#i love writing for all of them sm <3

[fatuismooches]

There's just something really cute about being the segments' firsts. Their first hand-holder, first kiss, first hug, first date. They all have memories of you from which their creator imbued into them, but they didn't actually do those things with you. It's not their specific memories. It was merely Prime's memories from that stage of his life with you. So, in reality, they're all kind of... sad little clones who haven't felt the touch of love in their entire lives. Solely fulfilling their duty as one of Prime's segments. The affection they remember never actually being experienced by them personally. The feelings never actually felt by them.

The younger segments especially get more worked up about it. Especially when they see you being so blatantly affectionate with Prime. Oh, how they wish that could be them. That you could give them the time of day too. It ends up frustrating them to the point where they nearly break equipment in the process. The older segments are more aware of their place, so they don't show their urges much outwardly, but that doesn't mean they aren't disappointed.

When you finally get comfortable enough around them, they're tripping over themselves to figure out how to persuade you best so that you'll spend them with them instead of the other segments. So that they'll receive lots of kisses and your attention will solely be on them, for the first time since their creation date. (Would you care to join me in dissecting a body, dearest? No, [Name] would much prefer to examine Ruin Guards with me! As if. They would much rather help me out in the lab instead.)

Once you give them a taste of what you have to give, there's no going back. Because the thing about being their firsts, is that they'll demand for you to be their seconds, thirds, and fourths as they truly can't be enough. They might suffocate you, but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You have two hands, shoulders, a lap, a back, and more for a reason!

[meadow-art]

Fanon Ship children are good, very interesting to write and characterize. But what about ship pets?? What about two charecters becoming so emotionally attached to a creature that their life literally molds around it??

Cus I can't stop thinking about Ratio having a pet cat that he'd name something so goofy and serious that it's funny. Something like Theorem of Ptolemy (Theo for short) and the cat would be the most reserved girlie ever. Doesn't give a fuck about anyone, not even Ratio most if the time, and Ratio would treat her like she is a grown human, would talk to her like she is just another work colleague and she'd not even meow back at him. It's fine though, she keeps him company and after his parents the cat is the only thing he is most attached to.

Until the Annoying Gambler comes into his life Ofcourse, suddenly he has another person to care for. And just when he thinks his life is the most affected by Aventurine, the gambler comes over for whatever business stuff they are to discuss one day, and Theo suddenly has multiple Fucks to give. She'd not go near him at first, but that hasn't really stopped Aventurine, ever, so he'd try to warm up to her. And it would so backfire. Like she's now falling asleep on his lap and trapping him in one place for hours level backfire. She MUST stick to him the whole time he is over at Ratio's. Would hijack his coat but loafing up on top of it and forcing him to leave it behind.

Ratio would stand there and feel betrayed af. And he wouldn't even know who is he most jealous of, Aventurine cus that cat has never given /him/ the same amount of attention, or Theo cus he himself has never been able to shower that Gambler with that much attention. He'd grumble and would try to ignore the obvious warmth in his chest cus- two of his most favourite beings love each other???? Also soft aventurine, the real kind. Cus who wouldn't absolutely melt at a Cat.

Now, I had all of this in my mind before 2.2 so I'm only a bit salty that hoyo alr made it canon that aventurine acquires the catcakes and we all sort fo agreed that it was Ratio who gifted him those. And now my headcanons is somehow sort of canon :| but yeah, I still wanted to get this brainrot out of my head so 😋

[gen4grl]

you would think after all the yapping i do about these losers i would have a plethora of art uploaded … no… so here is my first kantrio post lol

i did these over the last month while watching the olympic weightlifting and jamming to kpop (stan red velvet and kiss of life BTW!!!)

[spoiledleaff]

there's a monster circling the borders of the cult. the lamb knows what it is—who it is. they're not terribly bothered.

the fox.

as a creature who values both brutality and strategy, the fox admires shamura deeply, to the point of love obsession. they've met before, though shamura could not remember that now. as a bishop, the fox loved watching them work. they would meet on occasion, standing at the crossroads between war and darkness. the fox has always had a bit of a stalking problem, not that shamura would feel threatened by him. they never stopped him before. the company was nice, soothing. they both smelled of blood—it was like finding another half of yourself, drenched in the afterbirth of your crimes and murders.

they'd chat. sometimes. ironically enough, shamura liked taking time to talk about nothing. so much of their life and work is spent strategizing and wondering and learning and doing things with a purpose, it was nice to take a moment to revel in the nonsense. the fox didn't mind, he would be too infatuated with the way they'd fidget with the bones of their followers. they would remember so much.

he was so curious, so obsessed that when shamura offhandedly let slip of that damned prophecy, of their siblings, of their brother, of the lambs—he didn't hesitate.

"i will handle it." he said. "i will devour every lamb to ever walk this earth if that is what you wish of me."

they paused, calculating. always so careful.

"leave one for me." they said, their smile filled to the grim with too many teeth and murderous intentions, and the fox thought he felt something stir in his long dead chest.

(there was a sadness there too, he realizes. maybe they knew of the consequences all along. even back then.

maybe especially then.)

it's hard to think that the shamura from before and the one he'd grown so used to watching from the shadows were the same creature. they still smell of blood, still ramble nonsense that only makes sense to them.

the fox wants to kill them, this mockery of the great bishop he once knew. this thing does not demand respect, does not stir that feeling in the fox's chest; it cannot be them.

they never seem to sleep, always roaming the cult's grounds while the rest of the herd scatter off for their bedtimes. they drift near the cemeteries, reading aloud names of followers they've never known. they do this every night—pay their respects.

"i know you are out there, little shadow." they say one night, "may i help you?"

"no." the fox is quick to answer, his maw is open and dripping with his resolutions. this thing will die tonight.

the false one turns towards the shadows, though the fox knows they will never find him if he doesn't wish it.

"do i know you?" they ask. "you feel familiar to me, though i'm afraid i cannot place it."

"...no." the fox lies — it is the truth — his teeth lay ready, though he does not bite.

"ah. my apologies then." the false one turns back to the graves, turns away from the fox. "your voice soothes me in a way i cannot describe. though i am unsure as to why, as to me you sound like blood, like cattle willingly led to slaughter, like betrayal."

the fox is ready to strike, he drools.

"you remind me of someone who i think i once felt safe with." he stops. "i apologize. i know we've never met before, but i cannot shake the feeling that i know your teeth."

the fox hesitates, closes his maw, backs away.

"your teeth are beautiful, by the way." the thing turns around, and the fox feels as though they see him—they see him. "i feel as though i've known your ivory all my life."

he leaves.

it doesn't matter, the night will always come—there will always be tomorrow.

it doesn't matter that this false one replicates shamura's desire to babble about nothing.

it doesn't matter that there is a beating in his chest that will not go away.

(he misses the chatter.)

there is always tomorrow night.

[starlitwhispers]

to another world, to another you limochi — 6000 words a/n: Happy early Birthday to my bff, my love, my heart!!!! i took some liberties here and there but i hope you enjoy this offshoot of your precious children i had sm fun writing them<3 @musubiki summary: The world is out of balance, something isn’t right. Mochi doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it. She looks at Pom, who tilts her head, sensing her uncertainty. Something — something is missing… but what? ‘Him!’ A voice flashes in her mind, but she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is…

...

…

The bell rings. Her long, brown hair bounces as her body turns around from behind the counter. She smiles as she sees a regular patron come in, welcoming them. Somewhere, on one of the shelves of the lower counter, Pom lays curled into a ball. The day passes into obscurity. Stacking, sorting, a text from Coco here, a phone call from her mom there. She makes herself a nice warm drink, enjoys it in a free moment, and sees it is now 5 PM. Time to close up shop; her cardigan slips off her shoulder while she finagles into her bag searching for keys. 

Right before she closes the door, she looks around the shop to make sure nothing is amiss. Something feels off. She can’t put a finger on it, so she shrugs her shoulders and lets the door close behind her. She’ll figure it out tomorrow. Her fingers turn with the key in the lock and she drops the carabiner clip back into her bag with a clink. 

“Let’s head out Pom!” Mochi says to her familiar, happy and carefree. As she walks through the streets, the sun setting in the background paints the sky a blood orange. It’s a warm day in September, no sudden chills of autumn slipping by yet. When she walks through the front door of her home, her mother greets her from the kitchen. 

