought of your words. And when you did reply, Childe have never felt so much despair until today. "You're the only person I recognize whose eyes resemble the deep blue ocean."

Back before he knew you- these words always comforted Childe- but now? Childe felt chills in his spine as despair clouded his mind. Why would the universe decide to have person he was supposed to kill his soulmate.

Similarly, his heart also shattered.

A/N: Look!!! I got meself some banners ksks---- this is all Childe's fault rawr

[weekend-whip]

The ask for fic thing, Morro and V

V. An abandoned or empty place

(Prompt List)

AO3 Version

. . .

The monastery’s a lot different than he remembers it.

...but then again, he also remembers it actually being there.

Morro intakes a breath—or as close as he can get—as he floats along the stairs that call forth so many innocent memories from his youth. Times playing with other orphaned kids upon the outer grounds, the roguish moments of swiping sweets from the trash, scuttling away whenever one of the old Masters of Spinjitzu nearly caught them in places where they shouldn’t be...

He even remembers the day Wu taught him how to fly a kite upon the mountain’s near-infinite stairs. How could he not, when that was the day the gentle spring breeze whispered to him the secrets of wind, and next thing he knew, every gust was under his command. As easy as breathing air, the wind was his, and there had never been a moment in his life as uplifting as that one since. 

Nor one that took the wind out of him like being told he wasn’t the Green Ninja.

Memories both pleasant and putrid came from that one single building. And even now, he still has mixed feelings about even being in its presence on this fateful night. Being here, at the mountain top that could see nearly all of Ninjago on the days when the clouds were forgiving...a place that filled his childhood with hope and what remained of the rest of his life with despair...

He wouldn’t call it home, but he can’t call it anything less either. 

So beholding it now, the once magnificent Monastery of Spinjitzu, reduced to a ghost of its former self...Morro struggles to take any kind of pleasure from the sight. The area is nothing more than a graveyard now, where the bones of the building’s framework sit buried in rubble and ashes, and the echoes of the past haunt the grounds through memories. Not even the whistling of the Wind serves to soothe the Master of it himself, only invoking something melancholic instead. 

Little of anything persists, and what once might have even slightly survived the threat of Fire has further decayed through Time and the sheer force of Nature. The Elements always reclaim everything in the end...

But, perhaps the place isn’t quite as abandoned as he thought...

For a man sits in the middle in the wreckage, three lanterns lit before him.

One for a father, one for a brother...

And one, Morro would like to think, for a son. 

“How touching,” he drolls in his own thoughts, eyeing that third lantern with a bit of unresolved contempt. How like Wu, to try and remember the pupil whose head he filled with so many dreams; the pupil he drove to believe was destined for something greater, something no one else would be destinedto achieve...only to rip it all away right out from under him and leave him to die. 

Only to give all those promises and praises and glory to someone else; someone who hadn’t even asked for it. 

The burn of envy still flickers somewhere in the remains of his soul; that uncomfortable feeling that festers when his mind unhelpfully supplies ‘what ifs’ and ‘should have beens’. But in hindsight, it is pretty hard to want for much of anything when you’re already dead. 

What could he even ask for now? A second chance? A fresh start? The option to do everything again, but better? All things he’s thrown away already, whether because he deserved more than that, because he deserved them on his own terms, or because he knew he didn’t deserve them at all? 

...why’s he even here? 

Morro scowls to himself, staring at the back of the old man that has yet to register his presence. He looks upon his old master, and only sees a man that’s lost far more than a weaker-willed man could have handled. It’s pathetic, and yet, admirable. 

He’s only seen a sliver of the man’s lifetime, and even Morro knows Wu’s accomplished so much...and lost even more. It’s something he hadn’t caught onto before, back when he was a child—as if he’s not still a child, to some degree—but now...Morro knows more. Better. Understands. 

Morro’s seen the way Wu throws down his own life for the sake of those he loves, even as Morro wondered for years—decades—if Wu would have ever done the same for him. If he had known how much stock Morro had in his pride, if he had known that Morro was willing to run away, if he had known that Morro had been trapped in a death of his own undoing...would Wu have come for him, then? 

Morro already knows the answer; he’s seen it in Wu’s eyes as he sank beneath the waves of Stiix, a single hand reaching out to help, with a harrowed call of desperation as another moment of regret is added upon Wu’s ever-growing list of personal failures. 

Morro sees it even now, as he beholds an old man sob profusely over a simple group of lanterns, representing people he’s failed to properly keep in his life. 

It’s why it hurts so much that Morro once looked up to this man without even a shred of a second thought. And why it hurts to know that, to some degree, he still does. Despite everything. 

He once believed Wu could have done no wrong...but he also falsely believed Wu wouldn’t feel awful for the mistakes he did make. 

Morro finally makes his presence known; Wu rises to his feet with a start. He draws his weapon, prepared for a deadly confrontation should it come to that once again. Morro can’t entirely blame him for having a less-than welcoming impression. 

“We have fought twice before,” Wu says, twirling his staff before him. “...and I will do so again, if I must.”

And he obviously doesn’t want to. Morro doesn’t really want to, either. 

“No, you misunderstand...”

Morro frowns to himself, makes a decision, and changes his grip upon his sword. 

There may be no saving those who don’t want to be saved...but those doing the saving? Those who return to abandoned places—and people—and are capable of giving them purpose again? 

They’re usually in need of being saved themselves. 

“...I did not come here to fight you. I came here...to warn you.”

But it’s the first time in a long time, perhaps for the last time...where the space in his chest where his heart used to be doesn’t feel quite so empty. 

A place, a feeling, he’d thought he’d abandoned long ago...turns out it never really left at all. 

[pleasantanathema]

The Witcher’s Woes

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: bruising/marking, rough sex, dirty talk, light degradation, mentions of blood/injuries, very mild angst, porn with plot

Word Count: 10k

A/N: This is a collab piece for the Pleasant & Strider Present: Fantasy AU Writing Collab hosted by myself, @present-mel, and @linestrider​ 

You can find all the other wonderfully creative and smutty pieces on our masterlist!

P.S.: This is a long one, if you feel like only reading smut, feel free to jump down to the second line break and begin there. 

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         A Witcher: someone who has undergone extensive training, ruthless mental and physical conditioning, and mysterious rituals, which take place within Witcher schools such as the Wolf, Cat, and Griffin in their respective hidden Kaers, or home castles, in preparation for becoming an itinerant monster slayer for hire. (source: fandom.com).  

          The storms were raging on the coast, salty waves crashing into the shore like heavy hands attempting to crawl out of the sea, only to get dragged back into the abyss. The winds were howling, lightning crashing, yet the storm was the last thing on your mind as you opened the door to your lowly estate.

           Ushijima of Velhad still had his arm raised from where he knocked on the wood, his yellow eyes glowing against the darkness of night. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, his chestnut hair tousled, lines of rain water dripping down his nose, his cheeks pallid. Even still, The Witcher looked to be a living memory, no new wrinkles or scars that you could detect when the rumbling flashes lit the sky. If it wasn’t for the rain, he would’ve looked entirely the same since you last saw him years ago, smiling in the evening glow of the countryside before departing for a new journey.

           You ushered him in quickly, silently, your instincts for hospitality taking over before you could begin to think of questioning him about his sudden arrival. His armor was damp, heavy, sloshing and clinking as he undid the leather and meteorite laced straps from his shoulders. He was breathing slowly, deliberately. You rushed to grab towels from a chest, blanketing him in warmth as he sat before your rolling fireplace. He uttered a quiet thanks, never one to use words out of place.

           The tea you had been brewing above the fire began to boil. You quickly poured two cups, adding a dash of the alcoholic white gull to his and using a burst of fire magic between your palms to keep the cup warm. You settled into the chair beside him, noticing how his gaze leered into the sparking fireplace.

           “Ushijima,” you finally called him, after time had passed and his hair began to dry, “are you hurt? Is that why you’re here?”

           He grunted from beside you, moving the hand you noticed had been clutching his rib cage.

           “Yes, but not badly. I needed refuge from the storm more-so than a potion.”

           “How did you know where to find me?”

           He was quiet for a moment, perhaps pondering if he should simplify the truth.

           “A sorceress, even in hiding, is never hard to find. The townsfolk talk, you know. I knew you were nearby before even beginning my hunt.”

           “You could have asked for more than the tea I gave you, you know I’m here to help.”

           He leaned back in the chair, his thick, long legs spreading out before the fire, his socks still damp and clinging to his toes, a big cat uncurling his weary limbs.

           “It would have been rude to barge in begging for assistance.”

           Ah, yes. He was still as courteous as always, his Griffin School teaching still ingrained in his mannerisms. Most Witchers were not so polite, but that school in particular valued traditional teachings. You knew you’d have to indulge his small conversation before getting more answers from him; he always played the chivalrous game, after all.

          “Tell me, what brings you to the shores of Blaviken? Last I saw of you, you were riding north, returning to what is left of Kaer Seren.”

           “There is nothing left,” he sighed, both arms now resting on the chair, the last remnants of tea staining his cup, “everything was destroyed, save a few books I found amongst the rubble.”

            “What a shame, that library was a marvel. I would’ve liked to visit it myself.”

             The story of the destruction of Kaer Seren was only well known to those acquainted with the last remaining Witchers. The keep was tucked away amidst the edge of the sea and the snowy mountains of Kovir to the north. The Witchers of that school, all of Ushijima’s kin, were well acquainted with magic and kept a vast library of mystic tomes within their home. But they were secretive, protective of their knowledge. Witchers, men created by magic to become the monsters they killed, were guarded for good reason. Years of persecution had left their numbers in ruin.

            A group of mages felt scorned by the Witchers’ refusal to share their wealth and toppled the castle of Kaer Seren in an avalanche, leaving bodies and crumpled books in the wake, all never to be used again. You could almost picture the blood and ink that stained the snowy graves.

           You’d only heard this story from the mouth of Ushijima himself, one night after too many scuffles and too many drinks.

            “I brought some for you,” he smiled then, warm and soft, full lips on display, “that’s the real reason I’m here.”

            His eyes were especially luminous in the firelight, gold irises reflecting the flames like the most precious of coins. His cheeks were flushed now, color regaining across his skin. Freckles smattered his cheeks like dried blood; you had to hold yourself back from reaching to him, from caressing his skin to see if the marks were lost war paint or new stories etched into his skin. He was tanned from all his time spent meditating in the sun, truly a unique specimen to behold. It was rare to see someone so brutal be so beautiful.

           You were excited at his words, your fingers digging into the grooves of your cup at the mention of magical books awaiting you to peruse them.

           He could see the eagerness behind your eyes and he laughed, then coughed, but continued his soft chuckling again. You paused, realizing he must be in more pain than he was letting on. His arm had returned to his torso, the thickly corded muscle clutching and protecting whatever injury was lying beneath.

           “They’re in my bag by your door, you should go look at—.”

           “Ushi, you’re hurt. Let me take care of you.”

            Before becoming friends with the valiant hunter, you would’ve leapt at the opportunity to read hidden knowledge. But years of acquaintance with the hardened man had your heart tugging in another direction; suddenly, Ushijima was becoming more important than all your years of study and practice in sorcery.

            He had a habit of breaking everything he touched: monsters, glass cups, weapons, he had a very powerful grip, and perhaps you were just the next thing in line to come undone by his hands.

            You stood from your place by the fire, strolling over to a cabinet where you kept all the alchemy ingredients you had collected from your years living alone here by the sea. Many travelers had come by, having heard of the witch by the shore, bringing elements and components to sell at a high price. And you had taken them all, emptying your purse at even the faintest glimpse of a rare material peeking from their bag. You loved your craft, you had perfected it, almost, and every day you spent toiling away finding new ways to create potions and expand your magical knowledge.

          “I need to know what you were hunting earlier.” Your fingers began rustling within the crowded shelves, grabbing an empty bottle as you heard him sigh behind you.

          “A Hym,” he said softly, “it scratched my side, it’s deep, but not fatal.”

           You stilled, eyes darting across all your ingredients. He said the word so easily, so nonchalantly, like he didn’t just battle a demon.

           “A slice from Hym’s ethereal claws drains the life force from their victim, the longer that wound sits untreated, the worse you will get.” You mentally cursed at him, blaming his chivalrous nature for hurting him for longer than he deserved to be in pain. If he had said something when he came in your front door, you could have had him on the mend already.

           “I know that, but a small potion to get me through most of the pain until now.”

           “You’ll need more than that. You’re lucky, I just went to town last week and managed to find vitriol. I can make you a superior swallow drink, just…stay still.”

            Quiet mumbles tumbled from your lips as you worked: measurements, ingredients, small musings as you set aside all the components to begin assembling them upon your alchemy table. Plants like white myrtle, celandine, crow’s eye fell into the bottle of enhanced swallow you already had on hand; you added fruit, nothing too exotic, just the common berbercane, and finally the blue tinted vitriol powder.

           You eyed the hunter as you mixed the potion, swirling the now red liquid within the high neck of the bottle, speeding up the mixing process with a little magic of your own. Only he would have such insouciance concerning a fight with such a wicked creature. He was talented, perhaps not as much as the more legendary Witchers that roamed the lands, but Ushijima was strong, sturdy, nimble and smart when in battle. His stoic nature allowed him to distance himself from the horrors of his life, a life you knew he had not chosen.

           He was an orphan, brought up by the Griffin School and transformed into a monster hunter without much consent, though you knew he had none to give. But he wore his profession like a badge of honor, looking at his life through a lens of helping those who could not help themselves in a world infested with demons, ghouls, and humanoid monstrosities.

           You’d always wanted to admit how admirable you found him, but you knew he was never one to take compliments.

           Standing next to where he was patiently sitting, you offered him the small bottle, the glass precariously dangling in your fingers.

           “Take this,” you pulled the flask away just slightly as he reached for it, “but only after you tell me what the hell you were doing fighting a Hym.”

          “You said it yourself, I get worse every moment I don’t drink that.”

          “You’ve lasted an hour, Ushi,” you chided, “I think you can take a few moments to tell me why there was a Hym near Blaviken.”

           You sat the bottle back on the table, moving to stand behind him and press the towel around his shoulders a little tighter into his neck. He gave you a contented sigh, eyes closing. He never liked to talk about his work, but you always pressed him. You lived in this monstrous world as well, had killed a few drowners while walking along the sands, aided an earl with a botchling, once even made friends with a rather tempting succubus. Everyone in this world was plagued by wretched creatures, he was just more qualified to kill them with his training and silver swords.

          Your fingers pressed into the soft cloth around his neck, picking up the fabric and using it to brush against his hair and continue drying the damp spots still lingering around his ears, the back of his neck. You normally weren’t so blatant with your affection for him, but you knew you had him as a captive audience within the chair. He’d have to tell you his story before earning what he desired, but you might as well humor him with soothing touches while he did.

