#This has a lot of outline in it

[prahacat]

when the horrors catch up and you take an evening off to batch-process

[stardestroyer81]

Seeing as I drew Anton fairly recently, I felt that it was only appropriate to also draw his cranked-out coworker Dynamite Annie, and it looks as though she has something very important to say... 💚🏳️‍⚧️✨

[kotaki]

"Despair never goes away. Dreams never go away. As long as there is despair, dreams will continue to shine brightly."

[sk1fanfiction]

blood of the covenant/water of the womb

The Black sisters are so tragic.

I mean, imagine:

As kids, Narcissa is the baby sister that the elder two dote on, while both Narcissa and Andromeda look up to Bellatrix, the proud, beautiful, powerful, accomplished, perfect eldest sister, who has always known who she is and where she's going, but especially Andromeda, since they look so alike she's always been encouraged to act like her too but since Narcissa doesn't have the stereotypical Black looks and her parents didn't follow the Black naming scheme she's encouraged to be her own person a little bit more.

At Hogwarts they're all Sorted into the same House, Slytherin, which only increases their bond. Bella does really well at school, probably the top of her class, which makes Andy, who's only a year or two behind hyperaware of where the bar is. She walks, talks, and dresses like Bella.

Until

Andy follows in Bella's footsteps (who's probably Head Girl by now) and becomes a prefect, but she gets assigned to do rounds with a Muggle-born Hufflepuff. And despite everything she'd been taught, everything she knows to be true, she finds herself falling for him and the worst part is she can't tell anyone, even Bella, the one she has always been able to confide in, always reassured her and set her on the right path.

Meanwhile Druella and Cygnus are arranging Bellatrix's marriage to Roldophus, someone she doesn't even like never mind attracted to but because she's the perfect Black and the perfect daughter she has to do it. And Andromeda sees and fears how she could get trapped, too, how there's another Lestrange boy in her year.

Meanwhile a strange foreign Dark Lord comes to dinner and he's so different to Roldophus and all those other men who think because she's a woman she must be weak and she's just a vessel for their pureblood children. And despite the way she shouldn't feel this way, Bella doesn't care. He listens to Bella's opinions and he takes her seriously and he sees her magical talent and her thirst to prove herself and he's not scared of her in the way others say that she's 'too intense.' And when he offers to train her, and adds that he never does this, she says, one better, I'll follow you.

Andromeda and Narcissa watch this strange man burn the Dark Mark into their sister's arm and they don't know what to think. Narcissa's scared Bella will put herself in danger, that she'll do too much, give too much of herself because she doesn't know when to pull back. And Andy's scared Bella's going down a path she cannot follow, because deep down she can't say she believes in blood supremacy, can't say she hates Ted and she can't figure out a way through so she leaves.

It's like part of Bella's heart has been ripped out. They were all close, the Blacks, but Andy and Bella had a certain je ne sais quoi, they were thick as thieves and inseparable. Bellatrix is the one who burns Andromeda off the tapestry, crying while she does it, the scorned love for her sister, the anger and shame that Andy chose that Mudblood over her turning that love to bottomless hate.

Meanwhile Narcissa, the lucky one, watches it all. Narcissa is the one that gets it all, she's the only one who's able to marry for love and stay with her family but there's also this Andromeda-shaped hole in her and there's a Slytherin resentfulness of being Bellatrix's supporting act.

Every night that Bella is on a mission, Narcissa stays up, even while pregnant with Draco, until she knows her sister is safe.

That fateful Halloween she waits and waits and waits but Bellatrix never comes home. When she finds out her last remaining sister is serving life she completely breaks down. Won't sleep, won't eat. The thought of leaving Draco without a mother is the only thing that helps her hold on. Regulus, Andromeda and Sirius are dead/burned off the tapestry/imprisoned; she and Draco are the last Blacks, that makes their bond even stronger, makes her scared of losing him like she did her sisters. She curses Voldemort for putting her in danger, aware of her feelings for him and that Bella would do anything for them, swears she'll never let that happen to her son.

All the while Andy raises her daughter, who hates the name she gave her in the same way Andy know she would hate the Blacks. Narcissa and Andy watch each other from across crowds; Tonks and Draco are never at school together, never know more than scattered off-hand mentions of a cousin on their mother's side. But both Narcissa and Andy fantasize of a reconcilation, of Tonks babysitting Draco while they rekindle their bond. Neither bridges the gap. That burn, that rift cannot be healed. But they still ache for each other.

