#four rising suns one setting moon

[rw-repurposed]

A n c i e n t s

So, in the first image are the five main ancients of Chasing Wind.

From left to right:

Nine Howling Vessels, Silent Night. Head of the Maintenance Council.

Darkness Befallen, Ashes Remains. Constructor of Chasing Wind, Head of the Society Council.

Four Rising Suns, One Setting Moon. Leader of the Ancient Colony, the Grand Councilor.

Stains of Shadow Over A Realm's Sorrow. Chasing Wind's Administrator.

One Direct Goal, Infinite Curved Paths. Head of the Research Council.

They will be the ancients who have the most effect on Chasing Wind and the lore as a whole.

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

5 Times There Was Only One Bed (and the one time there were two beds) | Bucky x Reader | One Shot - 4.7k

Whether it's on a mission, a work event or a holiday, your sleeping arrangements never seem to work out as planned. It doesn't really bother you until...it does. Confronted with a night sleeping apart, you and Bucky finally talk.

Warnings: 18+ for language, suggestive situations and sexism (but not from our Bucky he would never). Also rated F for fluffy and S for snuggling.

Written for the @bucks-and-noble Valentrope event - "there was only on bed" the reigning champion of tropes!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Fics

Your first mission with Bucky Barnes went really well, until it didn’t. 

After successfully destroying an underground Hydra base you’d returned to your transport in a less than desirable state. 

“Fuck, four flats.” You huffed, poking the tyre with the toe of your tactical boot. 

“Fuel line’s been cut.” Bucky muttered from the front, “lucky they didn’t torch it.” 

Bucky quietly rubbed a gloved hand over his face, before looking up at the admittedly stunning night sky, he seemed to study it for a moment before making a quarter turn to his left and climbing up a ridge of sandy rock. As if dazed you followed him. You could see for miles thanks to the glow of a full moon, the stars dense and glittering above you both. It was almost romantic, if you didn’t have blood on your cheek and an empty gun on your hip. 

Bucky still looked like he could sweep you off your feet though, with his structured tactical vest making his broad shoulders look even wider, his wind swept hair giving him the look of a romantic hero on the front of a paperback, especially with one foot perched on the outcrop of rock above you. 

“Let’s go.” He pointed towards a glow rising from beyond the horizon and you’d started walking, doing your best to keep up with his long strides. You could see the motel, how far could it really be.

As soon as you climbed down the motel vanished and the reality of your trek set in. 

Around hour two Bucky slowed his pace to allow you to catch up. He didn’t speak much, just what was necessary, and sometimes a hello when he saw you around the compound. But he struck you as shy, rather than cruel or rude. He had checked on you after the mission brief two days ago to make sure you were happy with the plans and, when you were left at the drop off zone, had given you a few of his spare rounds. 

You were starting to flag, your steps faltering in the dust and your fingers frozen. Without the sun the desert was so cold the tips of your ears felt like they’d fallen off. Bucky slowed too, cracking a heat pack and handing it over, swapping it for your pack. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering. 

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a tight smile and turned back towards the motel, growing closer with each step. 

Three hours after you’d discovered the flat tyre, you fell through the door of the dingy motel room, exhausted, cold and starving, only to be met with the sight of one queen size bed and a single chair by the window. 

“I’m gonna sleep,” you slurred, unable to manage more than zipping off your tactical vest. You fell onto your back and tried to toe off your boots but they were too tight. Your eyes slid shut and you felt the sensation of Bucky sitting on the other side of the thin mattress, making you roll towards him slightly. His weight shifted and settled, the warmth of his body behind yours comforting after everything you’d seen that evening. 

He smelt nice too, despite the blood and sweat and gunpowder, he smelt like sandalwood and the desert air. It was all you could think of as you drifted into a deep sleep, how much you wanted to press your face into his back and breathe him in. 

The  next morning you woke to find Bucky already showered and dressed, pushing his damp hair back from his face and brushing his teeth while he called Torres for new exit plans. 

Your boots and socks were off, arranged neatly by the door, a coffee steaming on the bedside table.

Despite all the changes a new team had brought, Bucky liked working with you. You were quiet too and didn’t mind when he was silent for almost a whole mission. You were efficient and skilled, but empathetic, always stopping during the fall out to ensure the team were together and protecting civilians whenever you could. 

So it was no surprise to him when you offered to share the bed at the hotel. Sam and Joaquín had long since retired to their room, but you’d both stayed at the hotel bar, silently emptying a bottle of red wine while Bucky continued his 100 Books to Read Before You Die list and you scrolled through your phone, catching up on everything you’d missed during the five day - “phone’s off, and yes, I mean you Agent” - mission. 

As soon as you retired to the room you knew there’d been a mistake. 

“Ah, shit.” You’d dropped your bag to the floor by the door and Bucky had almost walked into your back, peering over your shoulder at the very neatly made double bed. The only bed. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had sighed, resigned to a night of lumpy, uncomfortable sleep. 

“There isn’t one.” You pushed your bag further into the room with your foot and Bucky brushed past to survey the space.

“The floor then.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, the bed’s big enough for two, we can share.” 

You’d said it with such easy grace that he’d felt almost insulted that his chivalrous offer was so easily deflected. Then you’d returned from the bathroom smelling like mint and almond oil, your loose pyjamas hanging off one shoulder and just like that, he gave in. 

By the time he’d change and brushed his teeth you were already asleep, holding a pillow close to your chest with your leg well over onto his side of the bed. Carefully he moved you back to your side and slid under the cool sheet next to you. 

He woke first the next morning to find you still attempting to occupy the majority of the bed, your face relaxed and mouth slightly open. Bucky indulged in a moment of quiet comfort before getting up. You wouldn’t want him staring at you, you’d be embarrassed that you were trying to cuddle him and it’d ruin the fragile bond you were forming with each mission. 

By 9am you were both making fun of Joaquín’s terrible hotel bookings over pancakes and coffee. 

“Why can’t we just ask for directions?” 

“Are you seriously asking me that?” 

“Yes?” 

“Because we just crossed a border illegally, we have no papers, no passports, we’re lying low.” 

“They’re hardly going to ask to see our passports, Bucky.” You sighed, hitching your bag higher on your back. 

You’d been walking since 5am that morning, crossing through a forest trail to avoid borders and rendezvous with Torres in a village that should have been a few miles away so that you could evac together. 

5am seemed a long time ago now that the sun was setting. You’d stopped briefly to heat up a can of beans, a “late lunch, early dinner” Bucky had called it, smiling at you over the steaming mess tin you were sharing.

The scalding heat had dissipated now though and you were tired. The memory of his hand touching yours as you ate still lingering. 

“We’re not going to find him tonight, we should stop.” Bucky suggested, “I’ll find a good place to camp.” 

Suddenly you were grateful that Mr Overprepared had packed a tent. 

“Good idea.” You agreed, rubbing your hands together. 

“Well, I will be, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?” He said, walking deeper into the woods, running his foot over the ground, looking for somewhere flat. 

Your heart sank, he was right, you’d laughed at him when he’d attached it to his already full pack and he’d said you’d regret it, a teasing look in his eye. Well. You were regretting it. It had started raining a few minutes before, gentle rain drops that got heavy in each gap between the canopy. You had no doubt it’d be heavier soon though, and with the sun setting you didn’t relish the idea of being wet and cold out in the dark. 

Bucky stopped and turned, lowering his pack to the floor between two large trunked trees and those twinkling eyes made butterflies take flight in the pit of your stomach. A boyish grin crossed his face as he got to work. 

Ten minutes later and the tent was up, strung between the trees and extra protected with some fallen foliage. 

Bucky unlaced his boots and placed them between the inner and outer tent before climbing in, when you didn’t follow he poked his head back around the flap of the tent, patting the unrolled sleeping bag next to him. 

“C’mon, you really think I’d make you sleep out there?” He was almost laughing, and the sound was so welcome, so stupidly content despite your situation, you could barely stand it. 

You squeezed in, using the inner fleece layer from your coat as a blanket. Bucky lifted the side of his sleeping bag. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyes already closed, when you hesitated he tugged you closer until you were tucked against his chest. He rearranged your coats on top of you both until you could feel your fingers again. “Warmer?” 

“Yeah, thanks, Bucky.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing heavy and even, beneath his sweater you could hear the steady thump of his heart as it lulled you to sleep in his arms. 

Bucky hated these stupid events, he’d only been persuaded to come because you’d done those big round puppy dog eyes and said it’d be no fun without him. Joaquín had asked too and, although Sam had joked that it’d be more fun without ‘Mr Grumpy’, Bucky knew he’d only been teasing. 

But it was you that had convinced him. It was those eyes, the way your voice had gone up a little and you’d pouted in that silly way you did when Joaquín took the last doughnut at mission briefings. He couldn’t resist. And he had no idea what to do about it. 

Behind him he could hear another team talking about you, how they didn't understand why you were always working with ‘that asshole Barnes’ so much. 

In the anonymous dark they joked about you, about him, as if you were a reward for a guard dog. A babysitter for his more violent tendencies. Worse, disgusting, accusations about how you'd come by your place in the team. He suddenly missed his mother, she'd have washed their mouths out with soap.

He felt sick. 

Bucky took a long swig from his beer and chased it with a shot of whisky, anything to stop his teeth from grinding. 

They were wrong on so many counts. You were skilled and fearless, soft and fierce at all the right moments. But you didn't care about him, or Sam or Joaquín for that matter. Not in the vile, disrespectful way those men imagined. You didn’t men like them - him - messy, unpredictable, unstable. You didn’t really need anyone. 

But Bucky - he took another swig, trying to stop the swirling feeling in his chest - he cared for you. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And as angry as he was at what he heard, he was equally ashamed for wishing that you did want him. 

He’d been watching you dance with Joaquín and one of your other agent friends for more than an hour now. Your body swaying and rippling in time to the music, your dress ghosting over your hips in a way that made his mouth dry. It was one thing to work with you in army fatigues or go to meetings with you in your casual jeans - the stealth suit had been really pushing his patience recently so he didn't want to think about it - but he could at least keep himself under control while your skin was covered. Then you arrived wearing this dress. The neckline alone made him want to sink to his knees in front of you. 

Joaquín danced away with your friend, you winked at the lieutenant and smacked his ass as he passed - you were definitely drunk. 

Alone you swayed to the music, still in your own world.

“She’s so fucking drunk -” 

“Absolute embarrassment -” 

“Can’t believe they let her in -” 

Bucky slammed his drink down on the bar top and grabbed his leather jacket, stalking across the dancefloor like a shadow, the lights skimming over him. 

You were facing away from him and he couldn’t resist, his hands finding your waist so naturally, his body melting into yours, matching the slow roll of your hips so he could lean into your ear. 

“I think it’s time to go,” he whisper-shouted above the pounding music. 

“Bucky!” You exclaimed, completely ignoring his suggestion, “dance with me!” 

You span in his hands, leaning up and into him, your hands around his neck, twisting into his hair. The little tug you gave sent pleasure shooting down his spine. God he was weak, his body moved without his say so, slipping a leg between yours and - fuck - you were grinding against him. He was lost. 

The song ended, fading into the next as the lights flickered and he regained enough of his faculties to remember you were drunk, very drunk. 

“C’mon, doll, let’s go, I’ll get you some water-” 

“You still here, sweetheart? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.” 

Was he still here? Fucking asshole. 

Bucky rounded on him, keeping you close with a hand around your waist. 

“You boys having a good night?” You grinned, unable to hear their cruel words over the music. 

You were just so - good, so kind, even when these pricks were trying to tear you down, your first instinct was to be friendly - he couldn’t stand it. 

“I said -” the agent grinned, dipping down, placing his hands on his knees and levelling his face with yours, that patronising glint in his eyes, “are you still fucking here you stupid bitch?” 

Bucky saw red, tucking you under his left arm, pushing you behind his back as he had so many times during missions, and smashing his right straight into the agent’s nose. 

“Didn’t your Ma teach you to speak to ladies with respect?” 

Blood dripped onto the dark dance floor, a circle forming as the other party goers backed away. 

Bucky gave the man one last disapproving look and then his attention was solely focussed on you, leading you out past the crowd until you were outside in the freezing air. He draped his jacket around your shoulders and watched as you snuggled inside. Was he dreaming or did you inhale deeply when he did it? 

“M’sorry, Buck.” You hiccupped, leaning into him, eyes half shut. 

He took your weight gladly, “s’okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, it was those idiots in there.” With staggering steps you made it to the next street over and Bucky said nothing as he unlocked the door. 

“Where are we?” You slurred, your ankles twisting in your heels with each step. 

“My place, I thought you could sober up here while I call you a cab to get you back to your hotel.” 

He settled you on the couch and tried to walk away, but there was a hand hooked in his belt loop. 

“F’got you live in Neewww York,” you closed your eyes, resting your head against his hip as you continued to mumble about ‘the big apple’, he willed himself to breath deeply, he was struggling to keep his body under control. 

“Yeah - what’s your hotel called?” 

“You called me ‘doll’,” you giggled, your fingers closing around his belt.

“I did, sorry, it just slipped out. Your hotel?” 

“Dun worry, I liked it - can I stay here? I sleep here.” You let go, only to curl up on the sofa, your dress sliding up your thighs. 

“Sure.” He sighed. 

Bucky scooped you up again and nudged the door to his bedroom open with his hip, the duvet was still rumpled from the night before. Another night of no sleep, at least it was because of you and not another nightmare. And now you were here, nose pressed into his chest, ready to sleep in his bed. 

“Okay, I’ll be out here if you need me, g’night.”

“Stay.” 

“I’ll be right outside if you need-” 

“Stay.” 

And it was those puppy dog eyes again, the pout, the voice, the hand on his belt. 

Even though he knew you’d sleep like a log, hogging his duvet and encroaching on his space, even though he knew you’d be embarrassed in the morning, probably hungover as hell. Even though, come the morning, he was right. He still had the best nights sleep he’d ever had since he bought the place. 

You hadn’t been this relaxed in a long time, you were sure if you stood up you’d simply melt into a puddle. Sun warm skin, the buzz of a few too many afternoon beers in your system and the sound of laughter as Sam, Joaquín and Bucky continued to try and catch a single fish had lulled you into a half sleep, dozing on the deck of the Paul & Darlene 

“Hey, you want another beer, doll?” 

Bucky’s voice drifted over to you and you cracked one eye open. He’d unbuttoned his shirt half way down his chest, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty, sunkissed skin. He hadn’t been able to drop the nickname since he'd had to rescue you at the gala. Although you'd done your best to keep yourself away. The way his eyes burned into you when he turned your way, the memory of his body imprinted into yours, his leg pressing against you, the shadow of a hardness that made your mouth water. 

He'd been the perfect gentleman, of course. Had made sure you were safe and comfortable, even escorted you back to your hotel in the morning after a huge home cooked breakfast. 

He was a gent. And you were an embarrassment. It ate away at you until you couldn't even look at him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Beer?” He asked again, holding out the bottle, the cap already popped off. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” 

He flopped down beside you on the deck, the last of the day fading beyond the horizon and leaving you bobbing in the inky abyss where the sky met the water. 

“You feeling okay?” He took a swig and you watched the condensation on the bottle trickle over his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah, fine.”

“You look dazed, that's all, don't want you getting sunstroke on us.” 

Bucky looked genuinely concerned and you figured, from the sudden sick feeling inside, that maybe your heart had skipped a few beats or flipped over or something. 

“Uh -” Fuck, did he have to leave his shirt open like that? He asked a question, what was it? 

“Are you okay?” He used the back of his right hand and placed it against your forehead, “you feel really hot. Maybe you do have sun stroke.” 

“I’m fine, honestly.” You shrugged him off, but went looking for a bottle of water anyway. 

As the boat made its way back to the dock you watched the lights of Sarah’s house flicker on in the distance. Sam had invited the three of you to stay, taking up all of Sarah’s space and the room on the boat, while her and the boys went into the city for the night. It was a generous offer, one that you couldn’t say no to after months of hard work without a break. 

In the pitch dark you all stumbled back up the driveway, only to find Sarah on the porch. 

“Sarah -” Sam jogged to reach her first, concern written on his brow. 

“I’m alright, Sam, don’t fuss. It’s just Cass, ate too many beignets and threw up so I thought we should come home. He’s upstairs with AJ. Sorry we messed up your plans.”

Bucky took the suitcase from her hands, “it’s your home Sarah, you haven’t messed up anything.” 

She threw an arm around his shoulders and hugged him sideways, a familiar gesture you’d seen her make before, but for some reason your tummy twisted, jealousy stirring. 

“Means we’ll need some rooms back though, I know I said you could all stay but-” 

A chorus of voices filled the air, refusing to let Sarah apologise, before you started to get organised. 

“Well Cass needs his own bed, that’s a given.” You said, worried that the young boy might be ill as well as over excited about his food. 

“Of course,” Joaquín agreed. “Sarah, you’re obviously taking your room too. We wouldn’t ask you to give that up. I’ll go on the couch in the sitting room.” He smiled. 

You looked between your other two colleagues, but Bucky spoke first. 

“Well if Torres’ taking the couch I’m not going to argue, I’d rather be in a bed even if it is on a boat.” He ruffled Joaquín’s hair affectionately and the younger man shoved at him. 

Sam looked at you, “you can take my bed, if you want, I can change the sheets -” 

“I’ll sleep on other sofa -” 

“You’ll share with me, right doll?” 

The three of you spoke at once, and Sarah raised her eyebrows then her hands before opening the front door, “I’ll be in bed, you kids figure this out yourself.” 

“Bucky -” Sam started. 

“Sam - we’ve shared before,” there was a glimmer of hope that glowed inside of you when Bucky stepped closer, his shirt fluttering open again in the breeze, revealing his toned chest and that dusting of dark hair, creeping under the buckle of his jeans. “Besides, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made us share, would it?” Bucky joked, nudging Sam as they went to collect more blankets and bedding, “what about that hotel-” 

His voice faded until all you could hear were the crickets in the distance, you’d forgotten about Joaquín until he walked past, turning backwards at the last moment so he could see you again, “if you don’t want to share with Barnes…” he let the offer hang in the air and you were torn.

Really, you should protest and ask for your own space. But then you’d missed the sound of his steady breathing beside you, the weight and warmth of him when he turned over into your space. In fact you’d missed him completely, even if you’d been avoiding him on purpose. 

Secretly you hoped the bedroom on the boat would be cooler now the sun had gone down, perhaps he’d hold you like he did while you were camping. 

Sam let you back onto the boat, making sure you had enough blankets for two distinct sleeping arrangements if you wanted. 

Bucky slid into the cool cotton sheets in only his boxers and, shyly, you followed. Expecting to sleep alone you’d packed shorts and a vest, revealing more than you really wanted to considering he clearly didn’t return your interest. 

Bucky kept politely to his side of the bed, his arms awkwardly stiff at his side when he turned away from you. Unable to stop yourself you turned too, watching the strong line of his back relax as his breathing evened out.

The boat bobbed gently, lulling you to sleep. You were vaguely aware of a strong arm tugging you closer, the smell of Bucky’s shampoo and sun cream and the weight of a bed rising to meet you. 

Everything went perfectly, again, until it didn’t. 

Intelligence? Secured. Exit? Executed to perfection. Adrenaline fueled burger stop where Bucky wiped a drop of sauce from your lips exactly as you planned? Complete. Motel booking? Perfect?

You and Bucky stared at the two motel beds. 

