#like with the acro curse

[gunpowder-gemini]

My heart goes out to everyone finally figuring out that we aren't getting the death worm this season, I am really excited to see it animated too. But tbh there was never any way it would fit

Like think about everything that happens in the cursed house arc. There is SO MUCH there that I personally think just the death worm stuff is going to be 5-6 episodes on it's own to get through it. They didn't have enough episodes left even if they completely skipped the serpo arc.

Personally I've always figured the episodes are gonna shake out like this:

Ep 8 - shenanigans with Okarun/Aira and getting in to empty space (I was right! though I wasn't sure we'd get to Acro Aira but in hindsight that's a perfect cliffhanger cut point)

Ep 9 - the fight, probably ending with the big final blow

Ep 10 - public humiliation and mr. shrimp joins the team, Jiji appears at the end!

Ep 11 - Jiji is actually introduced and goes to school with them, ending with Taro appearing "chasing" Okarun

Ep 12 - anatomical dummies shenanigans and a sort of cliffhanger teasing the cursed house arc next season

I think people forget that it takes seconds to read a fight scene when it's just a few sequential images but several MINUTES to show that same fight scene animated. The Serpo arc is largely action, so it's no suprise it's taking a couple episodes. Also dialogue! Dialogue takes longer to voice act than it does to read. There's only so much you can fit into like, 25 mins

[fastandcarlos]

My Hero : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: when your heel breaks, you don’t quite know what to, luckily for you, charles is there to save the day

It was typical. Just your luck.

You were used to going to busy events, glamming yourself up and making sure that you looked the part by Charles’ side. Every time you had the same pair of shoes that you trusted to wear that kept you safe and left you without any injury. You loved how comfortable they were, when everything else around you was so frantic, it was a huge relief knowing that you could get from A to B without worrying about falling over or having to hold onto Charles to stop yourself from losing your balance.

However, as you headed to the restaurant you were meeting some colleagues at, your trusty shoes broke all of that. As you went up the kerb the heel got stuck, and as you tried to untangle it, you could hear the crack. Luckily for you, no one was around to see you troubled, but that didn’t stop you from silently cursing under your breath how you were going to get through the rest of the evening.

Thankfully for you, your colleagues were just as organised as you, with one of your closest friends carrying a spare pair of shoes in her bag which managed to fit your feet in. With that, you tried to enjoy your evening, but it wasn’t quite that easy. Behind your smile you couldn’t help but worry, it would take forever for you to find a pair of shoes that would be as comfortable as these, to find a pair you could wear to one of Charles’ formal events without living in fear that you’d end up embarrassing yourself.

Whilst you sat feeling sorry for yourself, your phone buzzed beside you. You quickly picked it up, feeling your smile turn up as you read a familiar name on your screen. It was if he knew that you needed just a little sign to try and brighten up your evening a little bit. You grabbed your phone, unlocking it so that you could read through the message that Charles had sent you properly.

Charles: hope you’re having a good time love 🥰

Despite the fact he was enduring the busiest time of his year, in the middle of preparing for yet another race weekend, he still thought of you. It was never a text to tick a box, it was always a text because he genuinely cared and was wanting to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Charles was the one who pushed for you to go out that night, knowing that it would be a great opportunity for you to bond with some of your colleagues.

You tended to know where Charles’ line of questioning came from, once he started, it didn’t take long before he desperately asked you how long it would be until you were home and back with him.

You: aside from breaking my heel, it’s pretty fun!

You barely had time to breathe before your phone buzzed.

Charles: damn, you’re not serious right?

You: afraid so 💔

The feeling of someone looking over your shoulder is enough for you to put your phone away again. You shared quite a bit with your colleagues, but your phone conversations with Charles were not one of those. Your attention turned back to what was happening at the table, midway through a conversation you weren’t quite sure what was going on, opting to nod along and hope for the best.

What started off as fun, began to bore you pretty quickly. Your eyes started to dart off in all directions to try and keep entertained, looking around the restaurant until they landed on something you were not quite expecting. A familiar figure is stood in the entranceway to the restaurant, eyes scanning around the room.

Charles looked messy, his clothes weren’t straight, his hair was like a bird’s nest and he still had his glasses on from whatever he was doing at home. You could tell he had moved quickly to get to the restaurant and find you. As he continued to search for you, you decided to put him out of his misery, excusing yourself from the table, dancing through the tables until you were stood directly in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered across to him, not wanting to cause a scene. “I’m supposed to be having dinner.”

You’d never seen Charles look so relieved as he studied you closely, checking you over. He was silent for a moment, which left you feeling worried, taking a tight hold of his hand and leading him out onto the cold street so that no one was able to see the two of you.

“Charles?” You questioned again, poking gently against his chest. It was your turn to look closer at Charles, he had beads of sweat dripping down his face, his hands were clammy, surprising considering the chill in the air. “Are you planning on talking to me at some point?” You pushed beginning to get concerned as to why he looked so erratic in front of you.

“You’re okay.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion, “of course I’m okay.”

Charles didn’t take your word for an answer and still checked you over one last time. “I thought that you’d hurt yourself, I thought I’d have to take you to the hospital.”

Your head shook in disbelief, “why would I need you to do that for me? Perhaps, do you need to go?”

If it wasn’t for the streetlight next to Charles you were concerned that he would end up passing out. He was barely able to catch his breath, sweat still dripped down him leaving you perplexed.

“What did you do? Run here?”

You were expecting Charles to immediately tell you no, but instead there was a bit of a pause, leaving you wondering if perhaps your assumption was correct.

“I didn’t run here,” he eventually responded, “but I moved a little quicker than I usually do when I think the person I love is in trouble.”

“In trouble?” You frowned, glancing down at the new pair of shoes that you wore.

“I told you I was on my way,” Charles informed you, “you said that you broke your heel, I was expecting to see you on the floor or something.”

The penny finally dropped, pressing your hand to your head. “You thought I meant my actual heel?”

“Oh…” Charles stuttered as you reached into your bag and took out the broken one that you carried. Charles’ smile dropped as he realised his mistake.

Your laughter grew louder as Charles’ cheeks turned darker

He reached out for your hand and pulled you into his body, squeezing you tightly with relief that you were alright. Only when he’s convinced that he’s got the wrong end of the stick can Charles finally let himself laugh about what’s happened, finding himself able to catch his breath and steady the beat of his heart again. You were alright, and that was all that mattered to him.

As funny as the situation was, it was yet another reminder for you as to how much Charles cared about you. He had never felt a fear like it thinking that you had broken your heel, no other thought entered his mind other than the one to get to you as quickly as he possibly could. The only thing he wanted to do was get to you as quickly as possible, terrified that you would end up going through something so horrible alone.

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” you teased, throwing your head back to be able to look at Charles.

“How was I supposed to know it was your damn shoe?” He huffed, smiling innocently back at you, “you gave me such a fright.”

Your head shook as Charles kissed gently against your lips. “You really are my hero sometimes, aren’t you?”

Charles hummed in agreement with you, “you know I always want to save the day for you.”

Again you wanted to snigger at him, but he was just too caring for you. “Are you heading back home? Shall I come with you?”

“Stay. Enjoy your dinner, I’ll be at home waiting for you,” Charles instructed, “but don’t stay too long, it’s lonely being home alone.”

“Try not to break a bone or anything on the way!” You called out as Charles waved goodbye to you, heading down the road.

“Shut up!” He shouted back, earning a few glances from some of the other people around you. You poked your tongue out as Charles as you headed back into the restaurant.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Once you were back at home, you threw yourself down on the sofa and opened up your phone, finding the messages that Charles had left you after you put your phone away.

Charles: I’m coming, don’t move sweetheart

Charles: I’m so sorry this happened

And then came another, sent just after you’d said goodbye to Charles again.

Charles: I’ll always be your hero ❤️

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[asuyaka]

Gojo-Sensei has a husband?!

★ - drabble s part of m' first Satoru oneshot !!૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

☆ - Gojo Satoru x Househusband! Reader

♡ - f m' manga readers, how we feelin' 'bout nurse kenny ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ (she's m wife m callin' it rn!!)

Gojo [Name], the loved and unknown husband of The Strongest, Gojo Satoru.

Satoru was at work, most likely teaching the first years he loved to talk about. You were at home. Cleaning the house and making preparations for dinner when Satoru got home like the good husband you were.

You brought out a chicken broth cube from the cupboard, brushing the slight dust on your pretty light-blue apron that Satoru brought for you (then ended up fucking you in but that's on days when you're being a brat).

Your eyes scan the countertop, looking for the knife holder until they land on a sage-green bag dusted with flowers that you hand-painted. It was Satoru's lunch bag that he had forgotten.

You weren't a sorcerer, but you're able to see curses. Ironically, that's how you and Satoru met. A younger you (who just got unemployed) was walking home when something you couldn't describe stopped you in the alleyway you took sometimes as a shortcut.

It was tall, with eyes running along its skinny, dark-red arm. You were only twenty-two at the time and have only ever seen things like that in shitty horror-flicks. You never thought they were real.

As if you were in a cliché love story, a patch of white hair stands in front of you. He has sunglasses on despite the sun being nowhere in sight.

Due to you being (obviously) weaker than the average sorcerer, Satoru always discouraged you from going to Jujutsu High unless it was an emergency.

You huff diligently, grabbing the lunch bag and putting your shoes on. You'll make sure Satoru gets his lunch. What kind of husband would you be if you didn't?

Turns out, the people at Jujutsu High are either scary or odd. There's absolutely no in-between.

You've only been at Jujutsu High a handful of times. More times than not, it was to help Megumi.