“Oh, hi honey, how was your day?” Tiramisu asks, drying a casserole dish with a cloth. 

“It was good! …I think,” Mochi responds, scratching the side of her neck and smiling sheepishly. Gently, she lets her bag slip off her shoulder and down her arm onto the couch. 

Her mother blinks, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “You think? That reply doesn’t inspire confidence, you know.” 

Suddenly, Mochi jerks upwards, her hands coming up and waving her mother off. “I really don’t mean to cause alarm or anything, I mean it. I just have been feeling strange today. Everything’s okay!” 

And with that, Tiramisu strides across the living room to her daughter, her hand reaching out to grab her daughter’s chin, and giving her a bottom-up inspection. Mochi’s cheeks flare up in heat, embarrassed by her mother’s overprotectiveness.

“Hmmm,” Tiramisu muses. “You seem fine to me. Maybe you’re just tired, go upstairs and rest. I need you to deliver something tomorrow across town for me.” 

“R-Really? Another delivery? Guess we’ve been doing pretty well lately, huh?” The brunette perks up, a little reassured her mother senses nothing off but also excited to make a delivery. 

“Yes, well, the M34TH hasn’t really been turning their noses up in the area for a while, so it makes for pretty good foot traffic for magic users around here. But remember, if you ever see that white uniform, try to discreetly walk away — or if they come up to you, act like you know nothing because—”

“Yes, yes, I know mom,” Mochi cuts in, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body to hug herself. “You’ve drilled it in that they aren’t company to keep for… witches like us.” 

“Right, good, I’m glad you remembered,” her mother nods, turning back to the kitchen. 

Mochi has yet to meet anyone from the M34TH, so in her mind, everyone from the M34TH is bad. She’s caught glimpses of their officers in the distance whenever she’s on the outskirts of town, but really, she’s never come anywhere close to them. The idea of coming in contact with anyone from the regiment… It frightens her. As she slogs up the stairs and into her bedroom, her body drops onto her bed. 

Pom has jumped up beside her, propped up and sitting. Her own mother says everything seems fine, but for some reason, she can’t shake the feeling. Again, just as she did at the bookstore, she looks about her bedroom. Everything is in its place, nothing out of turn. Something feels like it’s gone. Her phone buzzes. It’s Coco asking when they can hang out. An odd sensation sweeps over Mochi’s body, as she taps out of the conversation and sees her conversations with other contacts. ‘Mom,’ ‘Coco,’ ‘Oscar,’ and that is it… Of course, there were various numbers from old classmates and the like, but within her circle of immediate persons to talk to, that is it. She blinks, and then shoves her face in her pillow. 

She lifts her face from the pillow, sighing. She knows she should trust her mom, but this is a feeling she knows she cannot deny. Even if it is just her who can sense it, so be it. This must be a mission only she as the cat witch can handle. The world is out of balance, something isn’t right. Mochi doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it. She looks at Pom, who tilts her head, sensing her uncertainty. Something — something is missing… but what? ‘Him!’ A voice flashes in her mind, and her body jolts up at the strange voice calling out to her. Someone is missing? But she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is…

Her eyes glance over at her alarm clock, it’s 6:30. Dinner should be ready. Mochi slowly tumbles out of bed, a headache growing behind her eyes. The frustration is beginning to burn with every blink, maybe she really is just tired? No, that isn’t it. And she knows it. 

The natural forces are affecting her; the essences and spirits are trying to let her know what is amiss. And her body is too immature to take it all in at once. She takes her seat at the table, her mother preparing dinner and setting it down. They spend the entirety of the meal talking about Tiramisu’s plans for both of them tomorrow; her mother will be headed to the inner capitol for a day or two due to restocking on certain ingredients, and Mochi will be traveling to the other side of town to make the delivery. 

Mochi quietly eats her portion of dinner, not a lot as her appetite wanes in the anxiety and uncertainty, and excuses herself to an early retirement for the night. She takes a bath in silence, her face gently bobbing above the waterline as she watches the steam rise to the ceiling. She dries herself, blow-dries her hair, lotions her body, and slips a big t-shirt on. She curls up into a ball into bed, Pom following suit after she turns the light off. 

“You know I can tell something weighs on your mind,” Pom says in the darkness, with Mochi’s back facing her. 

“Mhmm.. mmm… mmhpphm…!” Mochi mumbles into her pillow, deliberately groaning to herself in self-pity. 

“Hah?!” Pom yaps at her. 

At that moment, Mochi springs up, turning to look down at her cat familiar. “I said, do you think it’s possible to forget something, and not be able to know what it is?!” 

“Cannot say I do, is that not the whole point about forgetting? Being unable to recall it?”

The witch takes a breath, calming down. “Yeah, I would suppose you’re right. But I just can’t shake like I’m forgetting something really big, or like there’s something missing. Do you think I left something at the shop?” 

“No, I saw you look around anyhow. If you are that worried, just do one of the reminder spells, we can grab the stuff you need tomorrow.” 

Taking Pom’s suggestion to heart, Mochi relaxes. “Y-Yeah! You’re right, I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up! We’ll just get the ingredients tomorrow, and then I’ll have an answer for sure.” 

Laying back down, she stares at the ceiling. Tomorrow will be better. They have a delivery, when she drops the delivery off, she can pick up the ingredients she needs since they’re common items anyway. She loosens up a little more, closing her eyes. She likes when she has deliveries on the other side of town, more walking; it means she’ll have to take the route on the outskirts of town to get there. 

Tomorrow will be better. 

And boy, is she wrong about that. 

The next morning starts off nothing short of normal. Her mother has already up and left for the capitol, and Mochi eats breakfast with Pom. She grabs her bag off the couch where she put it yesterday, and retrieves the parcel Tiramisu prepared the night before for delivery. Slipping her shoes on, she’s ready to make her way through town to deliver this package. Pom follows at her heels as she locks the door behind her and begins making her way through the streets. It’s quite a long walk, approximately 1 hour to reach the destination, but she thinks she could use the exercise anyway. These are the moments she wishes her mother would allow her to use her broom, but it’s bright out. 

About fifteen minutes into it, she arrives at the outskirts of town to reach the route which will take her straight there. And right before she reaches it, as she walks down a narrow path through some buildings, white fabric flashes into her eyesight. Exactly what her mother told her the evening before to be aware of. An officer from the M34TH. Immediately, her heart starts racing, as this tall individual has caught sight of her as well. She barely has time to react and think before her body moves on its own, she turns and starts running away with Pom ahead of her. 

Tears well in the corners of her eyes as she runs away from him, she doesn’t dare turn back to look at him, but she can feel him on her heels. He’s close. Gasping for air, all she needs is to make it out of this narrow alleyway and she’ll be amongst other throngs of people. No way he can catch her then. Just feet before she hits a main road, she entertains the idea of turning her head back for a second. 

And she regrets this. 

Instantaneously, her eyes are met with green irises staring back into hers, she’s been overtaken already. He has grabbed her and gently forces her against the wall of the alley, it’s quiet as both of them pant. She finally takes a good look at the officer, his bright green eyes, as lush and colorful as the new spring leaves of a dogwood, piercing into her gaze, with short orange hair underneath his cap. Air catches in her throat, her mind doesn’t want to admit it, but her heart already has by the way it skips. He’s extremely handsome, a little too handsome to be on the wrong side. 

His large hands hold onto both sides of her arms, almost squeezing her together as his tall body bends over her, looking down. He isn’t looking at her with hostility, in fact, something about his stare is dripping with affection just like the sweat on his temple. And as if the sudden sprints and attack on her heart from physical charms haven’t been enough, the words that come out of his mouth almost send her spiraling. 

“Mochi, why would you run from me?” He breathes heavily, speaking all too familiarly with her. 

Her pink eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising in surprise and alert. He knows her name? Just how much information does the M34TH have on her already? Instantly, she goes into panic mode, terrified of the man before, no matter how gorgeous he is. Now she really wishes she had her broom. She turns her head slightly to the side, to see Pom looking at her cautiously. 

“Moch? Are you going to answer me?” The officer asks again, this time almost frantic undertones in his voice. 

The cat witch thinks carefully for a moment, about whether or not to answer him. Right now, she’s looking at him as if he has three heads, and is curious if a tail is about to sprout from his rear end in a moment from the way he’s addressing her so intimately. Her lips press into a thin line and air exhales from her nose. In a swift motion, she shakes his grip off her and he fumbles a little back. Huh, she thinks, he’s not that strong after all. 