In the entire time you’d been working together you’d never really managed it. There were either no rooms, the room was wrong or there was no room at all, just whatever you could find. And now there were two beds and you felt sick and your head hurt and after everything you’d seen and done today the last thing you wanted to do was sleep alone. 

“Doll?” Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back and reality came screeching to a halt around you. 

“Sorry, Buck, I must be really tired, I’m going to shower and get in bed. Do you mind if I go first?” You were already half to the bathroom, the zip down on your tac suit, were you imagining Bucky’s eyes dropping down to where your skin was revealed? 

“Of course, whatever you need, I’ll just be…here,”

After a perfunctory shower consisting of a dribble of hot water that quickly turned into a freezing cold torrent, you returned to the shared room. 

Bucky hurried past, his body brushing against yours in the doorway, firm and muscular, yet you knew that being held by him was soft and warm. You tried not to feel too sad that there’d be no excuse for getting close to him again for the rest of your trip. 

By the time he was finished you were tucked into bed, trying to read the paperback you’d found in the draw because the television signal was terrible. 

He stood in the window, a shadow against the light filtering in through the thin material of the curtains, ruffling his wet hair with a towel, his sweatpants so at odds with the man who’d been by your side just a few hours before. This was a rare sight, one you were privileged to see. 

Bucky tossed the towel onto the chair by the door and then sat on the end of the other bed, watching you read from the corner of his eye. You knew because the last three paragraphs had become a blur of words, your focus solely on Bucky. 

“Maybe we should go to sleep, we’ve got a long drive tomorrow.” 

“You’re right.” 

You both slid down into bed, separately, and you’d never felt so alone. 

In the darkness you could see the shape of him, facing the door with his hand tucked under his pillow, and somehow the darkness made you braver. 

“Would it be weird if I said I missed you?” You whispered. 

Bucky rolled over, but put his hand back under his pillow, no doubt he had something hidden under there, he usually did. 

“I miss you too.” 

You shuffled back, letting the sheets fall further down the bed, “I know you have your own space over there and you probably don’t want to be all cramped up with me, but if you wanted to share still -” 

Bucky was out of his bed before you could finish, slipping under the sheets. He’d taken off his sweatpants before getting into bed, his legs bed warm against your own and you bit your lip, trying to focus on his face and not on his almost naked body just inches away. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, doll.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” 

“What if I want to?” 

He was so close, his breath minty when it ghosted over your lips, his nose touching yours, his long eyelashes making his crystal eyes look brighter. 

“What if I missed you being in my bed? What if I always want to share with you?” He reached his hand out, cupping your cheek. 

“You do?” 

And then his lips were on yours, so soft, his tongue slipping past yours as you gasped. One cool metal hand and one callused, drawing you closer, a leg between your thighs, your bodies rolling together and - “oh, Bucky.” You sighed into his mouth, letting him tug you into him. 

“I - I want that too -” you squeezed out between kisses, “I wanna always - always - be in your bed - I - I always hoped we had too.” 

“You did?” He pulled back, stroking a thumb down your cheek and over your kiss bitten lips. 

“Uh huh, I did,” 

“You been sabotaging us this whole time, baby?” He laughed, his eyes sparkling. 

“No,” you laughed too, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb, “maybe I should’ve though.” 

“Maybe,” his hand left your face to cup the back of your neck, drawing you down for another languid kiss. 

“How long?” 

“How long, what?” 

“How long have you wanted -” his question trailed off into another series of featherlight kisses. 

“Since, ugh - Utah?” You offered shyly, embarrassed to admit that you’d been head over heels from the start. 

With a groan he rolled you over, slipping his body between your open legs, his hips settling just right against your own. “Fuck,” he dropped his forehead to yours, “we could’ve been doing this the whole time.” He admitted, lifting his head to smile down at you. 

“Well then I guess we have some making up to do,” you linked your hands behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

“I guess we do, doll.” 

[latenightdaydreams]

Werewolf König x Human!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, non-con, werewolf, knotty, breeding kink, biting, chase

3.5k word count

🐺

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💖Set in the 1980s💖

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It’s half past midnight as you hug your best friend goodbye. Her boyfriend had broken up with her, so you made the hour drive into the countryside to see her, but you work tomorrow so you aren’t able to stay the night.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Laura, your friend, asks. “It looks like it’s about to snow.” She looks to the sky with her sage green eyes, cheeks stained red from crying, but she still looks so beautiful.

“I can’t miss any more days of work, or else I would. I’ll drive safe, promise.” You hold your pinky finger out for her to wrap hers around.

“Call me once you get home, please.”

“I will.” You wave to her over your shoulder as you walk to your car. When you look up, you can see bright gray clouds and the full moon illuminating the night sky. You unlock your car and get inside, turning up the heater all the way.

 The radio turns on, Air Supply- “Making Love Out of Nothing at All”, blares from the speakers. Singing out with all your heart along with the radio as you turn your headlights on and set off back home.

The main road you take has no street lights to illuminate the path; only the light from your headlights and the moon to guide your way. When you look on either side of you, all you can see is dense woods with the occasional farm land.

Fluffy chunks of snow fall from the sky as the road ahead of you quickly gets covered. You turn on your windshield wipers at the highest setting. The snow makes the drive seem more surreal. As you have stepped into a Disney movie. It’s relaxing, to say the least.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can swear you see something big. You twist your head, trying not to look away from the snowy road for too long. Yet, you see nothing. You chalk it up to you being tired and seeing things. This area has no wolves, at least not anymore. They were all hunted into extinction or pushed out.

The drive only gets harder as the snow falls faster than what your windshield wipers can clear away. The visibility becomes so poor you can only see a few feet in front of you. Feeling your heartbeat pick up from anxiety, you slow your speed to 15 under the speed limit. You’d rather be safe than sorry.

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König deployed to middle America twenty-seven days ago. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out extraction that went sideways. Two weeks turned into four. Panic set in as he realized he will change away from his restraints.

Day twenty-eight, he looked at his men with hungry eyes. Their fear of him becoming easier to smell and he knew he had to get away from them for their safety.

“I’m going to patrol. Make sure no one follows us.” He lies.

The sky beginning to turn a pinkish orange hue as he drops his weapons and runs. His heart pounding in his chest, dirt kicking up beneath his feet, he tries to get as far away from them as he can.

Looking up, the sky turns a dark blue as the sun is almost completely set. After what feels like an eternity of running, he finds an abandoned run-down farm. He makes his way inside the barn to make sure he is alone.

Once inside König quickly pulls his helmet off of his head followed by his mask. He drops to his knees taking in deep breaths. He can feel his body temperature beginning to rise rapidly and his senses begin to heighten. His pupils enlarge, turning his icy blue eyes black as he begins to pant. Pain consumes his body as he begins to change, his hands grabbing at his shirt and pulling the rest of his clothes from his body with haste.

“Argh!” König’s scream comes out deep, inhuman. His body begins to contort as he drops to the floor in agony.

His fingertips now sharp claws, black and grayish fur cover his body. Standing up from the floor, fully transformed, he takes in a deep breath before letting out a loud howl. He now stands 9ft tall. Taking a moment to adjust to everything he can’t stop sniffing the air. There is a scent, one that he has never smelled before. He follows it outside of the barn. Stepping into the moonlight, he begins to run on all fours in the direction it’s coming from.

König is blinded by his pure primal drive as he runs with one objective. He stops by a roadside and looks up to see a small ranch style home with two cars parked outside. A woman with her back turned to him hugging a taller blonde. It wasn’t the blonde he was here for; it was you. He was smelling you.

His eyes follow you as you walk to your car. It was too risky to run out and grab you now. When the headlights turn on his eyes; he squints, retreating back into the tree line. König stands on two feet and sniffs the air, letting out a deep sigh before dropping back down on all fours. He begins to follow you.

.

.

You lean forward as you drive to try and see the road better. Driving was becoming dangerous, but you’re still 45 minutes away from home. Out of the corner of your eye you see the dark shadow again. It’s almost as if it’s something chasing the car, but you chalk it up to just the shadows mixing with the heavy downfall of snow.

The car’s tires begin to struggle to grip the road as it quickly becomes slippery from the heavy layer of snow. You lift your foot from the gas to let yourself slow down more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whisper to yourself as you feel your heart beating in your ears. You absolutely hate driving in the snow, especially when you’re so far away from home. Had you known it would snow, you would have had Laura come stay with you.

Just as you did breathing exercises to calm yourself, something huge darts in front of your car. You slam on your brakes and turn the steering wheel. A panicked scream leaves your mouth as your car drifts out of control. Within the blink of an eye, your car slams into a guardrail that stops you from falling into a ravine. Your head hits the steering wheel and you fall to the side slightly, making the music blast. The song “Every Breath You Take” by the Police fills the car.

“Shit.” You sit up and rub your head, feeling warm blood on your fingers.

Reaching over, you turn your rearview mirror towards you to check yourself. The low light makes it hard, but you only see a cut across your forehead. Letting out a deep sigh, you look at the car through the windshield. It’s smoking, but the battery is still running, so you try to get the car to start back up. Nothing. You’re stranded.

Stepping out of the car, you’re hit by the harsh cold and the snow on your face. It’s absolutely miserable outside. You remember the last roadside sign said there was a rest stop about two miles ahead, you could definitely call for help there.

You go into your car’s trunk and pull out the flashlight you had back there in case of emergencies; much like the ones you’re in now. The snow crunched beneath each of your footsteps as you made your trek to the rest stop. If there is one thing you can be thankful for, it’s the fact you wore your winter boots today.

“Just my luck…” you whisper to yourself, your breath visible as you speak. The wind whistles all around you as you hug yourself with one arm and continue holding the flashlight up with the other. The night is eerily quiet, not one other car on the road.

You continue ahead and stay to the side near the tree line just in case a car came. You can’t shake the feeling of being watched, as if you’re being followed. In your head, you tell yourself that it must be just all of the anxiety. No one else is actually out here.

That is until you hear a branch snap. You freeze for a second, holding your breath, trying to listen. All you can hear is the sound of the wind whistling around you and your heartbeat in your ears. Just an animal… You think, but then you scare yourself trying to think about what size animal that was.

With nothing you can do, you decide to just push forward and keep walking. Each step you take with haste, as you feel the fear of being watched, might be valid. You try to not freak out and waste all of your energy running, so in your mind, you try to calm yourself.

Maybe it was only a deer. Deer are heavy and live here. Could have also just been a branch falling down…

To relax more, you hum to yourself, just a random tune you made up in your head. You look up at the sky to gaze at the moon when you hear another branch snap. You twist in that direction and shine your light. That’s when you see the reflective glow of a pair of eyes inside the tree line.

The eyes quickly move away, your stomach dropping. Your mind goes back to the creature you saw while driving. You look around before continuing on. Your once hurried steps are more of a light jog. Your mind is torn between the primal urge to run and the human urge to remain calm.

Just a deer, just a deer, just a deer…

You hear another branch and you jump, turning again to shine the light on it again. The eyes appear once more, closer this time. You let out a shaky breath as you feel a wave of dread wash over you. Just then, you hear a low growl.

Not a deer, not a deer, not a deer!

Without a second thought, you turn and run, continuing down the road. Your mind goes a million miles a second as you try to process what animal it could be; maybe even a stray dog. Either way, you didn’t want to find out.

.

.

König watches you closely. Your smell is intoxicating. Consuming his mind, he can’t stop pursuing you. When you hear his heavy foot snap a stick, he freezes; he can hear your heartbeat race inside of your chest. The smell of fear growing stronger by the second.

You shine the light in his eyes, and he cowers away from the brightness of it. He lingers as you walk away again, getting some distance between the two of you so it would be easier to follow you without being seen.

He keeps his pace, listening to you hum a song to yourself. Acting as if you’re unaware that you’re being stalked when your elevated heart beat says otherwise. Then he does it again. This time you’re quick and flash the light on him instantly.

His urge to get close to you is uncontrollable. Your smell…what is it? He needs you, craves you. You are his. He lets out a deep growl, feeling his body tingle. You hear it and take off quickly. This is the moment, his time to pounce.

He picks up his pace until he is ahead of you. Once he is, he jumps out from the woods and walks in front of you. Standing up on two legs, he lifts his head and howls.

A deep, truly terrified scream escapes your lips as you watch a 9-foot-tall creature stand before you on two legs, howling as a wolf. Your flashlight illuminates the thick, dark fur covering its whole body. This was the creature you saw running beside your car, the one stepping on sticks, whose eyes you saw glowing…

You turn quickly and run back in the opposite direction, towards Laura’s house. In a panic, you drop your flashlight, your only possible weapon. There is no time to stop and pick it up, as you can hear the creature beginning to chase you.

“HELP!” you scream into the darkness, but there is no one around to hear you. “PLEASE!”

Adrenaline courses through your veins as your feet slip on the snow beneath you. You catch yourself and keep going. Looking over your shoulder, the creature is gone. What the fuck… You stop to look around, panting.  

If it wasn’t for the claw marks in the snow, you’d think you were hallucinating. Laura's home is closer to you than the rest stop, so you continue running back in that direction. As the adrenaline wears off, tears fill your eyes, the rush of everything you just witnessed causing you to break down. You take a deep inhale before letting out a loud sob, your feet slowing. Allowing yourself to have a moment before collecting yourself.

You wipe your tears away, trying to steady your breath as you turn to look behind you. All you see are your own footprints now. The cold makes your nose leak as you wipe it away on your coat sleeve.

“What the fuck is going on?” You whisper to yourself as you sniffle.

You turn back around and freeze. Up the road you see a dark black shadow. Your heart rate spikes again. It doesn’t move, so you take small steps backwards. Unexpectedly, the creature walks away slowly back into the wooded area. Confused on which direction you should go; you just continue to go towards Laura. Clearly, no matter where you go, this thing can move faster. Everything around you is quiet; on high alert, your eyes dart around in every direction.

“Just keep walking. You’ll be at Laura’s in no time.” Your voice cracks, lacking confidence in your own words. It’s as if this thing was toying with you.

Your body shivers from the intense cold. In your mind you convince yourself that this will just be a funny story you tell her once you get there. She will make you hot chocolate and everything will be fine. You’ll be okay.

Just as you started to believe your own hype, your body hits the snow-covered road- hard. Your head hits the ground and your vision goes blurry for a split second. You can feel hands grabbing your ankles and dragging you back into the woods. In a panic you begin to grasp at the snow on the ground, trying to pull yourself away from it.

“Let me go!” You try to squirm, trying to make yourself difficult in hopes it will drop you.

The creature growls at you, refusing to drop you. It drags you through the cold snow, sticks hitting your face and scratching you. Finally, it drops your legs. You turn quickly and begin to scoot away on the floor.

This… this isn’t real. This can’t be real. You see a 9-foot-tall wolf looking humanoid. A werewolf? No, they aren’t real.

König takes a deep breath in, having you this close makes that sweet smell so much more intense. His eyes travel over your body. He needs to claim you. He steps closer as you begin to crawl backwards. A growl escapes his lips as he lunges forward, grasping your ankle tightly; screams going unheard.

His clawed hand comes up and rests on your chest, pressing you into the cold ground.  Moving slowly, his cold wet nose touches your neck and you wince. His tongue coming out and kicking you.

His hands grasp your winter coat, ripping his sharp claws through it. A burst of cold hits you as you try to fight back. You hit him in the chest and on his face. He grasps both of your wrists with one hand and holds you down.

With your coat torn open, the sweet scent gets stronger. He is getting closer. In a frenzy he continues to tear off your clothing. Your small body wiggling didn’t slow him one bit. Covered in goosebumps from the cold you feel his nose trail down your body until he lands between your legs.

Nuzzling his snout between your legs he begins to take deep breaths, it’s what he’s been chasing. He’s finally found his mate. The aroma of your cunt begins to make his cock hard. His fat tongue presses against the fabric of your blue cotton panties.

“No!” You try to kick him again.

His blacked-out eyes snap up at you and snarls before looking back down. Grabbing the hem of your underwear with his teeth, he jerks his head to the side; tearing your underwear off. You have half of a shirt on, your bra torn down the center. You’re basically naked, the snow still falling heavily. Other than the extreme heat from the werewolf, you’re freezing.

Nuzzling his snout between your legs, he begins to lap at your cold cunt. His first taste made him close his eyes; he has never tasted anything as good as you before. Your back arches, hands still restrained above your head. Squeezing your legs around him you let out a tiny moan. He responds with a low growl. All he can think of is getting your scent all over him and his all over you.

His hands move to your hips and pull you toward him. His hands wrapping around your thighs and spreading your legs wide apart to fit his body between them. His hips grind forward and rub his massive erection along your wet folds.

You look up at him helplessly as he leans forward to lick your face and neck. Slowly the fat head of his red cock begins to slip into your tiny little cunt. A loud groan leaves his lips as he feels you wrap around him. His claws dig into the supple flesh of your thighs as he rolls his hips into you at a rapid pace.

Hands grasping at the forest floor, grabbing leaves and pieces of your torn clothes. You try to crawl backwards but he stops you, growling as he pulls you closer to him again. He gives you a glare as his cock stretches you to the brink, you’re his now to breed with and you won’t be leaving until you’re bred.

He drops your legs and turns you over. Your naked body hits the snow and you shiver. His hands grab your hips and pull you to him so you’re on all fours with your ass in the air for him. His cock slips back in, making him let out a small growl. His balls slap against your clit as he bucks into you.

Moans leave your lips, feeling disgusted with yourself for feeling pleasure from this beast. He loves to hear your pathetic little sounds. König’s claws dig into your hips as he gets closer to cumming inside of you.

Panting loudly as he leans over and begins to bite your neck hard. You let out a pained moan, the bite feeling slightly pleasurable. Slowly, the pressure of the bite increased and it was almost like he was keeping you in place.

That’s when you feel his hands on your hips push you down more on his cock. Your pussy is already full. You squirm from the pain. The squirms don’t stop him. He is close now. His hands firmly pull you back again as he pushes forward and you let out a loud moan. Little did you know he was trying to knot you.

König was ready to cum. His teeth sink fully into your neck, causing you to bleed. He pulls you to him and pushes forward until it pops in- finally. Instantly, your pussy clenches around his bulbous knot. You’re so tight, his cock throbbing periodically as he cums deep inside of you. Making sure not even one drop escapes you.

His massive body keeps you warm as you lie there in pain from being so full. You try to move and he growls at you, still not moving his teeth from your neck.

Slowly, he moves his teeth from your neck. You try to move and lie down, but you can’t. You're attached to him. Looking back over your shoulder at him, he leans back in and licks your face before licking your neck where he marked you. Now you’re officially his mate.

He stays locked inside of you as he ejaculates until his knot slowly fades away. Almost an hour on the freezing cold floor. If it wasn’t for his body heat, you would have frozen to death by now. As König slowly pulls out, he looks down at your small body. His eyes focused on your stretched pussy. Gently, he lifts you into his arms and walks you to the barn. He would not let you go now that he has found you.

[yuquinzel]

BLUE LOCK BOYS AS ROMANCE TROPES !

— feat ⨾ itoshi sae, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo.

— contents ⨾ fluff, angst.