When Voldemort returns that fear for Draco grows, but it's tempered with the joy of having Bella back after mourning her for 14 years -- Bella, traumatized, starved, jagged and torn up at the edges, different, but alive.

And just like knowing he was innocent kept Sirius sane, Bella's love and trust of Voldemort is what made her able to hang on. Yes, they're both drastically different physically (the snake face and the emaciation) and mentally (both shaken, less confident), but everything else can be the same. Maybe better.

But everyone is scared. It's not the same world, where the Death Eaters have control and are undefeated. Voldemort is scared of that boy, Narcissa is scared for Draco. It's clear things are not the same, things are not normal. Far from it. Fear makes Voldemort angry, and cold, and distant and nothing she does feels good enough.

And that boy -- lying hateful filthy boy -- he dares suggest that her Voldemort's filthy-blooded like him. No, he must just be taunting her, scaring her. But there are things Voldemort's said, things he's done -- she would notice, the way she hangs on every word he speaks and plays their conversations in her head over and over again in Azkaban -- Bellatrix just does her best to silence it and block it out, all these confusing things, she's a great Occlumens after all.

She'll make things certain, make things right, trim off the weakness, cut out the sickness. Like Sirius. Like that young woman with Andromeda's face and Andromeda's laugh, that filthy half-blood Andy left her to create.

Narcissa can't keep Draco safe like she, the baby sister, couldn't keep Bellatrix safe. When Voldemort burns the Dark Mark into his skin she sees her son emaciated and dead-eyed.

To assuage Narcissa's fears Bellatrix trains Draco like Voldemort trained her; but he's not the same, he's weak, he's moralistic, he looks at her with wide scared eyes and he's a failure. The glory of the Blacks is gone.

All the while, Narcissa's fear grows, when Lucius is imprisoned, when Voldemort's ire turns on her family, on her son, sets him an impossible task. The despair she feels, she hasn't felt for nearly sixteen years -- Bellatrix more interested in eking out morsels of approval from Voldemort and turning her frustration on Draco, and Narcissa by extension.

All the while, Andromeda's fear for her daughter grows, of the danger she puts herself in as an Auror and a member of the Order, and she's reminded of Bellatrix, of how she gives everything of herself and how Nymphadora does too, begging, begging her to hold back.

She's not good enough for him, not with the sickness, the weakness still clinging to her. Bellatrix very much wants to kill the woman with Andy's face. She's always been perfect. It's everyone else around her that's wrong, everyone else who has to go. She'll do better. Try harder.

And when the Snatchers catch that filthy boy, and he slides out of her grasp like a buttered eel, Bellatrix hits the bottom rung of the ladder of despair. She doesn't know who she is, anymore.

Voldemort's retaliation and rejection breaks Bellatrix's heart, but it hardens Narcissa's.

Bellatrix will do anything to make him happy. She finally kills the witch with Andy's face -- do you see -- do you love me now -- but he's still cold, still frightened, still different, and she despairs, but it will be all over when Harry Potter is dead and he can breathe again. They've won. It will be alright. It will go back to normal. She can have it all again -- Voldemort and Narcissa and her perfect, pruned family.

Narcissa will do anything to keep him safe. And so she chooses Draco's life, she lies, her heart in her throat, in front of her beloved sister, to the Dark Lord, with unshed tears in her eyes and Harry Potter's 'corpse' before her.

Bellatrix's death is something Narcissa knew was coming, deep down She mourned her sister sixteen years ago and she mourns her now, but it will all be worth it if Draco survives this ordeal; Potter must win, he must live, Voldemort must die. And Bellatrix will never allow this.

She wishes she could tell Andy that she understands.

[ejunkiet]

Tending to a feisty werewolf's injuries

A break down of how the rest of that night went, as we all know that 'celebrating' didn't stop at kisses and slow touches, okay.

Under the cut as this is an unapologetically nsfw ramble, minors dni.

SO. has anyone written about Milo and SH that first night, going all the way on the couch?

Just after they heal him? Milo and his talk of celebrating... Apparently I have many thoughts on that...

Incl. Milo being mostly horizontal the whole time but convincing SH to sit on his face. As a treat.

And carrying around a condom in his wallet, as safe post-near death experience sex PLEASE

But also that kissing session on the couch getting deeper, and the moment they decide it's gonna go all the way and sneak their hands down to his jeans, he just catches their hands with a soft 'whoa, you sure?'