You make your way to the main school building, holding the bag close to your chest for safekeeping. You didn't bust your ass making cute shapes out of food just for Satoru to go eat fast food instead.

Reaching the door of Satoru's class, you knock softly. It’s quiet, and you guess Satoru must be out training with his students. You turned around to try and find just where the training grounds could be on this huge campus. 

All of a sudden, the door opens and there he is. Your beautiful husband, wearing his black blindfold and Jujutsu uniform. “Baby? What are you doing here?”

Baby. That’s right, you’re his baby. No one else's. “You left your lunch, so I…” Your voice trails off as you gesture toward the bag in your hands. Satoru smiles, opening the door wider and pulling you in.

He keeps your hands intertwined, softly pushing you against a chair. “You’re so nice, baby. Going out of your way to bring me my lunch?” His hands are on your cheeks now, still smiling sweetly even with a saccharine voice.

Your face flushes and your hands are stiff. You don’t know where his students are, but you’re sure they’ll be back soon. This is risky— irresponsible even. 

“Satoru, ‘s risky..” You mutter under your breath, your hands cupping his. They’re warm like they always are when you two are close. You wish you could see what his eyes looked like, but they’re for his comfortability, you’re aware.

“You know I love you, right baby?” He leans closer, to the point you can smell the cologne on him. It’s the one you bought him a few weeks ago because it smelt like home. 

Satoru smells like home.

Shakily you nod. “Are you sure this is safe…? I don’t want you—”

“Shh… let me worry about all that.”

And with that, he closes the space between your lips. Satoru’s strong– dominant even; and no matter what he does, it always manages to show through his actions.

His tongue breaches past your lips, slotting perfectly against yours. You can hear the clicking of teeth as Satoru sits across your lap. It’s hot and you can feel your cock start to rise in your pants. 

“Wore this cute fuckin’ apron all f’me–” He plants a kiss on your cheek, your face flushed and breathing heaved.

“Satoru– sir, I need—”

“But baby…” He whines.

He fucking whines.

His face is pouty and it looks like he’s getting off your lap. Is he denying you? You haven’t done anythin’ wrong– did he give you instructions and you didn’t see them?

“I’m at work, and as much as I want to fuck you ‘till you can’t think– you can’t have my students seein’ you all messed up like that, can you?”

Satoru’s words bring your attention to your appearance. Your apron is messed up and so is your hair (most likely from Satoru gripping on it). Your lips are slightly swollen and your cock is half-hard.

Embarrassment brings you back to your senses, your arms covering what's between your thighs. If you stood up, your apron would cover it (hopefully), but your pants weren’t going to do you any justice. “‘M sorry ‘toru…”

Satoru cocks his head, sitting on his desk and crossing his legs. “It’s okay baby, I know you just can’t help yourself when I’m around.” His tone sounds mean like he’s mocking you. It’s condescending.

“But that’s what makes you my good boy, isn’t it?” His foot brings the chair closer to the point where your body is sandwiched between his legs. “Always so plaint f’me to fuck you, right?”

God. You can’t do this, and it isn’t helping your slowly growing problem go down.

Satoru must sense your nervousness (he knows you and your emotions like the back of your hand) because his expression turns soft again. “Just wait till I get home, okay baby? Relax for me.”

His fingers caress your cheek gently. It’s lulling you, pulling you in. Like he’s a siren, and you’re a plaint, very easy sailor.

You nod because you’re his good boy and you want it to stay that way.

Satoru smiles before pulling you in again for a kiss.

It’s gentler this time. There’s less kiss and more gentleness behind it. It feels like the kiss you shared at the altar. It makes you calmer, it makes you happy.

All of a sudden, the door slams open. Revealing three, very surprised teenagers.

“Gojo-sensei!?”

“Gojo-san?”

Satoru breaks the kiss, briefly smiling coyly at you before looking at his students. “Hello, my favorite first-years! I didn’t know lunch had already ended…”

A boy with pink hair and what seems to be two sets of eyes stares at you, then back at Satoru. “Lunch ended five minutes ago. Nobara stayed to eat more watermelon.”

The girl, who is shorter than all of them and who you assume is Nobara, kicks the boy in the knee. “Shut it Yuuji! Not my fault somebody decided to eat all my food while I was gone!”

“Gojo-san, I thought you’d be at home.”Megumi looks at you with a confused expression. Your heart tugs in fondness when he says ‘home’ like all three of you share it together (legally, you do but Megumi would never admit that).

“Why would Gojo-sensei be at home? He has to teach us, stupid.” Nobara rolls her eyes, before pointing at you accusingly. 

“All I wanna know is why this random man and Gojo-sensei were kissing!”

Satoru steps off the desk, grabs your arm, and pulls you up as well. He slings his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning on you with a bright smile on his face. “Yuuji, Nobara, this is my husband, [Name]!”

“Husband?!” Yuuji and Nobara parrot, staring at each other before staring back at you. 

Nobara notices it first, the sleek ring on your finger. There’s an initial that she can’t make out but can only assume it’s the one that belongs to her teacher.

“Why would anyone date you?” She says suddenly, causing Yuuji to laugh.

Megumi rolls his eyes. “I thought that at first too. Gojo-san is too good for him.”

Satoru gasps. “Rude! You cried during our wedding, or do I have to ask [Name] to pull up the photos?”

“Wedding?! Why wasn’t I invited?” Nobara looks at Satoru like he committed a war crime. 

You don’t notice it, but somehow Yuuji is right in front of you. “Hello! I’m super glad Gojo-sensei has someone to love!! He’s always saying something about how he misses his ‘hubby’ randomly during class but we never thought he was being serious!”

You smile bashfully. You never thought Satoru would think of you during work, and for him to call you his “hubby”? 

Megumi stands beside him, handing you a book. “That’s because Gojo-sensei can’t shut up. They’re so lovey-dovey behind closed doors it makes me sick.”

Yuuji smiles. “That’s ‘cause they’re in love Megumi! Shouldn’t it be sweet that your dads love each other?”

Megumi frowns. “They aren’t my dads.”

“They totally are! You called Gojo-sensei dad one time during a mission, don’t think I’d ever forget that!” Nobara teases, holding Satoru’s ring in her other hand to presumably examine it.

Satoru claps his hands. “Okkayy! I appreciate that you two love my husband, not as much as me of course, but he’s got stuff to do! And we have to learn about the boring sorcerer families. Ew.”

His students groan but make their way to their seats. Satoru walks you to the door of the classroom, a small apologetic smile on his face. “I can’t walk you all the way to the door, Yaga would kill me, but I’ll see you at home?”

You nod with a soft smile on your face.

Satoru kisses you one last time. It’s more of a peck than anything, then leans into your ear. “Prep yourself for me before I get home okay? I have to reward you for being so good today.”

Blush rises up to your cheeks as you nod again. Pushing your hands down to your lap and turning away from his classroom door. The blush gets harder when you hear a loud “See you at home baby!” from the door.

Satoru watches you until he can’t anymore. A relieved sigh leaves his face as he closes the door and sits on his desk. Legs crossed and a ring adorning his finger, with your initials on them.

“Ask away, and I’ll show you any pictures you want.”

Yuuji and Nobara visibly light up and begin asking questions about where he met you, how long you’ve been together, and how long you’ve been married, plus the pictures of Megumi crying.

He shows them every photo and answers every question without hesitation.

After all, they’re all questions about you, his husband.

And he knows you’ll be home waiting for him with dinner, and dessert.

Your ass (that he loves to watch jiggle every time he fucks you), and ice cream.

He loves you, and he’s glad his students (and son) love you too.

[imthepunchlord]

Woes of the Cuddler

If there was one thing Okarun was not forewarned about, was the adoption of yokai quirks. Quirks he had a hard time controlling. Quirks he wished Turbo Granny had mentioned to him. But it would be just like her to not, leaving him to learn as they come and reveal themselves, and how they uproot his life.

Like the restlessness of the moon and the night. Something about the soft illumination and the darkness of shadows just gives him energy. It was especially hard trying to sleep during a full moon. It was like it ignited a blaze through his veins and he just couldn't settle. Or when he did, he would wake up to find himself transformed, wandering restless through the night, as if he was trying to get out. Okarun was nervous on where he was trying to go.

There was emotional irritability. He found himself upset more easily. And the stronger the ugly emotions were, the more likely he was to shift, entering a weird shift that would soothe that internal blaze, but also focus it, direct that fire of emotions where he wants them to be.

There was a natural want to withdraw, sink into the shadows and himself. Mindful, he's always been an awkward fellow, after all, so this could just be from him. But, he doesn't think so, this was a bit different than him just wanting to bow his head and move about unnoticed. He wanted to go to places that no one would tread. He wanted to sit in solitude. To go deaf from silence. And it was always ruined or haunted locations that now just naturally caught his eye. It's what made him think this was a yokai thing. They always existed in locations with dark history, haunted by a cruel past.

The worst quirk, in Okarun's opinion though, was the sense of possessiveness and desire he felt. He's come to learn that yokai cling to what's precious to them. Guarding it with a jealous fervor. Resistive and infuriated of even the slim thought of sharing what is precious. And for Okarun, as some odd psuedo yokai, he's found that precious that he clings to, that he holds so dear he's not sure he could bring himself to let go.

What's precious to Okarun was Miss Ayase herself.

And that fact unnerved him.

Terrified him even.

Depressed and low energy as he was in his cursed form, yokai were beings that struggled with emotional control, struggled to be reasoned with. And with Acro Silky, he got to see first hand how yokai can respond to a human being they found precious. How she turned on Miss Shiratori for not acting as she wanted or expected.

What if he does something like that one day?

What if Miss Ayase does something he dislikes, and there's no control and he hurts her over it?