ITOSHI SAE + second chance at love !

it's raw with desperation and fear and hope— the way sae's fingers are clutching the fabric of your shirt. it's wasn't supposed to be this way. he kisses the tears trailing down your cheeks, “you said it was over. you said it wasn't worth it. you said you didn't want—” you choke on your own words, hand closing in fists on your sides when sae mutters breathlessly, “i didn't mean it, never ever.” he says. something like guilt burns in his eyes, a taste of regret on his lips, uncertainty and impatience in his hastened breaths.

it's crazy, you think. the way he still has that effect he had on you years ago when you were both seventeen in the airport terminal, teary eyes and staggered breaths. when the fear that the distance would tear you apart first took over, and sae stopped believing. when you looked away from him for the first time and he didn't reach out to wipe your tears. it wasn't supposed to be this way. he was back after four years and you weren't supposed to be in his arms. you promised yourself you'd talk like old friends do, and he trusted himself that he wouldn't say anything to try and make you stay.

“i think it can work, you and me, us. just the two of us and it'll be enough.” you know these words have burned on his tongue for long, because they're warm on your lips. you're kissing him back like it's only natural to do so.“i'm already yours, always have been.” he murmurs.

ITOSHI RIN + childhood friends to lovers !

it's the warm and golden hues of the setting sun melting into the evening blues, splattered colours of contrast coming together— the mark of a newborn eve, the smell of wet earth after the first shower of spring and the cool caress of the breeze. rin is standing by the entrance gates to your school, leaning against the wall, head rested to the side as he waits for you.

you think you're caught in a trance. his back covers the remnants of the sunlight like the moon eclipsing the sun, casting shadows of orange glows. when he breathes, the shadows dance with him. he frowns in wait, and you catch up to him. when you smile, it's almost melancholy, “what's got you smiling like that?” rin eyes the solemn curve of your lips.

“hmm? i think it's ’cause i like you.” the words bleed from your voice in saccharine hues, in bittersweet whispers of unrequited love and fear that maybe you've ruined the carefully painted mosaic of years of knowing rin and the sea green gleam of his eyes, the quiet hums and smiles only you know, the knowledge that he doesn't know how to make paper planes, summer nights of horror movie marathons and trading ice creams.

rin parts his lips, eyes as wide as saucers. he sucks a breath in— searching for the second you say you're joking, “do you mean that?”

you nod and rin's arms swallow you whole, chests pressed so close your heartbeats sync and improvise as one.

“i like you too, really like you.” he breathes into your neck— lingers of relief and gratitude like he's breathing for the first time.

NAGI SEISHIRO + forced proximity !

past 2 am into the late hours of midnight blues and the heavy patters rain against the glass window, reduced to background noise because you're subconsciously trying to trace the steady pattern of nagi's breathing, eyes skimming the fall and rise of his chest every two seconds.

you've been awake since thunder rumbled the walls of your temporarily-shared bedroom for the first time tonight. some fun, memorable just-close-friends trip this is. perhaps it wasn't enough you had to share the bed with someone, maybe it's truly because that someone happened to be nagi seishiro that you can't sleep at all. you're conscious of every breath he takes, how his body expands and relaxes. the heat of your bodies melding as one like a blanket of second warmth over you. “you still awake?” you ask, low and soft. nagi hums, “mhm, if you still are.”

his voice is nothing but a breath of the comfort of not being alone, exhaustion from the day clawing at his throat. “you can sleep if you want.” you say, it's whispered into the night— a silent thank you because he's letting you know he's here as long as you want him, “i wanna stay like this.” he urges, bringing a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and you let him. you let him hook his arm around your waist, foreheads brushing lightly, breaths tangling in knots and lips seconds away from meeting. you watch the curve of his lips, how they move to form words, “i like this more.”

MIKAGE REO + fake relationship !

you think reo had always looked like midsummer nights adorned with princely smiles and bubbles of champagne in the glass, glitters of neon city lights against damp car windows, juvenile secrets traded as i love you's with the hope it lasts forever. ( it doesn't. )

it lingers in the way he kisses you these days— a small talk to fill in loud silences, pretense and improvised. you kiss him back— a lullaby of aching heartbreak, unrequited and young. it almost makes you forget about the blinding flashes of camera lights, hurrying to capture the moment mikage reo is seen with his partner.

it's just like he had asked you to, “date me” he'd said, missing the way your eyes lit up, “it doesn't have to be real, just enough so my parents stop setting me up for blind dates.”

“i don't think i can do this anymore.” your voice breaks, eyes refusing to meet his.

“what? why?—” he rushes close and you step back, “it's getting too real for me, i can't.”

he pauses— ponders your words, lets them replay in his mind over and over again, “...and you don't want that?” you do. so much that you said yes before thinking when he first proposed this, “what about you, reo? this... this means nothing to you right? none of th—”

“it does”, his voice is almost begging, “it means everything to me. you do. it's you and it's always been you.” he looks at you, wondering if he should continue. he does anyway, “it's real. i loved you every time i said it, every time i didn't say it. I'll say it again if you want me to—” and you hear it, like it's always been there, like it's all he's ever known, “— i love you, y/n.”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo and f!reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. they are around 25 and 24 here respectively. reader is described as having hair that can be tied back from her face with a ribbon, no use of nicknames. wc 1.8k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune as always!!!!

There’s a velvet ribbon on Gojo Satoru’s bedroom floor. 

There’s very little light in the room but the moon catches the sheen of the fabric just right and he bends at the waist to pick it up, smoothing his thumb over the soft beneath it just like he’s tempted to do to your cheek, eyes instantly drifting to the bed as he rises, ribbon wrapped around his palm. It’s as blue as the sky or, as the admittedly full of himself man assumes, his eyes and he flexes his hand to hold the fabric taut.

It must have been tossed off during the events of the past evening, it was tied around your neck at one point as a makeshift accessory, and the blurry memories make him blush slightly to recall, cheeks heating if he thinks too long about the bounce of your body against his. He chooses to focus instead on the here and now, what’s in front of him, than recall memories and he steps closer to the edge of your side of the bed. 

You slumber mere inches from where he’s standing, your body tangled in soft sheets. One of your feet sticks out, one of your arms is tossed over your eyes despite the black mask covering them (his, of course), and your hair sticks up over the edge of the duvet that otherwise obscures the rest of your face. He supposes he’ll leave you alone for now, choosing instead to rub his thumb over the ribbon again. It’s a close enough match for your cheek that it’ll simply have to sate his endless hunger to feel you until the sun rises. 

Plucking his phone from his pocket to glance at the time with his unoccupied hand, he groans and blue eyes narrow looking over the little numbers on the screen. 4:15 am. Too early for you to be awake. Probably too early for him as well but there’s nothing that can be done about that besides toss and turns until he disturbs you so he pads quietly across the floor, headed toward the kitchen, ribbon tangled between his fingers until he shoves it into his pocket to get the day really started.

This is all routine for him. Waking up, wandering around, finding you all over his apartment - your purse on the floor by the door, the blanket you’ve had since you were a child on top of a basket in the living room, a tube of lip balm across the kitchen counter from him. 

Pulling the coffee beans from the jar on the counter, dumping them into the grinder, one two three pulses for the perfect consistency to allow the water to best soak the bean fragments. He reaches into a cupboard and slips his mug out, buried behind a sea of your own that have gradually taken up every corner of the shelf, but he doesn’t mind having all of these little reminders of you around.

For far too long you resisted leaving any trace of yourself behind and now his bathroom counter is gradually getting more crowded with each overnight product you “forget” to take with you when you leave. The dresser he bought specifically for you, the jumbled way you leave your shoes at the front door. His space is no longer just his, it’s yours too and he ponders what that means to himself while idly sticking his hand in his pocket and waiting for water to heat, rubbing the ribbon.

The sleek electric kettle he turned on 8 minutes ago clicks to let him know the water is hot enough to pour and he drops four sugar cubes into a mug, setting up the rest of his pour over system with a small yawn. The kitchen bursts with the fresh scent of coffee and he hears rustling from the other side of the apartment that tells him it’s time to start making yours, pulling another cup from the cupboard and placing it next to his, dropping two cubes to his four inside. 

It’s just how things should be, he thinks. No more going between two places and scurrying back to your apartment, he wants you here. It’s selfish to demand you give him the space you’ve shown him you desire to maintain but isn’t it equally selfish and punishing for you to deny him? It isn’t often anyone does that and you’re the only person who seems to get away with it. 

Speaking of, he hears your shuffling footsteps across the floor and pours water over the top of your mug and the sugar cubes nestled in the bottom of it, fresh coffee trickling down into the ceramic below. 

“Oh there she is,” he sings and you groan, wrapped in the duvet you pulled off of the bed with you. Again, this is something only you’d be able to get away with and he grins at your partially opened eyes and the way your head pops out of the fabric. Your hair’s a mess, you’re hardly coherent, but you smell coffee and a small smile slips across your face. 

Satoru opens his arms and beams, watching you shuffle slowly across the kitchen floor. Each step makes you feel more alive until you find yourself face first in his chest, burying your nose in the fabric of his sleep shirt. He dips his head to kiss the top of yours and you giggle, still heavy with sleep. 

“Good mornin’,” your voice is obscured thanks to where you’re pressed against him but he doesn’t struggle to make out what you’re saying, smoothing a big hand over your blanket covered back. 

“Good morning sunshine,” he sings in return, awfully musical this morning, but you grin and unbury your head from the blanket, pulling it away as one would a cloak. He gasps when he sees your face and you roll your eyes in response, puckering and craning your head for a kiss, uncaring about silly things like morning breath or drool around your mouth because you know he’ll kiss you regardless.

Satoru does, of course, with a dramatic flourish and a smack and a hum. The drip, drip, drip of your coffee tapers off and you smile as he leans away from you, reaching behind himself to grab two cups of coffee. You wrap your arms around his waist and he looks around, lost, knowing he can’t walk you to the living room and hold the coffees so he kisses your forehead and hands you yours, one of your hands surfacing from a gap in the duvet that covers you.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Walk with me.”

He instructs and you follow, waddling behind him with both of your hands pressed to the sides of your mug. The duvet drags and he plops down on the living room sofa, holding his coffee high above his head so that you can slide into your normal place - your chest pressed against his and you straddling his thighs and hips. He holds you against your chest and you let the duvet hang off of your body, finally awake enough to emerge from your proverbial cocoon.

Pulling his coffee back down and sipping from it, he lets you further settle against his chest and kisses your forehead, pushing your messy hair off of your face. You look up at him with a sleepy smile and sip from your own mug, blinking slowly to further rise for the day. Looking down at you he wants to keep you just like this, every morning, forever, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it anymore, his brows raised.

“Move in with me.”

You giggle, shaking your head to brush your hair off of your face without use of your hands.

“So good last night you don’t want me to leave?”

He chuckles, putting his coffee down on the table to the left of him and digging in his pocket, producing the ribbon. It catches your eye and you smile, reaching out to touch it and giggling when he wraps it around your hair and ties it messily, successfully getting all but a few strands off of your pretty face. 

“Can’t ever let you leave after that, what kind of man would I be?”

You giggle but Satoru wonders for a moment if it would be so bad to tell you the truth - that he doesn’t want a single corner of his life unoccupied by you, the warm light you emit just by naturally being you makes his apartment feel like a home. It’s terrifying, though, to consider being bare and truthful and he’s been trying to do it more lately. To give you a glimpse inside of himself the way he so easily sees inside you. 

The truth will come out eventually, he decides. It always does. A lopsided grin comes across his face and he looks down at you, long lashed eyes fluttering and making you smile. He yanks on the makeshift ponytail your hair is tied into and you frown playfully at him, jutting your lower lip out. 

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your live-in girlfriend.”

His eyes widen and you don’t miss the little light within them when he glances at you. He may intentionally hide how he’s feeling but they never do and you press your face back into his chest and he plucks your coffee from your hand, wrapping his own around the warmth. 

“You mean it?”

He holds the mug to your lips and tips it enough that you can sip and you nod, swallowing with a smile. 

“I’m here all the time anyway, even when you’re gone. I can’t remember the last time I went to my apartment, this is home.”

Home. The word sits heavily between the two of you but neither one moves to say anything further, Gojo tipping your mug toward your lips again to let you take a sip while you cling to his chest. There has always been a makeshift home for the other in each of you, arms and hearts and less wholesome places where the two of you have made the other belong, but a tangible place for the two of you to share feels different.

It feels good.

He leans forward and kisses the top of your head, pulling you across his lap and closer to his chest. There’s no space between the two of you, just as he likes it, and he feels indescribable fondness imagining doing this every single day from now on, not just after a wild night that left you too sleepy to return home.

“Welcome home then, I guess.” 

You giggle and nod, keeping your head pressed against his chest. 

“Now you’ll never get rid of me.”

 A lovesick half smile you can’t see dances across his face and he rocks you gently in his arms, making you whine and try to push him off. It’s no use. It’s not like you’re really trying anyway and he dips down to kiss your cheek, keeping his lips pressed against the soft, velvety skin even as he speaks.

“That’s the plan.”

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Running a little pâtisserie is quaint, and homey, and should not in any way get you involved with anything shady. Let alone the strange bounty hunter who prowls through your little town like the Grim Reaper himself. And yet here you are, teaching this literal murderer how to use a napkin.

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Also apologies in advance to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a murderer at your window, and you weren’t really sure what to do about it.

Well, maybe not actually a murderer. Bounty Hunters tended not to wind up in prison after dragging back the desecrated remains of their latest quarry. But still. You recognized the black plume tucked slickly into his wide-brimmed, purple, hat, and the pale, bright, bob of his hair was nearly luminescent in the dark. He was certainly the least covert assassin you’d ever seen, and you had seen him. It was hard not to. Traipsing through town to deposit every wayward criminal, every long-lost villain, at the doorstep of who’d ever called for him.

‘Rook Hunt’ you thought his name was, or at least, that’s what the old woman in the market would call him before crossing herself and spitting in the dirt. It was all a bit on the nose in your humble opinion, especially with that strange, twisting, ebony, bow of his strung across his back. ‘Hunter’ indeed. But it’s not like you’ve ever done anything to warrant winding up in one of those dripping burlap sacks of his, so you’d let the dude have his drama. It was probably good advertisement. And it’s not like the guy had ever bothered you before.

You thought that reassurance on repeat as you watched said not-quite-a-murderer stare through the front window of your little bakery, as if your rising dough had been kneaded with the secrets of the known universe. But he didn’t do anything—just kept watching with rapt attention as you brushed egg wash over your pie crusts and swapped trays in and out of the ancient, brick, oven.  

In all honesty, he was far from the strangest thing that’d been plastered to your window in the early AM, and it wasn’t like he was licking the glass or anything. So you let it slide.

One of the custard tarts you pulled from the oven had cracked across the top. Nothing out of the ordinary—there was always at least one dud in a batch. Normally you saved the rejects for Ace or Deuce to gobble up (depending on whoever managed to pop by first), but this one you set aside onto a little tea plate. You topped it with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a spoonful of the blackberries you’d left sitting in sugar overnight. Then you plucked up a spare napkin and made your way out from behind the counter.

When you opened the door to your little bakery, the tingling overhead bell warmed your unwanted guest’s expression in a way that it most certainly should not have—lighting the whole of him with this sort of wide-eyed, innocent, joy that belonged nowhere on the face of someone you’d watched cart literal corpses into town.

“Mon pâtissier!” he chirped. “What a fine morning it is, no?”

The sun hadn’t even started to rise yet. You could still hear the drone of crickets and toads in the distance, basking in the humid darkness of the night.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “We’re not open for,” you glanced at the moon, still full in the sky, “at least four more hours. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Oh—non, non, non,” Rook waved you off. “I just wanted to watch!”

“…Watch?” you repeated.

“It’s quite the fascinating process!” he absolutely beamed. “Taking such basic, individual, components and turning them into something so spectacularly sweet and heartwarming! Quelle inventivité! I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about your marvelous menu!”

‘From who?’ you wanted to ask, because you’d never heard of anyone being able to hold a conversation with this man for more than a stuttered sentence at a time, let alone for long enough to go about giving dessert recommendations. But there was a streak of red blood across his cheek that still looked fresh enough to not even have gone tacky yet, and now that you looked closer, his dark gloves were perhaps a shade too dark to not have been, well…

You sighed and reminded yourself once again that is was absolutely not your business, before handing him the napkin.

He stared at it with that same sort of rapt fascination that had you wondering if this man had ever actually interacted with proper civilization in his entire life.

“Wipe your hands,” you demanded with a huff, and he dutifully scrubbed at his stained fingers. Once he was clean enough that he was at least no longer dripping unmentionables all along your windowsill, you held out the little saucer for him to take.

“Pour moi?” he muttered, looking a bit starstruck.

“If you’re going to say all those nice things about my food, you may as well get to try what you’re complimenting,” you shrugged, and that same eager enthusiasm lit his face all over again. “And it will be a nice treat to take home with you,” you emphasized, with all the intonation of a cheery ‘please get the fuck out before you scare away all my customers for the day.’

But instead of turning and meandering off back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of, he just kept staring at the little treat like he had no idea what to do with it.

“It’s a tart,” you said blandly, fighting the furrow in your brow.

Rook repeated ‘a tart’ under his breath like it was some kind of ancient, forbidden, enchantment, and not like it was literally scrawled into the little menu sign at your door at least a dozen times over.

The Bounty Hunter peered at the little custard treat like you’d handed him a treasure beyond measure. After a moment of carefully poking at the browned crust like it wasn’t literally meant to break apart beneath one’s fingers, he looked back over at you with eyes that were far, far, too green. He lifted the tart up like he meant to give it back to you.

“I ought to offer you la première bouchée,” he smiled.

You blinked, taken aback, and pushed the plate back into his hands. “That’s not how free samples work.”

Rook tossed his head back with a bout of boisterous laughter that should have been loud enough to wake everyone on the block. You glanced around nervously, hoping no one was about to come running out to make noise complaints.

“Ahh~ But how else will I know the best manner in which to savor such a treat?”

“You eat it,” you gaped. And then, slowly, because you weren’t even sure you were dealing with a functional human being anymore. “With your teeth.”

The Bounty Hunter, with his blood smeared cheeks and even bloodier clothes, put all those shiny, pearly whites of his on display in a merry grin. He swept forward in a grand bow that had the feather in his hat bobbing about in a way that reminded you far too much of a wagging tail.

“Of course!” he chirped. “In my home you said, yes?”

Please, you wanted to groan. Go there. Leave.

“Ideally,” you said instead, and Rook ducked his head until that purple hat of his had cast the whole of his face into shadow. He reached up to tap two fingers against the wide brim and tip it forward.

“Merci, merci!” he trilled. “Then I will endeavor to consume this marvelous spécialité humaine in the proper fashion. A very good morning to you then, cher pâtissier!”

He straightened with a merry little hum and began making his way back down the cobblestone road. In the soft light of the setting moon, his footsteps left odd prints in their wake—inky, black, dripping things that had faded entirely by the time you were able to focus enough to get a proper look at them, leaving you wondering if they’d really just been nothing but a trick of the night.

Well, that was fucking weird,you frowned, shaking the fuzz from your head. You slipped back inside and the door jingled pleasantly as it slammed behind you. But then again, when wasn’t customer service a trip? These people were all ridiculous.

.

.

Bright and early the next morning, you were waiting for Deuce to arrive with his delivery of a fresh crate of eggs. It was ungodly early, as it always was. But at least there was no hunter at your window this time around—

There was a bang and a screech, and then an unfortunate sort of cracking-squishing-yucky noise that sounded an awful lot like a couple dozen eggs meeting their doom. You frowned and tucked your rag into the ribbons of your apron and ducked out from the backroom with a sigh. Deuce was at the door. Or, well, Deuce was on the ground in front of your door. With the shattered, yolk, remnants of your shipment scattered all around him.