Which is false. Truly, the officer hadn’t been holding her down against her will, or very tightly at all; it’s his last intention to harm her — unbeknownst to the witch, of course. He now stands a step or two from Mochi, his face contorted in frustration. 

“Are you joking around with me right now? Come on Moch, it’s me, Lime,” he says, the curve of his mouth turning downward. Something about his sudden burst of despondency feels genuine and tugs at her heart. 

“I-I don’t know anyone named Lime,” she finally answers him, turning her face towards the ground and stepping further away from him. 

With her moving away from him, he steps towards her, a hand reaching for hers, which she reflexively pulls away. “Mochi, we grew up together, we went to school together, we’re best friends, we… love each other,” Lime pleads with her, his words spilling out of his mouth like he’s trying to conjure up his own spell. 

“I’m sorry, I think you must have me mistaken for another Mochi,” the brunette asserts, her shoe dragging backwards, attempting to further the distance between them some more. 

“There’s no way you forgot me,” he turns his head up, regaining confidence and talking himself through it. “Yeah, some weird thing happened again, I don’t know how but I just woke up on the outskirts of town, and now that I’ve finally found you, I’m sure you must’ve just messed around with some magic a little too much and you’ve forgotten me somehow.” 

Forgot. 

Hearing his voice say the word ‘forgot’ is like lightning striking. For a second, she looks at him, clear as day. Her? Forget this man? Strange, her eyes observe him from the foot to the top of his head, but nothing about his visage sparks a memory. Strange, she continues to think, as his voice, his presence, something about him feels like a memory. Like she really has known him her whole life, and she could be forgetting—

“Don’t let him trick you, cat witch,” Pom breaks into her thoughts, sensing her student letting her walls down around this officer. “He may be beguiling you with some M34TH gadget we cannot see!” 

Immediately Mochi puts her guard back up, hesitantly furrowing her eyebrows back at him. Pom isn’t wrong, that could totally be the case; but something inside her just wants to believe him. 

“Oh, for the love of—!” he groans to himself. “Pom, I know you don’t like me, but you know I would never hurt Mochi!” 

Pom circles around him, her tail wiggling as she sizes him up and her snout crinkling at his scent. After a solid moment, she returns to Mochi’s feet, standing in between them. “I do not know any M34TH officers acquainted with my student, but you are quite a strange human… You smell different.” 

“Different, Pom?” Mochi asks, crouching down to her. The black cat nods her head, and then scratches the back of her ear with her hind leg. 

“Yes, almost like he is not from here.” 

Lime sighs in exasperation, his shoulders weeping. “I grew up here, I know this place like the back of my hand, just like the way I know you, Mochi.” 

For some reason, his assertion picks at her, and she finds herself frustrated, standing up to face him at eye level. “And just what does someone like you know about me? I would have never tangled myself up with the likes of the M34TH!” 

“I know you struggled with school, you hated it because it was hard to balance with becoming a witch at sixteen, I know where you live because I lived across the street from you, I know you lost your powers at one point in high school due to your nasty aunt, I know you overthink things and worry too much, I know you’ll only drink coffee with a shit ton of sugar in it, just like I know a million other little things about you,” he says in one breath, panting and smirking like he’s just proved a point. 

However, it has the opposite effect. Mochi begins recoiling, hugging herself and evidently creeped out by the amount of information this man has on her. But at the same time, he continues to speak about her and to her as if they really have known each other all this time… what if, just maybe…? 

“Compose yourselves,” Pom speaks, raising a paw. “I wasn’t done talking. I did not mean you were not from this town, but rather, this world. It could be very likely you belong to another dimension, and some forces of magic have to do with it—” 

“That’s not possible,” Lime cuts in. “I have incredibly high magic resistance, the highest in the regiment. You would need to be ridiculously powerful to have an effect on me.” 

Pom then looks at Mochi, who turns her head down. “If what you say is true, then look no further. The witch right here is more than capable of sending you back to your original world. Although I find it hard to believe my student in another realm would befriend the likes of you.” 

The cat witch stands there, looking at Pom, and then the officer. It truly sounds as if Pom also believes he isn’t from here, and the way he speaks really makes it sound as if they were friends. Another thought strikes her. Didn’t he previously say ‘love’? He and this other Mochi were lovers?! Heat rushes to her face, daring to entertain the idea. In her 21 years of life, she has never fallen in love with anyone. And this man, no less an officer from the M34TH, is apparently her beloved in another realm?

“Well, no use in trying to think about it more,” Pom continues talking. “Cat witch, take out your notebook and pen, we should write down the direct coordinates where he fell into the plane of existence. You — do you remember exactly where you awoke?” 

Mochi allows a strap from her bag to fall off her shoulder, scrambling to grab her book and pen. She shuffles over to Lime, her hands moving all about to open the book to a blank page, where she suddenly grasps onto her pen a little too tight and presses the tip into the paper a little too deeply, breaking the pen and squirting ink. 

All over Lime. 

The tall officer in white abruptly jumps, looking down at himself in disarray. A brief “oh no,” releases from Mochi’s lips as she gawks at his mess of an outfit. Pom looks away and shakes her head at the scene. And that is how the odd trio ended up returning to Mochi’s home, to allow him to clean up himself. It’s fine, the witch thinks to herself as she places her bag back onto the couch, the delivery isn’t anticipated until later in the afternoon at the latest, and this gives her and Pom some time to write up a game plan. 

A very, very strange quest has unfolded right before her, and she feels a responsibility to this ‘Lime’ knowing that another Mochi once dearly loved him. If it is true that another her loved him, she trusts herself… kind of. She tilts her head, her thoughts stopping her in her tracks. Such an odd conversation she continues to ponder, imagining another universe out there with another her. And somehow, she fell in love with an officer from the M34TH. As she works through this conceptual situation in her mind, she hands a towel to Lime, asking him to leave his top outside the door while he showers. 

There’s a quick potion she has handy in a cabinet that will take the stains right out and fix his clothes right up. After she removes the stains, she notices it is noon and feels a grumble in her stomach. So she heads to the kitchen to whip up lunch. She silently goes into her zone as she chops an onion on the cutting board, not realizing that Lime has finished up and… exited the bathroom shirtless. 

He stands there, his arm reaching for the top of the doorway, his temple touching the wood as he smirks in Mochi’s direction with beads of water trailing down his body. “Hmmm,” he hums, catching her attention. 

When her pink eyes notice him, pecs and all, her face immediately blushes a crimson hue, having never eyed a man’s body so closely and intimately before. She does not say anything as he stalks towards her, his shirt dragging in one of his hands. Mochi turns back to the cutting board on the counter, reciting in her head ‘focus Mochi, focus,’ as she chops up the onion. This, she instantly regrets, as Lime comes up from behind her, placing a hand beside hers on the counter. 

“Oooh, food — smells good like always,” he says gently to her, his breath hot in her ear. She carries on with the knife, trying with everything in her body to not cut herself in a fluster. 

“I-If you don’t mind,” she finally retorts. “Could you please back away? I’m trying to prepare lunch.” 

She hears a husky chuckle release from Lime’s mouth, where he responds instantly. “How about no? How about Mochi harassment hour!” 

At which he grabs at the choker on her neck, that he knows is sensitive, and laughs wholeheartedly. However, this does not amuse Mochi, who instead feels somewhat violated by this stranger, but at the same time self-conscious regarding all the insinuations. So, she pushes him away in a huff. 

“I don’t know anything called Mochi harassment hour! I’m not your Mochi, do you understand? So please just put a shirt on, and we can eat lunch and I can gather what I need to send you back!” She exclaims in one breath, her shoulders bobbing up and down in agitation. 

In the next moment, she realizes what she has done. That isn’t like her at all. Her eyebrows immediately release in remorse, her opalescent eyes turning to the side. Quietly, she turns back around, returning to the task she has at hand. Lime, on the other hand, is equally frustrated and dejected. But, what he has to say surprises her. 

“In the event you’re unable to send me back, I swear I’ll make you fall in love with me again, Moch,” he states, his voice low and serious. 