The thought of the possibility makes him sick.

And it's made worse by the shine of the full moon, how it seemed to grasp his unconscious and manifests his form, how it acts without his knowing, running on instinct and want.

He does what he can to be careful, to keep her at arm's length, to make sure she's safe and that he won't hurt her. But all that does is frustrate his yokai nature. And when he shifts as he needs to, all that he holds back just comes pouring out. He initiates touch when he wouldn't dare, to feel her warmth in his hands, sending a pleasant tingle that soothed the cold that clung to him. He would hold her close, like the treasure she was, pressed against his chest and his core. Like she was meant to be there, in his arms. Her warmth would spread more over him, her scent would fill his nose, and he could feel the echo of her heart coursing through him, and it seemed to add to his own.

Her name would dance freely upon his lips. He would hear the song of it in his own voice, feel the bliss in how natural it was to breathe it, to say her name as if it was a sacred word. To stress just how precious and dear she was to him.

He would do all that he wanted to do, no filter of fear to hold him back, doing what felt natural, what he desired.

And he always had a linger of horror in the back of his mind just how casual being a yokai made him.

His clear fondness for her in voice and name.

How openly he'd admit to missing her.

That natural pull to just touch her without flustered fear.

It was all so embarrassing.

Made worse that Miss Ayase herself just never had any issue with these. Does she not consider the risks that he's a yokai that seems fond of her? Didn't she see how Acro Silky responded to Miss Shiratori? What if he takes that big mouth, and bites her one day because she did something that upset him?

The fear of the possibility just never seems to come to Miss Ayase's mind.

He's both touched and scared that she just seems to have such faith him.

Which does give him resolve to make sure he stands up to that faith.

And he's been able to.

Sleeping over at the Ayase's residence a few times with no issues, even during a full moon, when Okarun agreed to a big sleepover that Miss Ayase was hosting, he didn't think anything would happen. That he would keep the yokai wants under control as he did before. It was just going to be like any other night.

But as the home went dark, and the light of the full moon shown down upon his sleeping form, he started to twitch and jerk, his black hair turning white with red streaks, red and black tendrils reaching out from his night shirt. Silently, he sat up, his red eyes foggy with sleep as he gazed around for a moment. Jiji was asleep beside him, oblivious to the world and the yokai sitting at his backside. Okarun sniffed the air, and there was a flicker in his red eyes, an awareness of where he was. Like a puppet on a string, he silently crept through the halls of the home, reaching Momo's room in seconds.

Her door opened without a sound, as if shy to make a noise in his presence. There, he saw Aira and Vamola on the floor, sound asleep. Upon the bed was Momo herself, sleeping at the foot of the bed, away from her pillow. He drew near the girls on the floor, reaching for their sleeping bags. Gripping the ends, he dragged them gently out of the room, back into the den where Jiji slept soundly. Going past them, he returned to Momo's room, closing the door behind him, securing that this space was just theirs. He came to loom over the bed, where she slept soundly, ever twitching from where she lay. Taking her pillow and moving it towards her head, Okarun followed it onto the mattress, laying down beside her. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Momo was rolled closer to him, her warmth coming to lightly press at his side.

The pleasantness of it had him sighing.

Yes.

This was where he should be.

Where everything about her was here, at it's strongest. Her space. And he could lay here, welcomed to join her in the center of it.

But to lay here with her lightly touching him wasn't enough. The yokai reached for her, to pull her close where she's meant to be, truly pressed against him, only for Momo to roll away, mumbling in her sleep. 

He paused, a little surprised that she drew away from his reach. That didn't happen often.

The surprise didn't linger long, knowing she was a restless sleeper. Unbothered, he reached for her again, only she wiggled her down, past his reaching hands. He sat up, giving her sleeping form a pout. It was just like her to make this difficult. His hands drew near once more and Momo just rolled herself away, now on the other side of the bed. She seemed to know unconsciously that this was where the head of her bed was, her hand going about, patting for her pillow.

With a slight apologetic wince, he quickly returned the pillow to it's rightful place.

Momo immediately latched onto it, hugging it her chest with a happy sigh. 

Okarun then felt a slight bit of annoyance.

He wanted to be that pillow.

Why did he even give it back? He couldn't been in that pillow's place.

"What a bummer," he mumbled to the air, adjusting himself to lay beside her. Even if there was a pillow between them, he'll still take the chance to hold her.

Only it seems the sleeping Momo wasn't satisfied with the pillow a cuddling companion, and shoved it away, right into Okaruns' face. She flipped over with a huff, kicking at the sheets in frustration, sending most of them to the floor.

Okarun sat up, rubbing his nose from the pillow assault, and then quickly reached for the covers, saving them from falling to the floor. Knowing on some level how much colder he was in this form, he adjusted them, laying them over himself and Momo. Dropping back down with a sigh, he gave it another go, reaching for her.

Momo though didn't like the covers on her. She started to shift and squirm, and Okarun had a start when she started to wiggle her way off the bed. His hands moved quickly then, grasping her as gently as possible, sighing in relief once he finally got a hold of her. Not letting her go this time, he started to pull her close, finally happy to have her in his grasp, to get her to where he wants her to be, so that he can be where he wants to be.

Momo of course is not one to make it easy for the cursed boy.

She twisted about, her hand going flying through the air, coming to smack on his face.

He went still in surprise. Not that it hurt, but definitely surprised. He shifted, nudging the hand away, making a sort of an affectionate hum that echoed a scoff and chuckle. He pressed a light kiss to her palm, enjoying the soft warm skin on his lips, and pulled her close, this time successful and pressing her against him. There was one more big squirm from Momo before she too finally seemed to settle, it was almost as if she needed him to. In the back of his mind, he had some inkling that that was a hubris thought, but in this sleepy state, it was a thought that brought him happiness. It grew as her arm came up to wrap around his middle, to hold him just as close, while her other hand gripped at his night shirt. It was like she wanted him there, to make sure he would stay. She sighed in content, nuzzling his collar in her sleep.

There was a bubble of a pleased sound from him and he returned that nuzzle on the crown on her head, everything about her surrounding him, happy to be where he wanted to be. He returned to the oblivion of sleep, the curse receding and returning him to how he was in it's satisfaction. Even as the full moon's glow cascaded over them, he slept deeply, and Momo, for once, slept still.

Hours of the night passed, inching for the nearing dawn.

Upon the first light that poked Momo's brow, she stirred with a hum.

She felt cozy and comfortable, surrounding by warmth. Usually her mornings were a lot more... constricted from being entangled in her blanket. Or cold from wiggling herself free. But this, this was nice. So nice she kinda wanted to go back to sleep. But there was that inner twitch in her, a flicker to get up and ready for her day. A restless need to rise with the dawn. So with a shift, she stretched, and went still, realizing that this cozy warmth was holding her still. And it was actually rather firm.

Eyes snapping open, Momo blinked at the dark fabric in front of her face. Said fabric extended up, to a shoulder that loomed over her, an arm coming from it, wrapped around her middle. There was a hand lazily pressed against her back, fingers twitching slightly in sleep. Momo looked up, her nose bumping against Okarun's chin, her eyes coming to settle on his sleeping face.

Momo stared, gawking in surprise to see Okarun there.

Her immediate thought was that she maybe sleep walked to him, only to realize that she was in her room, and they were in her bed, all tangled up.

Flushing, she wiggled herself up, only to go still as his arms tightened around her. He groaned in protest, coming to curl around her, pressing his face into her stomach.

She flushed, not used to seeing such behavior from Okarun, At least, not as he is. When he shifted into his curse form, yeah this she's come to expect. But as himself? It was weird. Not unpleasant, she can appreciate the boldness, but not right now with her. Looking around, Momo saw that Aira and Vamola were gone. She flushed even more. Did they see?

No, wait, Their actual sleeping bags were gone... why were they gone?

Still a little red, but more baffled now, she turned back to the boy clinging to her in sleep, giving his head a few light pokes. "What did you do?" she quietly wondered.

She was ignored, Okarun it seems was determined to keep on sleeping.

"Okarun," she prompted, giving him a more pokes.

There was something of a protesting groan, that sounded a little throatier than she expected. When he cracked one eye open, she saw a hue of red in his brown eyes, as if he close to shifting.

Momo swallowed a little at the intensity of the groggy gaze peering up at her."What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Sleeping," he mumbled, his voice torn between the softness of the boy and the gruffness of the yokai. Finding that the answer was satisfactory, he closed his eye, ready to go back to sleep.

"Where's Aira and Vamola?" Momo pressed.

"Jiji," came the grumpy answer. Seemingly annoyed with Momo's questioning, she squeaked in surprise as she was flipped over. She plopped back down on her bed, pulled close for more cuddles, his cheek pressed against her own. Okarun looked ready to just fall back asleep, having a happy sigh.

Momo was absolutely not though.

"Why are you even in my bed?" she demanded, reaching up to grasp his arm.

Okarun suddenly went stiff and still.

Momo watched as his brown eyes opened, no more having a tinge of red, staring right into her own pink-brown eyes.

He stared.

Momo stared back, brow raised as she waited for his answer.

Okarun blinked a few times, and the reality of the situation seemed to click.

Quite suddenly, he withdrew from her, was out of the bed, and speeding out of the door, shouting, "I'M SO SORRY!!"

Momo was left in surprise, gawking after him. For a second, she noted how cold it suddenly was before Okarun's escape caught up to her. "That's not an answer!" she snapped, leaping out of bed and racing after him. In their mad sprint, they startled their friends awake, though grumpy Aira just rolled over back to bed while Jiji and Vamola just squinted after them in groggy confusion.