And they just take a minute to catch their breath and look at him, and he's all sweaty and flushed, his hair a mess, very kissable lips all swollen, and there's still blood on his mouth and down his chest, but he's holding their hands gently and looking at them like they're everything-

And yeah. YEAH.

So he's not bleeding out, but he's still sore? So he's not really moving from the couch. And they can ride him like that just fine, and they've been making a mess of him before this, kissing down his neck, his chest, sharp biting kisses.

And they've been grinding on his lap for the last ten minutes, and they can feel the effect they've been having on him, know he wants it as much as they do.

And his hands slip down, tugging at the waist of their fucking work pants, as he asks, 'please, let me touch you'

They climb off his lap, strip down as he kicks his jeans off and down, but when they go back to straddle his lap, shoves himself down the couch and tugs them up to his chest, their thighs around his neck, his hands on their thighs, squeezing as he asks if he can taste them-

And yeah. He gets them off with his talented fucking mouth, as he needs to prove that even down and out, he can still make them feel as good as they're making him feel.

And that's really fucking good.

And then when he's grinning up at them, all smug as they catch their breath, they grab his wallet and snag the condom they knew would be there on a hunch, and ask if they can ride him.

JUST WRECKING THE FURNITURE OKAY

They probably fall asleep together on the couch after, all tangled and messy, and it's gonna be hell to clean up, but neither of them care

SH uses his shower in the morning, he makes them an incredible fucking breakfast

Milo asks if he can take them out to dinner later, as of course he would, that boy is sold.

And that's it. That's how they start.

With a BANG heheheheh >:3

Look, I have too many thoughts about these two. Also, if Tumblr messes up the order of these bullet points, I will RIOT

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi im back with more Out Of Context lines from my outlines/snippets that i find mildly entertaining when going back through it all: Fantasy Au Edition!

[batataaurdoodh]

@hetalia-rarepairweek day 4: assassin

HRGHHHHHH I LOVE THESE TWO SMMMMM their outfits look more like spy outfits than Bollywood flash mob tbh

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 24, 2021 1:00 p.m. rainbow bowling

✨ now playing: orange, you're not a joke to me! - stella jang 🍊

[andorerso]

if I told you guys how long my document of Rebelcaptain fic ideas is... you would think I'm lying

[cluescorner]

Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17) 

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  

Thinks her worst trait is her disability 

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

[puppyeared]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[glass-oranges]

What if I connected to a very unstable chassis then tried to kill you and your girlfriend wouldn't that be fun

[cream-and-tea]

FIND THE WORD TAG

i was tagged by @encrucijada (ty!!) and tried to challenge myself by not using anything from Lay Me Down, so these are all taken from what i've written for Burn The Stars (my sci-fi fantasy thats in perpetual planning hell lol)

my words were: necklace, sigh, dream & heavy

NECKLACE

No one could say that Anandi Alva was not talented. She could recite epic poetry from memory and tell you the name of an old world plant by the way it grew towards the light and slip into the faces of others as easily as slipping into water. But the dead girl was in possession of a holy name, a holy vantage point to the unguarded backs of the most influential the Colossus Rings had to offer, a holy collection of necklaces where each glittering gem was modelled after a specific star, and the Priory had no need for Anandi Alva in the face of that.

SIGH

“I deal in precision Silas,” Danny sighed, turning away from the pulsing emergency lights. “I only fail when I leave things to chance.”

DREAM

This is outside of her, controlled, soft, it washes easily away once she blinks and realizes that she’s sitting on grass with her back resting against the trunk of a tree, one leg drawn up, hands folded behind her head as if she’s been sitting there casually for a few minutes at most. For all she knows she has.

This is a dream.

HEAVY

“You have to stop saying things like that.”

Silas paused, halfway through tying his hair back into its ponytail. “Like what?”

“Us, we, when this is all over. If you keep it up I might start to think there’s a chance.”

“I think there’s a chance.”

“I know you do.” They made a fist and pressed it to the space between their eyes. It felt heavy. Everything had felt heavy for a very long time now.

i'll tag: @albatris @spideronthesun @strangerays @violets-in-her-arms-writes and anyone else who wants to do it!!

your words are: slight, slip, silver and sharp

[ikemenomegas]

Gojo Satoru x Reader

ウタカタ (Hey, let's stay like this forever)

there is a side helping of Geto Suguru x Reader and Ieri Shoko x Reader in this as well, lucky you. Fifteen year old sorcerers are messy and emotional and a damn delight, lucky you

"Why did you throw the match?"