“I’m not paying for that,” you huffed irritably, and your friend looked up with a squawk.

He looked like he was trying to say something, but his face just kept flashing back and forth between deathly pale and a miserable sort of mottled red.

“I—! You—! And he—!”

“Use your words, Spade,” you sighed.

“I do believe he’s trying his best, cher pâtissier!”

You froze, and turned in near-slow-motion to see a beaming Bounty Hunter crouched at one of the little painted benches lined up neatly along your storefront. Not on one, like a normal person. But beside one. On the ground. There was no blood on him today. None that was very obviously dripping down his face at the very least. He didn’t seem like he’d come bearing any ill will, but your Chicken Dealer was still splayed out on the ground—nearly convulsing—so that wasn’t a great sign either.

“What’s going on out here?” you demanded, hands at your hips.

“I do believe Monsieur Spade had himself a bit of a fright,” Rook beamed, and then turned towards your very gaunt looking friend with a soft tut-tut noise that for all its amiability didn’t sound particularly sympathetic. “You really ought to work on your balance, hmm? Alas, all these petits oeufs have gone to waste.”

“What?!” Deuce immediately bristled, on the defensive. “If you hadn’t scared me, then none of these chicks would have had to die so tragically in the first place!”

“For the last time,” you sighed, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Unfertilized farm eggs are not baby chicks.”

“But Ace said—”

“Enough! With what Ace said!” you snapped, exhaustion and a sore lack of tea, or coffee, or anything wearing away at your already fragile sanity. “Ace would sell you snake oil and cry to your face about you underpaying for it!”

“Oh?” Rook chirped, unfolding himself from his crouch to stand at his full height. He wasn’t particularly gangly or long limbed—not even especially tall, all things considered. But there was something about him that made him loom. From the sharp cut of his purple robes to the harsh, starched, white of his tight collar. He was neat, composed. And yet… very much not civilized. “Is this not a person who wishes you well, cher pâtissier?”

You frowned, something odd tugging at a sixth sense of yours. Just… a little something on the periphery of your nerves, singing that the words you chose now would mean a lot more than they ought to.

You hummed, low in your throat, and considered.

“Ace is himself,” you said finally, “but he’s a friend nonetheless.”

“Magnifique!” Rook beamed and clapped his hands together with a near lovelorn sigh, all at once perfectly pleasant and soft. “It is such a very good thing to have friends!”

“…Is that what you are?” Deuce asked, enough of that enraged spunk fading away to leave him properly cautious once more. His blue eyes flickered pointedly from the bounty hunter, to you, and back. “A friend?”

You sighed and turned to retreat back into your little shop without a word. Deuce scrambled to his feet to follow you in hesitantly, still dripping with the remnants of too many eggs. You shot him a look, and he immediately darted over to the mop and bucket you kept propped up in the corner. Rook stood in the doorway, nearly just a blur of bruised shadow against the backdrop of the pre-dawn darkness, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye. After a long moment of terse silence, he stepped beyond the threshold with a little hum. He wiped his feet pointedly on your little welcome mat, and then turned to stand at the counter. He fished around in the pockets of his cloak for a moment before withdrawing a strange little flower. He placed it on the countertop with a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his green eyes.

You stepped forward to observe it curiously, and your brows shot up in surprise.

It wasn’t a flower at all. What had looked like the folded arch of soft petals was actually a dainty pair of ­wings. It was a tiny butterfly—caught in a perpetual sort of stillness. It was bright, and colorful, and so carefully preserved that even when you trailed a flour-coated finger along the thin membranes of its wings, it stayed clean and crisp.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Payment, of course!” Rook smiled. “For the lovely treat you gifted me the other day.”

You sighed, not at all in the mood to discuss the lack of viable conversion rates between copper coins and bugs.

So instead you settled on huffing, “Free samples are free. It’s in the name.”

Rook just kept on smiling, unbothered. Deuce knocked into some set of drawers or other—or maybe the coatrack. Who knew—and you shot him an irritable little scowl. The guy was like a bull in a china shop on the best of days, let alone when he was trying to multitask, and be sneaky about it all the while. The bounty hunter’s grin twitched a bit at the corners, like the idea of your blue-haired friend trying to stealthily keep a watch on him was just the funniest thing.

You glanced back down at the little, frozen, butterfly. It really was very pretty, even if it was a little odd.

When you ducked back behind the counter, you unearthed a blueberry muffin from one of many stacks of trays there. It was little lopsided, and maybe there were a few too many bits of fruit in it. Surely no one would have wanted it anyways.

You plopped it on the countertop, and both Rook’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead. When he made no move to take it, you pushed the confection closer. The wrapper slid along the counter in a heavy, sticky, way. You’d have to remember to wipe it down again after. The Hunter reached out carefully to pluck the treat up between his fingers. He squished it delicately, in a similarly cautious way as to how you’d stroked the little butterfly.

“Is this also for eating at home?” he asked, observing the offering with a wide, wonderous, expression.

“Yes,” you said, just in time for Deuce to nearly annihilate your trash bin. “Please enjoy it.” Please get out. You’re distracting my maid.

Rook Hunt dipped into another of those ridiculous, bobbing, bows and pinched the brim of his hat between his fingers.

“Your generosity continues to warm my heart, mon cher,” he crooned, eyes practically sparkling from behind the sharp cut of his heavily lined lashes. “I will endeavor to return your kindness tenfold! A hundred!”

You waved off his sentimentality with a flick of your wrist and a not so delicate ‘shoo shoo.’

The hunter left your little bakery with a spring in his step and an outpouring of flowery promises that had your head spinning. He melted seamlessly into the shadows of the early morning, and between one blink and the next, he’d vanished entirely.

You would have thoroughly enjoyed the well-earned silence that followed, if not for the veritable storm cloud brewing over your friend’s head.

“Do I get one…?” Deuce asked finally, staring outright at the remaining muffins and sounding small and hopeful. And like that clearly wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

“Maybe if I had the eggs to make more,” you lamented, brushing your hands against your apron.

Deuce made a wounded noise which you had exactly zero sympathy for. You got to work wiping down the counters and sorting through the bits and bobs you’d need to start your day.

“…You know he’s not right, don’t you? That bounty hunter?” Deuce finally said, setting the mop aside. “You must have heard at least some of the rumors floating around town. I don’t think anyone even knows if the guy’s human.”

You shrugged.

“Anyone who has to wake up when I wake up each morning has long given up on humanity anyways,” you droned, only sort of half kidding.

Deuce frowned, clearly unhappy with your non-answer.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked, stern in his fretting. There was still a big ol’ chunk of eggshell tangled up in his bangs.

“When I am ever not?” you smiled, and carefully pocketed the little, blue, butterfly.

.

.

When you popped by the market stalls after closing shop for the day, the street was abuzz with all the usual gossipy nonsense that you’d long since learned to let settle at the back of your brain like white noise. You were busy debating if you had enough arms to manage balancing yet another bag of strawberries (they were at their height of freshness these past weeks it seemed, and you were like a little fruit goblin hoarding them while you could), when a particularly shrill bit of chatter worked its way past the pleasant curtain you’d let fall across your thoughts.

“There was another one,” the butcher’s wife whispered in a way that was most certainly not a whisper.

“I heard,” chittered the man who really should have been trying to sell you more strawberries if he’d any kind of business sense whatsoever. He turned on you with a look that meant you were clearly about to be dragged into a conversation you were entirely unprepared for. “It was one of yours, apparently!”

“One of my what?” you blinked back into focus.

“One of your regulars,” he said, like a secret.

“That strange Bounty Hunter came through again,” his coconspirator hissed, with a hand lifted as if she meant to cover her mouth. “He dropped off the body the other day—delivered the heart straight to the Felmier’s porch!”

“Who was it?” you asked, just like you knew they wanted you to.

“Sir Hamlen,” the butcher’s wife said. “You know, that awful toad who could eat you out of house and home.”

That sounded like all of your costumers, and more than half of your closest friends, but you gave yourself a moment to sort through your scattered thoughts and try and connect whatever dots they’d been throwing at you.

“Sir Hamlen…?” you said after a moment, slowly putting a face to the name. “With the terrible goatee?”

They both nodded enthusiastically.

“Rotten pig,” the butcher’s wife piped back in. “Served him right, if you ask me. Everyone was expecting the Crown would put him to death anyways.”

You shrugged again. You hardly knew the man, but he’d always paid you well enough that you didn’t really have any ill will towards him. You went back to fussing over balancing bags of berries, but then… Well, there was something a bit funny, actually. He’d been a loud sort of person, with no filter to speak of. One afternoon, he’d stumbled into your little shop absolutely pissed on cheap drink and all but burping bubbles.

‘You know,’ he’d lulled, dropping a full coin pouch on your countertop. Which you’d taken in its entirely with zero hesitation. ‘I’d die happy if my last meal was these fucking tarts of yours.’

‘Is that so,’ you’d drawled, in the bland way you answered literally every customer who spouted off whatever nonsense was kicking around in their heads.

‘Aye,’ he’d sighed, practically stooped over. ‘Gonna have to pry ‘em outta my cold, dead, hands.’

“Huh,” you muttered, thoughts wandering back to a pair of bloody gloves and the little treat you’d pressed into them. Huh.  

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TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[witchthewriter]

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

Like I've done with the Hogwarts Houses, Moral Alignment, Tarot Cards and Zodiac (Sun, Moon, Rising); I am now creating a post for MBTI personalities! 16 all together, I've included some tests so if you don't know already, you can now!

Test One (from 16 Personalities, sort of the 'official' test, well the official free test. I think the real one you have to pay.)

Test Two (free don't worry)

Test Three (from truity)

There are sixteen different options that are split into four groups:

Analysts

Intuitive (N) and Thinking (T) personality types, known for their rationality, impartiality, and intellectual excellence.

Diplomats

Intuitive (N) and Feeling (F) personality types, known for their empathy, diplomatic skills, and passionate idealism.

Sentinels

Observant (S) and Judging (J) personality types, known for their practicality and focus on order, security, and stability.

Explorers

Observant (S) and Prospecting (P) personality types, known for their spontaneity, ingenuity, and flexibility.

Analysist: INTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅/𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕

The acronym INTJ stands for introverted, intuitive, thinking, judging. ESFP is the opposite of the INTJ personality type. They're also known as: The Scientist, the Strategist.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

One of the rarest personality types and one of the most capable

Rational and quick-witted

Not known for being warm and fuzzy. They tend to prioritize rationality and success over politeness and pleasantries 

Architects question everything

Prefers to make their own discoveries

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Independent

Introverted

Confident

Analytical

Driven

Ambitious

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Petyr Baelish

James Moriarty

Gandalf

Wednesday Addams

Walter White

Doctor Strange

Tywin Lannister

Analysist: INTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏/𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒚

The INTP acronym stands for introverted, intuitive, thinking, perceiving. The opposite of an INTP is either an ESFJ or an ISFP. Also known as 'The Thinker.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Can’t help but puzzle over the mysteries of the universe

Logicians aren’t afraid to stand out from the crowd

Often lose themselves in thought

They put a great deal of consideration into everything they do

Seem to live in a never ending daydream

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Analytical

Imaginative

Curious

Radical thinking

Indepedent

Problem solvers

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Sherlock Holmes

Alice from Alice in Wonderland

Lord Varys

Bruce Banner

Arthur Weasley

Analysist: ENTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

It stands for extraverted, intuitive, thinking, judging. ISFP is the opposite personality type of ENTJ. Sometimes referred to as the 'CEO'.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Ability to set long-range goals and implement them in an organized manner

They love a good challenge, whether it's big or small

Tend to avoid displays of any type of emotion, so they may be perceived as cold.

They firmly believe that given enough time and resources, they can achieve any goal.

At the negotiating table, be it in a corporate environment or buying a car, Commanders are dominant, relentless, and unforgiving.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Natural born leader

Charismatic

Direct

Organised

Self-assured

Stubborn

Dominant

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Thomas Shelby

Tony Soprano

Cersei Lannister

Beth Dutton

Milady de Winter

Raymond Reddington

Lyanna Mormont

Analysist: ENTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

It stands for extroverted, intuitive, thinking and perceiving. ISFJs and ENTPs are two Myers-Briggs personality types that share the same cognitive functions, but in reverse order. Also known as ' the Innovator,' 'the Visionary'.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

It would be a mistake, though, to think of Debaters as disagreeable or mean-spirited. Instead, people with this personality type are knowledgeable and curious, with a playful sense of humor

No belief is too sacred to be questioned, no idea is too fundamental to be scrutinized, and no rule is too important to be broken

As Debaters see it, most people are too ready to do as they’re told and blindly conform to social norms

They tend to be bold and creative, deconstructing and rebuilding ideas with great mental agility. They pursue their goals vigorously despite any resistance they might encounter.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Quick-witted

Audacious

Rebellious

Outspoken

Puts self first

Charming

Unpredictable

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Captain Jack Sparrow

Tyrion Lannister

Willy Wonka

The Joker

Irene Adler

Fleabag

Alfie Solomons

Diplomat: INFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆/𝑴𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄

Is someone with the introverted, intuitive, feeling, and judging personality traits. The opposite to INFJ is the INFP, who will appear less organized and less controlled than the INFJ to others.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to approach life with deep thoughtfulness and imagination.

Their inner vision, personal values, and a quiet, principled version of humanism guide them in all things.

People with this personality type care about integrity, and they’re rarely satisfied until they’ve done what they know to be right.

Advocates tend to carry around a sense – whether conscious or not – of being different from most people.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Insightful

Idealistic

Principled

Wise

Moral

Compassionate

Understanding

Passionate

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Remus Lupin

Elsa

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Jane Eyre

Elizabeth Bennet

Loki

Galadriel

Diplomat: INFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓/𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓

Is someone who possesses the introverted, intuitive, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. ESTJ is the opposite personality type of INFP. Also known as 'the Idealist,' 'the Healer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These rare personality types tend to be quiet, open-minded, and imaginative, and they apply a caring and creative approach to everything they do.

Although they may seem quiet or unassuming, INFPs have vibrant, passionate inner lives.

Happily lose themselves in daydreams

Known for their sensitivity; they can have profound emotional responses to music, art, nature, and the people around them.

Long for deep, soulful relationships

Mediators have a talent for self-expression. They may reveal their innermost thoughts and secrets through metaphors and fictional characters.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Introspective

Intuitive

Empathetic

Flexible

Idealistic

Curious

Creative

Strong Personal Values

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Lucy Pevensie

Frodo Baggins

Tina Belcher

Newt Scammander

Wanda Maximoff

Luna Lovegood

Edward Scissorhands

Diplomat: ENFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒓

ENFJ is extraverted, intuitive, feeling, and judging personality traits. ISTP is the opposite of the ENFJ personality type. Also known as, 'the Giver,' 'the Teacher.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They're born leaders, with passion and charisma which makes them great politicians, coaches, and teachers.

These warm, forthright types love helping others, and they tend to have strong ideas and values.

They back their perspective with the creative energy to achieve their goals.

Feel called to serve a greater purpose in life

When something strikes them as unjust or wrong, they speak up

These personality types have the ability to pick up on people’s underlying motivations and beliefs

ENFJ’s secret weapon is their purity of intent

They're motivated by a sincere wish to do the right thing

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Very extraverted

Great people skills

Warm

Affectionate

Supportive

Great at encouraging others

Thoughtful

Gentle

Kind

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Margaery Tyrell

Queenie Goldstein

Professor X

Mufasa

Diana Prince / Wonder Woman

Peeta Mellark

Elle Woods

Moana

Diplomat: ENFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒓

ENFP stands for extraverted, intuitive, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. ISTJ is the opposite personality type of ENFP. ENFPs are also called the Campaigners or the Encouragers mainly because of their desire to inspire and encourage other people. Also known as, 'the Champion,' 'the Visionary.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people tend to embrace big ideas and actions that reflect their sense of hope and goodwill toward others.

Their vibrant energy can flow in many directions.

Are true free spirits – outgoing, openhearted, and open-minded.

They can’t help but ponder the deeper meaning and significance of life – even when they should be paying attention to something else.

These people radiate a positive energy that draws in other people

Few things matter more to these personality types than having genuine, heartfelt conversations with the people they cherish

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Free-spirited

Optimistic

Idealistic

Open-minded

Curious

Authentic

Inspiring

Intuitive

Imaginative

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Ariel

Anne of Green Gables

John Keating

Wizard Howl

Jo March

Michael Scott

Peter Parker/Spiderman

Phil Dunphy

Sentinel: ISTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒏/𝑫𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆

ISTJ stands for introverted, observant, thinking, and judging personality traits. ENFP is the opposite personality type of ISTJ. Also known as 'Duty-Fulfillers'.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people tend to be reserved yet willful, with a rational outlook on life.

They compose their actions carefully and carry them out with methodical purpose.

ISTJs pride themselves on their integrity

Aren’t known for expressing their emotions readily

They strive to meet their obligations no matter what

ISTJs might unfairly misjudge people who can’t match their rigorous self-control – suspecting that someone is being lazy or dishonest when that person might actually be coping with other challenges.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Decisive

Focused

Efficient

Reserved yet willful

Loyal

Blunt

Factual

Logical

Meticulous

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Hermione Granger

Thorin Oakinshield

Nedd Stark

Rick Grimes

Brienne of Tarth

Jim Hopper

Ron Swanson

Sentinel: ISFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

ISFJ stands for introverted, observant, feeling, and judging personality traits. The ENTP personality type is the opposite ISFJs. Also known as 'the Protector,' 'the Nurturer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people tend to be warm and unassuming in their own steady way.

They’re efficient and responsible, giving careful attention to practical details in their daily lives.

In their unassuming, understated way, Defenders help make the world go round.

They invest a great deal of energy into maintaining strong connections with their loved ones

Known for dropping everything and lending a hand whenever a friend or family member is going through a hard time.

Defenders’ sense of loyalty doesn’t stop with their nearest and dearest – it often extends to their communities, their employers, and even family traditions.

For ISFJs, “good enough” is rarely good enough. People with this personality type can be meticulous to the point of perfectionism.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Warm-hearted

Responsible

Sensitive

Reliable

Caring

Will do anything for those they care about

Generous

Defenders tend to underplay their accomplishments but they eventually become resentful toward the people who just don’t seem to appreciate them.

Excellent analytical abilities and an eye for detail

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Steve Rogers/ Captain America

Jennifer Honey (Miss Honey from Matilda)

Beth March

Charlie Buckets

Samwise Gamgee

Dr Watson

Will Turner

Sentinel: ESTJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆/𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏

ESTJ stands for extraverted, observant, thinking, and judging personality traits. INFP is the opposite personality type of ESTJ. Also known as 'the Supervisor,' 'the Composer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They possess great fortitude, emphatically following their own sensible judgment.

They often serve as a stabilizing force among others, able to offer solid direction amid adversity.