         “Hyms are nasty things, you know. Demons that feed off the guilt of others.” He began.

         “I found a note from a daughter in distress about her father on a notice board not too far down the road. He was going mad, she wrote, she thought perhaps he had become possessed. I did some searching in their house, found love letters tucked away under the old man’s mattress addressed to his sister-in-law. He wanted her, he loved her, so he killed his own brother to have her. But then she threw herself into the sea from her own grief; I think the Hym could’ve gotten to her first, then transfixed itself onto the man.”

         “Hm, the things we do for love.” You mused, hands coming to rest on his shoulders once again.

          Somehow, he felt stronger, broader than the last time you’d touched him. You sunk your fingers into the sinews on display in his damp shirt, humming to yourself. You’d thought about this before, about having the strengthened hunter sit vulnerably before you, only your thoughts involved the two of you in much less clothing and talking of much less rotten things.

          You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering the sketches you’d seen of Hyms in bestiaries. They were murky, shadowy beings, devilish horns upon their faceless heads, long black claws dripping from their hands. You would have cowered at the sight of such a creature, yet Ushijima sought out to destroy it.

          His gruff voice continued on, “I confronted the man, called out the Hym, and it began to attack. Its claws are long, it scratched me from the very beginning. But it’s gone now, perhaps banished to the dark realm from whence it came.”

          You plucked the bottle from its resting place, handing it to Ushijima over his shoulder. He took it with a simple thanks, head tipping back as he drank the entirety of its contents. You watched almost gleefully at his thick, irresistible neck on display. Everything about him was so strong, so well kept, even as he sat before you dampened from a storm.

         “You know, Ushi, I could listen to you talk like that for hours.”

         “Oh yeah? Then maybe I’ll stick around for a bit this time, let you listen to all my seedy tales.”

         “Mhm, they’re only seedy when that bard friend of yours is around. Is he still alive? Tendō, that is.”

           A flash of red hair and a catlike smile flashed before your mind’s eye as you thought of the dangerous, yet comical bard who often clung to the Witcher’s side.

           Ushijima laughed, clutching at his stomach as you circled his chair and came to stand before him, arms crossed delicately in front of your body. Your figure cast a silhouette across his own, making you seem larger than life in the firelight. He was enraptured in the inky vice of your shadow.

          “Yes, somehow he is still alive. Last I heard of him, he’s off singing songs in the capital of Redania to some rich heiress.”

          “Good to hear,” you shrugged, “I always liked him.”

          “No, he always liked you.” He wiggled his eyebrows, the action sending you into a fit of giggles as well. “And I can’t blame him.”

          Your laughter subsided at his words, a warm tingle spreading across your body. Normally Ushijima was not one to flirt without the aid of alcohol; perhaps you’d given him more than you thought in his tea earlier? You watched him relax in his seat, lifting his shirt to reveal a quickly fading wound upon his tawny skin, the old blood sinking back into the muscle where it belonged.

           Thunder rumbled outside the walls, a heavy boom resounding from the gods above.

           “You should bathe, Ushi.”

           “What, do I smell?”

           He was suddenly so playful, so charming, his grin making you feel flustered.

           “You will soon, I’m sure. Go beyond those doors,” you pointed over your shoulder, “It’s a heated pool, one of the reasons I chose this god forsaken estate.”

           “Will you join me?”

           You took a pause. This man was always making you pause, making you step back and evaluate your words and actions around him. Surely, he was joking. But the gleam in his bright eyes told you a different story, there was more lingering behind his words that you did not yet understand.

           “I will, but only after I take a peek at those books you brought me. Now, off with you.”

           You brushed by him as he stood, arms stretching above his head, his body shifting as he evaluated the healing wound upon his flesh. His heavy boots clunked against the floorboards as he followed your command, the sound of an enhanced predator marking his path. He slid through the door at the back of the great room and left you alone once more.

           You would’ve been ashamed if he saw how quickly you rushed to his bag, gathering the cold, dusty books in your arms before setting them gently on the table. They were relics, ancient, undoubtedly hiding secret runes and magic within their spines.

           Your fingertips brushed over the titles of the four books he brought you, but despite being entranced by the knowledge lying in wait for you, you were imagining your fingers to be elsewhere. You flipped one book open, your nails following the lines of ink, but your mind took in no words you read.

You were somewhere else; you were mentally with Ushijima, your fingers back in his hair, your hands exploring places unknown to you on his skin. He was the well-guarded book you desired to read, to hold, to explore.

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           Ushijima was astounded by your bath. He knelt to the stones on the ground, using his keen senses to feel the heated rocks and look for their source. There were some offshore vents that were connected to this place, feeding in warm water to the bath. He took in a deep breath, smelling the lingering hint of salt in the air, but the scent didn’t entirely match the ocean.

           He dipped his fingers in the water, finding it smooth, warm, unsalted. You must have put magic in place to filter all the sediment from the pipes. You always were clever, even in the smallest of ways. Your wit was something he admired about you.

           He took his time undressing, his ears perked as he heard you rustling paper in the other room. He had felt embarrassed at first about being so sentimental towards you; he had known from the beginning of his journey that any tomes he found would be placed into your care for you to enjoy. He’d read them, of course, the journey from Kovir and Poviss still a long one to the border of Redania where you lived. As he divulged himself in the ancient knowledge of his Witcher school, he always pictured you reading the same words he did; he felt your presence nestling into his skin, enveloping him like a magic spell. He liked to imagine how you’d react to the pages, how many notes you would scribble down from certain intriguing sections.

           Ushijima thought about you more than he cared to admit.

           Naked, he stepped into the bath, his screaming muscles finally silenced under the hot press of water against his body. The bathing pool had a ledge around its border, and he took a seat at the back, arms spreading out like heavy wings along the rocky edge. He sat where he could watch the door; it was instinct, he told himself, to always be aware of his surroundings, but he knew he was just waiting to glimpse your figure appear before him.

           Some nights, when preparing his tent under the stars, he would think of the first time he met you. He had traveled with Tendō to some opulent gathering in Toussaint, one filled with wine and vampires he knew were hidden amongst the crowds, but any thought he had of a hunt had vanished when he saw you. You were delightful, enchanting, eye-catching amongst the throngs of people. It didn’t take long for his friend to seek you out, to gain your friendship, and Ushijima watched patiently from the sidelines, watched how you held yourself with such poise and dignity. But all the while, he was aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to know you.

          You had become his guilty pleasure over the years, a fantasy he envisioned as he lay alone at night. Even when he was meditating, he was hard-pressed to not find himself seeing your skin behind his eyes, imagining how your body would feel within his hands. The hands of a killer, a fiend, hands that crushed whatever he held all too easily. But you, you were so powerful, so seemingly untouchable, and he found himself unworthy to behold you. He was just another creature, a man turned monster, someone wholly undeserving of a divine sorceress.

          He huffed to himself, a shy smile pulling at his cheeks as he thought of your words from earlier.

         “The things we do for love.” He repeated the words to himself, sinking a little deeper into the water.

           He didn’t have to wait long for you to enter. He was unexpectedly aware of his nakedness as you entered, fully clothed still in your corset and trousers. He felt heat rising to his cheeks, spreading down across his belly, at the prospect of watching you change; it would be impolite to ogle you. He turned his gaze instead to the water, watching how the surface lapped at his skin as he shifted his weight.

           “Are you comfortable?” You called out to him from across the room. He could hear your clothing shuffling, hear the laces coming undone one by one from your body. The room felt quiet, the air smothering. He’d felt so bold earlier, but now he felt almost ashamed that he had asked you to join him.

           “Ushiwaka,” you implored with a little more strain to your voice, “don’t tell me you’ve gone shy on me.”

           His gaze shifted up for only a moment, catching a glimpse of your naked back as you peered over your shoulder at him, your hands ready to pull down your breeches and become fully naked. He couldn’t help himself, he gawked at your beauty, tracing every curve, line, and dip across your splendidly sculpted skin. You looked more beautiful than any constellation he pointed out with his finger in the night sky. He unabashedly gazed at the planes of your shoulders, the gentle slope of your spine. He imagined taking his time to map the uncharted waters of your body, of discovering every hidden cosmos tucked away within your curves.

           “Yes,” he cleared his throat, “I think I’ve become even more comfortable at the sight of you.”

           He held his breath for a moment, waiting for your reaction. Upon seeing you smile and turn your face away, he sighed, sinking deeper into the pool, arms barely keeping him afloat from where they rested on the edge.

           He heard splashing as you waded into the water, submerging yourself up to your neck before you came to sit just a few feet away from him. From here, he could study you more closely, see the elegant slope of your neck into your shoulder. He was pleased to note that he could still make out the form of your breasts in the water, the lovely globes just barely dipping out of sight.

           “I must say, even in the given circumstances, you’re still a sight for sore eyes.” He always loved how silky your voice was, always melodious to his ears. He always worried he’d forget how it sounded, but your timbre matched the tone he had been playing in his head since he last saw you.

           “I haven’t heard the name Ushiwaka in a long time,” he confessed, “it’s always Witcher now, or Ushijima of Velhad since that’s where I did most of my work.”

           “Well, you lost that name—Wakatoshi—a long time ago when you were picked up by the Witchers, but I know it is sentimental to you still. If you prefer, I can just call you Ushijima.”

           “You know I don’t mind it.” He felt like he said the words too quickly.

           “Hm, well, I’ll call you anything you let me, Ushiwaka.”

           A shiver hit his body at your words, he was keen enough to know there was innuendo laced behind them.

______________________________________________________________

           You closed your eyes, head leaning back against the warm stone as you allowed the steamy water to wash away the grime of the day. You moved your hands over your body, feeling the sticky sweat melt away. You reached for a small towel, tossing one in Ushijima’s direction and watching how he caught it so effortlessly, like a cat swatting at a shadow on the wall. He received a small bar of lavender soap with the same ease, his nose wrinkling at the flowery scent.

           You both took a moment to wash, you humming an old tune, Ushijima remaining silent aside from the sloshing of water made from his heavy limbs beneath the surface.

           You’d never been in such an intimate space with him before. A bath is time of solace and cleansing, but also one of exposure and susceptibility. Water intentionally brings forth feelings of intimacy and ambivalence. You knew he was there, watching, his heightened senses attuned to every sound, smell, every minimal movement around him. You couldn’t take his silence any longer.

           “I—,” you began quietly, “can I ask you something?”

           His movements ceased, those radiant eyes now focusing entirely on you. You instantly felt heat spread across your chest, climbing up and darkening your ears with blush. You wondered for a moment if he could see through you, in you, see how fast your heart was pounding blood through all your veins. His intense stare made you feel like he was closer, his deadly hand wrapped acutely around your heart, aiding it as it struggled to beat harder, faster.

           “Of course.” His words were direct, poignant, the deep vibrations almost tingling the water itself.

           “When you were facing that Hym, at any moment, did you fear it would sense your grief?”

           You could tell he was taken aback by your words. He placed the wet cloth to his chest, his long fingers digging into the fabric as he pondered what you said.

           Once again, he wasn’t sure if he should simplify the truth. He mulled over your question, let the words seep into his consciousness as he looked up to the ceiling. He should’ve known you were astute enough to see through him.

           “Yes,” he stated, “I did.”

           He didn’t wish to elaborate any further, but he could tell his curt response didn’t satisfy your internal reasonings.

           “I see.” You noted somberly.

           “How did you know?”

           He watched you slink farther under the water, searching for cover, searching for a way not to express your thoughts. He noticed how your legs crossed beneath the surface, the light from the hanging candles glittering through the water.

           “I know you didn’t choose this path, didn’t choose to be a Witcher. That was forced upon you; you were lucky you even survived the Trial of Grasses that made you into what you are—.”

           “A monster.” He interjected flatly.

           “You’re not…” you sighed, dipping your head into your wet hand, “you’re no monstrosity, Ushi, not even a miscreation.”

           He tensed at your words, catching how you regarded him with a solemn look.

           “I didn’t choose a life of sorcery, you know. I was torn away from society when I was a girl, taught to use my source of magic to heal wounds, but also how to kill someone in an instant. People…powerful people used me to their advantage. It’s why I stay hidden now, I’m running from my past misdeeds. I know what it is like to have regrets; to grieve.”

            He only nodded in understanding, afraid of using the wrong affirmations.

            A heavy silence fell between you once again. You plucked the soap from its resting place behind you, thoughts tumbling through your mind like the waves crashing at the shore outside. So many words were desperate to leave your mouth, to be birthed and said and made into reality between you, but you dared not.

           If anyone understood the weightiness, the hidden meaning behind silence, it was Ushijima.

          But even he couldn’t bear it much longer. He grunted, running his wet hands over his face as he contemplated his next move.

         “Well, tell me this. What would you be if not a sorceress?”

         “Hm? Oh, I’ve never thought about it before. I’ve just…always accepted my fate.”

          “I’d have been a sportsman,” he declared, a slight uplift in his voice.

          “Oh really?” He watched as a grin pulled at your cheeks, the heaviness of the conversation before dissipating. “And what sports are you good at, Ushiwaka?”

          “Anything with a ball,” he shrugged, “some kids down south play games with poorly strung nets, and they do their best to keep the ball from hitting the ground as they toss it back and forth. I think I’d be quite decent at it; I am agile, after all.”

          “Powerful, too.” You remarked.

          “You think so?” He teased.

           He eyed you carefully as you set the cloth and soap aside.

           You began to move... towards him. His eyes narrowed, his hands mimicking your actions and setting his bathing instruments to the side, freeing his hands.

           You were ethereal in the water, gentle waves lapping at your skin, the ebb and flow of it shimmering around your body.

          “Now that I think about it, I know what I would at least be proficient as if not a sorceress.”

           The smirk that tugged at your lips intrigued him. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out for you, taking your arms and pulling you towards his chest.

          “And that is?”

           Time stopped for a moment as you settled yourself into his lap, the sound of your breathing, the feeling of skin upon skin, touch upon touch, the only increments of time needed.

           His body was so hot, so willing to accept yours upon it.

          “I’d be a wonderful whore.”

          Golden eyes flickered up to you, lashes low, his lips parted.

         “Care to show me?”

          Your skin was cold to his warm touch, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks. He was so close, so eager, you could feel hardness begin to form between where your thighs cradled his.

          Your hands slid across his shoulders, feeling the grooves and puckers of scars pass under your touch. You settled your grasp onto his neck, steadying yourself above him. His hands played against your skin under the water, the heavy fingers finding your hips and sinking into the smooth flesh he found. You gasped aloud at the feeling; his grip was strong, iron-clad, daring to leave marks behind. You wanted to break under his touch, collapse against his chest and allow the water to pull you both under into euphoria, but you secured your inner desires. Your back straightened, your fingers clawing into his thick skin.