A second passes, and she hears him silently slip out of the home and out the door. She assumes he’s going out for some air, he seems like the type to need that after a confrontation like that. After she hears the door close all the way, she drops the knife from her hand and covers her cheeks with her palms. What on earth was that? She thinks to herself, her face burning a bright red, her heart pounding at the proximity they shared. No man has ever touched her neck before, no man has ever been so close to her skin before… 

Make her fall in love with him… again?! And he sounds so confident, it’s almost disgustingly… charming. He’s so charming, and something about his presence does something to her. She cannot explain it, but she is naturally drawn to him, wanting to stick around him. And she just met him this morning. Yet, everything inside her is betraying her heritage as a witch. She’s been stuck on this question: how on earth did other Mochi fall in love with an officer from the M34TH? 

She clenches a fist in front of the stove, finally understanding how. Because it seems, even in other dimensions, they are inexplicably drawn to one another. 

In all her life, no one has ever inspired such feelings in her. And all of a sudden, her self-proclaimed lover from another world has spun her out of her wits. She now also begins to doubt herself again, what if she isn’t able to send him back? What if she isn’t as strong as she and Pom think she is, and he really is too resistant to magic? What if, in the most ridiculous possible thought to entertain, she is okay with him being stuck here? 

Minutes pass as she sets the table with dinnerware and Lime serendipitously returns into the home, sitting at the table as if he’s done it a million times before. They eat their meal in silence, until the very end, where Lime breaks the quietude by acting normal and teasing her, as if nothing happened 20 minutes ago.  After lunch, Pom and Mochi re-set out for the delivery, their party of two now a party of an unexpected three. 

They make their way through town without hazard, and as they trek closer and closer to their destination, Lime complains like a child dragging his feet. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure there’s some spell that will reverse everything and you’ll remember me again,” he says, waving an arm up in the air. 

“That’s kind of hard to do, if you never existed in the first place,” Pom answers, to which Lime narrows his eyes indignantly. 

“I’m sure if I were to remember you, I probably would have by now,” Mochi mumbles to herself, thinking a little deeper about the situation. Truly, could she have ever forgotten someone like him if they really had met in this world? She thinks not. 

“Besides,” Mochi brightens up her voice, smiling at Lime. “The person we’re delivering to will be able to give us some good advice! They’re quite knowledgeable about the magic world.” 

An eyebrow of Lime’s raises in curiosity as they walk deeper into the streets, coming to a part of town that is eerily familiar to him. Immediately, they overhear an older woman admonishing someone, a whizzing sound through the air as her long, oaken staff comes into view while she swings it. 

“No, no, not like that you heathen!” The small, short, yet absurdly agile, old woman chastises her apprentice, who shrugs his shoulders with a care-free grin. 

The young M34TH officer’s expression immediately perks up on sight of the apprentice, rushing over to him with a smile. This startles Mochi and Pom, who stand idly by to watch the moment unfold. 

“Well what do you know, it’s Oscar!” Lime rushes over to him, ready to put an arm around him for a noogie. Just like earlier when he reached for Mochi’s hand, Oscar reflexively moves away, unsettled by a M34TH officer suddenly acting like he knows him. As Oscar moves away, his cape swishes to the side, revealing both of his arms. “Woah, you’ve still got both your arms, too!” 

“What — What the heck Mochi, who the hell is this guy?” Oscar asks nonplussed, his hands grabbing onto their opposing arms and holding them against his body. As if reliving this morning, but replacing Mochi with Oscar, the brunette steps further away from Lime, eyeing him in suspicion. 

“H-Hold up there, Oscar,” Mochi steps in, putting herself between them. “This is… Lime. Pom thinks he’s from another universe, one where he and I grew up together, and I guess, apparently you too by the way he’s talking to you.” 

For a minute, Oscar looks Lime up and down and then brings his gaze back to Mochi, his head tilting to the side in disbelief. “Are you sure?” the brunette muses, his voice slightly lower in volume as he speaks to the cat witch. 

“Oh, he’s certainly not your average, crusty, old officer! That’s guaranteed,” the elderly woman cuts in, waving her staff. “Quite a strange thing happened to you, huh?” 

She stops herself in front of Lime, her circular glasses flashing as she looks up at him from the height of his knees. Her staff stands right next to her, its golden bauble dangling from the top which Lime can see his own reflection. 

“You’re tellin’ me, lady,” Lime agrees with her, his expression blank and his lips pressed into a line. 

“You can tell, too, Madam Springs?” Mochi asks her, a little relief resounding in her tone. 

Madam Springs then turns to Mochi, looking up at her face in consternation. “You can sniff him out already? My, the power of the cat is utterly terrifying all right.” 

“Oh no, Pom was the one who noticed it! I had no clue at all,” she renounces the woman’s statement, shaking her head. 

“Ah, I see,” Madam Springs replies, growing quiet. “Well! Good luck with that.” 

And she starts waddling away. 

“W-Wait! Madam Springs, I was hoping to ask for your expertise on the matter!” Mochi moves to stand in front of her, her expressions pleading with the woman. “And besides, we have your order! Don’t you need this?” 

With that, Mochi pulls a small parcel from her bag, handing it over to Madam Springs. The short lady glances at it, takes it from her hand, and then throws it over her shoulder in Oscar’s direction. Oscar, acting as if this is nothing new, immediately rushes forward to catch the package in time. 

“Expertise? What would I know about some kid who jumped through dimensions or whatever?” Her oaken staff waves in the air again, trying to pass off the witch. 

“I mean, you have lived a long time, there’s gotta be something you know,” Oscar slips in, shrugging his shoulders. 

Her head instantaneously whips around, glaring at him. “Why you—!” 

And while the old woman swings her stick with all her might in Oscar’s direction, with Mochi attempting to deescalate the situation, Lime stands off to the side, watching. As if he’s not even present, everyone argues about him, his circumstances, and all he can feel is… loneliness. It’s as if Mochi has disappeared all over again — although she’s right in front of him — and he can’t contribute anything to help. 

His gloved hand grips at the fabric forming a fist, a squeak sounding from the material rubbing so hard. But it’s like a drop in the ocean, again, with no one to notice. Not even Mochi. He senses himself growing frustrated, because being helpless is the last thing he ever wants to feel. This world isn’t his? These people in front of him aren’t his? No one remembers or knows him? He never thought he would see the day when Lime Goldwood became… irrelevant and unknown. And that’s not to say with an arrogant air — it’s just that he’s always been… someone. 

And now he is no one. 

His green eyes flash over the cat witch again. What if he’s unable to go back? He would have to start all over again with Mochi. How could he make her love him again? Make her? No, he shakes his head in disgust of himself. Mochi isn’t someone to be won or made to do something. She comes to her own decisions, has her own preferences, is her own person — that’s the reason why he fell for her in the first place. 

While he’s thinking to himself, the rest have calmed down and begun discussing the situation at hand. Madam Springs contemplates on the problem aloud, humming to herself intently. 

“I’ll say you have your work cut out for you,” the woman says to Mochi. “He’s a tough one, a black canvas. You’ll be needing a lot of stamina to send him back.” 

“But it is doable?” the witch asks. 

“Well sure, but like I said, lots of stamina.” 

Mochi looks at Lime, and then at Pom. But Pom stares back, her expression unnerving and straight. Mochi knows exactly what that means, and it means Pom’s leaving the decision up to her. She makes the choice about sending Lime back, and that’s if she can. He’s a black canvas, she’s never tried magic on someone like that before. 

Her eyes return to Lime, who’s gazing back somberly. She doesn’t know why, but she senses a great deal of uncertainty in him; and she doesn’t blame him one bit. The idea has been hard for her to grasp — well, not so much really, since she is a witch — but more difficult to come to terms with this man being someone she loves in another timeline. If she herself had been thrown through a dimension, into a world just like the one she grew up in, only to find no one she cares for remembers her, much less the person she’s in love with, well… 

Safe to say, she breaks her own heart thinking about it. 

And she admires him for a long second, because he has the mind and strength to deal with it far more confidently than her. In the soft silence, with murmurs of passersbys and distant car noises, she nods at both Pom and Lime. It’s the right thing to send him back; it’s her duty as the cat witch to restore balance. 

They say their farewells to Oscar and Madam Springs — who wish them good luck on their endeavors to send Lime back — and tread their way back to her home. As they walk back, Pom advises Mochi to rest for the night, so that tomorrow morning her strength will be optimal to cast the spell. Approaching the house, dusk has already begun to scatter across the sky in hues of lilacs and roses from the setting sun. It has been a long day, indeed. 