In her rush, it didn't take Momo long to corner Okarun, the ball defaulting to cowering down in a corner while she loomed over him, caging him in. "Okarun, seriously, what were you doing in my bed?"

"It-it was a mistake!" he cried out in flushed panic, "Won't happen again!"

"That doesn't answer my question!" she snapped.

Okarun just groaned pitifully, trying to bury his red face in his hands.

Sighing, Momo eased back, giving him some breathing room, and waited. After a few minutes, she tried again. "What's going on, Okarun?"

"...The moon," he mumbled.

"Hah?"

"Th-the full moon," Okarun clarified, peeking at her past his fingers. "It uh, it manifests the curse."

"So, you just transform?" she asked, watching him nod sheepishly. She tried to figure out how this got him into her bed. Cause he was himself at the core when he shifted. He was just gloomy, and lacked a filter.

"It, uh, I kinda transform unconsciously," Okarun revealed, "and, and I kinda... just act on instinct. I'd wake up to me sleepwalking around my home, like I'm trying to go somewhere." He thinks he's trying to find his way here. "I, I'm sorry, Miss Ayase. I, I must have crawled into your..." He couldn't even dare finish the sentence. He was so embarrassed.

"So, you just wanted to cuddle?" she asked, unable to deny the happy feeling it brought. Aira and Vamola were also in the room, and out of them, he wanted to cuddle with her. That did make her feel special.

Okarun just whimpered, trying to curl in on himself.

"Wait," she recalled, "why did you move Aira and Vamola out of the room then?"

Okarun peeked up at her, echoing her confusion. "I-I don't know. I don't remember... they're gone from your room?"

"You said they're with Jiji?"

"I don't know," Okarun bemoaned, blushing and turning away.

For a minute, they stood in silence, Momo watching as Okarun agonized over last night. Tentatively, she reached out, lightly threading her fingers through his messy bedhead. Okarun went still, then his body moved on it's own, pressing up to her touch like a cat wanting pets. His face was still red though, squinting in happiness and embarrassment. Momo offered, "If it helps, I slept great last night."

His head dropped from her touch, turning to hide his face from her. Quietly, he admitted, "I did too."

Momo smiled. "I'm glad. And hey, I don't mind cuddling with you, Okarun, just give me a heads up next time."

"Miss Ayase!" he cried out in protest as Momo walked away, ready to get breakfast going. She was right in concluding he was going to need a minute before he could rejoin them inside.

[alive-gh0st]

❝Too Far Gone❞

Mark Grayson x Brainrot Girlfriend!Readerᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

˗ˏˋ 𓉘 Part 2 of ”Corruption Complete” 𓉝ˎˊ˗

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

🦈 summary: mark’s corruption arc continues. he’s made it to the dark side—but the brainrot never ends. from forced meme bootcamp to cursed movie nights and chaotic friend group crossovers, mark’s peace is officially gone. and now… he might kind of like it?

‪‪🦈 contains: sfw. modern brainrot. fandom jokes. reluctant!mark, chaotic!reader. oliver returns with more menace. debbie thrives. william + rick join the chaos. wine obsessed!debbie. amber vs eve. tiktok audios. cursed AI videos. gacha reactions. passive-aggressive memes. „tragic boy 2.0”

‪‪🦈 wc: 2187

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: we’re back, baby. this was supposed to be a joke, and now it’s a saga. blame mark for folding like a wet napkin. shout-out to the “ballerina cappuccina” for lighting this fire. enjoy the chaos.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Mark stared at the whiteboard in front of him like it was written in an alien dialect. Which, to be fair, was only partially inaccurate.

“Okay,” you said brightly, tapping the marker against your palm. “Let’s review: What does it mean if I say ‘she’s giving One Direction in 2013 with a sprinkle of Tumblr Sexy Man pipeline energy’?”

Mark blinked once. Twice.

Oliver leaned forward like a predator scenting fear. “Say it, Mark. Say the answer.”

Mark sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “It… means she’s popular?”

“Popular how?” you challenged. “Contextualize it.”

“She’s… trending?” he tried.

“Wrong,” Oliver said, shaking his head gravely. “You’ve just been hit with a ✨deduction✨.”

He clicked a buzzer. Where it came from, no one knew. Where it went after that, no one wanted to ask.

You turned back to the board, adding another tally to the “Cringe Counter” in red marker. Mark’s score was now dangerously close to being labeled “culturally illiterate.”

“This is so dumb,” he grumbled. “This isn’t even a real language.”

“It is to us,” you and Oliver said in perfect sync.

Mark muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “cult behavior.”

You ignored him, moving to the next slide. A collage of pixelated TikTok reaction memes flashed onto the screen. “Okay, rapid-fire round: What’s the audio for this one?”

Mark squinted. “Is that… a raccoon in a nun outfit?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you snapped.

Oliver gasped. “You don’t know the ‘Father, forgive me, but she was SERVING’ audio?!”

Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. “Why would I ever need to know that?”

“Because one day you might be the raccoon in the nun outfit, Mark,” you said, eyes burning with brainrot conviction.

He slumped back on the couch. “I regret everything.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

What was supposed to be a calm, relaxing day became a Friday Movie Night. Which, in your (the Graysons’) household, meant one thing:

No peace. No mercy. Only WiFi-fueled chaos.

It started innocently. You were lounging on the couch, half-scrolling and half-plotting dinner, when Debbie offhandedly said, “We should watch something tonight.”

You, of course, took that as a declaration of war.

Ten minutes later, the lights were dimmed, the coffee table was drowning in chips and half-melted gummies, and everyone had been emotionally blackmailed into joining.

(“Mark, you saved the world. You can survive one night of meme cinema.”)

Mark sat like a hostage. William arrived mid-chaos with Rick, who brought snacks and the wrong kind of emotional preparedness. Debbie brought wine. Oliver brought his entire personality.

You? You brought a curated playlist of AI-generated edits that actively offended the concept of linear storytelling.

“Okay,” you announced, remote in hand. “Tonight’s film festival opens with: Edward Cullen breakdancing in front of an explosion to Skyfall.”

“…Why?” Mark asked, already regretting being born.

“Art,” Oliver whispered reverently.

The video began. Within fifteen seconds, Comic Sans text scrolled across the screen:

‘When he says forever but leaves the Minecraft server.’

Rick blinked. “I have so many questions.”

William, eyes wide, leaned in. “And none of them matter.”

The next clip was somehow worse—or better. AI-generated Loki slow dancing with the Riddler at prom while Will Smith stood in the corner like a disappointed gym teacher. The audio? A slowed-down remix of Let It Go over Sandstorm.

No one blinked.

“I hate this,” Mark whispered.

“You’re watching it,” you replied sweetly.

“…Shut up.”

Oliver pulled out a scoring notebook. “Okay, rating time. Editing? 10. Trauma delivery? 12.”

“Is there symbolism?” Rick asked, way too seriously.

“Absolutely,” William said. “The Riddler’s bowtie was a metaphor for late-stage capitalism.”

Even Debbie chimed in with a solid, “The pacing in the Subway Voldemort edit was weird, but I respect the emotional core.”

By the third cursed slideshow, everyone had a ranking system, emotional stakes, and deeply divided opinions about whether or not Gandalf doing a TikTok dance counted as character assassination.

Mark didn’t get up. Didn’t leave. Didn’t even look away. He just sighed.

And for some ridiculously stupid reason?

He didn’t hate it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

It happened on a Tuesday.

A simple, forgettable Tuesday. Rain outside. Soup on the stove. A blanket of rare peace over the house.

And then Mark opened his mouth.

“You’re being real ‘girl who fell off the swing in 2012 and never emotionally recovered’ right now.”

Silence.

Your spoon hovered mid-air.

Oliver, across the room, slowly turned like an animatronic coming online.

Debbie looked up from her crossword, one eyebrow arched with terrifying accuracy.

“What,” you breathed.

Mark blinked, backtracking immediately. “I mean—not like that. I wasn’t saying you were—It’s just—I saw a TikTok—”

“A TikTok,” Oliver echoed, mouth spreading into a villainous grin. “So you have been studying.”

“I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“You quoted a cultural meme tag with precision,” you gasped. “Unprovoked.”

Mark stood frozen in the kitchen doorway like a raccoon caught in the fridge light.

“I blacked out,” he tried.

“You blacked in,” Oliver corrected, dramatically pointing. “Welcome to the hive mind.”

Debbie didn’t say anything, just sipped her wine with the smugness of a woman watching her son descend into madness she fully supported.

You dramatically slammed your hand on the counter. “You mocked us.”

“I still do.”

“And yet!” you shrieked, gesturing wildly. “You knew what that meant!”

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is your fault.”

“You’re damn right it is.”

Oliver held up the whiteboard from earlier and slapped a gold star beside Mark’s name. “Corruption milestone achieved: accidental meme reference in domestic context.”

“You’ve fallen,” you said softly. “You’re one of us now.”

Mark didn’t respond.

But he did mutter “she’s giving ‘delulu but functioning’” under his breath an hour later.

Oliver tackled him with a celebratory pillow.

You cried actual tears.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

What started as a casual group hang spiraled—as most things in your social circle did—into chaos within twenty minutes.

Amber had stopped by under the innocent promise of “a chill night.” She brought wine, even wore slippers. Her guard was down.

Eve was already there. Cross-legged on the rug, hoodie half-zipped, energy drink in hand like it was liquid law.

Amber settles in with a sigh. “I was promised snacks and serotonin.”

Eve flops down beside her, stealing a chip from Mark’s bowl. “And yet you walked into psychological warfare.”

The TV is paused on a cursed slideshow. The image? A freeze frame of Shrek photoshopped into a Renaissance painting, holding hands with a pixelated Garfield.