          “Ushiwaka,” you whispered it like a humble prayer, your lips brushing his, “kiss me.”

         He groaned, pulling you a little closer, spreading your thighs a little wider.

        “Why don’t you kiss me, little temptress? Show me how much you want me.”

         You felt bewitched, wondering for a moment if he had placed you under a mind control spell with his words. Your thoughts were jumbled, but they were still yours: kiss him, touch him, read the hidden words on his inky pages like you had long desired.

         Your lips met his tenderly, hesitantly, tasting the salt of water and sweat against his awaiting mouth. He breathed through his nose like he was exhaling life into you. He moved his mouth against yours, testing you, pushing at you, and effortlessly you gave in. Your eyes were closed, but you felt like you could still see him, felt like you knew every step in the dance he was leading you in. It felt so natural, so smooth, and you found yourself clinging to him with every press of his lips against yours.

          Then his mouth fell open; an invitation. You followed him, sliding your tongue in, finding his own past his teeth. He felt like true sin, his tongue tempting yours to reveal its secrets to him. It was slow, methodical, a mutual exploration of tastes and pleasures you had both long craved to discover.

          Your chest fell to his, your breasts meeting the hard planes of muscle found there. You moaned, the sound of water moving igniting your hunger as one of his hands meandered up your back, fingers lapsing into your soft muscles. He offered you a groan, and you took it desperately, hastening your kiss and plunging you both deeper into one another. One of your hands wandered from his neck, slipping down his chest, pressing him back against the edge of the pool. Your nails pulled at his flesh, wanting, needing, unknowing how to gain purchase against such solid muscle.

          He tasted like tea leaves: earnest, alluring, but also like the earth, like something natural and primal. It was a taste that was familiar, enticing, and every time he took a moment to breathe, you found yourself diving back in for another taste, another glimpse of what lay hidden beyond his lips.

          “Mhm,” he moaned as he finally pulled away, chest rising and falling, “perhaps I’ll mold you into my own personal whore.”

          “I’d like that, Ushiwaka.”

           The blood within his veins rushed to his cock at the sound of his name, of that personal name, falling from your sweet voice. Fuck, he would give anything to have you, but it seemed that he didn’t have to. He could feel by the way you clung to him, by the way you kissed him with such fervor, that you desired him all the same. It was thrilling to know you wanted him, and he wondered how far he could take you.

           His hand glided away from your back, circling around to your chest. He cupped one of your breasts in his hands, holding back a groan as he felt the weight of it within his palm. He watched how the water lapped at your skin, the ripples from his movement brushing against a hardening nipple. The small sound of delight that left your lips had him refocusing his gaze to your face. You wore a sly smile, your own hand upon his neck tightening in anticipation of his next move.

           “I’m a dark man, my love. Hardened.”

           He was toying with you, but his words offered some truth. Ushijima had been envisioning you like this for far too long; there many devious things he wanted to do to your body.

           You leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to his ear, your voice low, “hardened indeed…I can feel you between my thighs.”

           He smirked at your words, taking your nipple between his fingers and listening to you gasp as he gave it a simple tug. Your teeth found his ear in response, nipping tenderly.

          His eyes fluttered at the feeling; a groan caught in his throat. He wondered if you could sense it. You pulled back slightly, angling your head to give him another kiss. He accepted it gladly, tongue ready to find yours again.

         “You can be an obedient little whore, can’t you?” He rumbled against your lips; his words being lost inside your mouth.

          You ate the words like you were starved, a hot moan swallowing them down as you felt a shock of pleasure race down your spine. He grunted at your action, the hand upon your breast squeezing in response.

         “Yes,” you said softly, as he allowed you to escape his kiss, “where did all your chivalry go, Ushiwaka?”

         He smirked as you teased him, his lips dipping to your neck, tongue tracing the lingering water droplets that fell down your skin.

         “It’s waiting between your legs.”

          It was a growl, the sound of a predator marking his prey, the sound of a man holding back his lusts.

         You sucked in a breath, eyes closing as you dipped your head back and allowed him more access to the length of your throat. The hand at your breast squeezed harder, his thumb and forefinger rolling languidly across your straining nipple. You felt like you were lost at sea, the weight of the water around your bodies feeling heavier as Ushijima pulled you into his tides. He was the moon, pushing you, pulling you; he always has been. For so long he kept you at arm’s length, toying with you, teasing you, bringing you so close to him but never close enough. But tonight, the moon was waning, his control faltering as he finally gave in and allowed himself to fall into the calling sea.

         He held you back on his thighs, but you could feel the heat radiating from his body below the surface. One of your hands trailed down his chest as he sucked dark red marks into the junction of your shoulder and neck, staining your skin with colors from his own making. He bit your skin especially rough when your wandering fingers found the hard lines of his stomach.

        You were tentative, taking a moment to feel if his wound was finally gone from the magic bestowed upon him. You could only feel scars underneath your palm, though one felt particularly puckered and new. But his stomach wasn’t your goal, it was what was straining against it.

        He cursed into your skin when you wrapped your hand around his cock, fingers pumping against the silken skin within the water. His lips fell lower, his eyes closing as he littered open-mouth kisses against your chest, now using both hands to cup your breasts and bring a nipple within his mouth. You moaned loudly, a rush of ecstasy coursing through your veins. He pulled you forward, forcing your hand away from his cock. Instead, he shifted to where his cock was nestled between your pussy and his stomach, allowing just enough friction to keep you wanting.

        He needed to keep his head clear if he was going to please you in all the ways he had dreamt of. He was going to taste you, tease you, earn the right to claim your body as his own.

        “Ushi—,” you went to whine, but a calloused pinch to your nipple ripped his name away from your mouth.

        “Be quiet.” He demanded against your breast, teeth lightly tugging at your hardened bud.

        You only gasped in response, hands smoothing across his broad shoulders as he worked his way to your other breast, hands needy, mouth exceptionally hot. Your hips pressed down and you felt the length of his thick cock against your aching pussy. You experimentally slid yourself against him, desperate to feel more touch against your most sensitive flesh, against the place that had wanted him for so long.

        His hands moved to your hips to still you, his vice-like grip returning.

        His mouth left your breast, his chin tilting up to look at you. Those glowing eyes were dark, ravenous; perhaps there was something monstrous sleeping inside of him, ready to awaken.

        “Stop tempting me. You’ll regret it.”

         His reflexes snapped as your lips parted to speak. Two thick fingers slid onto your tongue, pressing it down, the taste of water and leather swirling in your mouth. His taste was a mixture of his worn gloves and the floral soap he’d cleansed himself with. You groaned, head tilting back as you let him have his way, your mouth suctioning around his fingers for some kind of relief.

        He eyed you carefully, watching the sinews in your neck come on display for him. Bruising marks of his design were blooming on your skin, little fragments of memories coming to life before his eyes. Your mouth felt like sin and he could already imagine how it would feel to have his cock sliding against the supple lips wrapped around his fingers.

        Ushijima twisted your nipple again, a little harder, a little tighter, feeling pleased with himself as he heard and felt the grumble of a groan against his skin. A small drip of saliva trickled down your chin and he used his thumb to smear it into your cheek.

         He could’ve held you like this for all eternity, had you pressed against his cock, his fingers padded against your tongue, your beautiful breasts on display as he groped one, watching the flesh mold into his hand. He had you subdued, compliant, a wondrous creature caught in a dangerous trap. He could do anything he wanted to you right here and now, and the realization had his cock twitching against your cunt.

         For his own enjoyment, he was going to mark you, leave something behind on the picturesque pallet of your body.

         You would never be allowed to forget him, as he knew this vision of you would forever live inside his mind.

         He took his time, each bite and suck carefully and meticulously placed. Ushiwaka was never one to use his mouth without purpose, whether it be for his words, or his kisses. Your shoulders, your chest, your breasts, nothing was forgotten, and you felt like you had been sitting on his lap for eons. Each time his mouth curled into your flesh, his hair tickling you, you felt hotter, more alive than before. You pressed down harder against him, searching for some kind of release to the pleasure he was building inside of you. But he had you pinned, a strong arm encircled your back and kept you exactly where he wanted you.

         When he sucked your nipple back into his mouth, you cried out against his fingers, your tongue darting between the digits as you sucked a quick breath in through your nose. He paid you no mind, his own tongue licking meticulously at your nipple, up and down, slow and steady. The bliss that erupted from your breast was almost mind-numbing. Your thighs clenched around his, your head lolling back even farther than before. You needed more, you were desperate to feel that talented mouth back on yours, to feel his fat cock slip inside you were you needed it.

         Finally, he released you, his mouth leaving your breast as he slipped his fingers from your mouth. You took a moment to catch your breath. He splashed his drool covered fingers in the water, bringing the wet digits back to your face to wipe you clean, his thumb tracing your lips with care.

        “See what being quiet gets you?”

         You nodded your head in agreement, your nails finally releasing his shoulders where they had been clawing into his skin.

         “I need you,” your arms wrapped around his neck, your mouth finding his in a tender kiss, “please, Ushiwaka.”

         “You beg so prettily, my love. Perhaps I should have you beg a little more.”

         “No! Fuck, please…” you entangled yourself around him, legs curling around his toned waist, your face nestling into his shoulder. You brushed the skin found there with your mouth, hungrily moaning against him. You were frantic; you had already waited for him for so long, thought about him for too many nights, too many years.

         His strong arms enveloped your back and he lifted you easily from the water. You adhered yourself to his body, ready to have your muscles clench around him to assist, but he needed no such help. Your weight was effortless to him.

         Ushijima used the ledge of the pool as a step, faultlessly exiting the pool like a nautical divinity coming to soft shores. He was cautious as he laid your wet body upon the heated stone, careful not to crush you under his weight. He watched your eyes alight as you took in the sight of him out of the water, now hovering above you. Your gentle fingers traced over his biceps, his shoulders, his chest, finding the constellations of scars upon his skin, his own physical galaxy for you to explore.

         He took your face in his hand as one of his muscled thighs spread your legs. You were entranced in his gaze, finding yourself lost in the molten amber of his eyes as his pupils danced across your face. He was taking in every bit of you that he could, burning this vision of you below him into his memory. You were flushed, lips parted, slightly swollen from his ardent kisses. Your delicate hands moved to rest beside your head, palms facing him, submissive.

        “Please,” your voice broke him from his trance, “don’t make me wait any longer.”

         He nodded in response, eyes tracing down across your body. He relished having you before him like this, back arching towards him, breasts falling, your hips shifting against his legs. The hand on your face trailed away, making a path down your torso, fingers swirling against the lost dewy droplets against your skin. And then he finally peered down farther, having to steel himself from groaning as he found your awaiting pussy.

        Your skin was prickling from the cool air meeting it, gooseflesh creeping up your legs, down your arms. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you watched him, waiting for him. You could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind, though you wished you could know them. What was he thinking? Was he hesitant?

        Your own contemplations vanished when his warm, wet fingers spread your pussy, two fingers deftly sinking along the sides of your lower lips. You moaned, eyes fluttering closed, heat pooling within your belly. He took his time exploring you; he was a man of patience, after all.

        You could feel his weight shift back as he sat on his knees, spreading your legs across his thighs. He curled one leg back for him, opening you up more for his viewing pleasure. His finger slowly traced up the center of your cunt, finding your sticky wetness coating the digit as it carefully curled against your clit. You let out a quick gasp, hips twitching, and he repeated the motion, watching you slowly come apart from the simplest of touches.

        His other hand found his cock, fisting it as he played with you. You could hear the slick pumping of his hand against himself, and you moved your weight upon your elbows to sit up and watch him. Even on his knees, Ushijima of Velhad was intimidating, all broad shoulders and heavily corded muscle across his body. You admired how his arm flexed as he stroked himself, how his toned stomach was clenching with need. Your mouth fell open as you glimpsed his thick cock within his palm. It fit so perfectly in his big hand, throbbing, thick veins calling out to be inside of you.

         You wanted to beg for him again, but your words were lost when one of his fingers slid inside of you, stretching your walls to fit around him. You dropped back against the warm stone, mouth falling open.

         “So tight,” he said it like a fact, like he expected it, “you’ll feel so good stuffed with my cock.”

          You bit into your lip in a whimper as he curled the digit inside of you, pumping it once, twice, with agonizing slowness. But soon, he added a second finger, the thick digits spreading you, testing you. His pace was calculated, fingers pleasurably systematic. You moaned at every twist and plunge, hips arching off the floor to meet his pace. His thumb began to circle your clit and you swore that stars overtook your vision, bursting in the corners of your eyes as you tried to focus on the ecstasy churning deep within your stomach. His long fingers were stroking your velvety walls just perfectly, each plunge feeling deeper and deeper than before, fanning the flames beneath your skin even hotter.

        “Ushi, please…”

       “Please what, my love? Tell me.”

        He was particularly cruel, electing to rub your clit faster, harder, making your words choke in your throat. You cried out, feeling the orgasmic coil begin to tighten in your belly. You were already so strung out for his love, for his touch, and you knew your little death was just around the corner.

       “Make me cum, p-please!”

        You felt his heavy body come back to yours, the hand on his cock ceasing its movements and instead finding your hand beside your head. His strong fingers wrapped around your flesh, curling into your forearm, thumb tactfully pinning down your wrist to the stones below.

       He repositioned the hand between your thighs, now using the palm of his hand to press against your aching clit. His fingers found the soft patch of flesh inside of you, petting against it skillfully, like he already knew exactly what you needed, knew exactly what made you fall apart to his immoral hands.

       His face dipped to yours, causing your eyes to flicker open to find his adoring gaze above you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your lips, muffling your moans as your legs began to press against his forearm, thighs begging for the release he could bring you. His mouth matched the rhythm of his fingers within you, his body in harmony with your own, pulling you tightly like the strings on a well-played lute. You were so ready to snap, so ready to sing songs of praise up into him, but all too soon his mouth and his hand left your body.

        He could read the bewilderment on your face, feel you try to press back against him, but he held you down easily with the weight he forced onto your wrist.

        “I want to feel you come undone on my cock,” he whispered against your lips, “are you ready?”

        His hand, now slick from your pussy, pushed your thighs apart wider, curled your legs back farther, his own thighs pressing into your soft flesh. You felt his cockhead brush between your dripping folds.

       “Yes! Take me, for the love of all things hol—!”

        His hips slammed into yours, his throbbing cock filling you, stretching, pressing you far beyond what you expected. He hushed your cry with his mouth, his hand cupping your thigh and urging your body to move with him as he began to thrust within you. Your hand that he pinned to the floor fisted in on itself, your nails threatening to break your own skin as your mind struggled to catch up with your pleasure. You were so full, so fucking full, so overwhelmed by him.