ESTJs feel most comfortable when there are established procedures in place

Taking pride in bringing people together

The main challenge for Executives is to recognize that not everyone follows the same path

Executives are classic images of the model citizen: they help their neighbors, uphold the law, and try to make sure that everyone participates in the communities and organizations they hold so dear.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Productive

Task-Orientated

Pragmatic

Enjoy order and structure in life

Focuses on facts and details rather than ideas and concepts

Confident

Natural leaders and have a strong work ethic

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Mary Poppins

Peter Pevensie

Borormir

Monica Gellar

Hector Barboss

Claire Dunphy

Miranda Bailey

Mycroft Holmes

Sentinel: ESFJ

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒍

ESFJ stands for extraverted, observant, feeling, and judging personality traits. ISTP is the opposite personality type to ESFJs because they often struggle to be practical. Also known as, 'the Caregiver,' 'the Host.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They are attentive and people-focused, and they enjoy taking part in their social community.

Their achievements are guided by decisive values, and they willingly offer guidance to others.

Energized by time spent with others

Consuls do believe in the power of hospitality and good manners, and they tend to feel a sense of duty to those around them

Consuls have a talent for making the people in their lives feel supported, cared for, and secure.

They believe that there is a clear right thing to do in nearly every situation

ESFJs have a clear moral compass

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Attentive

People-focused

Generous

Reliable

Tender-hearted

Organised

Focused

Strong sense of duty

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Anna Smith

Molly Weasley

Bilbo Baggins

Effie Trinket

Sansa Stark

Cher Horowitz

Nala

Leslie Knope

Explorer: ISTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒔𝒐

ISTP stands for introverted, observant, thinking, and prospecting personality traits. ENFJ is the opposite of the ISTP personality type. Also known as, 'the Vigilante,' 'the Crafter,' 'the Analyser,' 'the Artisan.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to have an individualistic mindset, pursuing goals without needing much external connection.

They engage in life with inquisitiveness and personal skill, varying their approach as needed.

Virtuosos love to explore with their hands and their eyes, touching and examining the world around them with cool rationalism and spirited curiosity.

Energized by time spent alone

Virtuosos are likely to go too far, accepting likewise retaliation, good or bad, as fair play.

Act too soon

They’ll be the first to tell an insensitive joke, get overly involved in someone else’s project, roughhouse and play around, or suddenly change their plans because something more interesting came up.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Individualistic mindset

Logical

Loves action and new experiences

Logical but adaptable

Enigmatic

A lot of impulsive energy

Have a “do unto others” attitude

Self-sufficient

Tough

Independent

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Arya Stark

Jason Bourne

Jessica Jones

Jace Herondale

Indiana Jones

Rosa Diaz

Rue Bennett

John Wick

Wolverine

Explorer: ISFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒓

ISFP means introverted, observant, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. ISFP is the opposite of ENTJ: the commander, who is upfront outgoing and demanding. ISFP is quiet and unassuming. Also known as, 'the Artist, 'the Composer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to have open minds, approaching life, new experiences, and people with grounded warmth.

Their ability to stay in the moment helps them uncover exciting potentials.

Adventurers tend to see themselves as “just doing their own thing,” so they may not even realize how remarkable they really are.

Quiet and reserved, people with this personality type are keen observers; they enjoy the moment and what’s happening around them.

Embrace a flexible, adaptable approach to life.

Remarkably tolerant and open-minded.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Gentle

Compassionate

Tend to live in the here and now

Love to be active

And love interacting with others

Carefree

Playful

Spontaneous

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Claire Fraser

Eowyn

Bella Swan

Jon Snow

Cinna

Zuko

Cedric Diggory

Explorer: ESFP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓

ESFP stands for extraverted, observant, feeling, and prospecting personality traits. INTJ is the opposite personality type of ESFP. People with this personality type tend to be outgoing, friendly, and impulsive, acquiring the most enjoyment from being in the presence of others. Also known as, 'the Performer.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

These people love vibrant experiences, engaging in life eagerly and taking pleasure in discovering the unknown.

They can be very social, often encouraging others into shared activities.

These people love vibrant experiences

ESFPs get caught up in the excitement of the moment, and want everyone else to feel that way, too.

No other personality type is as generous with their time and energy as Entertainers when it comes to encouraging others, and no other personality type does it with such irresistible style.

Many famous people with the Entertainer personality type are indeed actors

There’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends.

Have the strongest aesthetic sense of any personality type; an eye for fashion.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Spontaneous

Humorous

Comedic-relief

Thoughtful

Well-liked

Resourceful

Outgoing

Friendly

Love the spotlight

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Steve Harrington

Jesper Fahey

Arthur Shelby

Rose Tyler

Jesse Pinkman

Andy Bernard

Explorer: ESTP

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒓/𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍

ESTP stands for extraverted, observant, thinking, and prospecting personality traits. INFJ is the opposite personality type of ESTP. Also known as, 'the Doer,' 'the Action-Seeker,' 'the Persuader.'

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

They tend to be energetic and action-oriented, deftly navigating whatever is in front of them.

They love uncovering life’s opportunities, whether socializing with others or in more personal pursuits.

They love using common sense to find smarter ways of doing things.

While they are dedicated to whatever they're working on, they don't like to be micromanaged or told what to do by others.

They thrive by being the center of attention.

Always have an impact on their immediate surroundings

If an audience member is asked to come on stage, Entrepreneurs volunteer

They have a special ability to react quickly in an emergency or crisis situation.

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Adventurous

Thrill-seeking

Energetic

Outgoing

Charismatic

Persuasive

Live in a world of action

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈:

Rebecca Sharp

Jaime Lannister

Aquaman

Gimli

Sirius Black

Han Solo

Jennifer Check

𝑻𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌:

Extraversion (E) – Introversion (I)

Extraverts (also often spelled extroverts) are "outward-turning" and tend to be action-oriented, enjoy more frequent social interaction, and feel energized after spending time with other people. Introverts are "inward-turning" and tend to be thought-oriented, enjoy deep and meaningful social interactions, and feel recharged after spending time alone.

Sensing (S) – Intuition (N)

People who prefer sensing tend to pay a great deal of attention to reality, particularly to what they can learn from their own senses. They tend to focus on facts and details and enjoy getting hands-on experience. Those who prefer intuition pay more attention to things like patterns and impressions. They enjoy thinking about possibilities, imagining the future, and abstract theories.

Thinking (T) – Feeling (F)

This scale focuses on how people make decisions based on the information that they gathered from their sensing or intuition functions. People who prefer thinking place a greater emphasis on facts and objective data.

Judging (J) – Perceiving (P)

The final scale involves how people tend to deal with the outside world. Those who lean toward judging prefer structure and firm decisions. People who lean toward perceiving are more open, flexible, and adaptable. These two tendencies interact with the other scales.

[cosmetichorror]

Okay so I’ve hit a mini writers block, so I was scrolling through my drafts for inspo and found this masterpiece.

I’ve never seen the post this oneshot was inspired off of in person, but I’ve seen screenshots, so it’s based off of this

Hope you know I was laughing the whole time I was writing this

—

"THIS IS THE WORST HYRULE WE'VE BEEN IN!" Wind exclaims, startling everyone out of their thoughts.

They're in a new hyrule, and they know there's a Link somewhere. It's like a fucked up game of hide and seek, or where's Waldo. But the longer you take to seek out Waldo the longer all of your Hyrules are in danger. And the worst part? There isn't a village ANYWHERE!

"Don't be rude, Wind." Time scolds, glaring at the teen.

Legend shakes his head "No, no. He has a point." He looks around "While this place is pretty, we're low on supplies and there's not a village in sight." He points out. Wars nods along to this.

"We're on a path, there's got to be one near." Four speaks up, arms crossed.

Despite this, they continued to walk for hours.

The orange sun has begin to set, casting a shadow on hyrule as the moon begins to rise, but Hylia has apparently taken mercy upon them, because distantly they see what appears to be a village. Many sighs of relief and mummers of thanks to the gods are sent, and the chain has a new pep in their step.

It’s a quaint village, with a nice dirt road and cute little houses, alongside what appears to be some statues in the center of all of it. They agree to start at the center where the statues are, and make their way around gathering supplies and finding an inn- if there even is one, that is.

But as they walk closer to the statues, they begin to take a familiar shape. But soon enough, they see exactly why that is.

"Is that.." Time stares in awe. Jaws are dropped, eyes are bulging, and all sense of frustration from the long journey is swept away by pure bewilderment.

There in the middle of the town stood several statues, nine of them to be exact. Eight of them were shockingly familiar, though the tallest one was a stranger to them, we'll focus on that one after.

There was a statue of each of them. Time, Twilight, Legend, Warriors, Hyrule, Four, and Sky. The details aren't exactly accurate, their faces don't match very well but the clothes are very accurate much to their surprise. They know they've been reduced to fairytales across many time periods, but never have they had statues built for them.

"What. The fuck?" Legend manages to make out.

Time doesn't even censor him. He's far too flabbergasted to even bother.

"That can't be us, can it?" Sky mumbles out, walking up and running a hand along his statue. It's high quality metal, but despite that it shows age. These must have been here for ages.

An elderly lady that sits in a chair not far from the statues watches them, her aged eyes never leaving them. They can understand why, not every day you see a group of such well versed warriors after all.

She watches them carefully, and the group notices. They exchange strange glances but other then that stay relatively in their conversation about what these statues could mean, although they've quieted down.

Then, the old lady gasps, and she shakily runs as quickly as she can up to the chain.

"You are the hero's of old!" She cries out, and Sky sputters. "I- well, uh- maybe??” He knows there's no point in trying to hide it when there are literals statues built of them, albeit not completely accurate.

"They have returned to us! What foe have you come to defeat, old great ones!" The elderly lady cries out, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I have heard tales of you from my mother and grandmother! I never imagined I would have the honors of meeting you, oh great heros!" She exclaims, falling to her knees in front of them.

People begin to gather around, walking out of their houses to see if it really was true. Kids hide behind their parents legs, mothers and fathers weep in joy, people bow their head in respect to them. Meanwhile, most of the chain had never been so uncomfortable in their entire lives.

"Uhm, hi?" Time greets, waving a hand. "You uh, you don't need to bow to us, ma'am." He speaks, helping the elderly lady up off the ground.

"You built STATUES for us?!" Wind exclaims, practically bouncing on his heels. "Hah, wait till I tell Tetra about this!" He smiles, nudging Wars.

News has quickly spread through the village, and people have started running out of their houses offering food and gifts. Apples upon apples, pots upon pots- how did they know they like pots??

"Of course we built statues! How else would we send our thanks to you for your heroism!" A women in the crowd calls out, and several mummers of agreement are heard.

"They must be here to bless us and this land!"

"No, they're here to take our offerings and answer our prayers!"

"They're here to gift us with their wisdom and courage!"

"Perhaps they're here to bless our dearest hero and savior?"

They chain pause at that last bit.

"Dearest hero and savior you say?" Wars hums, before nodding. "Yes, we're here for... the last one. We must meet with the hero of this time." He speaks, looking around at the chain, who nod along to him.

"Yes. That is correct, where is he?" Four asks.

The crowd laughs a little bit, nudging each other and mummering.

"Oh, great old ones! Locating the hero is nearly impossible! He never stays in one place for too long, such is the ways of the hero!" A father calls out, cradling his newborn in his arms.

"I'm sure if you just wait, he will stop by. Our dearest hero is always so smart, he always seems to know exactly when people need his aid!" The elderly women speaks, patting Fours head, who sends the elderly women the harshest glare he can muster.

The father that was speaking just a second ago walks up, and holds his baby out to Sky. "Would you please bless my daughter, oh great and wise hero of Skies? I wish her to prosper in life!" He begs. And just like that, the crowd stirs wildly.

"Wait, please, bless my mother for good health, oh hero of Hyrule!"

"Hero of the Four sword, would you bless my weapons for strength!"

"Oh great hero of Time, please, bless my grandfather with more time on this earth!"

"Hero of the Wind, please come bless my boat!"

"Bless our fighters, strong hero of Wars!"

"Hey! Listen! Please bless my farm for good crops and livestock, hero of Twilight!"

"Hero of Legends! Please bless my son for safe travels, won't you?"

As if things couldn't get and weirder, they just did.

"You want us to... bless you?" Wind mumbles, thoroughly confused.

The chain look between themselves, no one quite sure what to say. What does one say when they're quite literally being worshiped? No amount of monster fighting, god slaying, hyrule saving experience prepared them for this.

"Of course! Why else would you be here?" A young teen calls out.

Time takes this opportunity to get a little closer to their goal. "Well, we're hunting strangely strong monsters that bleed black. You wouldn't happen to know of any of these, would you?"

A man in the crowd calls out "Some monsters have been more bold lately!" And several mummers of agreement are heard.

A women wielding a pitchfork lazily in one hand speaks up next. “I fought one of them monsters just a few days ago, and it bled black! Just like you said!”

“Please, this is why we need your blessings!” A young women cries, and the entire crowd seems to agree.

Sky looks to Time, who looks to Wars who in turn looks to Legend, who turns to Hyrule who nudges Four, who looks at Wind who then turns to Twilight, who shrugs.

“Uhm… I, uh… Guess we have some time to kill? Might as well?” Sky says, more of a question then a statement. Time looks around, and nods.

“Okay.. Uh, we’ll bless you.” He decides. The crowd cheers, and people run up with babies in hand, shoving them out for the hero’s to take. Wind happily took the strangers babies, he was used to holding little ones after all. He somehow had three babies at once. Time had two. Legend held the infant he had in front of him, not quite sure what to do with it. Four had a toddler, Twilight had… four babies? Are they not concerned about him dropping them? Erm, anyways… Hyrule held one baby, and stared at it all wide eyed as if it was a bomb that would go off at any moment. I mean, that is sort of how babies work. Wars had two toddlers propped up on his shoulders, and one of which had his scarf in its mouth. Wars could do nothing about this. Sky held a six year olds hand, and the six year old stared up at him all wide eyed.

But now came the real question. How exactly do they bless these kids? Wind decided he would be the one to set up how to bless people. He stood out in front of everyone else and made sure they were watching. He simply kissed the babies foreheads, mumbled something under his breath and then walked back up to the babies mother. “Consider your kids blessed!” The mother gratefully takes back the kids with tears in her eyes. “Oh thank you, wise hero of the Winds!”

The rest of the chain looks at each other, and shrugs, deciding to follow in Winds footsteps. Baby forehead after baby forehead was kissed, then they had to move onto the teens, which was pretty awkward considering half of them are teenagers as well. After that, they had to bless weapons, and houses and boats and even animals. In short, a lot of things were kissed that day. And yet, still no sign of the hero of this land.

Thankfully, they were offered a free stay at the inn, but they were still frustrated.

Morning came early the next day. Children played about in the streets, farmers tended to their crops, but most importantly someone stood beside their bedsides. He was a blond teen with nasty scaring on half of his face, he was missing an ear and had long blond hair, he bore a vibrant blue tunic and a cape with a hood. He looks at the chain, then peers out the window to the statues, then back at the chain. And the chain immediately realizes this is the hero they’re looking for. Mainly because the tallest statue look exactly like him.

“You’re Link, right?” Sky sits up. The new hero nods, looking back at the statues again in pure bewilderment.

“And you’re… the hero’s of old?” He clarifies. Wind nods.

“That’s us!” The teen responds.

“Soo…” the new hero starts. “They gave you the worshipping treatment too?”

[carolmunson]

love language seven

love language set list another sunday another sun-slay love language blurbies are back in action -- again, these are just vingettes into a relationship with eddie no chronological timeline, no story -- just mini moments. tw: like most of my work, this is 18+. smut, but it's artsy and slow.

your eyes open before his, body sore from last night -- jumping and screaming to corroded coffin's late night set at the bar. fourth date deliverance from your guitar god on stage, stumbling from jack and cokes, from seeing you in the crowd, flicking heat in his belly. he wasn't sure which one it was. you shouldn't have worn those high heel boots. he teases you when he takes them off of your feet, just as you settle into the squeaky leather booth of the diner. you protest, it's gross to not wear shoes in public but he says it's fine, you got cute socks on. his thumbs press into the ball of your foot, hiding in his lap under the table. the pressure feels nice. the pressure's not on, and if it is, you don't feel it.

the fries are crunchy -- fresh batch for their two am customers. the only twenty-four hour diner for miles. the burgers sober you both up real good, good enough for him to drive. "can i stay at yours?" the flicking heat had been from you the whole time. "you sure?" you're too tired to respond, eyes shutting while your head leans againt the cool window of his van. the street lights flash an orangey glow over your face -- there and gone, there and gone. he tries not to smile too hard. he tries not to feel the butterflies in his stomach. pretty girl in his car. pretty girl at his show. pretty girl in his bed. pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl. you wear his clothes to bed, soft and well worn. his favorite band tee from forever ago, a pair of old basketball shorts that are too small for him now. they're a little too small for you, too. in the best way, he thinks. he tries not to stare. pretty girl in his clothes. pretty girl in his trailer. he's too old to be this nervous. "i can sleep on the couch if y--" "would i ask to stay if i wanted you to sleep on the couch?"

he gulps. he knows he's gonna marry you. he knows even more by how well you fit together under the covers. how he just knows how to hold you. how your thigh slots over his hips. tangled up. you'd spend so many nights just like this. not talking. not kissing -- just holding each other in the still of the night. just the moon's phases letting him see you. the way you sleep. the way you hold him. the way he holds you.

in the morning, you scan him. still wrapped up with your leg around him. his chest rising and falling, lips slack and slightly parted -- he's so pretty. pretty boy in his bed. pretty boy with his arms around you. pretty boy who paid for your food at the diner. you shift, turning to look at the clock on his bedside table only for the early afternoon's harsh light to greet you. your eyes squint, you groan. eleven thirty in the morning. you shift again. "hm," he whines, groggy and sleepy. his eyes are still shut but his brows pinch. you're too far away. fingers that deftly scattered over strings the night before pull at his t-shirt on your body. finger pads pressing into the fleshy parts of you to pull you back into him. you mumble hello's while his eyes open half way. pretty girl stayed the night. he leans in to kiss you like he did on your second date, lips pillowy and plush against yours. you can't help yourself. pushing forward on your side to taste more of him. he smirks, he can't help it. it feels like winning at the arcade in the summer time. he hoists up your thigh and you feel it graze his own excitement, hard and thick beneath his boxers. he breaks away, embarrassed. pink heat pricks at the tops of his ears, splotchy on his cheeks. he's too pretty. he gulps again when you redirect, pulling him close to kiss you deeper. guitar fingers resting on your cheek, early afternoon sun glinting on your earrings. he can't help the way he presses against you when you kiss him like that. calloused hands dip under the covers to the swell of your hip. "baby..." he murmurs. is this okay? do you want this? should we do this? "hm," you huff against his lips, your own hand dipping under the covers, teasing the band of his boxer shorts. his breath shortens to quiet puffs when you start to relieve him. pretty girl in his bed. pretty girl touching him the way he dreams about. your wrist is circled by his hand, pressed against the mattress just above your head. on your back he can see you even better -- your smeared mascara. the remnants of your eyeliner. still so pretty. both of your bottoms don't make it past a few minutes, needy and desperate. his face lingering over yours while he pushes himself in -- eyes never closing even when they brim with pleasure soaked tears. your legs instinctively bend and raise while he starts slow, languid thrusts. gasps punching from both of your mouths while his hands pulse around yours, fingers laced and pressed among the pillows. the sounds of the trailer park pick up, summer sunday afternoons had the rib smokers out. small charcoal grills steaming. hoses spritzing and sputtering alive -- kids start to shreik with laughter, bubbling up against the tin slats outside. he feels bad covering your mouth when you start to get a little loud, pressing a kiss to your forehead, thrusts going from lazy to intentional. the window is open and he won't hear the end of it if the neighbors hear you. he got teased for weeks the last time they heard a girl say his name. he replaces his palm with his lips, tongue, and teeth. a dance you both seem to know all the moves for, like you trained up just to kiss each other. hiding in the sheets of his curls that covers both of your faces. but his face hides into the crook of your neck soon after, quieting the grunts and groans of his pleasure while each rock of his hips sends him hurtling over the precipice -- you both cum hard. you both catch your breath while he rolls over onto his back. he reaches to pull you back into him, the same position you woke up in on your side. his big brown eyes, shining with the light of 11:57 AM, look down at you in a way only a boy in love can do. "g'morning," he mumbles quietly. "g'morning."