The caption reads: “when you and your emotional support cryptid walk into therapy”

Amber groans. “No. Absolutely not.”

Eve perks up. “Why not? That one’s a classic.”

“It’s blasphemy.”

“It’s art.”

“It’s Garfield in a toga.”

“Exactly.”

Amber throws her hands up. “Why is he glowing?”

Mark, exhausted from the last three meme dissections, doesn’t even look up. “Symbolism.”

“Thank you!” Eve beams.

“Don’t encourage her,” Amber mutters, taking a swig of wine.

You sit smugly between them, remote in hand, before asking. “Next slide?”

“Absolutely.” The red-haired girl encouraged.

“I will scream.” Amber promised.

The next image pops up—a tier list ranking internet boyfriends. At the top? Invincible, labeled: ‘tragedy-coded, would cry during WALL-E’

Directly beneath him—Paddington Bear and that guy who fixed his crush’s WiFi in a TikTok once.

Amber squints. “What does this even mean.”

Eve leans in like a scholar. “It’s a commentary on emotional vulnerability in male-coded narratives.”

“You just made that up.”

“I did, and I stand by it.”

William mutters, “I’d date Paddington. He’s stable.”

“That coat? Immaculate.” His boyfriend adds.

Amber glances at you. “Are your friends okay?”

“Absolutely not.”

Oliver, feeling slightly left out, stirs up some drama. “Mark’s at risk of joining the list if he cries during Finding Nemo.”

“I DIDN’T CRY.”

“You sniffled,” Debbie says from the kitchen.

By the end of the night, Eve and Amber are locked in a passionate debate about whether or not liking Remy from Ratatouille is a red flag, William is drawing diagrams to explain meme evolution, and Mark’s soul has visibly left his body.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

It was supposed to be harmless.

A passing moment. A flicker in the chaos.

You hadn’t even meant to record him. Not really.

You were filming Oliver’s dramatic reenactment of the “I’m just a baby!” audio using sock puppets and half of Rick’s hoodie when Mark walked by in the background—bored, hoodie half-on, sipping orange juice straight from the carton.

And then, with zero prompting, he did it.

He hit a trend pose.

Perfectly.

He didn’t even notice he’d done it. Just sipped, blinked, walked off like nothing happened.

Everyone stared.

“…Did he just—?” William whispered.

Oliver stood frozen mid-puppet grab. “Roll it back.”

You did.

And there it was: textbook trend behavior. Down to the head tilt.

“Put that on the internet,” Eve said, eyes wide. “Now.”

“No,” Mark said immediately, from the kitchen.

“Yes,” everyone else said in unison.

You posted it. You didn’t even try to be subtle. The caption?

’when the trauma makes you trendable. #tragedyboy2.0’

By the end of the night, it had 40k views.

By morning, 200k.

╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

ြ The comments were chaos:

➤“he’s so emotionally charged I could fix him AND he’d thank me”

➤“when you cry to Mitski but still hit a clean pose?? king”

➤“tragedy boy 2.0 just dropped and I’m obsessed”

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯

Mark stared at your phone, expression blank.

“I didn’t even do anything,” he muttered.

“That’s the point,” Rick said, nodding.

“Tragic aura,” Amber added.

“It’s the silent suffering that sells,” William confirmed, sipping his smoothie.

You handed Mark your phone with a smile. “Congrats. You’re a meme now.”

He stared at the screen.

Then at you.

“…I’m deleting all of your editing apps.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You need help.”

“YOU TREND IN SILENCE.”

From the hallway, Debbie called out. “Make sure to tag me next time. I’ve got burner accounts ready!”

Mark buried his face in his hands.

Somewhere, a comment called him “WALL-E coded.” Another simply said, “blink twice if you need therapy, blink once if you already went and it didn’t work.”

He blinked once.

The internet cheered.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

It started out as a joke.

A throwaway mention. A cursed sentence uttered in the depths of a late-night scroll session:

“Imagine if there was a Gacha Life video of Nolan betraying Earth.”

You had said it. Mark had groaned. Oliver had gasped.

And twenty minutes later—you were all gathered on the couch, screen mirroring a Gacha reaction video with a thumbnail that read:

“Invincible Characters React to Nolan’s Betrayal (SAD/CRYING/REAL)”

The title card was Comic Sans. The music was royalty-free piano tragedy. The vibes? Devastating.

Mark looked like he was about to walk into traffic.

“Why is my Gacha self crying in the corner?” he asked, horrified.

“Character depth,” you replied.

The video played.

Pixelated Gacha!Debbie gasped in slow motion as Gacha!Nolan punched Gacha!Mark into orbit. A single animated tear rolled down her face and sparkled. The screen flashed:

“TO BE CONTINUED…?”

“Oh my god,” Rick whispered. “They gave it a cliffhanger.”

“Of real history,” William added. “This is art.”

Debbie blinked at the screen. “Wait. That’s supposed to be me?”

“She looks twelve.” Amber said.

Eve raised her martini drink. “I respect the commitment.”

Meanwhile, Gacha!Mark lay motionless on the screen, sparkles and red overlay blood pooling dramatically as a voiceover whispered: “He was just a boy.”

Mark put his head in his hands. “This should be illegal.”

Oliver patted his shoulder. “That’s what makes it so powerful.”

By the end, there was a montage of Gacha!Mark’s “best moments” set to a slowed-down nightcore remix of “My Heart Will Go On.” The subtitles read: “Mark… you were the light in our darkness.”

No one spoke for a solid fifteen seconds.

Then you wiped a fake tear and said, “They got your trauma arc better than the actual writers.”

Mark muttered, “I’m moving out.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

•∘˙○˚.⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨🪼୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

By now, the “Tragedy Boy 2.0” clip had gone viral enough to birth its own ecosystem—edits, fancams, conspiracy theories.

And Debbie?

Debbie was thriving.

She’d quietly created an account under the name @markgraysondefenseunit, and she was everywhere.

╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

ြ Commenting on hate:

➥”he looks like he cries after arguments”

╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “He resolves his trauma. Do YOU?”

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯

Debbie hit send, sipped her wine, and smiled like she just ended a war.

╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

ြ Fighting trolls:

➥“mid hero tbh”

╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “Tell that to the asteroid he punched.”

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯

She cracked her knuckles before typing that one. Felt good.

╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

ြ Replying to thirst:

➥“me n him rn [photo of two frogs cuddling]”

╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “wrap it up sweetie, you’re not his type.”

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯

Debbie raised an eyebrow, muttered “delusional,” and hit send without flinching.

For her defense—she did tell Mark about it, not her fault everyone thought she was just joking around.

So she stayed silent.

Until the day he scrolled through comments on his own post and paused.

“…Why does one of these accounts call me ‘my brave little meatball’?”

You smiled, innocent. “Huh. Weird.”

Oliver snorted into his juice.

From the kitchen, Debbie sipped her wine.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

a/n: this was supposed to be short. it was not. it got out of hand. again. also—did anyone clock my weird obsession with Tuesdays or are we all just politely ignoring it? be honest.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st

[ninjatrashpanda]

Jingle All The Way (To The Damn ER)

Written for @bucktommywinterfest

Prompt: Holiday themed calls; Mistletoe Kiss

Rated: G

Tags: established relationship, fluff, holiday shenanigans

Read on AO3 here.

“Well, that’s…” Eddie said the moment the team had arrived and climbed out of the engine.

“Unfortunate,” Hen finished, her eyes fixed on the roof of the house they’d just pulled up to. Buck couldn’t exactly blame her. Up there, surrounded by absurd amounts of fake snow (and some of the most garish Christmas decorations Buck had ever seen), was a rather burly man in a Santa costume, his lower half stuck in a chimney, screaming and shouting out curse after curse. (Some seemingly not even in English, Buck noted. They sounded vaguely German to him, and for a moment he wondered if that made him racist.)

“That’s gotta be a new one,” Chim muttered, squinting up at the struggling Santa. “I mean, we’ve seen plenty of Santas in sticky situations, but this? This takes the fruitcake.”

How did things like these even happen? How did someone look at a chimney and say ‘Oh, yes, I’ll slide down there, no biggie!’ It was absolutely asinine, so completely unhinged and idiotic that Buck’s brain hardly was able to comprehend the thought process it must’ve taken this guy to end up where he did.

Then again, Buck probably really shouldn’t judge people for making harebrained decisions.

“Do you think he realizes that he probably would’ve busted his ankles if he’d actually slid down there?” Eddie asked, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. The team’s radios crackled with a faint background hum, the absurdity of the scene almost enough to make them forget they were here on an actual call.

Buck tilted his head, stepping forward, his eyes narrowed. The more he looked at the scene, the more unreal it seemed. He decided to reconsider his earlier thought. He was allowed to judge, cause even he wasn’t lacking foresight this hard. “Is it just me, or does that chimney look way too small for him to have even considered crawling through it in the first place?”

“It’s not just you,” Bobby, who now rounded the engine to join the team, said, reaching for his radio. “Dispatch, Engine 118 is on scene. We have one victim, male, age seems to be mid to late forties. Victim appears to be stuck. And dressed as Santa.”

There was a pause before Dispatch answered, the crackle of static barely covering what Buck could’ve sworn was a snort of laughter. “Copy that, 118,” came Josh’s slightly strained response. Buck noticed Bobby side-eyeing his radio, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame Josh. He’d be laughing too if he wasn’t on this call professionally. “Please confirm: is the scene secure, and do you need additional resources?”

“I don’t know, maybe a team of reindeer to pull him out?” Chim called up toward the house, earning him a glare from Hen, who was probably already assessing what kind of injuries this guy could’ve suffered from…well, this.