        His dewy, tawny skin felt so sinful against yours, the lingering moisture on your bodies bleeding into one another. His hips were strong, fast, each plunge of his cock going deep, deep, deep into your awaiting depths, finally uncovering every hidden place on your body to have as his own. You gasped and moaned into his mouth, and his sighs melded with yours, his kiss desperate, lips crashing into yours with more fervor than the storm that raged outside.

        You felt so utterly lost, yet so wholly encompassed by him, by his earthy scent, by the weight of his body against yours. Your breasts slid against his chest, nipples pebbling as they brushed against his downy hair. Your back was skating against the warm stones below, the pressure against the hard surface enough to make you ache, but it paled in comparison to the jolts of pure pleasure that resounded through your body with every thrust of his massive cock inside of you.

        “More,” you pleaded softly, lips peppering him with ardent kisses, “more, more, more.”

         You felt him place more pressure on your trapped wrist and you gasped, worried for a split moment that your bones would splinter under his power. But he was cautious, moving your arm gently to rest above your head. The hand on your thigh crept up your body, stopping for only an instant to grope at your bouncing breast. But his fingers quickly moved on, skimming up your other arm, palm smoothing against your dampened skin. He soon found your wrist, now using both his mighty arms to pin your own above your head, leaving you entirely at his mercy.

         “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

          His words were a dare, a wicked promise.

          At the nodding of your head, he smirked, lips coming to your ear.

         “Tell me to stop if it becomes too much, you promise?”

          His thrusts had never faltered, the air in your lungs still hot from all your heavy breaths. You closed your eyes again, finding your voice.

          “I promise.”

          The primal sound that left his chest startled you; you could feel the rumbling spread across your body like aftershocks of an earthquake. His hands around your wrists tightened, arms tensing. He shifted forwards, pushing your hips up, legs wider.

         And then he began to pound mercilessly into your body. You screamed, the high-pitched shrill echoing within the room, rebounding off the walls, soaking into his naked skin. Every fantasy he ever had of you suddenly came alive inside his mind, burning like a roaring fire, making his vision go blind as he pounded himself inside of you. You were so warm, so god damn tight, your pussy sucking him in with every unbridled thrust that he felt like he would break open from all the euphoria that was crackling within him.

        He called out your name, over, and over, and over again, reminding himself who he was with, who he finally had coming undone below him. He was still holding back, too afraid of breaking you, but even still his hips moved faster, harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing in his ears like the constant moans and praises that feel from your mouth.

         “Ushi, fuck, fuck, yes!”

         He was being cruel, he knew it, slamming into you like this, making your body bow into the floor, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel that coil that was tightening inside of you earlier come to fruition on his cock, he needed to spill his seed inside of you.

         You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel what was happening to you. All your focus was upon his cock stretching your pussy, filling you so perfectly that you knew you’d never want to feel another again. It was like you were made for him; all your limits were being pushed at once. Your wrists ached within his grip, surely bruising under such an immense hold, but you felt secure, safe underneath his power.

         Your knees were bent to their threshold of flexibility, your ass now well above the floor as he curled you to fit him. His cock was so deep, his thrusts now remaining almost entirely inside of you, pounding away at your insides like a man gone mad. You were at the borders of your composure.

         “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, eyes watering, mouth open, body stinging, longing, begging for him, “g-gonna, gonna, cum!”

         “That’s right,” he murmured, tongue daring to skim the shell of your ear, “cum on my cock, baby, cum for me.”

          Your nails finally pierced the flesh of your palms as you came completely undone around him, orgasm bursting forth and blooming around you in euphoria. All your senses came crashing down, every small detail becoming more alive and ever present than ever before. It was all so much, the pleasure pooling in your belly and spreading across your body faster than lightning that raced across the sky. His hot breath was against your neck, your legs aching, blood dripping down your palms, water still cooling against your skin, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. You could hear every sound: your screams ringing against the stone, his grunts into your hair, the wet suck of your pussy around his cock, even the still water resting in the pool.

          Your body was wrecked with tremors as he continued his ruthless assault, sweat beading at the nape of his neck. Your orgasm drenched his cock with thick, wet slick, encouraging him to drive a little harder, push a little deeper. He heard little pained gasps from your mouth, but he warned you he was corrupt, told you to stop him, yet you were taking him so fucking well, so fucking perfect like he knew you would. He was so close, so painfully close, his cock throbbing, his rigorous pace becoming unsettled as he felt your sweet thighs wrap around him.

          Then there it was, the sound of your voice, the sound of his goddess calling to him.

          “I want your cum, n-need it, please, fill me up, make me yours.”

          He finally crashed, your words like the irresistible call of a siren. Hot cum filled your tight pussy, his cock thumping deep inside your womb. You felt like you could breathe again, his inhuman strength finally laxing upon your ruined body.

          His mouth found yours again, his lips tender and now so familiar and welcoming. The tension in your body washed away, his loving hands tracing over your body as he allowed your legs to finally rest. Your heart was hammering in your chest; you could feel every beat inside your rib cage as you finally calmed down, mind returning, body waking up from its lust.

         Ushijima slid himself from inside of you, leaving your body with a groan of satisfaction. He watched his cum pool between your thighs, pearl white and stark against the stones. He looked up at you, all of you, admiring your spent body below him. He watched how your breasts heaved with breaths, how your eyes were blinking mindlessly up at the ceiling as you came down from your high.

        But then he recognized the bruises on your arms, the bites on your chest, the indentions of the stone upon your sides, the bloody nail prints in your open palms. He cursed himself, cursed his monstrous hands—he knew he was never meant to hold you, that he was unworthy.

        “I hurt you.”

         His simple words brought you back to reality.

         You sat up then, stretching your body as you came face-to-face with him once more.

         “Oh please.” You chided, a smile forming on your face as you cast a simple spell within your torn hands. He eyed you curiously as the blue tinge of magic twisted within your palms, your small wounds closing, even the marks upon your chest healing to a more reasonable color. They were still there, the small reminders he created, but they would fade on their own in a few days.

         You took his face in your hands, thumbs caressing his handsome cheeks.

         “No more grief, Ushiwaka. Please, for me?”

          He only drew you closer in response, cradling you in his arms.

          A few words of thanks came forth from his mouth, but you paid them little mind, too caught up in his embrace. You remained entangled in one another for a moment longer, both at ease in the company of each other’s breaths, your heart beats, the feeling of fingers skimming over skin.

        “Stay with me awhile?” You questioned softly into his chest.

        “Did you think I was going to leave after that?”

        “You always leave, you know, at some point.”

        “Not this time, my love. I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

         You both felt the pull then, the same tug that you had both longed to feel for so long.

         You were at home.

         Ushijima pulled you to your feet, wordlessly leading you to get dressed and follow him back into your great room. You saw the books still open on your desk, forlorn and nearly forgotten.

         He settled back into the chair after stoking the fire in your pit, bringing the flames back to life. He stretched out, yawned, and appeared wholly comfortable there, magnificent arms crossed upon his chest.

         You could get used to seeing him there, and you knew little by little, he’d allow you to read his pages, too.

_______________________________________________________________________

Note: I don’t own anything from Haikyuu or the Witcher Universe. 

Taglist: @badtimechara​ @present-mel​ @sgoldberg1997​ @donica95​ @hi-itsbonny​ @linestrider​ @shoutosplaything​ @kyberhearts​ @dhyaena​ @heyybrittannia​ @thisisthehardestthing​ @presmiic​ @kittifer​ @lemonsqueexx​ @iwaizumi-chan​ @kitten-on-ecstasy​ @dekulover​ @thatpeachybandgirl​ @skincrepe​ @whats-her-quirk​ @littlewhitefairy7777​ @unboundbnha​ @tinitimesims125​ @disasteren​ @misfitgirlwrites​ @tsum-samu​ @pineappleinmyass​

[onlyangelcas]

Mountains, canyons, oceans, forests, and deserts. Castiel has seen every last one of them, even watched their formation, stood observant as his brothers carved out breathtaking landscapes across the earth.

Of all the earthly and cosmic sights he has seen, nothing comes close to the scene in front of him. Dean, fast asleep on their well-loved leather sofa, lips parted and breathing softly. Jack snuggled close to his chest, cheek squished adorably with a thin line of drool pooling onto Dean’s shirt. Jack snores in that quiet toddler way, his blonde hair wispy and curling around his face. Dean has one hand pressed firmly against Jack’s back, where it came to rest as he rubbed circles between his shoulder blades until he fell asleep.

They both look so peaceful, so perfect. Cas wants so desperately for them to always look this serene. He feels breathless as he looks at the two of them, his family. They are so beautiful, more to behold in those two precious bodies than the entire earth and heavens combined.

Cas stretches a hand toward Jack’s face, runs the back of his index finger down the soft skin of his cheek. He reaches for the blanket folded across the back of the couch and drapes it over his husband and son. He runs a hand through Jack’s soft curls, and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. Cas shifts his focus to Dean, drinking in every freckle and laugh line etched into his skin. He leans in and presses soft kisses to Dean’s face, one on each cheek, one to his forehead.

Cas steps back, unable to tear his eyes away from the two people he loves most in this world. He knows he should wake Dean, gently pry Jack out of his arms and carry him to his own bed. Dean’s back is going to ache from sleeping on the couch like that, he’s not 20 anymore and the sofa doesn’t agree with his aging bones. He should wake Dean up, before his muscles start to protest, but he can’t bring himself to disturb them.

Instead, Cas curls up in his favorite armchair, pulling a throw blanket over his lap. He props his elbow against the arm of the chair and rests his chin in his hand, still transfixed by the beauty in front of him.

Kilimanjaro, the Grand Canyon, Salto Ángel, Sognefjorden, the Sahara, all breathtaking examples of the earth sculpted so meticulously, with such care. When it comes down to it, it’s all just rocks and water. Minerals, elements, and atoms pieced together to carefully construct unfathomable beauty.

Those places, they could never compare to the two hearts that beat in front of him.

[liannyeong]

Crimson (Chapter 11)

Summary: Jaebeom and Yujin attends the autumn festival hosted by the Air court.

Word count: 4390

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): some fluff, some angst :o

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Finally managed to put this up albeit late. D: Anyway, let me know what you think about this chapter! ^^ Show your support for my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for random updates.

Once again, Yujin stands before Jaebeom, in the fog. The fae is emotionless, just staring at her with his crimson eyes. He doesn’t even reach out to her, doesn’t even look at her with the usual fondness. 

"Jaebeom, can’t you see?” Yujin speaks first, holding up a finger. “My heart is already in your hands."

The Fire fae looks down, Yujin following suit. His right hand is stained, red liquid dripping onto the ground. Similar to the previous dream, there is a beating heart in his hold. As if curious, Jaebeom goes on to squeeze it. Immediately, Yujin doubles over, her fingers clutching at her chest, nails digging into the skin. Yet, Jaebeom seems the least affected. He spares her a glance, before clenching his fists tight, knuckles turning white. Visually, Yujin can see how the heart in his hand is further compressed, as if he’s wringing the laundry. Yujin’s knees buckle slightly before she collapses to the ground. She screams, the pain in her chest excruciating, tears streaming down her face. Despite that, Jaebeom doesn’t stop. It’s as if he’s blind to her pain, deaf to her screams. It’s as if he doesn’t care what’ll happen to her at all. His fingers continue to dig into the heart, until finally, it punctures through. Blood splatters everywhere, some droplets land on his face, onto the ground, some even reaching Yujin.

Yujin gasps for air, her breathing getting weaker by each passing second.

“Why…?” the female croaks out helplessly.

Jaebeom brings up his free hand. A ball of fire is produced on his palm -- larger than any he has ever conjured. The fire spreads up to his elbow, engulfing his entire left arm. The fae looks mesmerized by his new ability, turning his arm around, his eyes reflecting the light of the dancing fire. In the next moment, the flame dissipates completely.

Jaebeom glances down to the heart in his other hand, before darting his eyes back at Yujin. He holds it up, and fire ignites once more. This time, Yujin watches as the flame engulfs the heart, as the flame turns from orange to a deep blue, as the heart scorches in the heat. She watches as the muscle turns to ashes. Her vision goes out.

“Yujin, my love,” she hears a sweet voice calling her repeatedly. She feels someone shaking her body awake.

Opening her eyes, Jaebeom is already peering at her, his face contorted in worry. Her mind flashes the image of dream Jaebeom, and Yujin jolts up, nearly butting heads with the male.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Jaebeom soothes her, running a hand up and down her back. Then, he pulls her for a hug. “I’m here.”

Immediately, the tension in Yujin’s body vanishes, though tears are flowing down her cheeks.

“Jaebeom, you love me, right?” she mutters.

“Of course I do,” the male answers, tightening his arms around her. “You had a bad dream, that’s all. If the dream told you otherwise, then know that this Jaebeom has always loved you.”

Yujin nods slightly, burying her face into his chest. Despite the nightmares relating to Jaebeom, it’s only a dream. Why it occurs, Yujin doesn’t know. But perhaps, it stems from her insecurity that she’s nothing compared to the person Jaebeom holds dear. In the end, Jaebeom has assured her of his love, and Yujin finds comfort in that. 

Don’t you worry, Yujin tells her heart, Jaebeom loves us.

---

The day of the Air court autumn festival arrives in no time. Yujin wears a cream-colored wrap dress, personally designed by Bam. The dress is made of linen, but it flows beautifully whenever Yujin moves. The skirt reaches her ankles, and there is a slit at the side that exposes her left leg. Yujin finds it simple, nothing too eye-catching, but the couturier was confident that Yujin will outshine Yena. That Jaebeom will never take his eyes off her! Yujin had laughed it off then, had shaken her head in amusement.

But when she emerges from her room and meets Jaebeom at the bottom of the main staircase, it seems to her that Bam's words ring true. The male is staring at her in pure awe. He's wearing all black underneath the maroon overcoat. Part of his chest peeks through his satin shirt, the top few buttons left undone. Jaebeom has his hair slicked back neatly, exposing the beauty marks above his left eye.

"You look amazing," he exhales, as if he's catching his breath. His hand goes to her waist, fingertips lingering there.

"You look dashing too," Yujin returns. She tugs at his shirt and buttons it, except for the topmost one. "But that was too much. I don't want anyone else looking at you."

Jaebeom laughs. "Don't worry, my love. Only you get to see my all," he says, adding a wink.

"It better be," Yujin utters, pouting.

The male strokes her cheek, his eyes fond. He doesn't reply in words. Instead, he presses a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“Shall we?” Jaebeom gestures to the front door, one hand sliding from Yujin's waist to the small of her back. 

Outside, a carriage is prepared for them, though there are no horses to pull it. A fae waits beside it, someone Yujin has never seen before. His eyes are white, indicating that he's an Air fae. Yujin reckons he's tasked to usher the couple to the Air court.