Mochi’s heart feels worn out, as she watches Pom head inside. Lime lingers behind her, he’s been eerily quiet the entire route home, and she’s not too sure if it’s because he’s hungry or what. Perhaps she should start dinner soon—

“Moch,” he starts earnestly, breaking into her thoughts. “Will you be okay tomorrow? I don’t… I don’t want you to send me back, if you’re at risk for being hurt.” 

His concern startles her, and then she eases into it quickly, as she done with all the feelings he’s flung at her today, as if they’ve been doing it for years. Of course he’s worried about the person he most fervently loves. 

And that’s her. 

But not her at the same time. She has to remind herself. 

Gently, she shakes her head, her hair bouncing in the movement and a small smile of reassurance across her lips. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I couldn’t do it, besides you—” she stops herself for a moment, unsure if she should finish. She’s not trying to hurt feelings, whether or not they’re his or hers; at this point she doesn’t know whose she's hurting. “You don’t belong here, Lime. This isn’t the world you were born in, this isn’t your world.” 

“Any world with you in it is my world,” he replies, steadfast and sincere. 

She feels a hiccup in her heart, a flutter in her chest, an unspeakable response to the waxing poetic he spouts at her like it’s nothing. She’s left speechless as the sun finally rolls down, leaving them in the glimmer of the streetlamp overhead. A faint gust brushes by their ankles, her face beating red, his green eyes unwavering. 

“No matter the time, dimension, world, or realm—”

He steps closer, the streetlight shining over his face. There’s something in the air, some kind of chill, making the hair on the back of her neck stand. And it’s like there’s a hand over her heart, gripping it intensely, deftly, as he confesses to her how much he loves her. 

“I’ve always been yours, Moch.” 

Goosebumps fleck across her body. Her heart beats rapidly and her cheeks burn. Summer’s supposed to end this month, the heat’s to blame. It’s confusing her, how it’s cold in the morning and hot in the afternoons. It’s not… him. It’s not. To do right by her role, to do right by her birth, she must send him back. 

“I have to do it,” she breathes out, her eyes growing red. 

His gaze softens on her, stepping closer and bending down. His fingers gingerly and tenderly tilt her chin up at him, and he does exactly what she has feared the most to experience. 

They kiss. 

It’s affectionate, delicate, and bittersweet. It's warm and impossible to take in. It's rough but kind. It's slow, but not slow enough. It’s everything she’s wished for and wanted, yet not at the same time. He slowly pulls away, giving her a loving and emotional smile. 

“I know,” is all he says in a low cadence. He walks inside the home, leaving her at the front of the house. Night has fully fallen by now, and she is alone with the stars and space. He’s shaken her resolve, he’s shaken her whole world. Her eyes flicker up to the sky, asking the universe for an answer she knows she won’t receive. 

Tonight is a full moon. The perfect night for a witch to rest. 

Somehow, Mochi is able to lull herself to sleep that evening. Perhaps it is the heavy weight of responsibility on her shoulders, or the slim chance she messes up the spell; but she knows how paramount it is for her to receive her rest. It is a still night. 

When dawn breaks, she awakes with a serious expression, looking out her window at the pale orange sky and seeing the sun in the horizon. It is time. She leaves her bed and readies herself for the day, meeting Pom and Lime at the bottom of the stairs. He’s quiet, Pom’s quiet. They head down to the basement to prepare for the spell. Since it’s a type of transportive spell, she needs to draw a circle with Lime standing in the middle. She uses her white chalk sparingly, the scratch noises screeching as she etches into the ground. 

After writing the last sigil, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand and stands back to read her work. She has to make sure all the proper markings are there. Afterwards, she takes a deep breath. Mochi turns to Lime. 

“It’s ready, can you stand in the middle?” she asks him, almost hesitantly. 

He nods his head and struts over to the middle of the circle. She initiates muttering the incantations, and suddenly gales begin to rise and twist around them; the sigils on the ground start to glow and shine brighter as she continues speaking. Mochi can feel the magic begin to drain from her body — it’s not something so simple as time travel — time travel is against the witches’ laws. This spell is about sending someone to another dimension. Something almost unfathomable to Mochi. This is an entirely too powerful spell to cast. 

But she has to. For both of their sakes. 

Lime can see the distress surfacing in her face; his brows knit in worry and his lips are pressed into a line in heartache. He clenches his fist, he holds down his tongue until he can’t anymore. 

“Mochi, please, remember, you don’t have to do this if it hurts you,” he entreats her, a pained smile across his mouth. He’s trying to reassure her, it simply doesn’t matter to him. They could be apart in universes, galaxies, dimensions — but he would always find her. Even if she didn’t remember him. And Mochi realizes this. And his words cut like a knife on her heart, because more than anything, she’s come to terms with their undeniable connection. 

She almost takes everything back in that very instant; but in a swift second she knows. She knows it’s time. He’s not her Lime, and she’s not his Mochi. She smiles to herself with her eyelids welling up, the winds and forces sweeping up around her and Lime — almost becoming a violent tornado with the two of them at the center — his green iridescent eyes staring back into her fiery pink gaze. That’s a lie. No matter where, no matter when, just as he said last night, he’d always be hers and she would always be his. 

For once, she’s jealous of herself. 

“Goodbye, Lime.” 

It all fades to black. 

…

…

…

The bell rings. Her long, brown hair bounces as her body turns around from behind the counter. She smiles as she sees him standing in the doorframe, an all too commonplace smirk spread across his mouth. 

“Come on, Moch,” he tilts his head with a husky plea. “It’s almost dinnertime and I’m starving.” 

“All right, all right, let me grab my things,” she answers, quickly grabbing her bag and Pom following at her heels. As she heads to meet him at the door, she turns around, looking about the store. A moment passes, she breathes out. 

“What’s up?” Lime asks, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. 

She turns back to him, her cheeks tint rose-colored. “Nothing,” she starts, heading out the door and naturally taking the tall officer’s hand into hers. “There’s nothing wrong at all.” 

Everything is just right, as it should be. 

[congregation-of-the-spiral]

thinking about writing a jmart fic inspired by my original story. would y'all read it or nah

[pixelatedraindrops]

RainCode Sickfic (Sequel 3) preview!

(RainCode Endgame Spoilers!)

Behind the mask…lies the pain you’ve kept hidden all this time…

So as I’ve briefly mentioned multiple times, over winter break I will be writing a new fic, aka the third and final part to my RainCode sickfic trilogy. I call the it the “Sickfics of the Heart” series~ :)

The final fic I write will take place in the post game. Where former Number One, Yuma decides to visit Kanai Ward to check on his homunculus Makoto before the year ends as a break. But he finds out he’s not in good shape health-wise and decides to try to look after him.

I will be making multiple references to my first fic “Home is Where the Heart is” so be sure to read that fic first!

This fic will also contain more angst. (that I will make super fluffy in return :3)

Here is the summary of what I have planned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: A Heartwarming Reunion

With his memories back, Former Number One, now Independent Detective Yuma Kokohead has recently solved yet another case. One more step towards his goal of eradicating all the world’s mysteries. He finds himself a little tired and realized that it was getting close to the end of the year. He thinks maybe it’s a good opportunity to take a small vacation to recuperate.

New Years is usually a time best spent with family. Sadly, Yuma didn’t have any blood relatives. His secondary family was the Nocturnal Detective Agency, but with the master detectives off doing their own thing, and the chief deceased (or rather wandering aimlessly as an undead homunculus zombie) he couldn’t be selfish and take up their time.

But as he thought back to his time spent in Kanai Ward's city of endless rain as an amnesiac, one person crossed his mind. The person who shared his face, his mind and his build. The homunculus clone he had to battle to solve the city’s mystery. (Though he could not remember what exactly happened) The CEO and now Leader of the clouded city of rain full of homunculi like him. Makoto Kagutsuchi.

Yuma thought to himself that even if they were previously enemies, Makoto was probably the closest thing to a blood relative he had left. So he decides to return to Kanai Ward to pay him a visit, to see how the city is fairing and hoping he had some time off to talk and catch up. And as the city’s leader, he was usually alone. He wouldn’t mind a little surprise visit from his original …would he?

Little did Yuma know, that Makoto may have needed his help more than he originally expected. He overhears rumors in the city that speak concerns of Makoto pushing himself too hard. It turns out their city’s leader was ill, and he had only gotten worse due to his days of continuous overworking and trying to brush it off, by hiding it using his mask.