“Scene’s secure,” Bobby said, ignoring Chim’s antics, and exchanging another couple of words with Josh. Then, he turned to the crew. “Buck, Eddie, grab the ladder and all the lube we have. Hen, Chim, get ready to check this guy out as soon as they get him down here.”

Buck shook his head as he jogged over to the rig to get the lube, their victim’s voice calling out every swear under the sun. “You know, for a guy playing Santa, he’s not exactly spreading holiday cheer up there.”

From the roof, Santa’s voice rang out, muffled but clearly annoyed. “I can hear you, you know!”

“Good!” Chim called back, a slightly catty edge to his voice. “Then you’ll be delighted to know we’re here to rescue your jolly behind!”

Eddie followed Buck to grab the ladder while Hen remained firmly planted, hands on her hips, staring up at Santa like he was her children’s math homework she was trying to help them with. “How did you not realize this is a terrible idea before you got halfway in?”

“I bet you he lost a dare,” Chim said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “There’s no way this guy just looked at that chimney and thought, ‘Yeah, I can make it.’”

Raising an eyebrow, Hen turned toward Chim and let out a small huff, “I’m sorry, but should you of all people make fun of that? Should I remind you of why we call you ‘Chimney?’”

Chim’s grin faltered for just a second, and Hen’s smirk grew triumphant. “Low blow, Hen,” he retorted, though his tone was light. “But, for the record, I didn’t willingly wedge myself in anything. I was an innocent victim of faulty construction.”

“Sure, Chim,” Hen said, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe him. She turned her attention back to the roof, where Santa continued to struggle, his efforts achieving nothing but a faint creaking noise from the chimney that made everyone on the ground cringe.

“Why am I not surprised?” Buck muttered, setting up the ladder and turning to Eddie. “Come on. Let’s get Santa out of there before he Tim Allens himself.”

Eddie planted his hands on the ladder to keep it steady as Buck began to climb. “Think he’ll go on the naughty list for this?”

“Not if we save him before Hen smacks some sense into him,” Buck called down, his voice lighthearted as he worked his way up toward the roof.

From below, Hen sighed and shook her head, her exasperation at Santa finally getting to her. “One of these days, I’m going to get through a shift without an incident that makes me question humanity.”

“Today is not that day,” Eddie replied, barely stifling his grin.

“Yeah, well,” Hen said, watching Buck hoist himself onto the roof, “let’s just hope Santa’s dignity is the only thing that got bruised tonight.”

As Buck reached the chimney, he peered down at the man’s awkwardly wedged body. This was worse than he had expected. Like he’d thought, the man’s stomach was plugging up the chimney entirely, but he hadn’t predicted the small cracks that were forming all around the top of the shaft, some of which already ran up to halfway down the sides. “Okay, big guy, hang tight. We’re gonna get you out of here, but try not to move too much.”

“Believe me,” Santa grumbled, a deadpan expression on his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Buck said under his breath, before reaching for his radio. “Uh, Cap? Send Eddie up here with the tools. This is a two-man job at least and the lube’s not gonna cut it.”

Chim’s voice chimed in immediately. “Santa’s had one too many cookies, huh?”

“Not helping, Chim,” Buck shot back, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

This was going to be a long shift.

🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄

“So this is not what we usually get called in for.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow at the, frankly, ridiculous scene in front of him. Somehow, a guy on skis had managed to not only crash into the giant Christmas tree that had been set up right by the main lodge, the guy had somehow managed to get himself completely tangled up in the lights, which still blinked in all colors of the rainbow.

In all his life as a soldier, a firefighter and now a rescue pilot, Tommy had never seen something this idiotic before.

“How did this even happen?” he asked the manager of the resort, a woman who appeared to be in her late thirties, who wore a sharp, dark grey pantsuit. To her credit, she seemed just as exasperated as he felt.

“I wish I knew,” the manager replied, pressing two fingers to her temple as if she were fighting off a migraine. “All I got was a frantic call from one of the lodge staff saying there was ’a skier emergency’ and that I should ‘bring someone who knows how to untangle knots.’” She gestured toward the blinking, flailing mess of a man. “I didn’t expect this.”

Tommy let out a long sigh and turned back to the scene. The skier, who was now groaning softly, looked like a particularly unfortunate ornament hung by an overzealous child. The man’s goggles were askew, his skis were pointing in entirely different directions, and his jacket, a garish neon green, made him look like an elf who’d lost a fight with Santa’s workshop.

“Is he…conscious?” Tommy asked, squinting.

“Yep, sure is,” García, one of the paramedics of the 217 he’d flown up here said. She straightened up and pulled her gloves on tighter. “Hey, Kinard, can you get me a backboard? I feel like we’re gonna need to tie this guy down even if he somehow managed not to break his spine.”

“On it,” Tommy replied with a sigh, and headed back to his chopper. He still wasn’t sure just how this could’ve possibly happened. He had a sinking suspicion that alcohol had played a part, but he kept that to himself, instead silently grabbing the backboard from the back of the helicopter.

He trudged back through the snow, (If the way the artificial stuff felt under his boots was anything to go on, he would absolutely despise real snow.) a soft hum under his breath. The resort’s cheery Christmas music (now an unfortunate backdrop to this circus) had invaded his brain and wouldn’t leave it for probably the rest of his shift (or a week later. Or a month. Or a goddamn year).

As Tommy handed the backboard over to García, he crouched down to get a better look at the skier. “Alright, buddy, you with us?” he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.

The man groaned again and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “The tree came out of nowhere.”

Tommy blinked. “The tree came out of nowhere?” He exchanged a look with García, who rolled her eyes and smirked, biting her lip.

“I swear it did,” the skier slurred, his head lolling slightly to the side. “One minute, skiing. Next minute, tree.”

Tommy sighed, a sound that felt like it came straight from his soul. “Yeah, I’m sure the tree leapt right out to grab you. Happens all the time.” He shot a glance at the manager, who snorted softly but quickly disguised it as a cough. She was clearly trying to keep her professional veneer intact, but her expression betrayed her amusement.

García got to work, carefully cutting away a few strands of the blinking lights that had wound tightly around the man’s torso. “This guy’s tangled worse than my Abuela’s Christmas lights,” she muttered.

“Don’t disrespect your Abuela,” Tommy quipped. “At least she didn’t knock over the tree.”

The skier let out a low groan. “I’m never drinking eggnog again…”

Ah, there it was. Tommy resisted the urge to say, called it, and focused on the task at hand. “Look, pal, we’re gonna get you out of here, but I need you to stay still. Can you do that?”

The skier didn’t respond directly, but he gave a lazy thumbs-up that didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Great,” García muttered. “Kinard, help me stabilize him before we move him.”

Tommy stepped in to assist, holding the backboard steady as García and the other paramedic carefully maneuvered the man’s limbs. The lights resisted, clinging stubbornly to the skier as if they were part of some cosmic punishment for his sins against Christmas decor. It took some creative maneuvering and a few choice curses from García before the last of the lights finally snapped free.

Once the skier was secured to the backboard, Tommy stood up and dusted the snow off his pants. “Alright, let’s load him up. We’ll fly him down to the hospital for a once-over.”

The manager stepped closer, looking at the still-blinking lights strewn across the snow like abandoned tinsel. “What about…all this?” She gestured vaguely at the scene of destruction.

Tommy shrugged. “I’d say leave it. It’ll make for a great story. ‘The Tree Incident of 2024.’ You could make it an annual thing, build some buzz.”

The manager shot him a flat look. “I think we’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned back toward the helicopter, falling in line behind the paramedics carrying the backboard. “Let’s get Bode Miller here some help before he decides to start singing carols.”

As they walked, the skier managed to lift his head just enough to croak out one final, utterly sincere question: “But…did I win?”

Tommy couldn’t stop himself. He grinned. “Oh, buddy. You definitely won.”

🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄🎅🏻🎄

“Dispatch, this is engine 118,” Bobby spoke into his radio, snapping the rest of the crew into Business Mode. “We’re pulling up on scene.”

The truck came to a halt outside a large community center, which seemed almost normal and boring. Except for the plumes of smoke coming out of one of the windows. Buck groaned and rolled his eyes. He hoped this wasn’t an actual fire, or at least that the window had already been opened by the time it started, because he didn’t know how he’d react if he found out someone in there had opened a window on a fire.

“Copy that, 118,” the dispatcher’s voice (Maddie this time) came through their radios as they all rushed to grab their gear. “Community Christmas Baking Event, one of the ovens caught fire. The 217 is on scene, Captain Chen is IC, he’ll give you more details.”

Buck’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the 217, but he quickly shrugged it off. Sure, running into his boyfriend on the job would be nice, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Besides, Tommy was on helicopter duty today anyway. He was way up in the sky, riding his bird through the clouds and saving lives by bringing victims to the hospital far faster than an ambo ever could.

It brought a sigh to Buck’s lips as he jogged after Eddie and into the building at Captain Chen’s command, the same love struck one he always seemed to sigh when he thought about Tommy and his effortless coolness, and big heart, and dashing good looks. (And especially the cleft. God, did he love that cleft!) Less than a year ago, he hadn’t even known he was into men, and now here he was, happily, knowingly in love with the very same one who had blasted his closet door open with all the force of the hurricane they’d flown into when they had met.

The smell of burnt sugar and smoke hit Buck like a fist to the face as soon as he and Eddie entered the community center, every thought of Tommy instantly pushed to the back of his mind as he went into rescue mode. Eddie was already barking orders to one of the event organizers, a frazzled woman in a holiday sweater that had seen better days, while Buck took in the scene.