The fae opens the carriage door and Yujin climbs in first. The space inside appears small but when Jaebeom enters, the carriage seems to accomodate for the both of them. Still, they're pressed together, shoulders and knees knocking, even though there is a gap between Jaebeom and the door. Yujin bites down her smile, at the thought that Jaebeom wants to be close to her as much as possible.

When the door clicks shut, Jaebeom knocks at the roof with a pattern. In the next moment, Yujin feels a slight shake to the carriage before she hears a pop sound in her ears. The temperature has dropped and when Yujin exhales, a puff of air is released.

The door opens from outside and Jaebeom climbs out first. Yujin follows behind, popping her head out. The mansion is gone. What beholds in front of her is a huge palace, its walls are the dullest gray. Yujin recalls that the Air faefolks live in the mountains. There are low-lying clouds covering the pillars, almost hiding it away from view.

There isn't anyone around to receive them, that Yujin briefly wonders if they arrived early. Suddenly, a person dressed in a white robe appears in front of them. He has a hood on, the shadows underneath covering his face. He forms an incomplete circle with his hands before pushing it towards the couple. A gust of wind is produced. Then, the man ushers both Jaebeom and Yujin through the bushes, instead of going up the main stairs to the front door. They approach a wall of bricks and  Yujin watches with curious eyes as the man waves a hand across. The wall splits in the middle, sliding to the sides to reveal a tunnel. Yujin reckons this is the secret pathway that Jaebeom told her about. They hadn't meet any other fae since their arrival.

Only when the wall merges back did the mysterious man pull off his hood.

"Pardon me for not greeting you earlier," Youngjae places a hand to his chest out of respect, "I didn't want to risk being seen."

"But we didn't even cover our faces though?" Yujin asks, confused.

Youngjae laughs. "Well, I casted a spell on you, distorting the air around you and making you momentarily invisible."

"Woah," Yujin lets out in amazement.

"Follow me," the prince beckons, stepping onto a wooden plank that is large enough for the three of them. There are rods of metal at the sides. "You might want to hold on tight."

Jaebeom cages Yujin between his arms, his hands curled around the metal railings. "This is the fun part," he whispers to her ear.

Youngjae faces the back, and moves both his arms in a circular motion. The makeshift cart starts to move in the opposite direction slowly, before building up its speed. Jaebeom screams in pure joy, enjoying the ride. Yujin can't help but join him, a smile on her face as they move through the long tunnel.

It doesn't take long for them to arrive at the very end, though Yujin wonders how much longer it would take if they had walked. A spiral staircase is in sight and Yujin peers up. It's an endless flight of stairs, and if they have to climb all the way to the top, she reckons she'd pass out. Thankfully, they're saved from it because Youngjae exits through the door on the third floor.

They needed to navigate through a few more corridors before they finally reached the ballroom. Nevertheless, because they’re at the higher floors, they are practically invisible. At this position, they can oversee the mass of faefolk at the main ballroom. Interestingly, Yujin notices faes of all sizes and all elements in the crowd. She had always thought that the different elemental faefolk cannot bear the sight of each other. Perhaps they’re civil just for today.

Youngjae continues moving forward, not once batting an eye at the event below. There's a door at the end of the hallway, and as they come closer, there are voices on the other side. At this, Jaebeom takes Yujin's hand, their fingers interlocking. Youngjae knocks on the door before pushing it open. 

Before Yujin could even peer her head in, Jaebeom is sent backwards, their hands released. Yujin's surprised expression quickly turns to anger because it is Yena who has her arms around Jaebeom’s neck, legs off the floor. She can't fault Jaebeom for having his hand on the princess' back. He needed to keep them steady, but still, she can't help the jealousy bubbling in her chest.  

"You came!" Yena squeals.

“Princess Yena, behave. Is that how the future Queen carries herself?” says an air of authority.

Almost instantly, Yena detaches herself from Jaebeom, her face sulky.

“Queen Choi,” Jaebeom greets, kneeling before the owner of the voice.

Yujin stares. The queen is the embodiment of the white color. Everything on her body is white: her eyes, her long hair that nearly touches the floor, her pale skin that is akin to snow. Even her clothing is white! Looking between the queen and the princess, Yujin realizes that Yena bears a striking resemblance to her mother. They're almost identical, if not for the height.

“So,” the queen speaks, glancing at Yujin, “This is your… wife?”

Her voice is cold and distant, and it sobers Yujin up. She mimics the same movement Jaebeom did, though she hears a snicker from Yena. The queen scans Yujin up and down, as if evaluating her.

“Yes, my Queen, this is Yujin, my beloved,” Jaebeom answers, tugging the female close by the waist when she stands again.

“Lovely,” Queen Choi replies coolly. “I hope you'll enjoy the day today. There's lots of events you may want to check out, though I'm uncertain if it is to your wife's tastes."

Then, she hastily turns to the two siblings. “Come along, you two. We need to address the other guests." She exits the room, not sparing a second glance to the couple.

Yena has a sweet smile on her face when she turns to Jaebeom. “Don't leave until I get back," she says, "I'll see you later."

She trails behind the queen, but not before sending a glare at Yujin.

“You can watch us from the ballroom balcony,” Youngjae supplies kindly. “Our servant will tend to you if you need anything at all.”

---

Jaebeom and Yujin have been left alone on the ballroom balcony. The servant assigned to them was long dismissed by Jaebeom after setting up a table for them to dine. While the royal family stated that this event is to celebrate the arrival of autumn and the kinship between the different fae courts, Yujin finds that it is more geared towards showing off the strength of the Air court. They showcased a variety of talents and performances: dancing, singing, and martial arts. Being performers themselves, Youngjae and Yena put on a special performance themselves as the grand finale.

“How do you find it so far?” Jaebeom asks, leaning closer to Yujin. The cheers from the crowd are so loud that they need to talk over the noise.

“It’s fascinating,” Yujin answers honestly. “It’s my first anyway.”

The fae nods. “Yeah, you’ve been watching the stage intently from the beginning.”

“Oh?” Yujin lets out, darting her eyes to the male. Then she narrows her eyes. “Have you been watching me?”

The fae smiles wide, unabashed at being caught. He leans closer, slipping a hand beneath the skirt of her dress, onto her bare knee.

“Took you that long to notice?” Jaebeom asks in a low voice. Slowly, inch by inch, his hand trails up her thigh, on her bare skin. Yujin feels a tingle coursing through her veins. She tries to hold back a whimper.

“S-Shouldn’t you pay attention to the performance?” Yujin exhales shakily, wrapping a hand around his wrist, trying to halt his movements.

“Hmm, why should I?” The fae feigns ignorance.

“It’s your friends--”

“Oh? So you’d rather I pay attention to Youngjae and Yena instead?”

The way he emphasizes the word brings a bitter feeling in her chest.

“N-no…”

“Hmm, I don’t quite understand,” Jaebeom drops his voice even lower, barely a whisper, “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to watch the performance? Or do you not want me to watch the performance. Which is it?”

At this, Jaebeom slides his hand higher, up her inner thigh, close to the end. This time, Yujin can’t help the whimper that escapes her mouth. Embarrassed, she presses her palm to her mouth.

“J-Jaebeom, please--”

“Please what?” he murmurs at the shell of her ear.

“Please stop…”

Yujin can sense a smirk on the male’s face. “Stop?” he echoes, “You seem to like it though?”

“You c-can’t do this here--”

“Hmm, and what am I doing? I’m just holding you close, that’s all,” he whispers, an innocent smile on his lips.

At this point, Jaebeom is pressed against her, their shoulders, thighs and knees knocking. The warmth from his body is pure temptation. Yujin realizes that she’s powerless against him. She’s caught between drowning herself in the pool of heat and pushing him away. Still, there’s something so thrilling being intimate in the open. They could be easily caught if anyone were to look up.

Entranced, Yujin doesn’t even repulse when Jaebeom tips her chin up. She just lets him, losing all control. Their lips meet, and it’s electrifying. Tongues sliding over each other, moans swallowed.

They kiss fervently for a long time, only pulling away to catch their breath before diving in again. Yujin feels Jaebeom’s fingers traveling further north, and she’s sure he’s about to do something else, something more--

A commotion occurs at the main ballroom and they unceremoniously break apart. Yujin sees a shade of red on Jaebeom’s face, and she wonders if she looks the same. They hastily adjust their clothing, patting down any creases, pushing away any loose hair strands that have fallen over their faces.

The crowd below is slowly dispersing, indicating that the performances have come to an end. The stage is cleared, and a few moments later, the royal siblings approach the couple. Jaebeom rises to honor them, pulling them into a congratulatory hug.

“Beautiful performance, the both of you!” he praises, but Yujin blushes. It’s a clear lie -- they were busy doing something else instead, but the siblings definitely don't need to know that.

“Thank you for coming down to see us,” Youngjae says. “We really appreciate it.”

Jaebeom winds an arm around Yujin, squeezing her shoulder as he responds, “Yujin enjoyed it a lot. She found the performances truly amazing.”

She can only offer a smile through pursed lips.

“That aside,” Yena speaks, her face clearly annoyed, “We’d like to have a private audience with Jaebeom. We have important things to discuss.” 

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Youngjae adds with a polite smile.

“In the meantime, we have prepared a room for you to rest in.” Yena chimes in, “Otherwise, our servant can show you around if you like.”

Still, it’s not the same to be around the faes without Jaebeom. Yujin is reluctant to let him go.

“It’s alright,” Jaebeom assures her, noticing her discomfort. “Jinyoung should be around. You can find him if you don’t wish to be alone.”

Yujin hears a scoff from Yena and her mutter, “What a weakling.”

Something about it ticks her off, so Yujin tiptoes and presses her lips against Jaebeom’s. She has to show Yena that Jaebeom is hers, that Jaebeom cannot be taken away from her. When she pulls away, Jaebeom stares at her, surprised that Yujin would show such affection in front of an audience.

“Come back to me soon,” she whispers.

“You know I will,” he breathes, smiling. He proceeds to plant a kiss on the back of her hand. Then, he follows the Choi siblings into the hallway, and Yujin watches their retreating backs.

---

In the end, Yujin decided to wait for Jaebeom in the guest room that the royal family has prepared. She’d rather stay in a room than roam the palace alone. The guest room is definitely larger than her room in the mansion -- probably twice or thrice the size!

“Princess Yena has kindfully picked out this room for you,” the servant shared when they entered the room. “She suggests heading out to the balcony when the sun has set and the sky is dark.”

True enough, the view from the balcony is breathtaking. The room faces the mountain landscape and oversees the entire Air court. Despite the drifting clouds, the lights from each home of the Air faefolk shine through, creating a reflection of the night sky. The celebration has not ended, for Yujin can see a sea of crowds through the streets. She can hear the echoes of chatter and laughter. A sudden pang of loneliness hits her, and she wishes for Jaebeom’s company.

Yujin smiles to herself. What has Jaebeom done to her? She misses him even though they hadn’t spent a day apart. Perhaps love does change people.

“Hello, Yujin,” greets a voice, much to Yujin’s surprise. She whips her head around to see Jinyoung leaning against the wall closest to the balcony. “I did knock. You just didn’t hear it.”

“Right,” the female responds, turning back to the scenic view.

“Why, are you disappointed I’m not Jaebeom?” the fae teases. “Do you miss him that much already?”

“Shut up, Jinyoung,” she mutters, cheeks turning red at being caught. “Why are you here?”

He shrugs. “Jaebeom requested that I accompany you.” 

“Such a loyal brother. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, you know. I’m perfectly fine here.”

Jinyoung scoffs. “Perfectly fine, you say? You look like you’re moping around, waiting for your beloved to return! What’s that famous mortal play-- Oh! Romeo and Juliet!” The fae clears his throat and raises his hands up, his face crumpled to portray sadness. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Yujin lets out an exasperated sigh, pressing her hands to her ears. She can still hear Jinyoung’s cackling though.

“Alright, alright,” the fae gives in, “I shall not disturb you any further. I’ll relay the message to Jaebeom that his beloved is yearning for his return.” He proceeds to exit the room, but not before calling out, “You’re welcome!”

Yujin only shakes her head in disapproval.

It doesn’t take long before the door creaks open again. Without looking over, Yujin huffs, “I thought you said you were gonna leave me alone?”

“Yes, I will, but I thought I should tell you this,” comes a reply from a voice much higher than Jinyoung’s. Yujin immediately turns around, her eyes blown wide at the presence of Yena in front of her. What the hell is she doing here?

The princess has her arms crossed over her chest. She’s changed out of her previous outfit, now dressed in a similar fashion as Queen Choi.

“Stay away from Jaebeom if you want to live,” the fae threatens.

Yujin mimics her posture, tipping her chin up. “And why should I do that?”

“Do you really think Jaebeom loves you?” Yena taunts. “I suppose he didn’t tell you, did he? About his grand plan.”

Yujin frowns. “What are you on about?”

A devilish grin appears on the Air fae’s lips. “Oh, what a pity! That's proof that he doesn’t love you. Yet you are so blinded by his sweet words and touches--”

“Cut the crap! Tell me what do you mean by that! What grand plan?” Yujin snaps.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the princess simply says before moving away. But Yujin grabs her by the shoulder. The fae slaps her arm away, and shoves her aside.

“You dare touch me?” Yena growls.

“I don’t know what you’re plotting, but it won’t work. Jaebeom and I, we trust each other, we love each other! You can’t break our bond that easily!”

Yena barks a laugh. “He really reeled you in, huh? I won’t feed you with words, but you can find the truth at the fountain in the Garden.”

“The Garden?”

“Yes, that magical garden within the Im premise. That same Garden that has been calling out for you for so long.”

How does she know that? Yujin wonders.

“There’s a water fountain in the center,” the princess continues. “Put your head in the water and you’ll see the truth.”

Yujin narrows her eyes, highly skeptical. “What makes you think I’ll trust your words? Besides, I can’t enter it. I may be killed if I try.”

Yena looks at her amusingly. “He told you so many lies and you still think he loves you?” she retorts. “Yes, the Garden will strike against intruders or the like, but the Garden will never attack you. After all, you are its owner.”

Yujin frowns, even more confused. “What--”

“Heed my warning,” the Air fae interrupts, heading towards the door, “Stay away from Jaebeom if you want to live.”

---

Yujin’s mind has been going through Yena’s words over and over again. She mentioned something about a grand plan. What could that possibly be? Is it something related to Jaebeom’s revolution? But he’s striving for a cause, for equality! Why did Yena make it sound more sinister? And the Garden! What did she mean by Yujin being its owner? She was never involved in its construction.

Yujin is perched on the edge of the bed, her head buried into her hands, tugging at her hair. Just what is happening? A few hours ago, she was preoccupied with Jaebeom’s ministrations, overtly intimate with him. But now, Yena has messed up her mind, leaving her confused. Does she truly know Jaebeom? Or is Yena just instilling doubt in her heart? Is this part of the game Yena is playing? Or is this truly a whole deception?