It's the next day when Satoru-san clatters up to you on your way to one of the libraries.

The way your lips press flat together and you wrinkle your nose is automatic, shown before you think to reel it back.

You step back automatically, even though Satoru-san has never really been the one to reach out and touch people.

"You won. You were going to win anyways," you say, a hard pit in your stomach, clutching your notebook to your chest.

He looks... put out, his eyes boring into yours over the rim of his sunglasses.

"You shouldn't give up early," he says, sulky.

The tone surprises you and it must show on your face because Satoru-san relaxes a bit, slumping over with his hands on his pockets.

You don't know what to say to him. You don't want to say anything, don't want to explain yourself. Satoru-san is smart. It feels like if you say anything he'll see right through you.

"What if it was a curse," he goes on, oddly awkward.

Is he... trying to reassure you? That seems a little off base, but he's also not leaving.

"You're not a curse," you say, confused. "You're a person." You curse your own name in your head. You need to stop talking.

Satoru-san half-scowls, looking petulant.

"What about a curse-user?"

"You're not a curse-user either," you say, feeling uncomfortable. You've never actually encountered a curse user that you had to fight. The wildfire draw of your power is always there, the what-if of what you could do if there were no rules bounding the places in your mind where it feels safe to use your power.

"I'm going to get ice cream" he says suddenly.

"Um, okay." The non-sequitur throws you, your grip on the notebook loosening just slightly.

He blinks at you expectantly over the rim of his glasses. He also isn't leaving.

He rolls his eyes at you like you're the slowest thing he's ever encountered and grabs your wrist.

"Come on."

"Hey!"

It's a nominal protest, more to do with how he could easily yank you off your feet than anything else. It means there's not much choice but to follow him, stumbling a few steps quicker so you're standing by his side instead of behind.

He lets go of you so quickly, pausing so he's behind you and buffeting you downward with the threat of stepping on the backs of your shoes.

Coming around the corner, you catch sight of the other two.

"If you explain yourself, people come around faster," Suguru-san calls up, gaze fixed over your shoulder.

"Why would I do that?" Satoru-san asks, but he sounds like he's smiling as you scoot behind Shoko-san for the space to tuck your notebook away.

"Where are we going?" you ask him, only for him to refuse to explain, darting off on his stupid-long legs and leaving the rest of you to follow. Suguru-san easily keeps pace, rolling his eyes good-naturedly and trailing back enough that it forces Satoru-san to slow down before he loses the rest of you.

Shoko-san looks amused but lets you grab her hand and tug her along so that you're clustered together.

You're pretty sure you're not technically supposed to be off campus yet, Yaga-sensei is going to throw a fit. The future knowledge of danger though just makes this seem something like an adventure, like you're all just normal teenagers breaking school rules for something simple and normal.

Satoru-san crowds at your back when you get to the ice-cream shop, yelling his order over everyone else's heads like he owns the place.

He doesn't scare you, this boy who people say will be the next god in the jujutsushi world. He's a skinny, too-tall highschooler, loud, trying so hard to be happy. He doesn't need to. He could be cruel, a bully. He could have really hurt you, but he hadn't.

And he's right. You had held back, because it doesn't matter that he's got some legendary power. You'd held back because you couldn't figure out a way to attack that wouldn't hurt him.

Well, hurt a normal person.

Satoru-san pays. He also steals spoonfuls from everyone's cups except Shoko's who playfully slaps him out of the way of the huge waffle cone she'd gotten.

It breaks enough ice for Suguru-san to offer you a taste of his, hojicha, and he accepts a spoonful of yours until you're trading ice cream back and forth, Shoko-san gently mocking by offering you what she won't let Satoru-san steal.

Shoko-san stops in a convenience store with Suguru-san on the way back. It leaves you alone with him again.

"You're right," you say. "I shouldn't have given up even though I'm not good enough to beat you the way I would like to."

Satoru-san snorts, but it's not an unkind sound. "I'm not fragile."

Seems like it's too late to pretend with him, which is something of a relief. You won't have to be so careful with your words.

"I discovered my technique when someone tried to bully me in elementary school. They pushed me down and tried to hit me and I was too scared to realize I wasn't getting hurt before I pushed them away and sent them flying three meters."

Satoru-san laughs, and you have to admit it's a bit funny. Your six year old self had been terrified of getting in trouble. It was only because no one could believe a kid could send someone flying that far without leaving a single bruise on their own knuckles that you'd gotten away with it.