[mysouleaten]

raining cats and dogs ! [pt 3]

tokyo rev cats/dogs x gn! reader

summary ... it only started with [name] taking in two strays when they were driving home from work, it was pouring and the two poor strays were soaked! you couldn't leave them… so you took them in

warnings ... fluff, fluff, fluff, and more fluff, weird dude

[part one] [part two] [part three].... [part four]

you were sitting in the pet clinic for over four hours. the sun was setting and the moon was slowly rising

you looked down at your phone '6:14 pm' was the time

you looked up at the door where the people took your new rescue

you slumped back into your chair, hoping this would soon be over, you had two other cats at home waiting for you

you sat up when you saw a man with a box --and a towel covering it-- come out, he looked around and then put the box down on the counter

"mx...[name]?" he hesitantly asked

"yep, that's me!" you said and stood up to walk the man in the white coat

"ah! yes, so your cat is in the box here" the man patted the box softly and continued "we stitched him up, gave him some pills, and gave him his rabies shots... he was a stray correct?"

"yep, he was.. found him somewhere, I didn't want to leave him, ya know?" you scratched the back of your neck

"I know what you mean, its good that your bright him here, another minute and the poor thing would have died," he said and continued, "I think you also brought two others before here right?" he asks

"yeah I did" you nod

"mhm, well here you go" he handed you a pill bottle "these are for him after he wakes up, make sure he eats one every day, they are vitamins and pain relievers"

"okay got it, do I feed them by themselves or with food?" you ask

"they are bitter so yes you can feed them with food" he nodded "oh and before you go, please make another appointment after a week, alright? I wanna make sure he's healthy"

you nodded again and carefully took the box into your arms and left the clinic. something about that guy... rubbed you the wrong way.. maybe it was just you

you carefully put the box into the casket in front of your motorbike and sat down and started the engine

you looked at the clinic again and the same guy was standing there with his hands behind his back, you shivered then drove off

'maybe I should find another clinic..' you thought

you drive into your apartment complex's parking lot and park next to your car

turning off your motorbike and grabbing the box and putting it on the sidewalk, turning back to your bike you grabbed the chain from under the seat of the bike and wrap the chain through the bike's wheel and warp the chain around a poll finally locking it

it's better to be safe than sorry was what your brother says to you, plus this is his bike and you don't want it stolen

turning to the box where your new fluffy friend is in. picking the box up and walking towards the stairs and up

you unlock the door and close it back when you step into your home

"im home!" you say, then you hear small paw steps and meows coming from your room

you saw take' and peachy run towards you, meowing their little hearts out too you

crouching down with the box in your lap "heeey, sorry for being so late! I found this little guy!- or well he's kinda big actually, hahah"

peachy and take' step up with their front paws on your knees and try to take a peek into the box

"be careful alright? the big guys hurt.. found him at a car dump.. lots of other cats there too" you say

but you didn't see take' 's eyes widen and he stepped off your knee. peachy takes a step back too when you stand up

"ok how about you guys name your new friend while I make food?" you say as you put down the box on your window seal. peachy and take' jump up there

you stare down at the box before you hear a meow then you look at peachy

"haha this is a bit creepy isn't it?" you ask and she meows as to say 'yes'

you scratch the back of your head "well keep him safe ok? I'll go make food now" you say and back away from your cuties

coming back once more to give peachy and take' kissies on their heads, they seem to appreciate the attention

you even see take' cover his face with his paws and peachy snuggling into take' 's body

you retreat into the kitchen to set the food for your friends and an extra bowl for the new friend

how lucky are you to have another friend?

you didn't even realize how many more friends are soon gonna join your family

taglist... @sixxze @ploxpoke @q-the-rockaholic @dancingnewcat @ariachaos @cashout-princess

if anyone would like to be part of the tag list for this series please let me know!!

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Kibo and Kisses

Taking a breather on a remote planet after working yet another job for Cid, Echo steals away with you for a moment.

Pairing: Echo x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: cuteness, sweetness, fluff, Echo is self-conscious but we love him, eavesdropping brothers, idiots in love, first kiss, pet names/nicknames, brief mention of Fives (who else was Echo going to learn some moves from?)

Translations: Uj’ika – kinda like ‘cupcake’

He was sweet behind all the gruffness and bad puns. If anything, it just added to his charm. War changed many men, and being kept prisoner, body altered without consent, and mind used to defeat your brethren? Yeah, that would undoubtedly change a man.

You wouldn’t think it, though, watching Echo listen intently to Omega’s story, laughing at the right moments and nodding to encourage her to continue. She only had a handful of stories, late-night tales Nala Se used to tell her back on Kamino, but she could remember them like the back of her hand, and once she grew tired of the boy’s war stories and the ones about your childhood, she would share hers.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been roaming the galaxy with Omega and the boys. Cid had insisted you accompany them on a mission, and that mission rolled to two and then to three…

Shaking your head fondly, a sigh slipped from between your lips. The Trandoshan had given you such a sly smile when she’d shoved you onto a ship with four charming men and a cute kid.

“He’s not going to disappear, you know.” Warmth blossomed in your chest as Hunter sat next to you on the crudely made wooden bench you’d fashioned shortly after landing two rotations ago on Yavin 4. While the boys had armour to protect their behinds from the damp grass, you and Omega didn’t have that luxury.

“Don’t know what you mean.” You lied, tilting your head to meet the Sergeant’s gaze, squinting a little as the setting sun dared to blind you.

“Mhm.” The corners of Hunter’s lips quirked up in amusement, but he refrained from pushing his point too far. Watching you moon over his brother from afar was adorable and frustrating that you were too stubborn and anxious to do anything about it. “What story is Omega telling this time?” He switched topics, noting how the tension melted slightly from your shoulders.

“You’re the one with the enhanced hearing, you tell me.” You rocked to the side, lightly nudging Hunter’s arm with your shoulder. You’d grown up with a brother, and though the war had taken him from you, it had also graced you with a few new ones.

Turning your gaze back to Echo and Omega, you waited as Hunter tuned in to their conversation. At first, his ability to eavesdrop from afar had caught you off guard, forcing you to switch to your mother tongue when quietly cussing anyone on the ship out. Still, you found amusement in using it to your advantage, twisting Hunter’s arm until he would eavesdrop on gossiping women in marketplaces or creepy men with lousy pick-up lines in cantinas.

“It’s not a Nala Se special.” He admitted, eyebrows rising closer to his hairline as Echo’s laughter filled the tiny clearing Tech had set the Marauder down in. “Did you tell someone that you prefer they take you for dinner before calling you names?”

The colour drained from your face, and your jaw slackened. “Oh no.” You squeaked, wide eyes watching the way Echo’s whole frame shook with laughter, while Omega grinned, oblivious to the true meaning behind the comeback you’d snapped at the rude market attendant the last time you’d touched down for supplies.

Turning your gaze to Hunter, his thinly veiled amusement had you stammering out an explanation. “A- A fruit vendor wasn’t looking where he was going. He walked into us. His goods went everywhere. He called me some choice names; I told him I preferred dinner beforehand – it slipped out before I could stop it. Oh, Maker, you think Omega knows what I meant?”

Allowing himself to chuckle at the horror on your face, Hunter stood, bringing a large hand down to land on your shoulder. “I hope not but try not to make such comments around the innocent child next time. I don’t think any of us are ready to have that talk with her yet.” He shook his head in disbelief, smile firmly in place as he retreated onto the ship.

“Omega.” You called out, desperately hoping to stop her from telling any more stories before she embarrassed you further.

Your voice drew the young girl’s attention, and with a quick wave of your hand, she came racing across the clearing, stopping right in front of you. Echo trailed behind her, his pace much more languid. “What is it?” Omega offered you a sweet smile, rocking on the spot with her hands locked behind her back.

“It’s getting dark, and we should head inside.” You gestured to the setting sun, which had dropped a little further towards the horizon since you’d first sat down to watch Omega and Echo.

Frowning, the young clone glared at the sun before returning her smile to you. “But you and Echo are out here with me.” She retorted, tampering down her grin as she watched Echo sit beside you on the bench, his knee lightly knocking against yours.

Grateful he couldn’t hear your heart hammering away at the physical contact, you bit down on the inside of your lip. “I know, but it’s bedtime.” You insisted. You tried to keep a routine for her, conscious that she was young and growing. Omega never skipped a meal, even if it meant you did on the quiet, and where possible, she got eight hours of sleep.

“I’m not tired.” Omega’s smile turned to a pout. She wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

“It’s been a long day. You’ll fall asleep as soon as you’re in bed and have Lula.” Echo chimed in, catching how your shoulders relaxed as he took the reins. He enjoyed that you mothered Omega, offering her one of the things that they had been deprived of. But he also knew how difficult it could be, especially when the child in question wasn’t your own. There were invisible boundaries to negotiate and rules to establish, but whenever he felt you might need a helping hand, he was more than willing to step up. Sometimes, it was good to remind himself that Omega was still a child, even if she was older than him and his brothers.

Shooting Echo a thankful smile, you returned your focus to the quiet girl before you. She looked to be contemplating Echo’s words. It was time for the big guns. “Besides, you’ll need plenty of energy if we’re going to track down a Ysalamiri tomorrow.”

Omega’s face lit up brighter than the suns of Tatooine. “We’re going to go and find one?” She gasped. When you’d landed, Tech had pulled out his datapad to research the planet. He’d found a list of native plants and animals, pointing out which ones to avoid. Omega had caught sight of the Ysalamiri and loved the non-threatening, furry creatures.

“Yep, so you’ll need your sleep. They’re fast and live in the trees, so we might need to do some climbing.” You explained, silently praying Hunter wasn’t actively listening to the conversation. He would have a fit if he knew you’d scramble amongst the branches, but it was part of a normal childhood.

“Will you come too, Echo?” Omega swung her wide gaze to her brother, pleading for him to join them.

Eyes widening as he was put on the spot, Echo stalled for a moment. He’d told Tech that he would help him perform maintenance on the ship in the morning, but was he about to give up the chance to explore with you? “Sure.” He decided, knowing he’d have to break the news to Tech. His brother could maintain the ship alone, but Echo didn’t want him to bear the weight alone. “I’d be more than happy to escort my favourite girls.” It slipped out before he could stop it, and he studiously kept his eyes on Omega, ignoring the weight of your soft gaze on his profile.

“I’ll go to bed then.” Omega declared, conceding with a grin that had you narrowing your eyes in her direction. What was going on in that young girl’s mind?

Opening his arms, Echo accepted Omega’s goodnight hug. It had taken a short while for him to grow accustomed to the action – a shoulder thump was the usual level of affection his brothers gave, and he was conscious that his cybernetics made everything uncomfortable and awkward. Sometimes he wondered if he could swap his scomp out for a proper arm and hand, but they didn’t have the credits or time to purchase and make such adjustments.

Omega threw herself into your arms after hugging her brother, giving you a tight squeeze before she bounded into the Marauder, leaving you with Echo.

“If you’d rather have a girl’s day tomorrow, that’s okay. I know you and Omega enjoy your time together.” Echo broke the momentary silence. As much as he wanted, no yearned, to join you tomorrow, he would respect your decision. You and Omega didn’t get much time to explore marketplaces or local fairgrounds together, and he would hate to take that from you.

“I’d love for you to come with us.” You stated, reaching up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

Echo wasn’t entirely convinced. “You sure?” He gave you one last out. “Feels like you haven’t wanted to be around me lately. You left the cockpit quickly the other day when we swapped watch.” He added dejectedly, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t care.

Your heart ached, and your mind berated you. You’d just wanted a little space to determine whether your adoration for the man at your side was genuine or forged because you lived in each other’s pockets. Some hypothetical questions had been posed to Tech, your confidence in the man’s research capabilities unquestionable, and done a lot of soul searching.

Reaching out for him, your hand found purchase on his scomp, and though he couldn’t feel anything from the rigid metal, you still gave him a gentle squeeze. “Ecks.” The nickname slipped out quickly as you scooted closer, registering the flicker of surprise across his face at the new name. “I’m sorry, I’ve had much on my mind lately. You didn’t do or say anything wrong; it was just me getting stuck in my head.” You explained. “Of course, I want to be around you, and I’d love for you to come with us tomorrow.”

The frown creasing Echo’s brow disappeared at your reassurance, but your words kept playing over in his mind. What have you been thinking about? Could he help ease the weight of it, if only for a little while? “You should probably rest too then, uj’ika, if we’re to keep up with Omega. And don’t tell me you’re not tired. You yawned twice when Hunter was handing out rations.” Echo chided. You might’ve thought you were being subtle, but from the vantage point of his bunk, Echo could see the faint glow of your datapad screen each night as you stayed up late.

The term of endearment made you smile, but you were still none the wiser about the meaning. The first time Echo had used it, Wrecker had given a hearty chuckle, Hunter and Tech shooting you amused smiles before glancing at each other – communicating in that silent way only the Batch boys could. With Hunter’s words from earlier playing through your mind, you took a small leap of faith. “I should, but I was thinking about going for a small walk – want to join me?” You offered, rising to your feet and offering the sweet man before you your hand.

Echo hesitated. He wanted to go with you, Maker, he did, but he was supposed to be on watch with Tech. “Go.” Tech’s voice clipped through his cybernetic headpiece, and Echo gladly placed his hand in your own, rising to his feet as he watched the momentary confusion marring your features smooth into a beautiful smile.

Tinkering with the ship’s engine, Tech had heard the entire exchange between you and his vod. It took only two taps on his vambrace to isolate Echo’s comms and deliver the instruction. While some assistance would’ve been helpful, and another set of eyes for the watch was optimal, ensuring his brother’s happiness was back on track and your anxiety levels lowered would be better for the group.  

Letting you lead, Echo savoured the warmth of your hand in his, the way your fingers curled to grasp him tightly, and how you brought your other hand over to clutch at his forearm, suffocating all space between you. Fleetingly, he was grateful that you’d grabbed hold of his arm and not his scomp. “We shouldn’t go too far; we have no idea what could be out here.” He warned as you approached the edge of the clearing.

Shoulders shaking with your small laugh, you turned to stand in front of Echo, letting go of his forearm in the process. “You’re right, but I know I’m safe with you.” There had been some close calls over the last few missions, but Echo had been behind you, blaster in hand. He always had your back.

The softness of your words and the way you smiled at him took everything for Echo not to stride forward and steal his first kiss. Were you even aware of the effect you had on him? How his heart raced, and how he sometimes struggled to find the right words? “Always.” He vowed. His body had been through plenty. What was another blaster shot if it meant keeping you safe? 

The distant look was back in Echo’s eyes; the one you knew meant he was lost in thought. “Come on.” You gently prompted, moving to his right to loop your arm through his, fingers resting on his scomp.

“The other side would be comfier for you.” Echo swallowed, highly aware of how unforgiving his altered arm was. His first few weeks with the Batch had been spent relearning how to fight, sleep comfortably, eat, and wash himself. He’d sometimes wondered if it would be easier not to have the scomp.

Shrugging, you lightly pulled him forward, starting your journey into the tree line. “I like this side too.” You reassured him. “I like all of you.” You took a leap, throwing the comment out into the open, avoiding Echo’s gaze as you moved nimbly through the woods, avoiding the mighty trees that stretched up to the sky. At the same time, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves and the sweet music of local birds provided a beautiful soundtrack.

“You do?” Echo blinked in surprise, lips parting as your words settled in his mind. Your hum of affirmation as you released his scomp to jump across a small creek made him grin. “Well, it’s mutual.” He offered, reaching up to rub at the back of his head.

Giggling, you turned back around to face Echo, but your smile faltered when you caught sight of something above him, eyes widening as you gasped.

Watching your expression change, the galaxy slowed for a moment as Echo reflexively pulled his blaster from its holster, finger on the trigger as he aimed it upwards in the direction you were looking. His body tensed, every nerve on high alert, ready to take down whatever was up there and protect you. But while scanning the branches, leaves, and colourful flowers, he found no danger, no noise of a droid or person, or even an animal beyond the melodic bird song – was there something he couldn’t see?  

“Uj’ika…” Echo searched for an answer.

Returning your gaze to Echo, you hopped back across the creek, reaching out a hand to take his arm and slowly lower it, along with his blaster. “It’s okay, there’s no danger.” You explained quietly. “I’m sorry I spooked you.” You apologised, watching as he slid his blaster back into its holster, questioning brown eyes turning in your direction.

“It’s a Kibo.” You whispered, awe lacing your voice as the softest smile crossed your features. “The purple flowers. They’re so rare, Ecks. I never thought I’d see one in person.”

Flowers. You were in awe of rare flowers. And he’d nearly shot them. “Are they going to eat us?” Echo asked, fingers twitching near his blaster. He tried to ignore how his heart clenched again at the nickname, warmth daring to seep through the few bones he had left.

Laughter bubbled forward, and you raised a hand to cover your mouth. “No, they won’t eat us.” Your laughter tapered out as you watched Echo relax.

Reassured, Echo could now ask his next question. “Why are they rare?”

“The seeds of the Kibo can restore sight. They’re prized for it. Healers and medics have searched for and taken them, so few are left.” You explained, moving closer for a better look at the flowers.

“Can they restore anything else?” Echo questioned, admiring the delicate blooms.

“I’m not sure. All that’s been documented is how they can literally and metaphorically restore a person’s vision, allowing them to see what’s right in front of them.” You shrugged, head tilting towards the flowers, watching the petals shift in the light breeze. You couldn’t believe you’d finally seen them – and out in the wild, too!

Echo couldn’t help but watch you, the awe on your face exquisite. Swallowing thickly, tendrils of fear try to creep down his spine, but he pushes them aside and reaches out with his hand. Sliding it across your cheek, he tilted your head towards him. “I don’t need a flower to let me see how beautiful you are.” He whispered, silently praying the years of watching his twin compliment women would pay off.

Surprised, your lips parted, eyes widening at the compliment and physical contact. Warmth seeped through your body. Was he flirting?

Emboldened by the fact you hadn’t reacted badly, Echo slipped his scomp around your waist and pulled you close. He had the opportunity, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding with anticipation. A soft, nervous smile formed on your lips and Echo’s eyes dropped to them – it was all the warning you got before he leaned in and closed the distance.

His lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss, like the brush of a feather against the skin. It was sweet and tentative, filled with all the unspoken feelings you’d both been withholding since you’d joined the squad. The world seemed to stand still as you savoured the sensation, lips lingering against each other’s.

You pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, and your eyes opened to find Echo gazing at you with warmth and affection. Your bodies pressed together, heart racing.

You watched as a glint of something crossed his eyes, and with light steps, he guided you backwards, pressing you against the trunk of a nearby tree. His lips found your throat, and he peppered kisses across it, pulling a gasp from you.