The lobby was a chaos of flour-dusted people, from crying children to panicked adults to people from the 217 trying to evacuate everyone, and a steady stream of smoke curling out of the kitchen at the far end of the hall. Buck followed Eddie through the hall, their boots clomping against the polished floor as they approached the kitchen door, quickly checking every frazzled bystander for injuries before urging them to leave the building already.

“Cap, this is Diaz, we’ve got thick smoke but no visible flames yet,” Eddie reported over his shoulder. “Kitchen is at the end of the main hallway. Looks like the sprinkler system hasn’t gone off.”

“At least the fire’s contained, then,” Bobby’s voice crackled through the radio. “Chen said two of his men are already in the kitchen, Hayes and Kinard. Assist them however they need.”

Buck’s brain came to a screeching halt. Kinard? Did Bobby just say Kinard?! His heart thudded in his chest, and he nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself just before Eddie noticed his sudden shift in demeanor. Kinard. Bobby had said Kinard. Tommy’s here. The realization brought a wide grin to Buck’s face at the thought of seeing his boyfriend in action, all big, and tough, and competent. He didn’t have time to process it, though, as he and Eddie reached the kitchen door, where the thick haze of smoke was quickly becoming stifling.

Eddie pushed it open, and they were greeted by chaos. Two firefighters from the 217 were already inside, one, Hayes according to his turnout jacket, directing a fire extinguisher toward an oven that was the apparent source of the problem, while the other worked to move large trays of baked goods away from the immediate area. The oven in question was blackened, with flames licking at its edges, a few stray flames dotted around the floor.

“Buckley! Diaz!” Hayes called out, practically bombarding the oven with foam. “We could use another set of hands on this.”

“On it,” Eddie shouted briskly, moving toward him. Buck’s eyes, however, had already met the other firefighters, and for a moment, it was as if everything around them didn’t even exist.

There he was, helmet on, jacket slightly singed, cleft chin invisible under the oxygen mask, but just knowing it was there and waiting for him to come kiss it made Buck weak in the knees. Tommy’s eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Evan,” he called, and Buck couldn’t put his finger on why, but his voice sounded…hot. Hotter. Or something. He wasn’t sure what it was, just that he really wanted to tear the turnouts off of Tommy, fire and smoke be damned. “What are the odds?”

Buck managed a lopsided grin (that he knew Tommy would’ve loved if he only could have seen it!), his heart pounding a mile a minute. Tommy, all professional, and sooty and goddammit, Buck could almost smell the musk radiating off of him from over here. “Right?” he somehow brought out with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “It seems so unlikely!”

Tommy gave a quick shake of his head, exasperation evident in the way his eyes crinkled even under the helmet, but there was an unmistakable fondness too. “Focus up, Buckley,” he said, and if Buck wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the edges of his voice. “There’s still an oven fire to handle, and I’m pretty sure Captain Nash won’t appreciate me distracting his star firefighter.”

“Oh, I’m the star now?” Buck shot back, already moving to sort out the flames on the ground while Eddie and Hayes double-timed the burning oven. He could feel the warmth of Tommy’s presence nearby, but there was a job to do here, so he couldn’t even bask in it.

“Always have been,” Tommy replied, the words so casual Buck nearly choked on the laugh that bubbled out of him, all while Tommy had already turned his attention back to the task at hand with all the casualness the situation allowed. It was like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Buck’s overactive heart, and that only made him more feral inside.

“Hey!” Eddie barked, snapping Buck back into focus. “Quit flirting and help us!”

Right. Fire. Job. Professionalism.

Finished with the smaller fires, Buck moved to assist Hayes and Eddie with the oven, which turned out to be a much bigger problem than they had anticipated. Together, they aimed for the stubborn flames that were trying to escape the oven, working in tandem to snuff them out. The smoke was thick and cloying, stinging Buck’s eyes even through his mask, but the blaze was already starting to die down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy check the rest of the appliances for damage and ensure no other hotspots could reignite, causing another swell of pure affection and, frankly, borderline horniness to rush through Buck’s body.

The team worked efficiently, their movements seamless and practiced. Within minutes, the immediate danger was contained, the oven reduced to a smoldering mess. Eddie called it in to Bobby while Hayes and Tommy began assessing the kitchen’s ventilation system to clear the remaining smoke.

Buck busied himself by checking out (and mourning) the remaining trays of half-burnt cookies and pies, but his mind kept wandering to Tommy. It was surreal seeing him here, grounded instead of flying high above the chaos. Buck had always admired the cool confidence Tommy exuded in the air, but now he was seeing it up close, in action on the ground.

Once the kitchen was declared safe, the teams began packing up their gear. The smoke was thinning, though the acrid smell of burnt sugar lingered in the air. Buck caught Tommy leaning against the wall, his helmet tucked under one arm, looking as composed as ever despite the soot smudged across his cheek.

“So,” Buck said, sidling up to him, “what’s it like working with your feet on the ground for a change?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, that smirk reappearing. “Not bad. Less turbulence, more smoke. And I get to run into you.”

Buck chuckled, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks despite himself. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Yeah, I had to fill in for Callahan. Broke his arm on a call this morning,” Tommy said casually. “Guess I was meant to be here.” He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “You okay? You look a little... out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Buck said quickly, though his heart still hadn’t entirely settled. “It’s just that you don’t meet an absolutely irresistible beast while out on a call.”

Tommy’s smirk grew. “Ah, so I made you look like a lovesick puppy. Figures. I have that effect on people.”

Eddie’s voice cut through their moment. “Buck! We’re wrapping up. Let’s go.”

Buck flinched at the sudden intrusion of his and Tommy’s bubble, and he quickly shot his partner a venomous look, (not that Eddie seemed to care much, judging by the exasperated expression) before turning back to Tommy.

“Duty calls,” he said with a shrug, but he hesitated before stepping away. “I’ll see you later?”

Tommy gave him a small, private smile, the kind that made Buck’s heart flutter in a way that still felt new and thrilling. And then, without a warning, he placed his fingers under Buck’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his chin, before pulling him in.

Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, one that sent a shockwave of warmth through Buck’s body. Almost instinctively, Buck grabbed Tommy’s hips to pull him closer, any space being between them making him feel like he was suffocating. He craved the heat of Tommy’s body, the firmness of his chest, even the smell of smoke and burned gingerbread in his hair.

Despite Buck’s excruciating hunger, he didn’t try to deepen the kiss beyond the chaste, soft peck it was. He wanted to, of course, the craving to rip Tommy’s turnouts off never having gone away, but he knew none of that was something they could do right now. Even just this was highly unprofessional and probably shouldn’t ever have happened, though Buck couldn’t possibly care less about it. His hot boyfriend was hot, and he had initiated smooch time, and Buck was only a man.

Tommy pulled back after a moment, his smirk softening into something tender, and Buck’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes found Tommy’s watching him with that familiar sparkle of pure, unadulterated love.

“Uh, what was that?” Buck chuckled. He tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help the smile that started to creep onto his face. “That wasn’t very…I don’t think Captain Chen and Captain Nash would approve of…”

“I think they would,” Tommy cut him off with a shrug. “You know, just this once. We were legally obligated to, after all.”

At Buck’s quizzical look, he simply pointed upward. Buck followed the gesture, tilting his head back to look up. And his heart nearly stopped. Hanging above them, just barely visible amidst the smoke and the still-swirling chaos of the kitchen, was a small sprig of mistletoe. It was a little toasty, but most of it, including the shiny, bright red bow tied around it, had miraculously survived.

He blinked at it, then back at Tommy, who was now grinning fully, his teeth flashing white despite the soot smudged on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Buck muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up even more. “Mistletoe? In the middle of a kitchen?”

Tommy shrugged, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant. “Rules are rules, babe.”

Buck let out a half-laugh, half-scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.” Tommy repliplied, wiggling his eyebrow. And really, Buck couldn’t argue with that logic, but before he could respond, Eddie’s voice echoed sharply through the kitchen doorway.

“Buck! Seriously, let’s go!”

Buck groaned, giving Tommy one last lingering look. “Duty calls. Again. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Tommy said, his voice warm, his smirk softening into something gentler. “Go save the world, babe.”

Buck pulled Tommy into one more short hug and planted a quick peck to his lips before turning around and jogging over to the door, always aware of the fond expression Tommy watched him with. As he followed Eddie back out the building and to the truck, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, even as Eddie shot him a knowing look.

“Don’t,” Buck said preemptively, waving his hand around. “Not. A. Word.”

Eddie smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

But he didn’t need to. Buck knew what his own face looked like right now, the power Tommy had over him no secret to him. It wasn’t like he cared much, either. He’d been the happiest he had ever been this past year, and if this continued, well.

He wasn’t going to complain.

[s30620]

Chapter 192: Departing For Shimane

I really liked this little look into Zuma and the other delinquents' pasts. He provided a safe space for these lost kids to have fun without getting themselves hurt. I love Unji so much 🥹

It was really shocking to see everybody's curse intensify so quickly. Daiki can't walk, Zuma can't see, and even some of those closest to Momo can't remember her! I find it hard to believe that Seiko is losing memory of Momo, but Jiji can still see and remember her. Does that mean Jiji has more spiritual energy than Seiko?

Also, these bitches are back. Their journey seems to be off to a rocky start 😭 Everything is coming back around!!! We had some flashes back to the acro silky arc and serpo arc when they fought Kouki and her pygmies. Now we are moving to the cursed house arc when the Kito family were introduced, and perhaps the evil eye arc next. Time is a flat circle, the Dandadan is a flat circle. Everything comes back again eventually.

[rekino2114]

Hey man!

I loved the two parter where Sonia cheated on the male reader and Chiaki comforted him before the two eventually got together, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to do something similar with Kirumi where after Miu harshly rejects the male reader, the Ultimate Maid comforts him due to her feelings for him and he eventually falls for her in turn, leading to the two becoming a couple.