Memories of the nightmares cross her mind. Words from her father ring in her head again. The faes are skilled in deluding people. But no, Yujin refuses to believe it. Everything that Jaebeom has done for her… How can it not be genuine?

The sound of a door slamming breaks Yujin from her dismay. It seems like it’s from a floor somewhere below her room.

"Jaebeom, please--”

That’s Yena’s voice.

She hears a sigh next. That must be Jaebeom.

Quietly, Yujin tiptoes back to the balcony. She keeps herself still, not moving a single muscle as she strains her ears.

“You know my feelings for you. You know that I'm in love with you! I’ve always loved you, and have always been!" Yujin hears Yena say. Are they arguing?

"Of course I know,” Jaebeom responds, “I would be blind if I don't notice your feelings for me.”

"Then why won't you take me as your love?" the other asks, sounding frustrated. "Why do you still have that mortal as your wife?"

"Yena, darling," the affectionate way Jaebeom calls the fae makes Yujin’s heart drop. She feels angry. Betrayed even. "I told you, didn’t I? Yujin could be the key to our mission."

Yujin’s blood runs cold. What?

"Yet you seem to care so much about her. You refuse to lay a finger on her even though all you need is her heart.”

Yujin swallows her saliva. He needs my heart...? She musters some courage to peer over the balcony. Jaebeom has taken Yena’s hands in his, fingers loosely interlocking. Yujin suddenly feels out of place, as if she’s intruding into something intimate. The side of their faces are illuminated by the light from inside the room. Still, there is no mistaking that fond look in Jaebeom’s eyes. It’s the same gaze he’s looked at her too.

"It's not that easy, Yena," comes Jaebeom’s response. “I need her trust. I need her to fall for me so that she can do whatever I tell her to. All of these take time, you know that.”

"And when that's done, will you then come to me?" Yena drawls, almost purring, stepping closer to the male.

"Definitely," Jaebeom mutters, tucking a hair strand behind Yena’s ear.

Yujin feels sick to the stomach. Her knees buckle, and she drops to the floor. She clasps her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs.

Is everything a lie from the very beginning? Is she nothing but a deal to Jaebeom? A tool for him to use? What about those sweet memories that they’ve created together? Does that mean nothing at all to Jaebeom?

If Jaebeom needs her heart, she'll never live to see another day. Is that what Yena warned her about?

Yujin wipes her tears away. Yena mentioned that the Garden will show her the truth. She will have to access it, no matter what it takes. She doesn’t know what to believe in. She can only hope that the Garden will be the truth that she seeks.

[spacemilkies]

Ff7 request, Reno likes his girl taking some control over him when it comes to intimate things. Being dominated a little, he finds it extremely hot. Nsfw, sfw, your choice, but maybe some steamy kissing? Hair pulling, groping, idk, whatever you come up with ;)

Black Forest | Reno x Reader

‘The only thing harder than being a Turk, was loving one’

i

a/n: this was pretty much all mature content? but i'm not ashamed of it in the slightest. adding it to the black forest series, bc why not. thank you for the request!

When people thought of Reno, three things came to mind. 

1. His love to fly

2. His love to flirt shamelessly,

3. His love to gossip freely. 

It built the character of the cocky and often cynical Turk with a lazy disposition toward analytical genius. 

When Reno thought of you, three different attributes came to mind, all centered around his adoration of your more assertive nature.       

   1#: Your love for attention.

Reno is convinced that he has a sixth sense for you, acutely aware every time you’re in proximity. It’s always been a distracting quality, whether in the heat of battle or now, relaxed comfortably against the couch with suspicious eyes as you kneel innocently between his spread thighs. 

His call with Rude had started with business but eventually simmered into more mundane topics of social affairs and various forms of entertainment. Their partnership wasn’t a strong union without a bit of off-the-clock bonding. 

It served as some much needed guy time, which was very prominently exclusive from yours. 

Your selfish desire to have his attention at any given moment should have been an aggravating quality if you didn’t look so damn sexy with your attempts to garner it. Even now as his gaze follows the curve of your back as you arch to press your bosom against his chest. 

He knows where this is leading immediately, yet only a small part of him feels bad for Rude. 

“I … ah, no Yeah, I’m listening. I missed that highlight though. Tell me about it.”

Reno is aware of the tremor already thrumming at the end of his speech, an element of the situation that he can’t really do anything about. Neither about the hitch as you adjust your weight to hover over his apex, undulating your hips at a leisure pace with a whisper of friction. It’s the visual of promise that does most of the work as he watches the show through a half-lidded gaze. His arousal spiked the moment you entered the room and you already had a tight grip on the reins.

His leisure wear around the house does nothing to hide the thick line of provocation raising against the fabric. Reno tips his head back against the couch, the column of his throat jumping with a thick swallow as you adopt a more purposeful rhythm. 

Sunlight spills across the whiteness of your smile as he responds brokenly to a prompt you can’t pick up on the other line. There’s a tremor to his hold of the phone, tight enough that you wonder if he’ll end the call prematurely before your fun is over. 

Poor Rude has to know something is up as he fruitlessly attempts to gather the fraying threads of Reno’s attention. You can finally hear the deep baritone of his voice when you duck your head to run the flat of your tongue against Reno’s collar. There you nibble at the bone, teeth catching in away that he can’t ignore as a low groan tumbles from the redhead’s lips. 

It’s enough to shift the rules of the game as you break an unnamed vow of silence, breathless sounds catching as you work yourself harder against the wet stain pooling in his lap. The pleasure is more than mutual now, Reno’s shoulder’s going taut with strain. He wets his lips sloppily and tilts his hips upwards to catch the downward drag against his more than interested erection. 

The moment he opens his mouth to speak, you’re there to kiss the heat straight from his tongue, demanding entrance without question as your tongue slides against his aperture. With a whimper and sigh, you shift closer. 

You’re not sure who breaks the kiss first, only reminded of a certain third party as Reno’s mouth skims down your chin.

“Sorry, Rude. It appears I’ve been summoned.”

#2 Your love to punish.

“Aw, Reno are you crying?”

He wasn’t, he wanted to deny vehemently. But as his eyes drew in tight together and the moisture collected against his lashes it didn't make for a very convincing argument. Shifting fruitlessly, Reno draws in a harrowing breath as the strain of his muscles pulls against the taut restraints pinning him to the bed frame. 

It had taken him too long into a week of silence to realize he was the reason behind it. He had interpreted your cold shoulders and lack of communication as stress on the job, certainly not taking into account the plethora of time it allowed you to simmer about his blunder. 

A fault he still couldn't pinpoint but he was sure if he asked anyone at the office, they would be able to procure a list out of nowhere. The redhead had a tendency to align towards recklessness and careless attitudes which more than often spelt trouble. One would think he would have learned his lesson by now. But they weren’t privy to the curriculum of those classes. 

Or how enjoyable they were.

Or maybe he was just a bit of a masochist. 

Folded snuggly around his turgid cock, Reno found heaven in the pits of hell as your drenched core worked back and forth. You were a sight to behold, seemingly unaffected aside from a light sheen of sweats as you grind the bareness of your flesh against his. While he’s the opposite, harsh pants and uninhibited whimpers. 

And you enjoy it all with a wicked smile. 

You adjust your hands, placing on against the firm heat of his chest while the other braces against the white curve of his shoulder, fingers curling into a visible pressure that blooms against the color of his skin. Your back arches, allowing the head of his cock to catch at the ring of your entrance before rotating back to ride back down his shaft. 

His arms jerk with the motion of trying to reach, but it's an empty action without any real intent. More of a reflex than anything else. The spill of his precum makes a sticky web between your fingers as you circle the sensitive slit with your thumb. He’s swollen and fat and barely hanging on by a prayer.

With the help of a cock ring it might have made it easier. No matter how hard he tried to cum it just wouldn’t be in his cards. But there was something more beautiful about the curtailment he holds himself accountable to, resisting the urge to blow when having all the freedom to do so. 

There is active pleasure in riding him like this, feeling every vein of his throbbing arousal spike gratification against your sensitive walls. But the true satisfaction came from every shudder and choked groan as he shakes his head to fight off the haze. 

Mercy is a thin promise, slippery as your tongue skims across the seam of his lips. He believes it’s the closest he’ll get to tasting you, a bitter whimper leaking from his mouth in a muffled sound. The kiss is messy and hungry as you allow him the opportunity to sample your pleasure. 

It only takes a subtle twist of the hips to guide his cock back in line as you back into the press of him inside you. Your wetness spills around him, almost excessively so as it spills against his inner thigh. It doesn’t take much for you to lose traction of your own orgasm, nothing stopping you from quaking freely around him as he rolls into a few finishing thrusts before stilling. 

He’s rock hard, tremulous and near delirium and yet-

“Fuck me … I’m so in love with you.”

#3 You love the satisfaction of pleasing what's yours.

“You look stressed.”

Despite the mountain of paperwork on his desk, Reno’s attention was happily placed elsewhere. Before rolling to you, his gaze seemed very attentive to the screen of his phone as his fingers tapped a rhythm that looked more familiar to a mobile game than a response for a work related email. But now that you were here, he seemed pleased to have a new distraction. 

Curling his fingers inward, he beckoned you closer and the moment you were in reach he pulled you into his lap.

“Beyond fucked over, you see all this shit Tseng has me doing?”

Laughing humorously at his expense, you leaned in to press a kiss to the generous exposure of his chest. “If that’s the same stack I saw delivered in here earlier today, I’m more inclined to say the blame is in your park. Did you even try?”

The hand at your waist squeezed as his lips formed something between a gripe and a grumble of complaint. “Of course I’ve been workin, yo. What do I look like, a freeloader?”

It was an open invitation that took credible effort not to buy into. 

“You look like you could use a bit of TLC.”

Bracing against his shoulder, you readjust yourself to straddle his lap. Taking his face into your hands, you coax him into a slow kiss the taste of stale coffee and mints mixing with your own tang. Reno bites your tongue and you reflexively tangle your hands in his hair to pull it taut. 

He winces at the action but doesn’t complain. “What are the chances of you riding me being in that wholesome itinerary of yours?”

You take the opportunity to make him flinch again, this time away from the sharp nip of your teeth against his bottom lip. “Slim to none.”

He offered a placating medium by rubbing his palms against your thighs, “So what do you have in mind then?”

His answer comes in the form of your hands at his buckle. 

Pleased with the predictable but unvoiced assumption, Reno leans back readily in his chair to give you ample room. “Oh, shit yeah.”

Rolling your eyes, you free him from his briefs and curl your fingers around his length,”Try not to embarrass yourself.”

The redhead hisses out a ‘yes, ma’am’, instinctively rocking his hips into the downward thrust of your hand. You pull away just long enough to spit crudely into your palm before returning with an underhand grip. Anticipation seizes his muscles, overlaying the strain of stress as eyes slid shut. 

At home you would have gone for a more languid approach, mimicking a gentle massage to build him up slowly and bring him down just as gently. But work offers a different time restraint as you work up to a more persistent, fluid motion strokes. 

The hand still lingering on your thigh squeezes reflectively to the drag of your thumb over the head of his cock. The setting is too much of a stimulant to ignore, the need to rush injecting adrenaline into his veins and blooms outward from the line of his spine. 

Familiar with the course of pleasure, you preemptively snatch a few tissues from the corner of his desk just in time to save his uniform from the spilling capitulation. 

You’re still running the edges of the balled up material against your hands when his eyes blink open. 

“Aw, you’re not going to lick it off? What a buzz kill.”

Despite his seemingly ungrateful wording, his tone held the gratitude needed to produce a smile on your lips to which he mirrors. Tucked away but still unbuttoned, he draws you in for a kiss that you indulge momentarily before slipping away. 

When you look over your shoulder, the man is still sagged in his chair with a look of satisfaction as his wiggles his fingers in your direction. 

“See you at home, yo. Thanks for the good ole’ love and care.”

[quillyfied]

Mega Good Omens Fic Rec Post 5

What up, it’s back!

77 carefully-curated titles for your perusal today! As always, the fics are broken into the following categories: Jaunts through History/Canon, South Downs, Post-Apocalypse, Bus Ride/The Night Before/Heaven and Hell, AU/UA, Just Soft, Touch-Starved/Body Worship/Wings, Bonus, and H/C /Whump/BAMF. I don’t read smut fics but sometimes there are sexual elements to the stories and sometimes you get invested and then suddenly the author drops a smut chapter, so warnings where applicable.

Mega GOmens Fic Rec Post MASTER

LET ME KNOW IF A LINK IS BROKEN OR MISATTRIBUTED AND I WILL FIX IT RIGHT AWAY.

JAUNTS THROUGH HISTORY/CANON

1.     Get Thee To A Nunnery – Owenjones (T, the one where Aziraphale is put in a nunnery and needs a bit of a rescue. More or less Ineffable Wives time, but warnings for Aziraphale being forced into a female corporation against his will, that’s pretty icky (three guesses for who the offending Archangel is). Crowley is posing as a little lady known as Julie D’Aubigny, which, if that rings no bells, you should Google her immediately and then go into this fic cackling like I did. Very sweet, a fun little adventure!)

2.    Bibliophilia – @wingedspirit (G, the one where Aziraphale has a book nemesis and Crowley always seems to have the perfect book as a gift, what a coincidence. This is so funny, you guys, seriously. We stan ONE (1) oblivious angel in this house. And when Aziraphale finally catches on, it’s so cute, I can’t even. I cannot EVEN. Go read it right now immediately.)

3.    The Heart Goes To Heaven, The Head Goes To Hell – Dekkles (T, the one where Crowley has intentions of making an angel Fall and it kinda…backfires. Guys fair warning, this one’s version of Hell is really gross, if you’re squeamish tread very carefully bc WOW it can get a bit graphic. Y’know what’s also gross? The PINING (obviously not gross in the same way but the pining is awfully feelsy and part of it does happen in Hell). Watching this Crawly go from an honestly nauseating portrayal of Hell to watching Aziraphale and kinda awkwardly twitching in his light is so delightful and I hope for more in the future (though maybe less visions of Hell, I will be so glad if and when the fic leaves that place because yikes).)

4.    i like this place (it feels spooky) – @asideofourown (G, the one where Warlock manages to convince Nanny and Brother Francis to take him to a haunted house and it’s so cute. You guys. It’s SO cute. You really get a feel for little Warlock’s personality and how he sees things (and he sees ALL). Just a really cute “family” outing, really, and someone gets spooked at the end and it’s not who you think!)

5.    Doubt the Stars are Fire – LilithReisender (T, the one where Aziraphale bails Crowley out of prison and they spend time together in an Italian villa. This one has cool history bits, really fun banter, and Crowley actively on the job while trying to pretend he isn’t on the job. It’s a delight, and it’s just getting started! Jump on this bandwagon, folks, it’s great!)