His hand gripped your waist, keeping you close. You were still out in the open on an unfamiliar planet, and your safety was his priority. More kisses were left up your throat until he pressed his lips to yours once again. There was a little heat behind this one, making your insides turn to mush as Echo’s fingers grasped at you tightly.

He pulled back after a moment, resting his forehead on yours while you caught your breaths. The soft sound of the wind rustling the trees filtered back into your mind, along with the chirp of forest creatures.

“Maker, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Echo whispered, nervousness settling in.

You chuckled, a smile breaking out on your face. “Me too.” You admitted, sliding a hand to the nape of his neck, careful not to snag his cybernetic headpiece. “I think we should do it again.” You whispered.

As Echo’s eyes snapped open, you were no longer unsure what their glint meant. Those soft lips you’d just kissed curved into a wicked smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

[ramayantika]

Bade farewell to the Hero

It’s the onset of dawn. The dark night sky transforms into a beautiful shade of cotton white, colored with various hues of purple, blue, and pink. The sun, as usual, is slowly rising on the banks of the dark Yamuna, but today, her ethereal black waters carry a silent grief of her own as well as of the town of Vrindavan.

As beautiful as the dark night sky, lotus eyes as deep as the Yamuna waters, there sleeps the young beloved lad of Vrindavan, Krishna on the lap of the moon-like beauty of the town of Vrinda, Shri Radha.

“Have you taken your flute, Kanha?” Her soft voice, no more than a whisper, causes the young boy’s eyes to open in sudden remembrance.

Radha sighs with a small smile on her lips. Her nimble fingers bring out the familiar bamboo flute decorated with a peacock feather and pearls from her waistband. Her fingers reverently touch the flute for one last time. Radha’s kohl-rimmed eyes flutter close, as her fingers close upon each of the seven holes of the flute. There is no music playing anywhere nearby, but only her heart hears the heart-wrenching tunes of separation.

Krishna’s fingers tremble while holding the flute as realization sets in. The moment the chariot wheels cross the boundaries of Vrindavan, his flute would eternally go to sleep. The city of Mathura has no loving gopikas, adorable cows, and young boys with him to play the flute all day.

“Being a simple cowherd is not your destiny, Krishna.” Radha tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As she looks at the tear-laden eyes of her beloved, she steels her breaking heart, her sorrowful eyes now staring at him like a powerful queen going on a battle.

“Your existence is meant for great things. You are to live your life like a king.” She points at the crowd assembled at Chief Nanda’s house, a grand cottage that looks tiny from the heart of the forest where they are in. “You have saved us and this town countless times. The world needs you. You are to be a savior for the whole world. For the whole Yuga.”

Krishna gulps his tears down his throat, which now burns like the fire of separation burning his heart. As a lone tear skids down his cheek, Radha’s voice grows bolder, and for a moment he wonders, how much strength does she silently possess in her being.

“Choose the path that leads you to your destiny, towards your dharma.”

Radha stands up. The golden rays of the morning sun fall on her gentle face coating her fair skin with a powerful glow. Krishna stands in awe of the splendor that adorns her face. Goddess. That’s what she is. That’s what she has been.

“You are the rising sun of Dwapar.” She holds Krishna’s hand and entwines her fingers with his. Walking towards the narrow forest path, Krishna observes Radha’s gait. She always walked with a swan-like grace combined with a little shyness on her face each time she entered the forest to meet him. Today, she walks with her chin raised, her eyes fixated on the path ahead that shall lead them both away from their love-filled carefree times forever.

Within moments, they reach Akrura’s chariot. Radha knows that Krishna hasn’t spoken a single word to her. She knows that he won't be able to do so, nor does she have the capacity to hear his enchanting voice when he is on the verge of departure.

The whole crowd looks at their hero. Krishna looks at the tear-stricken face of his parents. He hears the loud sobs of his lovely gopikas who pampered him with butter and milk sweets. His eyes gaze over the grim faces of his childhood friends. The cows of Vrindavan stare at him, sadness clouding their eyes, but those poor creatures can’t speak a word.

Gulping the last of his tears that clog his burning throat, he steps onto the carriage. Radha smiles. Krishna’s eyes meet her once again and she keeps on smiling.

It will get easier to leave, Kanhaiya. Baby steps.

Radha takes four steps towards the chariot. Handing over Krishna’s flute to him, she slowly moves back, her eyes fixed to the ground. The crowd goes silent. The sobbing gopikas cease crying and keep looking at the scene ahead.

Radha folds her hands and bows her head to Krishna. His heart cracks open at the gesture. He bows down to her all humbled.

“You may leave now. We wish you well on the journey ahead. Make us all proud!”

Radha then takes her position beside Yashoda who is on the verge of losing her consciousness. Nanda holds her shoulders, in case she falls to the ground in grief, but only Radha sees how his fingers shakily rest on his wife’s shoulders.

All this while, not a word had escaped Krishna’s lips. The hero must always promise a return to his loved ones.

“My beloved Vrindavan people, fret not. This separation is only momentary. I shall come back soon to tell you all about Mathura. There’s no escape from my pranks. Go, rest for a while before your loved prankster comes back.”

Radha’s vision goes blurry. Her dark beloved appears to go far from her.

“Such a mischievous liar you are O Shyam…”

The sun is soon to rise for Dwapar, but for Vrindavan, the sun has gone to sleep forever.

***

I am sorry :(

This was a dance idea but I decided to write a fic on this and then choreograph the abhinaya. I have cried while practicing this out too. Let's share tears??

Oh, yes I do love showing Krishna in mortal shades with grief, confusion and dilemma clouding him sometimes too. :)

Tagging: @kaaga-re @ma-douce-souffrance (I AM SORRY SAANJH) @swayamev @krishna-priyatama @krishna-sangini @krishnaaradhika @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @arachneofthoughts @eugenephosgene @jessbeinme15 @stardustkrishnaverse @krsnaradhika @vijayasena @alhad-si-simran @pulihora @nyxie23 @houseofbreadpakoda @yourfavanxioussunshine @aesthetic-aryavartik @starlitskies0 @navaratna @flowerheadkiller @celestesinsight @kaal-naagin

Oh, and I have written for krishna after a loooong time

[agustdiv1ne]

hii congrats on 3k you deserve it!!! i love your works so much you're one of my favorite writers here <3 can i request for the event yeonjun + howl's moving castle + fluff and smut ? love you <3

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, smսt

wc: 3.2k

details + warnings: minors + blank/ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked, yeonjun as howl (take these two pics for reference,, phew), mc as sophie (but no defining physical features are described besides silver hair), this takes place after the events of the movie aka flying castle era, light dom/sub dynamics, vv soft sex, oral (f receiving), they are so in love it's sickening honestly

notes: starting this event off strong with one of my ults paired with one of my favorite movies...*visibly quaking* and ilyt nonnie <3 you're the sweetest

humming to yourself, you amble down the cobblestone path of a town far from the one that you once considered home. your dress brushes against your legs as you continue forward, the soft fabric rustled by a cool, gentle breeze characteristic of spring. above, clouds drift about the cerulean sky, the sun's rays gentle and warm where they kiss your skin. you soon spot the door that you had first emerged from when you had set out to complete a handful of errands earlier in the afternoon.

your focus on the door falters at the mouth watering scent wafting from a nearby stall, something saccharine and warm. perhaps one more stop is in order, you find yourself thinking as you part from your original path. your feet lead you over to the older woman overseeing the small stand surrounded by other passersby nibbling at the sweets she sells. the crow's feet around her eyes appear when she smiles at you, her chin-length hair a similar silver hue to your own.

“hello, my dear,” she greets, her voice soft and worn with time. as she continues, her hands work in tandem to package some of the treats that had lured you over. “how may i help you?”

you offer her a polite smile while you request four of the small, half-moon pastries filled with molasses-rich sugar and chopped nuts. steam rises from the ones that have just finished cooking, ready to be packaged for awaiting customers. she nods at you, smiling, as she quickly wraps up and hands the fresh ones off to a woman and her two young children to your left. the youngest hums in delight once he takes a bite, and the three of them head off down the road.

“your hair is quite beautiful, dear,” she says, the twinkle in her eyes signifying the truthfulness of her words as you place the correct amount of coins into her awaiting palm. “i’ve never seen someone so young with such a shade. it suits you well.” 

“oh, thank you! that is very kind of you to say,” you reply, your soft voice imbued with surprise. while most do not comment, you have witnessed firsthand the gawking and stares of judgement that your hair has garnered in your travels. the hue is a reminder of the curse you once endured, but the fond memories it brings forth far outweigh any negative reactions you have received thus far. warmth fills your chest at the compliment. 

she wraps and hands you your own pastries seconds later. bowing your head slightly, you voice your gratitude before you realize she has given you one extra. you attempt to hand one back to her, the others tucked into the basket hanging off of your arm. “ma’am, i believe you may have given me one too many—”

“nonsense,” she winks, pushing your hand back towards you. “consider it a gift.”

guilt swirling in your stomach, you try to hand her another coin. however, she refuses, shooing you away from her stand with well-wishes of safe travels. with a final shallow bow and kind words in return, you depart from the stall, your steps light and springy.

embarrassingly giddy after the sweet interaction, you scurry down the street much quicker now, eager to return home. home — it is what you used to call your family's hat shop, but now...now, home is what you call yeonjun, his youthful apprentice, kai, calicfer, heen, even the witch of the waste. they are your home, and nothing could ever exceed the joy that that truth brings you.

you remove one of the pastries from your basket, unwrapping it to take a bite, eyes widening at the sweet, syrupy taste that coats your tongue. delicious is the sole word that comes to mind. the warm delicacy only serves to heighten your mood, and it is long gone before you even reach your destination. you are tempted to reach for another, but decide against it. a hand wraps around the knob and twists, and suddenly, you are no longer in the town, but soaring high above in yeonjun's — and now, too, your own — flying castle.

“i’m home!” you call as you enter, using the heel of your boot to swing the wooden door closed behind you. though he is no longer confined to the hearth, calcifer sits there anyway; it has become habit after his years bound to yeonjun.

“oh, look who’s decided to come back!” he exclaims, flames growing brighter at the sight of you. “yeonjun’s been sulkin’ in his room since ya left — i’ve been dyin’ of boredom out here!”

you breathe a laugh at calcifer’s dramatics, looking for the young boy who is usually around when you return. “where is kai?”

“out. more magical apprentice-y tasks to do, i guess,” he replies, inspecting you as you set the basket down with pursed lips. “why the long face?”

“i got him a sweet from a stall, and it’s still hot,” you hum, beginning to place the produce and other items that you purchased onto the table. “i suppose you will have to warm it up for him later.”

“do i look like some kinda servant?” he asks, indignant. he continues to ramble about his now free status and how he doesn’t need to listen to you while you continue to remove items from your basket, placing the four remaining pastries to the side. 

huffing, you finally wave the firewood you had bought for him. “how about now?”

calcifer gasps at the sight, his small arms appearing to beckon you over. he scoffs, “alright, c’mon, i’ll do it. should’ve just said you had that first.”

you swiftly gather a decent amount of wood in your arms and head over to him, handing him one after another to greedily chomp down. with each one, he grows a bit larger, brighter, his glowing yellow center expanding.

“at this rate, i’ll start likin’ ya better than yeonjun,” the fire demon claims through a mouthful of lumber, snatching another piece from the now dwindling pile that you hold. 

“you already do, just admit it,” you quip, grinning down at him. 

“admit what?” an inimitably deeper voice asks. head whipping around, you find yeonjun leaning against the doorway, lips quirked up in a smirk with his arms folded across his broad chest. a loose, white blouse envelopes his torso and is tucked into primly tailored trousers.  

“oh, nothing for you to fret over,” you tease, well aware that he likely heard the vast majority of the conversation. he tuts, striding over to wrap his arms around your waist from behind, his chin coming to rest upon your shoulder as you present calcifer with the final piece of wood from your makeshift heap. the ends of his hair tickle your skin. he hums something low and quiet, pressing his soft, plump lips against your neck. calcifer, in turn, emits a nauseated heave. 

“if ya gonna act all lovey dovey around me, i’ll just leave,” the ball of flame huffs, beginning to float in the air. 

yeonjun chuckles, his arms pulling you tighter against him. “no need. i was meaning to steal this one away from you, anyway.”

“oh, great! just wonderful!” he sneers, sinking back down to the stone hearth and glowering at the man who leads you back towards the doorway. “spare my ears while ya at it!”

once you are alone, yeonjun wastes no time in pressing you against his silken bedsheets. he balances himself above you with a single forearm, his hips tucked between your parted thighs and hiked up dress. his lips waste no time in enveloping your own. slow, languid — he takes great care in savoring you, ensuring that you are as close as possible with his free hand cupping your cheek. his cheeky tongue slips into your mouth to curl against yours, causing you to exhale a muffled whine.

before you are able to slide your hands up his shoulders and around the back of his neck, he pulls away. staring up at him, you find chestnut eyes brimming with adoration. the sight of his disheveled hair and shiny, kiss-bruised lips sends flurries of butterflies through your stomach.

"“you taste so sweet, love,” he murmurs as he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. his words dissipate the heady fog creeping into your mind, and you reach up to grab his hand.

“the pastries!” you exclaim with wide eyes. attempting to sit up, you gently push him back onto his knees. you catch the furrow of his brow, the pout forming on his lips, and you move to explain. “i purchased pastries for us to try while i was out — the stall owner even gave me one more for free! isn’t that delightful?” 

yeonjun blinks. hard. how you are whining into his mouth one moment and growing distracted by sweets the next is quite beyond him, but it nonetheless causes an endeared smile to pull at the corners of his lips.

“you should try it while they’re still hot! i’ll go fetch one for you,” you continue, mistakenly taking his grin for excitement. swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stand and begin to scurry over to his bedroom door, him rising from the bed going unnoticed.

despite your newfound goal, your lover does not allow you to stray too far, catching you by the waist and pulling you back against him. his fingers weave together against your stomach, locking you in his embrace, unable to wriggle away.

“don’t leave me,” he pleads, and though you are unable to see it from your position, his tone betrays the pout that he sports. “i feel as if we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

“i’ve only been away for a few hours. you have survived much longer,” you giggle, reaching up to run your fingers through his onyx hair while he kisses up your neck, nipping the skin where you are most sensitive. you allow a quiet moan to escape, a shuddered breath following soon after when he does not halt his ministrations. attempting to pry his hands off, you say, “i’ll be just a minute, if you would let me go.”

whining in protest with his nose nuzzled against your jaw, his grip grows ironclad, the space between your bodies diminishing — and that is when you feel it: the hardness that presses snugly against your rear. heat floods your cheeks at the realization, and your struggle to escape comes to an abrupt end. “love, the pastry—”

“i’ll try it later. i’d much rather taste you at the moment,” he interrupts, voice low and breathy against your ear. the sheer desperation in his voice causes heat to pulse in your center. 

he pulls you back to bed with ease, aiding you in your descent to the sheets. his hands bunching the skirt of your dress up reveals your stocking-clad legs, the fabric squeezing the meat of your thighs in a way that causes him to gulp. he slips his body between your legs, a position reminiscent of mere minutes ago, taking his time in running his hands up and down sensitive skin of your inner thighs, traveling dangerously close to your covered center. goosebumps raise beneath his fingers as a shiver slinks down your spine.

while his actions are drenched in admiration mixed with a soft sense of desire, it is too much for you to bear. overwhelmed with bashfulness, you hide your face in your hands. above you, your lover tuts, as if dissapointed with your choice. prying your hands away, he gathers your wrists and presses them into the bed above your head.

“keep your hands there,” he orders, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with need. “or else i will stop.”

your heart skips a beat in your chest at his order, but you nod nevertheless. he simpers at your obedience.

“that’s my girl.”

and suddenly the desire to melt into a puddle washes over you. the words bring you back to the first day that you had encountered him; when he had saved you from two sleazy soldiers, flew you over the town square and helped you to a balcony before disappearing. that day, you had no inkling of just how drastically your life would change. how fate has landed you here, below that very man, in love with him...you have expressed your gratitude to whatever it is above countless times.

truly, you never thought of yourself to be one for praise, but your time with yeonjun thus far has unlocked a myriad of preferences you had never given a second thought to before. as the words echo in your head, you bite your lip to muffle a tiny whine.

chuckling, he lowers himself onto his stomach so that he is eye level with your center. a finger skates over the seam of your panties, sliding up your slit to press against your awaiting bud. all the while, his plump kiss and suckle their way up your thigh until he's nosing at the crease of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds. pulling away, he helps you slip the thin, soaked fabric from you with teasing touches until you are bare from the waist down, sans your stockings.

at the sight of your glistening core, he licks his lips, taking in the way you clench around nothing. you feel terribly exposed, like a sculpture in the center of a gallery, unable to hide. he coos at your trembling state. ever so sensitive, his little doe, even after so long. holding you open, his gaze travels back up past your heaving chest to your flustered face.

“eyes on me, sweetheart. want you to watch me.” he locks his gaze with yours as he dips down to trace your folds with tongue, reveling in the way your brow furrows and your lips part, teeth grazing your bottom lip for a moment. yeonjun is nothing if not a tease, however; he continues to repeat the same movements until you are battling with the urge to snap your eyes shut and burrow your head into the sheets, until you are pleading with him for more. conceding, he dips down to your entrance only to moan at your taste. yes, this is what he has been craving all day. his tongue dips inside for a moment before he licks a bold stripe up to your clit, his eyes fluttering closed while he takes his time in working you up. you cry out as the tip of his tongue slides under the hood, toying with the tiny bundle of nerves with practiced confidence. his lips do not stray far behind, wrapping around and sucking hard, basking in the choked moan you emit in response. 

but it's not enough.

he pulls away for a moment, hands squeezing your thighs. when you finally meet his gaze, he finds tears lining your bottom lashes, little dewdrops that cause your eyes to shine brighter.

“sing for me, sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft and hypnotizing. “as loud as you desire. when we’re in this room, no one can hear you but me.”

then, without waiting for your foggy brain to register his words, he dives back in with increased vigor, his lone goal being to make you fall apart, to cause you to let go those silly inhibitions that keep you as quiet as a mouse. he is more than pleased at the cries that follow.

while he loses himself in tasting you, you are falling apart. white-hot pleasure burns in the center of your stomach, a fire that grows hotter and brighter and causes you to grip the sheets harder with paled knuckles. it winds around you and spreads across the entirety of your being. with a mist-shrouded mind, all you can do is take what he provides, grinding against his lips. despite his warning from earlier, you reach down to thread your fingers through his hair and tug. this, evidently, sets him off; more beast than human, he devours you whole. he wants — no, needs your release. cum for me, darling, please cum for me — an unspoken plea, conveyed by his zealous tongue and lips, his grip on your thighs nearly bruising. and you listen, you listen so well despite his silence, the pleasure building and building and building and—

you shatter.

wailing, a supernova of pleasure overwhelms your body and soul, hot tears rolling streaming down your cheeks. your body no longer has a beginning nor an end — you feel as though you are floating above the bed rather than laying upon it, looking down at yourself, at the man betwixt your thighs, the care with which he extracts every drop of pleasure from your center, the patience he exudes while he delivers you back down to your true existence, back to him.

slowly, so very slowly, you return back to yourself, weary eyes fluttering open to find him hovering above you. his pupils hold profound concern, the rhythmic circling of his thumb against your cheek soothing to your mind. he's frowning, and you can see the gears spinning inside his head, wondering if he had finally gone too far.