Yuma is about to experience being a caretaker for the first time in his life, and to his own double. He has a bit of trouble at first, but he has a little bit of help from his heartwarming memories of his previous found family, the Nocturnal Detective Agency. He also finds out more about Makoto in the process. Realizing that he’s been in a lot of pain…that he’s kept masked all this time, all alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also yes this edit is terrible... x'D Makoto's sprite art makes it difficult to edit into his body... I tried okay? x-x;

Anyway, I hope you will look forward to it! I will try to get it done by either Christmas or...the end of the year :3c

Also this will likely be a multi-chapter fic.

[youngpettyqueen]

42 “clumsy kiss” with WHATEVER ship strikes your fancy

omg letting me pick the pairing?? Ally youre too kind to me <333

a clumsy kiss, love a clumsy kiss... ive got Jadzia on the brain after reading Revenant, so here's a cute lil scene with her and Worf! I know you havent seen DS9 but I hope you enjoy anyways <3

Jadzia wants two things.

First, she wants another bloodwine. They've been going down so nicely tonight, and she lost count a while back of how many she's had, exactly, but she wants another one.

Second, she wants her husband.

She goes to find Worf first, because she'll need Worf in order to get the bloodwine. Quark, being entirely unfair, had cut her off, so she needs Worf to go get it for her.

She wants him for more than just getting her another drink, of course. It's been a couple hours since she last saw him, and she misses him. Which is entirely ridiculous, it's only been a couple hours, but this is a party- a Klingon party- and she'd like to be spending it with her husband.

Unfortunately, he's a bit difficult to find in this crowd.

QI'lop is one of her favourite Klingon holidays. It's always a good party, with plenty of good food, and lots and lots of good drink. Dax has had an iron gut for liquor through most of its lives, and Jadzia is no exception. She was right there alongside General Martok when he went to convince Sisko to allow a celebration to take place on the station, and she suspects her asking for it was what tipped Sisko's opinion in their favour.

The general invited a whole lot of people, who in turn invited others, and now the entire Promenade is swarming with Klingons. She's sure Odo and Starfleet Security are just having a blast trying to keep eyes everywhere. She'll make it up to them another time. For now, she's a bit busy swaying and stumbling through the Klingon crowd, which is great for a party, but not so good for trying to find her husband.

When she does find him, it's because she walks into him. Literally. She's looking around, high and low, anywhere but right in front of her, and she walks right smack into him.

Jadzia yelps, nearly falling back on her ass. Quick as a whip, Worf catches her by the waist, steadying her. She finds herself looking up into his eyes, and maybe it's that her blood is 60% alcohol at this point, but she could swear she falls in love with him all over again.

"Hi, handsome." She greets, grinning broadly.

"Jadzia," Worf acknowledges, a whole lot more composed than she is. He eases her up to her feet, though his hands don't leave her waist, "You are drunk." He observes.

Jadzia gasps in mock indignation, her hand flying to her chest. "Me? No," Worf just raises a brow at her, and she goes right back to grinning, "Ok, maybe a little. Just a little. And I'd like to be a little more drunk, so I need you," She puts a hand on his arm, "To go get me a bloodwine."

Worf doesn't move. "Is there a reason you can't get your own?" He asks, and he looks like he already knows the answer.

Damn him and his very thorough, and also kind of sexy observational skills. "Cause Quark is being mean and he won't let me have anymore." She tells him, oh-so-sad about it.

"I find it difficult to believe that the Ferengi would turn down a profit without sufficient reason," Worf continues, and Jadzia curses internally, "Did he cut you off?" He asks plainly.

Jadzia can still win here. She nods, and puts on her best pout as she does. "Can you believe his audacity?" She asks in turn, "Telling me when I've had enough? You have to talk to him, Worf. You can't let him get away with this, with... with cutting your wife off from bloodwine," She leans against him, looking up at him with her best puppy dog eyes, "My honour would never recover." She laments.

Worf looks thoroughly unmoved by her performance. "For once, the Ferengi and I are in agreement," He says, and Jadzia's mouth falls open, "I believe you have had enough, and that it is time for us to retire." He doesn't give her any warning for what he does next. He moves with, frankly, unfair speed, and suddenly Jadzia finds herself being swept off her feet and into his arms.

She yelps, throwing her arms around his neck in surprise. "Worf!" She squeaks, too drunk to be dignified. She clings tight to him as he starts to walk, and he cradles her against him like she weighs nothing at all.

"In your state, this is more efficient." Worf tells her, stepping over a Klingon who seems to be passed out drunk on the floor.

"But it's QI'lop," Jadzia pouts, "I love QI'lop."

"You will thank me in the morning." Worf replies, unsympathetically.

Jadzia harrumphs, but she doesn't put up a fight. There's a part of her, a teeny tiny, absolutely minuscule part of her that isn't drunk beyond reason, and that teeny tiny, absolutely minuscule part of her knows that he's right. She's very drunk, and Quark was probably right to cut her off, because she has the morning shift, and if she has anything more she's going to be both hungover and useless. She's been drunk enough times to know that if she stops now, she's only going to be hungover.

The thought makes her sulk. That's going to suck. Julian's going to have a field day with her.

Well, maybe not. He did vanish early from the party with Martok and Sirella, so he might be suffering from his own agonies tomorrow. She can only hope.

The rumble of Worf's baritone draws Jadzia out of that mental image, and she realizes that they're away from the party and on the turbolift. He must've asked for their level of the Habitat Ring. She didn't even realize they'd left the Promenade.

Now that the music isn't pounding and rattling her bones, she realizes that she can't actually feel her body all that much. She can feel Dax, protesting being taken out of the fun with Curzon's voice, but she can't feel her limbs. And, now that she's really thinking about it, her head feels like it's full of cotton. She can't think very clearly. Have the lights in this turbolift always been this bright? She squints, barely resisting the urge to curl up and hide her face in Worf's neck.

Ok. Maybe she did overdo it a bit.

The lift stops, and Worf steps out into the corridor, which is mercifully darker. Jadzia isn't the biggest fan of Cardassian architecture, but right now, she appreciates their lighting schemes. She relaxes as Worf carries her down the hall, all the way to their door, where he sets her down with the utmost care so that he can punch in the code to let them in.

Jadzia leans heavily against him, letting him lead her inside. His arm is strong and secure around her, keeping her held against his side. He's like a walking, talking pillar. She feels all warm and fuzzy, held against him like this, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol burning a hole in her gut.

She turns to him and stops him. Rests a hand on his chest, looks up at him to meet his eyes. He looks at her with a bit of curiosity, a bit of exasperation, and a whole lot of love. She smiles at that, her heart doing a little dance.

She really does love him.

"You're wonderful." Jadzia tells him.

Worf cocks a brow at her. "Is this your way of thanking me?" He asks.

"I'm too drunk to thank you how I want to thank you," She replies, and she chuckles when that comment makes his cheeks darken. He's still such a prude sometimes, it's very endearing, "But yes. Thank you. Thank you, for carrying me all the way home, and keeping me from making a bigger mess of myself," She raises her hands to his cheeks, holds his face, her world, in her palms, "I love you." She murmurs, achingly sincere.

Worf's expression softens. He reaches up, catches her wrists, holds her hands in place. "And I, you." He says, with that soft voice he only ever uses with her.

Jadzia beams, and draws him in for a kiss. Except her coordination isn't great, because she's still very drunk, so her kiss ends up at the corner of his mouth. She giggles, she can't help herself, and she tries again, and she sort of gets his top lip with the second attempt.

"Sorry," She snickers, holding him close, her nose against his, "I'm better at this when I'm sober."

Worf smiles at her, equal parts amused and fond. "I don't mind." He replies.

Jadzia kisses him again, and this time, it lands. And then, just to make up for the clumsy misses, she kisses him again. And again. And again, and again, and then he scoops her up into his arms again, and she keeps on kissing him as he carries her to their bed.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ari.......... will u mutual bingo meeeee?

NIKU ……. say less >:3 here is your bingo hehe pls have a seat n sip on some coffee ☕️ made it extra bitter so **** won’t come and steal it from u….