"When Takao-sensei showed up and started taking me to the dojo, it was far too easy for me to seriously injure the other students, because of my technique." You'd dislocated shoulders, broken knees and noses. Not on purpose, but because you didn't know what to do with the energy that pounded into you from practice strikes until it all released in a single strike.

Satoru-san going after you head-on instead of moving around your blocks had evoked that same feeling - unable to get away because you knew he would never respect outright running, too outclassed by his natural speed to put pause to the onslaught, too unwilling to sincerely fight him on the off chance you'd actually hit him and damage the most important sorcerer on campus.

"If you'd been a curse I would have gotten out of the way and attacked you from the side again, or just shot you up into the sky." The image of the curse you'd done that to and how it all but impaled itself upon your blade on the way back down made your lips twitch in amusement.

"That could be interesting," he said, baring his teeth in a grin. "I've never had an aerial battle before."

What an intriguing thought.

"Maybe a rematch someday."

The bell over the convenience store's door jangles.

"Who's having a rematch?" Shoko-san tucks something into her pocket. "I just fixed your arm, don't let him break it again."

Satoru-san stuck out his tongue at her and turned back to you. "If you wait until you're ready you'll never catch up." His gaze was haughty, a challenge. "Not that you ever will."

You felt like you were going to fall over from how hard you were laughing, bent over your own stomach.

Shoko-san was staring at you, a half-smile on her lips, fingers tapping on the new box in her pocket.

"Ha-" you wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, abdominal muscles aching. You giggled one more time, "I'm not that easily baited, Satoru-san."

Shoko-san had stepped up the road out of direct line of sight to the store and was pulling the cellophane off the box of cigarettes. You followed her back out into the bright spring afternoon, relishing the warmth after eating something cold and then standing in the shadows of the trees.

The other two quickly caught up, Satoru-san looking distinctly pouty.

"Are you really going to start sparring with us?" Suguru-san asked. He was, as always much more intentionally polite than Satoru-san. However, there was something eerily eager in his expression too.

You caught a pebble on the tip of your shoe and kicked it down the road.

Satoru-san's provocation had been intentionally a little silly as much as it had been serious. You'd notice him do that sometimes - say something halfway wise or something that could be almost good advice, only to pull the chair out from under it as it was about to land.

You weren't competing to become another special grade sorcerer, to clamber up to where they were. A sorcerer fought alone and for their own convictions. It was one of the first bitter lessons Takao-sensei had taught you.

"I really don't want anyone to get hurt," you sighed. Suguru-san would understand, out of the two of them. He was the one who understood collateral damage the most, even if he was weird about it.

Shoko-san blew a stream of sweet smelling smoke by your ear. She was as invaluable as the other two and got paid the salary to show it and her cigarettes always smelled like good tobacco, almost like the hand-rolled stuff the old men in your town used to smoke outside their favorite gathering places.

"I need to practice my technique too. If no one's getting hurt what's the point?"

That little bit of eagerness, the spark of battle which Satoru-san's curiosity had inspired was almost easy to grasp again. It was cold and sharp, like light caught in a marble.

You wanted... you wanted to try. A jujutsushi's life was never safe, never without danger. It was one thing to destroy curses, but Satoru-san was right. If you waited to try until you knew you could do something, wasn't that the same as not trying? Takao-sensei had promised comrades for whom you wouldn't be an immediate danger.

At the time, it had seemed like the first solace you might have in a while. But if you were going to remain a sorcerer, remain alongside these people who dragged you off campus to break the rules, to laugh and steal food from one another and live knowing your work let others live, you couldn't just wait.

"Weren't you the one who just told me not to let my arm get broken again?" But it was said with a teasing lilt.

Shoko-san bit down on the filter of her cigarette and pulled at your arm, sliding the sleeve up and holding the limb up to the light. "Not for a week. You have two arms though."

"And two legs," Suguru-san added. "Your footwork needs work anyways."

"You know I was promoted to second kyu before enrolling here, right?"

"Was that before or after you started throwing matches?"

"Ouch. As long as I'm the one getting hurt, I guess. Shoko-san, please make sure to heal me!" you smiled at her. "You're the coolest one here, so I'll leave my body in your care."

Shoko-san scoffed, but patted your arm kindly.

There was a tug at your back, and then Satoru-san was bolting ahead, your notebook held in his hands.

"What-?! Satoru-san!"