“jjunie,” you whisper with an exhausted yet lovesick grin, pulling him close so that your foreheads press together — and with the melodic sound of your endearing nickname for him, the doubt, the guilt, festering deep in his chest vanishes. you spend a few moments gazing at each other, and you use the edge of your nail to trace his beauty marks while you bask in the presence of one another; just you and him, him and you. 

leaning up, you capture his lips, something soft and sweet and unhurried that causes your heart to pound against your ribcage. the heart — it can be such a fickle thing, always changing, always setting its sights on shiny, new things. yes, it can be quite fickle, but nothing can dispute the undeniable truth of your eternal, immutable love for yeonjun, and his for you. you may change your routines and what you eat and the tunes you sing, but your love is forever frozen in time. “find me in the future,” is what you once exclaimed to him, and he had done just that — and so, so much more.

despite your exhausted mind, you find yourself craving more. the hardness of his cock presses into your thigh, and you grind slightly into him. he stares down at you, lips parted, silently inquiring if you are okay: are you sure you would like to continue? it's a wordless exchange, the way you reach down to stroke him over his trousers, the cheeky bite of your lip. with that, the mischievous grin he wore previously returns.

“you’re absolutely insatiable,” he laughs, returning his lips to your neck.

“oh, please. you were the one who wanted this in the first place,” you tease back before you’re squealing at the sound of ripping fabric. “yeonjun!”

“i shall mend it later,” he shrugs, eyes darkening as he greedily takes in your now bare bosom. “right now, however, there are much more pressing matters.”

perhaps the pastries can wait a wee bit a longer.

3k event masterlist | main masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[robinette-green]

Late Night Day Dreams Chapter 11:

The Day After

You’re a Parts and Service Technician who’s been out for a week due to illness. An early morning phone call has you coming in at 6 am on your first day back instead of 10 pm like you had been planning on.

You just want to clock in, get set up and then seen your robot boys in the daycare but things don’t go as planned.

2,941 words

Princess Quest ending

Sun and Moon are 100% your boyfriends and it’s a secret but everyone knows

Punching my code into the keypad, I yawned, covering my mouth and squinting as my eyes watered.

6am was much, MUCH too early to be awake.

A phone call had startled me from sleep about 15 minutes ago. It was one of management’s automated voice messages, pre-recorded and riddled with breaks from a robotic AI voice.

“Hello, Faz Bear employee, NUMBER 13357. We are calling to inform you that you are needed to work MORNING SHIFT PARTS AND SERVICE TECHNICIAN. We apologize for any inconvenience and appreciate your cooperation. Please arrive on time for your SIX AM shift. Thank you and have a good day.”

I’d been out sick for a week and today was my first day back. It was just starting much, MUCH earlier than I thought it would.

Jeff must have called out. He was the normal morning tech. It was odd though because usually he’d shoot me a text to give me a heads up if he knew he wouldn’t be able to come in.

Well if he was sick he’d probably be sleeping in so I’d text him later to make sure he was alright.

The keypad beeped, light glowing green for a moment before the large metal door that split the parking garage from the lobby started to lift.

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I took a long sip of coffee while I waited for the door to rise enough to walk under.

Neon lights reflected off the polished floors of the lobby, large LED screens played ads of the band on the pillars and walls, and staff bots mopped the floors and did security rounds. Everything as normal at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.

Well until I made it to the turn styles and noticed that the gates for the lower gift shop and the customer service counter were both raised.

…

They should have been lowered last night and the night guard wouldn’t have needed to raise them.

…

Okay, well, whatever.

Maybe one of the animatronics opened them and forgot to close them again.

Ducking into one of the ticket booths, I booted up one of the computers and clocked in for my shift. The computer played a little fan fair with children cheering in the background as the punch went through and I rolled my eyes. I don’t know who programmed it to do that but I wanted to have a conversation with them. We were just going to talk.

Taking another sip of coffee, I adjusted my bag again and started through the lobby and up the stairs to the elevators.

The plan was to go down to parts and service first and get set up then I’d check on the main four before going to the daycare to see Sun and Moon. I needed to at least pretend to do my job before I could see my favorite boys and once we’d gotten through the hugs and catching up I’m sure they’d enjoy coming with me on my rounds of the -

…

The elevator doors had opened and I was distracted by the upper half of Monty clawing his way across the atrium floor. Not even sparing me a glance.

“… the fuck???”

It took another long moment before I could pull myself out of my surprise and shock.

“MONTY!” I shouted, trotting to catch up to the torso crawling across the floor.

“Dude! What the fuck?”

He didn’t respond, continuing on his merry way, a growl periodically coming from his voice box.

I dropped to a knee and set my coffee aside so I could rummage through my bag. Luckily, my Faz wrench, a large, orange, two-pronged tool, was near the top.

Faz wrench in hand, I ran to Monty and practically tackled him, placing a knee in his back to press him to the floor. As the bot growled and scrabbled at the floor, ripping up carpet and scooting us jerkily forward, I forced the service hatch on the upper part of his back open and slammed the prongs of the Faz wrench into the slot I’d uncovered. With a twist of the wrench, Monty slumped to the floor as he rebooted.

What the hell happened last night???

As Monty started to boot back on, I moved to sit next to him on the floor, closing his service hatch as I did.

Monty blinked a few times then groaned, clutching at his head with what was left of his hands. Now that I was really looking at him I could see that the shells of his hands were also gone.

Did someone break him for his upgrade?

Were the others okay??

“Wha?” Monty shifted to look down at himself and then at me.

“What, in the swampy bottom Faz fuck happened to my legs!?” He demanded in his gruff cajun accent.

“Language. If I knew, I’d tell you. I just got here. Walked through the doors and found you crawling your way through the plex. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“ Hypocrite. You spend too much time in that daycare” Monty grumbled.

“Is everyone else alright?”

“Again, just got here,” I repeated, ignoring his jab at my own use of cuss words, before getting to my knees and grabbing the gator under his arms.

“Come here you overgrown backpack. Let’s get moving and find out.”

With Monty’s help and a good bit of struggle, I managed to get Monty into my back and stood. Turns out that he was still extremely heavy when only part of an upper body.

“You’ll grumble but we’re going to the daycare first.”

Monty did grumble a little bit, tightening his grip on my shoulders.

“Na, I get it. Need to check on your boys.”

Lugging the large gator along, I went back to the elevator to go back to the lobby. This route would be faster than going through Kids Cove and I wouldn’t have to walk as far with a heavy passenger on my back.

“Hey kid, put me down. I’ll crawl” Monty could tell I was already flagging.

“No. This is faster and I can have Sun and Moon carry you once we find them.”

The music in the elevator cut out and the announcer told us a Faz fact that was very clearly untrue.

Bears aren't extinct yet and most certainly don't eat pizza in the wild.

Monty and I waited silently for it to finish and now that we weren’t talking I could really feel his weight pulling me down, compressing my body.

“…Though if I change my mind you’ll be the first to know.”

Monty chuckled and the elevator doors opened and we were able to continue on.

We made it to the daycare check-in before I had to set Monty down but we were close enough that it didn’t matter.

I practically fell down, getting Monty to the floor without dropping him and my body felt oddly light and floaty as I stumbled to the 'side into fun' slide that went down into the daycare proper.

“SUN!” I called down the colorful plastic tube.

I’d been out for a week, they should be anxious wrecks to see me again.

The sudden crashing of an animatronic scrambling up the slide startled me and when Sun shot out, his arms wrapping around me I fell over, his weight crushing me.

“OH DEWDROP! I’m so glad, glad, GLAD! You’re back! So many things have gone WRONG! They made us get an upgrade WITHOUT YOU! It was HORRIBLE! And, and now Moon won’t talk to me! And he’s HURT an EMPLOYEE!! And we’ve had complaints! I’m not allowed to turn the light OFF anymore!! and, and, and OH MY GOD WHAT’S HAPPENED TO MONTY!!!” Holding me tight to his chest, Sun scrambled away from the torso of the gator that was crawling towards us.

“Woah! Easy!” I took Sun’s face into my hands, trying to calm him some.

“It’s alright.”

The large sunny animatronic melted into my touch, curling further around me.

Next time I get sick I’m going to let Sun and Moon squirrel me away in their room and let them care for me like they wanted because clearly I couldn’t leave for a moment without things falling apart… literally.

Monty sighed, resting his head on his hands as he looked at us over his sunglasses.

“We don’t know what happened to 'em,” Monty grumbled.

“I woke up like this. Your little human says they found me crawling through the atrium like this and gave me a reboot.”

It took a little longer to calm Sun down and after some coaxing and more hugs, I finally got him to let me go.

We decided that the first thing we would do was get Monty down to parts and service. I didn’t know what condition the others would be in and I might need Sun and Moon to carry them. That would be easier if they weren’t also carrying the gator.

I also wanted to check on Moon. From what Sun had said I had a feeling that something had gone wrong with whatever upgrade they’d gotten and I needed to make sure Moon was okay.

Sun scooped Monty up and carried him with one arm then snagged my hand, squeezing for reassurance.

Giving him a smile, I squeezed back.

I was going to fix this.

It didn’t take long to get down to parts and service. We placed Monty on one of the work tables and let him go into rest mode then I gently talked Sun into the repair tube. He was nervously pulling at a ray, the rest pulled into his face plate with worry.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Y-you haven’t seen the state of our room. H-he’s been destroying staff bots! I don’t want you to get hurt! What if something’s really REALLY wrong and he- and he-!”

“It’ll be okay, Sunny bunny,” I murmured, patting Sun’s hand as he sat in the large dentist-looking chair.

“You and I both know that Moon would never do anything to hurt me. We’re going to find out what they did wrong during your upgrade and I’m going to fix it. Promise. It’ll be okay.”

The door closed, sealing us in as I sat on my rolling stool and hooked up my laptop to the port in the back of Sun’s head.

“I’ll do a check on you first, then we’ll turn out the lights,” I said, already distracted by code as I dug through Sun’s files, Sun giving me a nervous affirmative.

They’d given Sun and Moon a battery that could outlast any of the other animatronic’s batteries but when they’d done this they’d turned off Sun and Moon’s ability to enter rest mode.

I grumbled something unsavory to myself as I turned it back on. Not being able to rest for a week was probably part of the reason Sun was so high-strung right now. Not resting on top of everything else going on.

Luckily everything else seemed to be in order…

“We’re going to take a long nap once we get everything sorted. Looks like you both need a snuggle and some rest.”

Sun took one of my hands in his, tilting his head slightly so he could look up at me with his white eyes.

“Please?” He asked, his voice so small.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Absolutely.”

Now it was time to check on Moon.

Giving Sun’s hand a squeeze, I reached over and placed a finger on the light controls.

“Ready?” I asked softly and after a moment of hesitation, Sun nodded.

The lights in the repair tube went out and dimmed in the rest of Parts and Service. Sun’s body convulsed and he made a pained sound that had me lurching forward.

“SUN?!?” I called out but as soon as it had started, it stopped, Moon’s red eyes glowing in the dark.

“Are you alright!? That sounded like it hurt!” I ran my fingers along the edge of Moon’s face plate where Sun’s rays had retracted, looking to see if something was impeding the change there.

A hand grabbed my wrist and squeezed. Hard.

“Ahh,” I hissed, free hand instinctively going to Moon’s fingers to try and relieve some of the pressure as my eyes flew to Moon’s.

“Sssss-starlight?” Moon growled, voice glitching.

Suddenly, Moon jerked forward, gripping his face plate with a hand and crying out, his eyes flickering purple for a moment.

“Moon. Talk to me, buddy. What’s wrong?” I scrambled for my laptop, clicking away with my free hand through Moon’s coding, wincing as I tried to ignore the way my other wrist was being crushed.

“S-sommmmme-thing’ssss. Ii-t’sss in-n-n-n-n my head. Connn-t-trolling-” Moon managed to get out, doing his best to fight whatever was trying to rear its ugly head.

“Hold on honey, I got you,” I murmured, typing as fast as I could with one hand.

There was something in his code, probably the same thing that had been affecting Monty when I’d first found him. Moon needed a reboot, that should clear out the virus like it had with Monty.

Moon growled, the metal of his face plate creaking as his grip tightened down, the grip on my wrist just as tight.

“J-Just a little longer. Hold out for me if you can.” I managed to say through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the way my bones were creaking.

Grabbing my Faz wrench, I was just barely able to get the prongs into the slot on the back of Moon’s face plate. With a grunt, I turned the wrench and Moon suddenly went limp, eyes going dark.

I pulled my arm free from his grasp and cradled it to my chest. By some miracle, it was bruised but not broken.

Leaning closer, I tried to see what Moon’s optics were doing.

“Moon? How are you feeling sweetheart?”

Red eyes flickering back on, I had to sit back as their head did a spin and Sun’s rays joined Moon’s hat.

“Happy Birthday!” Eclipse gushed and I sighed, smiling down at the grinning robot.

If Eclipse was fronting then everything must be working smoothly. This part of the daycare attendant could only surface when Sun and Moon were working in harmony.

“Not my birthday, Eclipse. Did the reboot wipe the virus from your system?”

“Sure did! We’re in tip-top shape! And we’re able to communicate again just fine as you can see!” Eclipse gushed as he sat up, reaching out to pull me into a hug.

“Thank you, Star Shine!” He whispered into my hair. Then in a much smaller voice, he asked

“Is it… time for that cuddle?” He sounded so anxious and sad, I wanted to immediately agree but we still had work to do.

But then I would cuddle my poor boys for days and we’d have a week-long sleepover. They deserved it after what they’d been through.

After checking on Monty one more time, Sun, Moon, and I set out to find Roxy, Chica, and Freddy and check on DJ Music Man.

We found Roxy in her salon, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to hide her face. Her eyes had been ripped from her head, wires hanging loose from the empty sockets. Her hair had been thoroughly messed up and it looked like her snout had been bent giving her a permanent snarl.

The shock from losing her eyes had forced an auto reboot, purging the virus but it had left Roxy a wreck, sobbing and raging about the boy that had taken her eyes from her.

Sun and I promised over and over that she was still the most beautiful and that I would easily be able to fix her. I even told her that we could add whatever she wanted to her shell. New hairstyle, new colors, different earrings, whatever she wanted. We’d make a spa day of it.

This seemed to calm her down some and Sun and I were able to get her to parts and service, letting her sit in a chair near Monty’s table as she whimpered softly.

So this Gregory had taken Monty’s hands and Roxy’s eyes. I had a feeling I knew what would be missing when we found Chica.

And I was right but it was worse than I’d thought.

She’d been smashed by the trash compactor but was somehow still mindlessly wandering around and shoving food into what was left of her mouth. Someone had pulled her voice box out and taken her beak with it leaving Chica with a large hole in her face. Her shell was cracked in serval places and she reeked of trash.

I ended up having to have Moon hold Chica down so I could open the service panel in her back and force a reboot with my Faz wrench.

Even once she was rebooted, Chica seemed dazed and confused. Moon was able to converse with her via sign language but, just like Monty, she had no memory of what had happened.

DJ Music Man seemed alright, all things considered. He seemed to have the robot equivalent of a headache, holding his head, lying sprawled out on his stage. DJ had a vague memory of a boy running about the arcade but couldn’t tell us more.

No matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t find any sign of Freddy. He appeared to have vanished along with the boy that had caused all this destruction.

If this is what happens when I leave for a week then I guess I can’t leave ever again.

Not that Sun or Moon would let me.

[savagemercury]

Astrology Basics

Tropical, Sidereal, Vedic

Recently you might have come across posts saying, "Pluto enters Aquarius on Jan 20th 2024 and will stay there till 2044", but at the same time you saw posts saying "Pluto just entered Capricorn in 2020, it will stay there till 2040". This could be confusing for people who are not familiar with the two main astrological systems, Tropical and Sidereal.

The tropical system is the one widely used in the west. The location of the celestial bodies are marked on the basis of the seasonal cycle. For example, Tropical Aquarius season falls in the January - February season. Here, it means that the Sun is in Aquarius during this time. If you are born during this time, your sun sign in tropical astrology is Aquarius. The dates of ingress and egress of the sun into a sign is not set in stone, but we can say, for example, that the Sun usually changes signs around September 23rd (Virgo to Libra).

The same can be applied to sidereal astrology, however, here we have a different way of marking positions of the planets. The positions depend on the actual positions of the planets in the sky through calculations known as ayanamsa(अयनांश) . Therefore, calculation-wise, the planets in a vedic or sidereal chart are approx. 23 degrees behind. So for example, an Aquarius moon at 9 deg (Tropical) will be a Capricorn Moon at 15~16 deg (Sidereal).

Here, the sign changed but sometimes the planet doesn't change signs if it's placed after 23 deg in Tropical or before 6 deg in sidereal (Each sign covers 30 degrees so 12 signs give us a full circle of 360 degrees).

(Left tropical whole sign, Right sidereal ayanamsa-lahiri)

As you can see the tropical chart shows the sun in aqua as it is Aquarius season now, but in sidereal it is 23 degrees behind in Capricorn. Similarly the rising, midheaven and all other planets are also 23 degrees behind. Notice how the planet placement in houses don't change. This is only possible if you calculate the tropical chart house system in whole signs since vedic charts only consider whole sign house system.

I hope you now understand why Pluto entered Aqua for some and remained in Cap for the others.

Speaking of vedic astrology, a lot of people tend to avoid it because it is difficult. Apart from the original set of 12 constellations that are called rashi (राशि), another set of 27 smaller constellations which are a part of the 12 rashis, are used to gain greater insight. These 27 smaller constellations are called nakshatra (नक्षत्र​​).

Each rashi contains 2 and 1/4 nakshatras.

Each nakshatra is divided into four pada (पद​) or sub-divisions

Each rashi has a lord (just like traditional-tropical)

Each nakshatra has a lord and a sub-lord

Each nakshatra pada also has a lord.

So if you search, "Moon in Aquarius Pada 3", you will get results that will tell you everything starting from the rashi to it's lord to the nakshatra and it's lord and then the pada and it's lord and how they affect the said planet.

Vedic charts can be a bit confusing to read because the charts are not always available in a circular representation. Remember that South Indian charts are read clockwise whereas North and East Indian charts are read anti-clockwise. Most vedic chart softwares use lahiri ayanamsa.

Astroseek helps to understand the difference in tropical and sidereal because it shows both charts in a circular format and also shows the nakshatras. Astro.com also allows selection of different house systems and calculation options. If you wish to read vedic charts in the traditional style you can head to prokerala, astrosage or vedicastrologyus. Astrosage also gives a report.

In tropical astrology, the sun sign has more importance while the moon sign is considered more important in vedic astrology.

To put it simply, your zodiac in pop-culture astrology is your tropical sun sign and your "rashi" in your vedic chart is your vedic or sidereal moon sign. Another interesting tidbit is that the horoscope column on newspapers is actually about your rising sign. You can never know everything about a person by just knowing their sun, moon or rising sign, a good and in-depth analysis of both charts can give really good insights.

[rw-repurposed]

Some short comics regarding Chasing Wind's ancients :)

I love them all and I wanna do more about them.

All the ancients from the bottom panels from top to left to right:

Four Rising Suns, One Setting Moon. One Direct Goal, Infinite Curved Paths. Stains of Shadow Over A Realm's Sorrow. Nine Howling Vessels, Silent Night. Darkness Befallen, Ashes Remains.