[captainsjack]

turns out i still have some psych fics left in me :)

here's a two part series that i absolutely loved writing. they both take place simultaneously

[gothsuguru]

KAIRO . YOUR FUCKING WIPS GOOD GOD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ohhhhh narrowing them down was so tough but …… i neeeeeed to know more (read: all) about i hope i don’t murder me; i hope i don’t burden you + you should let me ride shotgun + belladonna ……. (THERAPIST!JAKU. need them to corrupt me . who said that)

(alsooooo i love you <3 hope you eat a big nice tasty breakfast with your fav beverage to boot :333)

ARI MY PRECIOUS ANGELMOUSE <333 TYSM FOR THE ASK AND ALSO MFNDNDND the way i KNEW you would ask about therapist dilfjaku 🤭 that one is a arikenkairo special for REAL <333 at least in theory :3

i hope i don’t murder me; i hope i don’t burden you:

THIS IS THE PROFESSOR!GETO X HEAVENLY RESTRICTED!READER ONE HEHE i’m so excited to resume writing this omfg… the title is based off a lyric from “the beach” by the neighbourhood <3 i’m genuinely very intrigued to explore a version of suguru that hasn’t defected but that’s still so… filled w guilt & shame & anger? like in the beginning of the fic it’ll be them all as high schoolers and then it’ll be them as adults and i’m so excited to show the dichotomy of suguru — the stark similarities/differences between young & older geto!

i haven’t really decided yet how it would be when the two meet at jjk high………. i think in general it’s very bittersweet like suguru is hit w freight train of nostalgia and also… just overwhelming shame. and then ofc reader may feign a casual façade but i think they feel so hurt and also responsible for suguru leaving? even though it’s not their fault? idk i’m just interested in exploring that relationship and how suguru’s past actions would inform their future!

you should let me ride shotgun:

RAHHHHHH THIS ONE IS SO FUN AND SILLY IN MY BRAIN :3 a mix of a crackfic and fluff and action but also oddly bittersweet? rich bratty gojo will always be a beloved of mine and i think him annoying his new bodyguard is so fun to think abt… everyone has always left the gojo’s bc their son is just soooooo . bratty and disrespectful and loud and always pushes people’s buttons for his own enjoyment! that is… until he meets READER… who’s just soooooo amused. their vibe is like a constantly amused kenjaku <3 fond, finds him a lil pathetic but he’s cute so he gets a pass, and more than anything i wanna make sure the bodyguard isn’t too serious 😭 need them to be an enabler so bad hehe

(also v excited to explore the bittersweetness of it all too… gojo pushing others away before they can leave him……….. DELICIOUS)

belladonna:

this one is so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 dilfjaku with a tight black turtleneck, reading glasses, one leg swung over the other as he rests his temples on his fingers………. gulps. need him to look at me like i’m his prey bc he wants to eat me WHO SAID THAT……… ANYWAYS! this is actually gonna be a smut fic so i will try my hardest to make it sensual and fucked up <3 i don’t know yet if i want reader to be his patient or if he’s just a dilf w a therapist occupation and reader comes by as his intern…… office siren!kenjaku perhaps…….. idk………… need both of us to be sent to HR is all i’m gonna say <333 belladonna is another word for “deadly nightshade” (also a name for this fic that i’m waffling on either one lmk which is better bestie 🙂‍↕️) and i think it works so well for kenjaku… need him to corrupt and manipulate reader but lil does he know they love it <3

i haven’t thought out reader’s personality or anything yet i just know they’re down horrendous and their life goal is to look up at kenjaku while resting their head on his lap………. (also kenny’s life goal… he wants to pat their head and have them look up at him soooooo baddddd) ANYWAYS I’M SO EXCITED TO WRITE THESE FICS HEHE TYSM FOR ASKING ABT THEM ARI :3 MWAH

[all-or-nothing-baby]

ANGÉLIQUE

Nabrielise, 1668 words, Polyamory, Implied/Referenced Childhood Sexual Abuse, Gabriel Boutin has PTSD, Flashbacks, Gabriel Boutin Needs A Hug, Gabriel is In Love, Kissing It Better, Post-Season/Series 01, Getting Together, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pre-slash, References to Drugs, POV Gabriel.

.

Cyan fingers play ghostly along bright, beautifully brown collarbone mountains.

Un amour entaché.

Tainted Love, indeed.

Gabriel's face remains a book of blank pages, his default setting—a trillion miles away from the bloody battles that are raging constantly between his mind and his heart.

He's always been one to play defence. Especially with himself.

Only nineteen and already a ghost.

…well, almost.

Darkwave trance music pumps softly from somebody's bluetooth speaker—much softer than the current thump of Gabriel's industrial techno heartbeat. Nathan, the reason, now pushes upwards from where long forearms support his longer body, those big plush lips halting a mere millimetre away from Gabriel's. Gabriel stills his touch, forever-bleu fingertips buried in a perfect clavicle valley. He watches the boy's pulse ticking away under that smooth brown skin for a moment longer before allowing their eyes to meet—and do so much more than just shake hands.

Stay.

"What's this song called? Do you know it?" Nathan's mouth moves against Gabriel's as he speaks, then he's nodding his head in question towards the sounds of pulsating synth beats and low-sung neo-goth French words unknown to him.

Stay with me.

Gabriel swallows his urgency if not his want and licks his—and consequently Nathan's—lips, before taking a breath and answering, "Angélique," on the exhale.

Nathan peers out from underneath feathery raven lashes.

Stay, always.

Gabriel has become a walking/talking contradiction of himself.

Nathan's eyes flicker shut for a couple of his own now-also-racing heartbeats. Gabriel usually manages to tune out the sounds of others' life-force, or at least turn down the volume—never Nathan's though.

Or Annalise's, come to think of it.

.

(read under the cut OR READ IT HERE ON AO3)

That thought digs beneath Gabriel's skin and makes a nest there, staining him just like his bloodborne alchemy. Marking him up. Tattooing him.

~Nathan&Annalise~

Nathan gently brushes just the very tip of his nose alongside the length of Gabriel's. Up and down, up and down. "So, does that mean, like…" and he mirrors now, licking his and Gabriel's lips, "...Angelic, or some shit?"

Or some shit. 

Gabriel pants out three, barely there Yeses. One for each of them.

Gabriel, Nathan, Annalise. 

Nathan smiles. "Like you. You're my guardian angel," he insists. "Mine and Annalise's." 

Fallen angel, more like. 

Stupidly, Gabriel lets himself be just that entirely fucking perfect for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Blinks and believes.

My darling angel, Gabriel.

Gabriel grits his teeth at the sudden mental intrusion. She can just fuck right off and out of his head, merci beaucoup. 

He then swallows thickly again. "No, Nathan." And he's so desperate to Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!  

He won't be the one to instigate though. Can't ever do that. Can't ever be that.

"You mustn't—don't think of me that way, mon cher. I'm not so… good."

Nathan fusses his gaze over every single one of Gabriel's features, with no rush to the action. Searches for a lie. He doesn't find one. He doesn't relent either, though, and now gifts Gabriel with, "You won't convince me you're anything other than a decent bloke, you know."

"Decent?" Gabriel scoffs, deflecting by looking down at his state of undress, "Dans mes sous-vêtements." Nathan's face scrunches up adorably. Gabriel sighs affectionately and smiles wryly. "I am wearing only my knickers." A nod to Annalise. 

Nathan smiles some more, his face splitting with the size and force of it and Gabriel thinks he'd kill for this boy. Then Nathan tuts, just as affectionate. "You know what I mean, Gabs."

Gabriel inwardly preens at the moniker. Plenty have used the nickname before, but never has it ever sounded the way it does tripping off of Nathan Byrn's lips. Makes Gabriel think he's the one tripping, every time he hears it.

You're smitten. 

Gabriel tries to ignore the oh-so familiar shrill-pitched voice in his mind as Nathan tilts his gorgeous head. "I don't care what you say, anyway. You're an angel if I say you are. With your pretty eyes and your crazy white hair."

White hair. 

Gabriel blinks, too much.

You must tell me… 

His mask falters. It's only a split-second—too quick for most people to notice. Unfortunately in this instance though, Nathan is not most people.

"Hey, hey, what is it? What did I say?" Nathan's eyes are blown wide and his hands instantly attach themselves to Gabriel's biceps like they've found their way home; an anchor to Gabriel's wayward ship, mooring him from the coming high-tide.

"I don't—it's nothing.“

But Nathan never knows when to leave well alone. "Bollocks, it's nothing. Where did you just go off to?" 

…Is it love?