6.    The Hellfire Club – @amarguerite (NR, the one where greater measures are taken to make sure Aziraphale isn’t promoted back upstairs. This one is so hilarious, you guys, I can’t even tell you which bit is my favorite. And the cherry on top? Wing grooming! (I can also tell you that something highly unpleasant happens to Sandalphon, if that sweetens the pot for anyone.) If you have a Thing for Crowley and Aziraphale being melodramatic and overacting, then stay put, friends. Also continue reading this list, there’s a few more that’ll catch your eye later on.)

7.     The Immortal Look – MickyRC (G, the one where Crowley puts Aziraphale in some kohl and it’s awesome. A written entry for the Prince of Omens DTIYS, and even independent from Prince of Omens this fic is a winner, in my book. Crowley going dewy-eyed over Aziraphale’s looks in any capacity is always My Jam and this fic really goes for it.)

8.    Merry & Bright – @peppervl (G, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley go undercover as a married couple in the Regency. You like fem!Aziraphale but don’t see it often enough? SIT DOWN, FRIENDO. Not only does this have a lovely Miss Fell for us to fawn over, but it’s a Miss Fell in possession of a fortune and surely in want of a husband, according to prim-and-proper London, and who better to help her out than one Mr. Crowley who happens to need some help on a temptation? Fun, romantic, and with a cute little twist at the end I shan’t spoil but you should really stick around for.)

9.    Putting the Endearment in Dear – @joyandotherstories (G, the one where Aziraphale starts calling everyone “dear” just so he can also call Crowley by endearments. This one is sweet and a little sad and has the softest possible ending, y’all don’t even know. Read it, the point in time where Aziraphale doesn’t have to hold back his mountain of endearments anymore is a sight to behold.)

10. Between the Lines – cyankelpie (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale’s feelings are known but not spoken, at least not directly. This one is a historical jaunt where they have a lot of double-meaning conversations (and Crowley is very rightly lost through a lot of it, poor dear), and it aches, you guys, it just hurts. Not finished yet as of this review but WHEN IT’S DONE—I’m sure it’ll be worth it. Hot dang.)

11.  No Matter How the Stars Align (They Make Me Think of You) – silentsonata (G, the one that covers stars that Crowley and Aziraphale have met under. Every once in a while there’ll come along a fic that shakes the ground as it walks. I understand the Big Bang events usually churn these out, and there are quite a few on this list, but this fic here? A masterpiece. Pitch-perfect in every way, just a stunner. I want to tell y’all to pay special attention to certain chapters but they all took my breath utterly away and it would be unfair to single any out over the rest, the whole work is a monument. Just beautiful.)

12.  Too Wise to Woo Peaceably – purewanderlust (T, the one that’s five times they see “Much Ado About Nothing” throughout history. I love me some “Much Ado,” personally, and this fic knows what it’s on about. Wonderfully romantic and ends with the single most perfect conversation, I swear 2 someone. Hits right in the feels.)

13.  Just Another Sword Fight – DemonicGeek (NR, the one that’s a 5+1 about Crowley swordfighting. If you’re here because Aziraphale taking on the role of the swooning maiden to Crowley’s dashing hero makes you, in fact, be the one swooning, say hello to your new best friend. If you like to follow all that up with Aziraphale taking charge when needed, I might suggest building a home here, because ABSOLUTELY that’s what you’re getting.)

14.  A Few More Rescues – @poetic----nonsense (T, the one with, predictably, a few more rescues. If the previous fic had you reeling and begging for more, welcome to the buffet, children. These are some really fun rescues by Crowley on behalf of Aziraphale, and they’re unconventional and historical AF (especially the bit with the dragon) (you bet your sweet keister there’s a bit with a dragon). This fic is so much fun and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.)

15.  Floriography – Frenchmeister (T, the one where Crowley doesn’t get flower language. The premise is, Crowley slept through a large chunk of the Victorian era, so he doesn’t know what Aziraphale keeps trying to say as they work at the Dowlings’ estate raising Warlock. He does know that the philodendron is a menace, no matter what it’s supposed to mean. Funny and nerve-wracking and so, so sweet.)

16.  The Interplay of Illusion and Magic – SoulJelly (T, the one where Aziraphale tries to join a magicians’ society. This one has some delightful history and Aziraphale trying to perform sleight of hand magic to get in a secret magicians club and a surprising twist near the middle, all told; it’s a lot more exciting than I initially thought it was going to be (I was just expecting some fluff and that was not all I got; it’s always a good day when Crowley has to come to the rescue).)

SOUTH DOWNS

17.  There goes the neighborhood – @bestoftheseekwill (G, the one where Crowley’s retirement peace is threatened by construction. If you’re here for Crowley wiles, anti-capitalism, and flashes of protective Aziraphale, get ready to take a load off because this is primo.)

18. Teatime Revelations – Cardinal_Daughter (T, the one where God invites Herself over for tea. This one is strained and it’s emotional and it’s all the softer for it. Aziraphale being quiet and protective while Crowley has a come-apart in the face of God is iconic, tbh; pretty sure this fic inspired a lot of my own portrayals of the GOmens God, looking back on it. A wonderful and light-hearted take.)

POST-APOCALYPSE

19.  Lose a Kraken, Gain an Angel – MistressKat (T, the one where Hastur has an expected friendship. This fic has everything—Hastur being a sympathetic character, the Kraken, Crowley pining after Aziraphale, the Antichrist, and is hilarious from start to finish. A fun and tonally accurate diversion, please read.)

20. Something Old, Something New – shippityshipship (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale are involved in weddings. Short and hasn’t updated in a while but still excellent reading, I find; great characterization, some fun OCs, lovely atmosphere, oblivious pining while everyone else thinks they’re dating, it’s amazing.)

21.  The difficulty with disposable demons – @areyougonnabe (T, the one where Eric the disposable demon shows up and it’s a madhouse in Crowley’s apartment. This is a really funny take on what happens to the disposable demons and why they are the way they are, and with the added bonus of driving Crowley up the wall and some mild miscommunications with Aziraphale that are all sorted out in the end.)

22. Care and Keeping – @arcafira (M, T, the series where Crowley is shedding and Aziraphale tries to help. Not rated M for anything violent or sexual, really more of a T than an M but there is a bath scene and a lot of self-loathing. There’s a lot of convincing Crowley to let Aziraphale care for him and a lot of working through Fall-related issues, but it leaves off in a wonderfully hopeful place.)

23. The Clockwork Days – redwinehouse (T, the one where the world’s ending again. There are many fics that have tackled possible sequels to Good Omens and this is one of the more tonally accurate ones, I feel; it’s very tongue-in-cheek and matter-of-fact, and the little twist at the end was a genuine surprise to me. Whack in plenty of mutual pining and a Bentley that has had it up to HERE with these idiots and you’ve got a recipe for a good little story.)

24. don’t leave me here alone – Elvendork (T, the one where Crowley asks for holy water again. This one is a tense argument, right up until it isn’t, and absolutely delectable, really. If you’re a fan of Aziraphale bringing up hellfire to go toe to toe with Crowley on the issue, BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP, this one is dunking itself into Soft Town with that accelerant to really drive it home.)

25. The Next Time We Wed – seashadows (T, the one where a mix-up leads to marriage. If drunken mistakes and their aftermath is what you’re after, welcome to the party, folks, because this one’s a whopper. Can people pine while being married to each other? The answer is yes. Can it have a soft ending? Also yes. Can it include the mothers of such characters as Anathema and Newt being wonderful characters in their own right? The answer, incredibly, is yes.)

26. You Can’t Un-See A Dog – @holycatsandrabbits (T, the one where Crowley is summoned and there’s shenanigans afoot. I won’t talk too much about the plot of this one bc I don’t want to spoil it but suffice it to say that this one is hilarious and has some especially gratifying Ineffable Husband silent communication at play. If your entire reason for existence, like Crowley’s, is seeing Bastard!Aziraphale at work, then bunk down here, friendos, you’ve arrived.)

BUS RIDE/NIGHT BEFORE/HEAVEN AND HELL

27. Crowley, Big Bad Demon, Can Keep His Cool Around His Crush – @edennovik (T, the one where Crowley…well, see title, and then immediately disregard. Crowley cannot, in fact, keep his cool around his crush. Crowley is doing the opposite of keeping his cool around his crush. Crowley is a ball of anxiety and screaming pining gooey mess and Aziraphale might just like him anyway.)

AU/UA

28. If Not Now, When – @ineffablefool (T, the one where trans café worker Crowley strikes up a conversation with fat pretty Aziraphale. Listen. Y’all know ineffablefool. Y’all know he is a force that cannot be stopped or reckoned with, when it comes to Soft Fat-Postive Asexual Romance. So I do not say this lightly when I say that this is possibly his masterwork. There is a lot of good, good content in his catalogue but the emotional work put into this makes the whole thing stand straight up and resonate. It’s tender and respectful and handles conflicts of gender and sexuality with grace and gentleness and oh no I’m tearing up pls send help I’m DROWNING—).

29. Trip the Light – @summerofspock (M, the one where Aziraphale falls in love first. M for a sex scene near the end of the fic, second half of Chapter 17, so keep an eye out for that if you’re sensitive to it. Oh, y’all. This one goes through canon and a few scenes outside of it and the recontextualizing of those scenes as Aziraphale hopelessly in love and Crowley as oblivious is amazing. Even more amazing: once Crowley finally catches on and then it becomes Aziraphale once again in his role of holding back. Guys. Y’all. My DUDES. I am in the throes of agony. It’s so good.)

30. one love (only for you) – @weatheredlaw (M, the one that’s a vague Snow White AU. It’s truly unfair how poetic and romantic this one is, how lovely. It has fantasy elements and ridiculous vengeful brothers and soft, soft boys in love. A sweet little way to spend an afternoon, tbh.)

31.  in the house we remain – @commodorecliche (M, the one where Crowley’s a ghost in the house Aziraphale has bought. M for masturbation, weird ghost sex, and a harrowing backstory for Crowley; if you’re squeamish about sexual things and not good at gauging how to skip them, or if you can’t stand abuse stories, I would pass this one up. Y’all. Y’ALL. So thoroughly upsetting, this one; the horror elements are real but so is the romance and it’s a beautiful balance of the two. What’s wild is how believable it is; it could easily have been a story about Aziraphale just becoming obsessed with and romanticizing a dead person who used to live in his house but it feels like an actual love story, with Crowley learning how to trust Aziraphale, as well, despite their planar incompatibility. The ending is so unbelievably sweet. And there’s art now! There wasn’t, when I first added it to the list! Huzzah!)

32. pop! goes my heart – @areyougonnabe (E, the one that’s a Music and Lyrics AU. E for a sex scene near the end of Chapter 6 that’s a bit difficult to skip, since there’s a couple of relevant paragraphs after it that set up the next chapter, but if you’re up for the challenge, godspeed. First things first: this fic has ORIGINAL MUSIC RECORDED BY THE AUTHOR AND IT’S AMAZING. Music and Lyrics is one of my personal favorite romcoms, and what’s been done with it is not only accurate to the actual music industry, but accurate to the characters, as well. It’s such a fun story, adapted well, and the writing style is just charming. Fantastic!)

33. For the First Time in Forever – @nicnacsnonsense (T, the one that’s a Frozen AU. I am excited for this one, y’all. The adaptation is already so much fun and it’s only going to get funner. Aziraphale as Elsa and Crowley in an Anna-adjacent role (but not actually bc no incest) is amazing, the Olaf stand-in outshines the original, and the emotional toll is already pretty high. Absolutely worth a read.)

34. Sailor’s Omens – NeverNooitNiet (G, the one where Crowley’s a pirate and Aziraphale is his prisoner. There’s a touch of historical homophobia but that doesn’t matter much out at sea, really. If the boys being clever and bickering and also one-upping beloved series antagonists is something you enjoy, welcome to the party, friends. It’s a good old-fashioned piracy romp that’s sure to satisfy.)

35. Pomegranate Seeds – @nicnacsnonsense (G, the one that’s a Persephone and Hades AU with Aziraphale as Hades and Crowley as Persephone. This one has a unique tone and is also romantic as all get-out; throw in genderfluid Crowley, love at first sight, and Aziraphale being a sweetie, it’s a story well worth its salt, imo.)

36. Laws of Gravity – @brightwanderer (T, the one where Aziraphale invents pining for Raphael. Listen. I think we all know at this point that brightwanderer, or Atalan on ao3, has earned her clout as a GOmens fanfic heavyweight. She didn’t NEED to write an awkward and earnest Raphael trying to go incognito as Crowley into the Garden of Eden. She didn’t NEED to write about how incredibly awkward Aziraphale is while heels over halo in love. She didn’t NEED to have an engaging plot and a wonderful twist on the Temptation of Eve and also the most awkward and obvious besotted angels in the universe. But she did. And we are blessed. So go partake.)

37. Incubus!Crowley – GenericUsername01 (G, T, the series where Crowley is a sex demon and we get to see what that means. This fic threads the very specific needle I personally enjoy where sex is an element of the story and has bearing on it, but the story doesn’t have any actual sex scenes in it. I love this writer’s style and where they take Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship; I love the view of Hell in the first bit; I love all of it, really. A+++.)

38. Everyone But You – @summerofspock (M, the one where Crowley is hired to seduce an angel. M for some saucy makeouts and some post-coital afterglow but nothing explicit. If y’all like stories where a conman is hired to do a job and starts to have complicated feelings about it, especially if those feelings are falling in love with his mark, then here you go. It’s amazing as all heck and hilarious to boot; Crowley learning what falling in love is like is always a treat but omg. Poor Aziraphale. And the most DELIGHTFUL resolution, my goodness.)

39. In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell – @theoldaquarian (M, the one where Heaven and Hell have a joint corporate retreat every so often and Crowley and Aziraphale are doomed. M for some adult themes but nothing explicit. Y’all. TheOldAquarian must be stopped. They cannot continue to be so funny and engaging. They cannot continue to have the most corporate and hilariously mundane depiction of Heaven and Hell. They are a MENACE who, in the space of one fic, has packed all the pining of the ages in so tightly that when it finally bursts free, my shoulders physically relaxed and my spine uncoiled. This fic in particular is too much and too wonderful. I really must protest.)

40. Loosely Ballroom – marginalia_device, @mortifyingideal (T, the one where Aziraphale is a professional dancer and Crowley is a contestant on a show with him (for American viewers, think Dancing With the Stars). This fic is so good and so funny and so achingly in-character. I love Crowley as the washed-up old star trying to kick his career back up, I love Aziraphale as the put-upon dancer on his last legs, and I love that they’re both the victim of a studio gimmick and then decide that malicious compliance is their best bet. It’s still early in the fic (…at over 40k words wow it’s gonna be a monster and I’m ready), but it’s going to be so good already, I can just tell. There’s already some art for it floating around by naniiebimworks for the interested.)