"Who's this?" He was flipping through pages and got to one of the dividers where you had pasted a picture of -

"Deguchi Aki," you replied, squinting at the photo, "and Itano Tomomi. I think."

Suguru-san was also squinting into the distance. It occurred to you that you should probably chase after Satoru-san before he lost the loose pages simply tucked in the book.

"Idols?" Suguru-san guessed.

"Yeah, I saw the group debut a new song at the end of last year. Satoru-san!" He was flipping through pages now in a way that was actually make you nervous.

He laughed when you chased after him, using his advantage of height to hold the book out of your reach.

"Come on, I know you can jump higher than that."

You actually could, especially since you'd left your umbrella on campus and were already warmed up from the walk.

"Hah!"

You snatched at the notebook and grazed the cover. Satoru-san just showed too many teeth, but you didn't see his eyes go a little wide as you spun on your landing foot and launched yourself into the air again.

He was fast, as expected, and you only touched the second lowest ring this time.

"Satoru-san, I haven't had time to punch holes in the loose pages!"

This time he swung the book loosely while you chased it around his body.

Just as you were about to reach it, pushing your speed higher with cursed energy, a black blur missed your nose by centimeters.

You looked up, blinking in surprise. You reached for the book in Suguru-san's hands, but he twitched the book out of your reach.

"Hm, I think your notes are more organized than mine," he teased, hopping backwards when you tried to see what page he was on.

"I've never seen your notes." Sorcerer uniforms didn't usually have a lot of material hanging off of them so they couldn't be grabbed. You only mourned that loss now when it meant you couldn't steal anything from Suguru-san in return.

"We should study together," he said. closing the book and reaching out to hand it to you.

"Mm, okay."

Shoko-san appeared in front of you, smiling faintly, and when she was gone, the scent of smoke and lemon was left behind and your notebook was nowhere to be found.

"They're cute," she said, peering at the same page Satoru-san had opened to.

"They're really good," you said brightly. "I'll show you a video when we get back."

"Sure, show me."

Shoko pulled further away every time you nearly caught up, and her odd wheezing laughter was starting to catch in her throat once you realized what she was up to and simply started to chase her back up the road to the school.

Just before you would have caught her for real, Satoru-san once more dashed ahead, this time picking Shoko-san up on his back over her protests.

"Shall we?" Suguru-san appeared at your side, offering you his hand.

You recalled his speed and nodded, determined. "Let's go."

His smile was open and excited when you wrapped your arms around his neck and cheered him onward.

You raced all the way to the gates, Suguru-san and Satoru-san happily trampling past a ruddy-faced Yaga-sensei, already bellowing something about neglecting the education of young sorcerers, but you're all laughing, cheeks chilled by the spring breeze, shouting back We're home.

*いゔどっと - ウタカタ (Ivudot - Utakata) title from this song

Utakata is a word that can mean a bubble on the surface of a liquid, or as an adjective mean something ephemeral, transient.

[superfluouskeys]

scorched earth (7/?)

Note: This story is set in the world of my very long Maleficent/Aurora fanfiction The Prisoner (which you can read  here if you want), but focuses almost entirely on original characters.   There is no need to read The Prisoner to understand what is going on--this story stands on its own and will give you all the background info you need.  Please also note the general content warning; I will not give specific warnings by chapter.

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Once upon a time, in a land not so very far from my own humble abode, a king and queen longed desperately for a child.  The messy details are not terribly important to our current tale, but suffice to say, the young queen begged a dark fairy for a favor, and the dark fairy obliged her.  This fairy was, as far as fairies go, rather young at the time, and of relatively little renown.  She gave the queen her price—an invitation to the wanted child’s christening—and when the time came, the queen did not pay.  The dark fairy appeared nevertheless, and bestowed a gift of her own choosing upon the baby princess: the child would live a happy and healthy sixteen years, and then she would die.

Various interested parties were understandably not best pleased with this arrangement, and did their utmost to circumvent the fairy’s will.  As a result, the princess was saved from an early death, and the fairy, whose name was Maleficent, was badly wounded and imprisoned in the infamous Chains of Avasina.

As many of my readers will already know, the magic of the Chains has many peculiarities, borne of an age-old presumption which has proven surprisingly accurate over the centuries.  The Chains have no lock or key, but can only be removed by one who is not of the dark fae.

The princess, now a kind-hearted and curious young woman, stole down to the dungeon to speak with Maleficent, and agreed to set her free, on one condition: that Maleficent would take the princess with her when she left.

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