"I…"

No, no, no. 

Her. 

"Nathan, I—"

M E R C U R Y

And Gabriel is gone, fucked up, spiralling dangerously in a way he's managed to avoid for the longest time. 

Bony fingers—too big, too knowing—sliding up the warmth of his inside thighs, to get inside of him, to tug on his will, his shame, his goodness, latching onto his very sense of self.

She'd whisper, so loudly, "Let me in, my dove. Let me in and I will give you the whole world, my sweet, sweet boy. All you could ever want and need or know or be. All for you. All for me." 

He never knew why she bothered to ask.

And he fought, tooth and nail, that dove. Every time. He pushed and kicked and scratched and flapped his little wings. Didn't matter though. None of it did. She could take whatever she wanted. All of it. All of him. Always. And she did. She took everything from that frightened little bird, that little boy, until he had no fight left in him. Would just lay back and let it happen. The Witch Mercury: his teacher; his pseudo-mother; his lover. She took away his blonde curls and his deserved innocence and left him as bitter and cold as the driven snow.

Forever Winter. 

"Gabriel?"

You. Are. Mine.

…almost. 

Gabriel notes vaguely that Nathan's hands are no longer gripping the tops of his arms but have found their way to holding his face—no longer a mask or even a face, really, but something else. His features, ruptured now, Gabriel is a great big hole ripped right open. A gaping rift with all of his pain and guilt and humiliation spilling right out, gushing, brimming, overflowing and threatening to drown him.

He can't breathe.

"Gabriel, tell me what's happening!" 

Thumbs are swiping furiously at the thawing ice that's melting from the corners of Gabriel's sad eyes.

He's crying. Having a panic attack. 

Nathan is panic-stricken, too. 

Nathan. 

Nathan!

Not an anchor, but a lifeline. 

"Kiss me." Gabriel—even with no breath in his lungs—almost shouts it, fists now balling up and white-knuckled in Nathan's shirt. 

Nathan finches like he wasn't actually expecting a response. "What? No! Tell me what's wrong!" 

"Nathan, please. Please!" and now he is shouting. 

Maybe it's the begging itself or maybe it's just the way Gabriel's voice has a hundred hairline cracks in it, like more thawing ice, but Nathan, he seems to hear it. Somehow through the haze of Gabriel's hysteria and self-hatred Nathan hears exactly what this broken boy needs.

The role-reversal. The control.

Gabriel needs to be needed. To be something good. 

Angèlique. 

"Kiss me."

So The Bastard Son kisses the Ruined Alchemist in a way neither have ever kissed another, and it's its own magic spell. A counterspell; one to break Mercury's wrong-doing. A conjuring to set Gabriel free and he's there, he's so there, all in, in deep, deeply in love, and the Devil himself couldn't stop this now— 

But Annalise can.

They're all but devouring each other when she walks into the room and stops dead, mouth open in a quiet gasp. So, so, quiet. But Gabriel, he hears it. And it's deafening.

Gabriel is every single Evil he's been trying to run from his entire fucking life. If he's ruined this… If he… it's not even as if he and Nathan have been trying to hide this, the thing that has gripped them both, this thing that's binding them, it's just… 

It's just—

"Annalise, we—" Nathan begins, but Annalise ends it in one word. 

"Us." She corrects. 

And that word. That one, small word is unbelievably—incredibly, amazingly—all it takes. 

Then they are magnets, he and Nathan, their combined energies pulling Annalise into them. Or she is the magnet. Or they all are? It's not important, Gabriel realises, because there's only one thing that matters now. 

Us. 

Annalise O'Brien and Nathan Byrn—Gabriel's family—are here, bracing him and embracing him with all of themselves. With all of their selfless love.

Annalise, with her boldness and insecurities and raw beauty and stubbornness and fierce grace, climbs up onto the bed and takes residence, curling into Gabriel's other side. A mirror to Nathan. 

And they're healing him.  

Nathan takes one of Anna's hands and links their fingers, squeezing. So sure. Smiling. Alive. 

Annalise smiles back and leans forwards to kiss him, also sure. All warmth and sugar and spice. 

Jesus, they are everything.

Us. 

Then they're both laying Gabriel down with their hands and eyes, loving him better. Better than he is, better than he deserves.

Nathan can surely read minds. "Stop thinking you don't deserve this," he says and smiles, le soleil du matin—the morning sun.

Us.  

Annalise, la lune dans le ciel nocturne—the moon in the night sky, hums, "Silly goose," at Gabriel, then she and Nathan are kissing each other again.

Then they're kissing Gabriel, on his arms and his chest and his neck and his chin and his cheeks and his mouth and Gabriel can finally breathe. 

"Us," he agrees, his tears drying up. 

And laying in a bed in a hostel somewhere in Berlin with a boy and a girl who both love him, Gabriel Boutin—guardian angel, Angélique or not—is saved.

(a nabrielise WIP—pls let me know in the comments if you'd like adding to the finished work's taglist!)

[pinkseas]

what if i took layla, collei, and barbara into my arms and then left the rest of genshin impact forever and ever. like what if.

[xxswagcorexx]

swagdoons (as a fandom concept) is SO funny to me like. somehow they started off as a niche rarepair 7 months ago (with only 4 fics to their name) to the 2nd most tagged relationship in the lifesteal tag.,..and going from 4 fics to 99 fics in that time (a 2475% increase) despite having little canon content for the longest time..,.. rlly just shows how dedicated and creative this community is yk?

[handgiven]

blorbos be blorbin'

[thedeadthree]

— WIP FRIDAY !

TAGGED BY the dearest @unholymilf to share a few things ive been working on ! ty ty so much ash dear!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @risingsh0t, @kingsroad, @griffin-wood, @jendoe, @phillipsgraves, @marivenah, @leviiackrman, @chuckhansen, @denerims, @queennymeria, @aartyom, @blissfulalchemist, @shellibisshe, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @corvosattano, @jackiesarch, @wayhavenots, @pegxcarter, @malefiicarum, @nightbloodraelle, @roofgeese, @morvaris, @jacobseed, @nuclearstorms, @carminasolis, @girlbosselrond, @anoras, @fragilestorm, @shadowglens, @arklay and you!

teehee i AT LAST got around to introducing the t*lou dears clowns with the one and only template from ash! so far i have tlou!olga and gianna <3 with this cutest coloring as well !

the VERY early stages of a piece for the dearest marta in honor of fh's release ! with orions cutest template!

another early stages but in honor of oc kiss week a piece for kenny and @griffin-wood's dear raylene with this template !

and now a bit of writing! moments before disaster if you will a piece for alva and rhaegy with a bit of rhaemion and enya lore connecting them to vanna and daemy and their babies !

Summerhal was beautiful at this hour. those fleeting moments before midday and after the morning when the sun was well off to reaching its zenith made even the hardest of hearts gaze in awe.

Alva descended from her horse, vermillion. To her left by a relatively small pond were the horses of Lord Rhaemion Targaryen of Starfall, the princess Elia’s dear longtime friend (and rumored paramour, he too a close and beloved friend of the prince as well, the nature of things was a topic for another morn). And the other of her dearest Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

She recalls when Rhaemion spoke of reason for choosing his horse. The almost pearlescent mane of his chosen mount reminded him of the scales of his dragon, Parthunaax known by the histories as the Burned Overlord. The Targaryens of Starfall or the Amethyst or Dawn Dragons still possessed the ones belonging to the riders they were bound to during and following the dance. Baelor and Parthunaax, Calla and Nahvintaas (a ilmestian dragon of Vilemyr), and Valaerra who was Rhaemion’s ancestor and her she-dragon Numinex. Though the most notable among them was the Ethereal, the Violet Star of Starfall herself once bound to the mistress of mists Iovanna Dayne, Starspire. The two year old daughter of Rhaemion recently began to speak her first words and has declared her favorite word to be the name of the ethereal. If this is any prediction that the girl at two has already declared her mount will not be a horse, but Starspire herself, one cannot fathom anything else. She laughed when he mentioned he will have to tell the girl when she’s older that the dragons are not to be flown in westeros and she will have to have a horse as he does. Lest the Dragon of myth and prophecy see her end by scorpion bolt.

On leaving vermillion by Rhaemion and Rhaegar’s. She makes her way by the remnants of the stone walkway closer towards the ruin. The three spent a lot of time in summerhall, her and Rhaegar spending the most.