JUST SOFT

41.  Repeat the Sounding Joy – @allonsy-gabriel (G, the one where they decorate a Christmas tree. This is a short and sweet look at what the holidays are like for an angel and a demon post-apocalypse and it’s so adorable, you guys. Crowley having FEELINGS and Aziraphale being fussy about his decorating, it’s just a treat.)

42. The Nesting Habits of Angelus Principalum – @obaewankenope (NR, the one where Aziraphale nests and is gently protective. This fic is quiet and understated and so unbelievably romantic without being over the top about it; it’s a quiet coming together that creeps up on you, much like how the realization of Aziraphale’s nesting habits creeps up on Crowley. A lovely little thing.)

43. we’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow – @tonyhawksmovingcastle (E, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale wind up faking a relationship on a couple’s cruise. E for Chapter 7, which is completely skippable without ruining any plot. This one gets a double whammy for both engaging plot and wonderful OCs that add to rather than distract from the story. Fake dating is fun enough but when you’re fake dating and also being wingmanned by well-meaning possibly supernatural sapphics, while also having fun in the tropics, it’s a recipe for a good time all around (at least for the audience). So lovely and sweet and that moment when Crowley and Aziraphale finally get together is magic.)

44. Road Trip Games and Love – rgfalso (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale go on a road trip together. This one almost takes place in real time, and has the most intense and emotional back-and-forth while these poor saps try to work out the Thing between them without actually talking about it for as long as inhumanly possible. Of course there are lots of road trip games, and of course those road trip games are a vehicle of conveyance for what they’re actually trying to say, and cue all the misunderstandings in the world. It’s frustrating and cathartic and amazing and the end especially is so, so sweet.)

45. The Most Stylish Wedding of AZ Fell and AJ Crowley – @leapoffaith1489 (T, the one where Aziraphale is determined to discard tartan for the wedding. Y’all. Omg. If relatively low-stakes cute wedding shenanigans are your thing, welcome home. If Aziraphale being pleasantly surprised is your thing, welcome home. If Aziraphale working through minor insecurities is your thing, welcome, truly, home. Featuring a lovely cast of side characters and a soft-as-butter plot.)

46. The Newlywed Game (Not What You’d Think) – @heavenslittlehellion (NR, the one where a game of drunken truth-telling goes a little farther than anticipated. Hello, welcome to the emotional gut-punch fic, you’ve arrived. The only thing that saves this from dunking into the last category on this list with the other h/c and whump fics is how low-stakes it is and how soft it is when they get past the unpleasant bit. People who love theories on what the Fall felt like, welcome to the table.)

47. On the Road to Love – Mizmak (G, the one where Crowley enters a motor rally race with the Bentley, with Aziraphale as navigator. While there’s great fun in Crowley and Aziraphale needling each other, there’s greater joy in their friendship and tenderness towards the other (and asexual bed-sharing fans, rejoice). It’s a fun concept all around and definitely worth the read.)

48. Mr. Fell’s Bookshop ficlets – @holycatsandrabbits (G, T, the series where Mr. Fell has regular customers and they love the place as much as they love its weird and eldritch owner. For folks who love seeing the Ineffable Duo through others’ eyes, this is a fun series to scratch that particular itch, and has spawned a number of spin-off fics, unless I’m mistaken. It’s a relatively low-stakes series, for people wanting something like that these days, too.)

49. Quiet Reflection – @shinyopals (T, the one where they have to duck into a church to avoid demons. If the phrase “spicy Jesus crackers” holds any appeal whatsoever, go read this fic immediately. It’s heartfelt and hilarious and really that’s all you can ask for in a good fluff fic. Also Crowley being held. Really, that’s all any of us want from life.)

50. Deck the Halls – forthegreatergood (G, the one where mistletoe should really not be this hard to get a hold of. Y’all you simply MUST stick around for the hijinks in this one. They are manifold and hilarious. Does it end in makeouts? Possibly. You’ll just have to read it, won’t you?)

51.  The Secret Dress – GlitterSkullFairy (G, the one where Crowley has a secret wedding dress. This one is very dramatic and sad…and then Aziraphale pops in. Like with all things concerning these two, it immediately takes a turn from there. If putting Crowley in pretty dresses is a thing you enjoy, have a seat and enjoy the show, it’s a softy.)

52. Well…That’s New – @almaasi (G, the one where Crowley doesn’t realize he’s in love. If oblivious Crowley is more to your taste, this is the one for you. Takes the concept “what if Crowley was in love but didn’t realize it” and runs with it for all it’s worth. Hilarious and sweet and wonderful.)

53. serpent, serpent-bearer – @elsajeni (G, the one that’s about horoscopes. I realize the Soft section of the rec list is for things that are Soft but hhnnngkk you guys. This one is so cute. My heart can’t take it. They’re so gosh darned precious, with their newspaper and their horoscopes and their welcome invasion of each other’s personal space.)

54. If Only You Were Mine – @somethingscarlet13 (G, the one where Crowley gets so drunk he can’t remember who Aziraphale’s husband is, just that he’s married. This is a little sugar shot for your day, folks—short, sweet, silly, and did I mention sweet? It is so worth having a giggle at drunk Crowley’s expense, please do read it.)

55. Cupboard Love – @copperplatebeech (T, the one where Crowley is a cranky snek. I would also highly recommend this for folks who enjoy Madam Tracy, especially Madam Tracy being utterly unaffected by being face-to-face with the supernatural and cooing over things like the wonderful lady she is. Fun and a little silly and a lot adorable.)

56. affirmation, appreciation – pearlwaldorf (G, the one where Aziraphale helps someone in need a little differently than expected. This one has Aziraphale taking on the persona of an interested male party looking to pick up the spirits of a woman on the tail end of a messy divorce and Crowley understanding but still getting a little jealous. It’s so sweet and so lovely, both what Aziraphale and Crowley do for this poor woman and how Aziraphale reassures Crowley afterwards. Top notch.)

57. Forget-Me-Not – @dietraumerei (T, the one where Crowley gets amnesia. Not as dramatic as others, he just loses 200 years and it’s temporary, but it’s ever so sweet, watching Crowley fall back in love with the modern world and be gobsmacked that he and Aziraphale are finally together. There’s a lot of reassurance and tender sweet nothings thrown about and I’m pretty sure I developed a heart condition just from reading this, it’s too good.)

58. They Shake The Mountains When They Dance – @copperbadge (T, the one where Crowley finds Aziraphale’s scar. Operating on the theory that Aziraphale was injured in the War in Heaven and that’s why he clutches his leg and limps when he’s discorporated, this is the sappiest, sweetest rumination on the subject I have ever read. Crowley gets so protective and defensive, and Aziraphale is so gentle in talking him down. On the whole, it’s just wonderful and so, so cute. Omg.)

59. Familiar Care – ginger_mosaic (G, the one where the Ineffable Dads have to take their snabies in for medical help. This comes from the Wiggleverse, which on the whole I cannot strongly recommend enough, but this fic in particular centers around the most delightful OC veterinarian who handles Crowley and Aziraphale’s strange family very well. There’s also a fun twist at the end, so absolutely keep reading to find out what that is. And also, immerse yourself in adorable snake baby shenanigans, because they are the best sort.)

TOUCH-STARVED/BODY WORSHIP/WINGS

60. Rituals (or the Seven Layer Bean Dip Approach to Sex) – SleepySelfLoathing (T, the one where no seriously metaphysical angel/demon sex is super weird. Fans of truly esoteric ethereal/occult mating rituals rejoice, for this is your new home. It’s abstract but no less beautiful for it, I think; the imagery and emotional accompaniment are all lovely, even if they don’t meet conventional human romance standards. You can really tell that it means a lot to Crowley and Aziraphale, the ways they show how much they love each other. A weird and delectable little dish, by all accounts.)

61.  Under Pressure – @copperplatebeech (M, the one where Crowley steals kisses. M for sensuality and body worship but nothing too explicit; also could be construed as dubcon kissing, for those of you sensitive to that. Hhhgkk y’all. Crowley thinks he’s being sly getting away with smooching Aziraphale throughout history while they’re both drunk off their rockers but does not count on Aziraphale actually remembering, and then once the Apocalypse is done with and they’re On Their Own Side and Can Aknowledge These Things…well. They do. Crowley is a mess and Aziraphale is a mess and they love each other so much. The writing is so tender and I’m CRYING.)

62. London Calling – forthegreatergood (G, the one with slow-burn wing grooming. There’s so much crammed into this bad boy and it balances it admirably—Crowley’s relationship with Aziraphale, Crowley’s relationship with Hell, Crowley thinking about retirement, Crowley getting preemptively banned from a certain European country for being a pest outside of its consulate, Crowley losing his cool over getting to touch Aziraphale’s wings. Humor, aching tenderness, the kind of longing that feels like a high, quavering violin note, tension and release. A beautiful piece.)

63. Elmie’s Ineffable Fireplace Fics – @almaasi (G, M, M, the series that is completely unrelated except for the physical and also figurative appearances of warm fireplaces. M for sensuality but nothing explicit. The first two are mainly short fluff; the third is a long Regency-esque AU with some gender and sexuality shenanigans on top of Real Danger and Intrigue. True to the writer’s promise, all three fics are pretty comfortable and warm, even if the third has some action and tension. They’re absolutely lovely, imo.)

64. The Hands Applauded (And This Was No Sin) – @ticketybye (G, the one where Crowley as a preoccupation with Aziraphale’s hands. Deals with both touch-starvation and touch-aversity in the same fic and weirdly enough it works. The fic is heartbreaking but it has a good resolution and that’s important.)

65. Moult – @sameoldsorceress (T, the one where Aziraphale molts and Crowley doesn’t. This is typical wing-grooming fare…right up until it isn’t. I won’t spoil the twist but rest assured that there is absolutely a twist. Other than that, it’s supportive and sweet and lovely and lord knows we all could use some of that right now.)

66. never get to heaven on a night like this – RestlessWanderings (G, the series where the Ineffable Wives are touch-starved and pining. The only reason this fic goes here instead of in Jaunts Through History is because especially in Crowley’s side of the story, the touch starvation is so horrifically visceral I very nearly bought myself a weighted blanket out of sympathy stress. They are both so afraid and so desperate for a bit of connection, the pining is absolutely ridiculous. And it helps that there’s worldbuilding there that’s both thematically appropriate and interesting to read. Engendered by lesbianism and catholic guilt, I believe the author said, and in this case what a delicious combination with an absolutely amazing ending.)

67. Strength in Modesty – flandersmare (T, the one where Aziraphale has a secret wardrobe. Y’all. I have a special love-hate relationship with clothes and my body and this fic somehow felt very soothing on both of those fronts. Corsetry is front and center, and it’s all very well-researched and well-presented. The story is so quiet and understated and is really told through excellent sensory details. The ending about broke my heart for tenderness. It’s a double love letter to Aziraphale and to fashion throughout history and I love it.)

BONUS

68. Tales of the Them – @lyricwritesprose (G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale are the Them’s godparents, too. This is such a fun series, with a lot of stories that are not just funny in bits, but also meaningful. For fans of the Them and people who like stories about children that aren’t dumbed-down or grimdark.)

69. Stans in High Places – @doomed-spectacles (G, the one where there’s someone in the Earth Observation department keeping an eye on Crowley and Aziraphale. Another take on the angel(s) in charge of Earth Observation, this time featuring a singular angel called Grigori, and boy is he a cutie. His friendship with fellow angel Pravuil is also blossoming and sweet throughout, and the amount of innocent cuteness throughout is just spectacular. What an adorable story.)

70. Anthony J Crowley, Retired Demon and AirBnB Superhost – @theoldaquarian (G, the one where Crowley turns his flat into an AirBnB. Told as if reading a comment section, it is hilarious and paints a horrid picture of what interacting with Crowley—and Aziraphale!—is like for normal humans. I can’t give you any more details than that, you are just going to have to read it and laugh your head off about it like I did.)

71.  A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon – @asideofourown (T, the one where Crowley writes a book and accidentally becomes a queer icon. This is…so funny. And so sweet. And like most fics where human bystanders try to piece together what’s happening and come away with completely wrong conclusions, it’s utterly charming. You almost start rooting for the internet conspiracy theorists trying to unearth what exactly Crowley is from his (presumably) evasive or strange answers to interview questions.)

72. Hell Of An Angel – WaitingToBeBroken (T, the one where everyone thinks Crowley is a mafia family. This one is funny in a dramatic irony way; the way that every narrator in this is CONVINCED that Crowley is A. a family of redheads that all look eerily similar, and B. extremely dangerous, is entertaining all on its own. It helps that the writing is smooth and the characters are all fairly engaging, too. A fun little diversion for your day.)

H/C /WHUMP/BAMF

73. the only one i want – @qorktrees (T,  the one where Crowley needs some convincing. The hurt in this one is real, folks. But so is the comfort. At last steps are taken to assure Crowley of how much he is wanted, of how much his love is cherished and his touch desired. If you cry while reading this, congrats and welcome to the club, we are all miserable touch-starved fools here.)

74. Always One More Time – boughofawillowtree (T, the one where Aziraphale has remaining psychological scars from Heaven. This one is tough, y’all, real tough. Aziraphale has a couple of abusive flashbacks and intrusive thoughts and his anxiety flaring up is a constant, so people sensitive to that should take heed. That said, this is a very healing fic, with a lot of underlying hurt that floats to the surface. But throughout Crowley does his best to be patient and understanding and even with a disagreement, it remains gentle and loving throughout.)

75. Smote and smitten – @nohaijiachi (G, the one where Aziraphale is a badass and we are ALL here for it. Screaming Hastur, briefly-sentient flaming swords, Aziraphale being amazing, and starry-eyed Crowley are all the ingredients chosen to make a wonderful little fic, and we are all grateful for it. What a guy, that Aziraphale.)

76. Nearly Romeo and Juliet – bisexual_dumbass (T, the one where Crowley’s hiding his panic attacks. This one hurts, friends. This one has miscommunications and fear and boundary communication, all while being so tense even the gentlest touch will snap something. It’s got learning to take care of yourself and value yourself and live FOR yourself. It is very important and I hope a lot of you read it because gosh dang.)

77.  Pigeon Girlfriends With A Long Preamble – SleepySelfLoathing (T, the one that’s exactly what it says on the tin. This fic has it all: humor! Torture! Terrible humans! Wrathful Aziraphale! Pain and suffering! Tenderness and care! Pigeon girlfriends! The Hurt and the Comfort are present in about equal measure, but fair warning that what Crowley is made to do just before his rescue is more than a little disturbing, both to readers and especially to Crowley.)