Kirumi tojo comforting a rejected reader

A/n:Thanks so much for continuing to request you genuinely have no idea how much that means to me. I'm so glad you liked those posts because i actually took inspiration from the cheating chapters in your books

"Here are the chocolates you asked for y/n"

The ultimate maid says as she hands you an elegant looking box of chocolates

"Thank you, kirumi. I know they'll be wonderful"

She blushes a bit before regaining her composure

"Thank you, may I ask why do you need them?"

"O-oh I was gonna confess to a girl I like and I thought giving her chocolates would be a nice gesture"

Kirumi feels a pit open in her heart at your words but still tries to be supportive

"I......see if you don't mind me asking who is this girl?"

"Y-you promise not to tell her?"

"Y/n, I am a maid, confidentiality is part of my job"

".......i-it's miu"

"Miu?"

"Yeah...what about it?"

"It's nothing she just..... doesn't seem too nice to you"

"She's just like that to everyone"

"I suppose, good luck then"

"Thanks kirumi you're the best"

She bows kindly and thanks you back while the pit in her heart grows even larger, she can't shake off the feeling that miu isn't good enough for you and not just because of her own feelings.

She still leaves and goes back to doing tasks for her other classmates, with you still in her mind

'I wonder why y/n would be interested in miu, she's so mean even to him...... what am I doing? I can't get jealous now. If he likes her, I have to respect it'

She continues to work while worrying about you when after a while she's approached by kaede

"Do you need help kaede?"

".......yeah....it's about y/n"

The green haired girl immediately tenses up at hearing your name

"Hm?"

"You're his close friend right? I thought you could help him better than me"

".......yes I am.....w-what happened?"

"Well....miu rejected him"

"O-oh?"

"She was really harsh too, I tried to comfort him, but he keeps crying in his room, I think you need to go to him"

"Yes definitely, thank you for telling me"

Kirumi instantly goes to your dorm room while mentally cursing the ultimate inventor

'I knew it, I should have stopped him, I knew miu would reject him but I never thought she'd be like this, I need to be there for him....as a friend'

She knocks on your door and waits for you to let her in. When you open it, kirumi's heart breaks, seeing you so sad and desperate. Her instincts take over and she gives you a hug

"K-kiru-"

"Shhhh it's alright y/n, I'm here"

You cry into her for a bit as she strokes your hair. After you finish, she pulls you away but still holds your hand

"I heard from kaede what happened, but she didn't give me all the details. If you're OK with it, would you mind telling me if it's not too painful, of course"

You nodded sadly and began to tell her

"I-i went to confess to miu but she didn't even listen to me at first, and when she finally did she just laughed in my face and told me she would never get with a guy like me since I'm so ugly and t-that I didn't deserve her "gorgeous body" she even threw the chocolates you made in the trash"

You could feel kirumi's hand grip even tighter around yours, a sign of her anger, but she quickly focused back on comforting you

"I want you to know that everything she said is wrong, you're very handsome and any girl would be lucky to have you"

You blush a bit at hearing her calling you handsome

"R-really?"

"Of course, now how about I make some tea and snacks for you, I know you need someone to rely on and I will be that someone"

You wipe the tears from your eyes as a small smile spread across your face

"T-thank you kirumi, you really are the best"

[Timeskip]

It's been a while since miu rejected you, and you can proudly say that you have gotten over it. Thanks in no small part to kirumi. In fact, in this time, you have developed a crush on her instead since she was so nice and helpful to you however you were still too scared to confess because of what happened earlier.

"You really didn't have to help me wash the dishes y/n, it's my duty"

"Oh no, please, I love helping you. You're always so busy. This is the least I could do"

You say with a smile that makes the maid's heart flutter

'That beautiful smile, I'm so glad y/n can smile again after what miu did'

"........I love you so much"

".........k-kirumi?"

When the realization of what she said hits her kirumi blushes and starts getting nervous

"O-oh sorry I didn't mean to say it out loud.....I I apologize greatly-"

"I love you too"

"U-uh?"

"How couldn't I? You've been so helpful all this time, not to mention how incredibly beautiful you are, much more than miu if you ask me"

She giggles a bit while still blushing from your compliment

"Thank you, but are you sure about this, I want you to be comfortable with me, and after what happened with miu, are you OK with dating me?"

"Of course I wouldn't want anything else"

Kirumi smiles brightly and kisses your cheek

"I'm so glad, because I love you so much dear"

[gunpowder-gemini]

Hi I have many many thoughts on Dandadan and where specific characters are going in the story, so incoming ramble posts lol. I've got thoughts on Okarun, Turbo Granny and Kinta specifically.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA THROUGH CH. 175

First up: Okarun!

So obviously he's lost his turbo granny powers bc he's a good boy who keeps promises, but him having yokai curse powers is like, half the concept of the manga right? (The other half being Momo getting powers due to alien abduction). So clearly, he's gonna get them back because we can't just have one of our two main characters permanently sidelined. The question is just HOW.

I'm pretty sure Turbo Granny is gonna come back, she's a major supporting character and she had a whole little montage panel of Reasons To Stay despite her saying she has none but I'll get into that in a different post lol. HOWEVER! I don't think she's gonna give Okarun her powers again. I mean, they're HERS. And she just spent all that time getting them back why would she give them away again? So Okarun can fight? She can use her powers way better than he can, so if they're needed SHE'LL use them.

I think Okarun is gonna develop his own spiritual powers like Momo's.

In the recent chapters it's gone out of the way to highlight how ridiculously fit Okarun is now. Like, SUPER fit. Most obviously in the fitness tests, where he blew everyone out of the water:

But also in the fight against the pygmies he easily kept up with Aira, who was in her yokai form at the time.

Which I mean, it makes sense that he got fit - he's been fighting for his life as an after-school hobby lol. Obviously continually training to handle Turbo Granny's powers AND fighting things would result in him getting incredibly fit. But they've like REALLY emphasized it these past few chapters. It feels like they're really calling attention to it, you know?

But that in and of itself isn't the real reason I suspect he's got his own spiritual powers. It's actually because he can enter Empty Space.

So per the Serpoians, Empty Space is something aliens create that only pulls in humans with high spiritual power so the aliens can capture and study them. It's why once Aira got her acro silky powers she could enter Empty Space.

Okarun's high spiritual power wasn't his, it was Turbo Granny's. He was able to enter Empty Space because he had her power, but without it he's just a normal kid. So once he gave it back he should be unable to enter Empty Space. And yet:

He's gets pulled into Empty Space to fight the pygmies. He himself calls that out as strange! He shouldn't be able to! He doesn't have Granny's power! But there he is! So he must still have high spiritual power!

I think he spent such a long time with Turbo Granny's full power inside him, utilizing it so frequently, that it changed him. Either it awakened latent spiritual power within him or left behind an imprint of itself, I'm not sure lol. But I think he's developed his own version of Turbo Granny's power. I think it'll be a bit different from her, but still similar (I don't think they're gonna give him a completely different power ya know?). I suspect it'll come with a cool form change to his yokai form, like a costume upgrade lmao.

Furthermore, I think this happened because of the Danmanra arc. During that arc, in the final fight against the Fairy-Tale card, Okarun went all out three times.

He's never been able to do that - it's been kinda implied it would kill him. But through the ~power of love~ he managed to pull it off, and I think it is going to have an effect/consequences. I think this moment here changed him in some way, and it might be the catalyst for him developing his own version of Turbo Granny's powers.

Further to that point is Count Saint-Germain. He cornered Okarun, got him to yield and clearly intended to take his powers, but didn't.

I suspect it's because he wanted Turbo Granny's powers, but Okarun no longer has them. I think he either doesn't know Okarun has his own powers, or he does know and is waiting for Okarun to properly awaken them before he takes them. I'm like 90% sure the Empty Space in the pygmy fight was caused by him. Empty Space is pretty clearly outlined to be an Alien Thing and while the pygmies are spirits/yokai/whatever, Count Saint-Germain is probably an alien given his affiliation with the Kur. AND he was the one who gave Keiko the knife and the mission to steal Momo's power. Since Okarun got pulled into that Empty Space, if pretty boy here didn't know Okarun has some hidden spiritual power, he sure does now.

Either way, Okarun yielding to him here is definitely a Chekov's gun that's gotta fire at some point, and I've got theories on that but I'm gonna save them for my post on Turbo Granny lol.

Anyway TLDR; I think Okarun has his own superpowers like Momo now and we're gonna see them awaken in this arc.

Thanks for reading!

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 1)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: a bit fluff, slight angst, no other that I could think of

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

Part 1 ⎮ Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

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The festivities were in full swing. All the guests wore breathtaking ball gowns and suits in every colour imaginable. And the shooting stars above us glistened like jewels from some long forgotten treasure. 

It was Starfall at the Night Court and our High Lord and his High Lady had worked hard to prepare this stunning ball. This year they wished to open Velaris to everyone, so all the other Courts were invited to enjoy this magnificent night. 

I stood on one of the many balconies at the House of Wind, gazing up at the wonderful night sky above me. The stars seemed magical as they came down one by one to greet us like old friends. I closed my eyes to worship this moment. The chatter of our guests echoed up to where I leaned against the marble railing. It cooled my skin, which was still hot and sweaty from all the dancing earlier. The sound of glass clinking, as people toasted each other. Sweet smelling pastries and other delicious treats hovered in the air. My mouth instinctively watered and I subconsciously smiled.

A lovely fresh spring breeze made my black silken dress swirl around my ankles. My hair stood on end at the sensation and I shivered. Taking a deep breath, I let the night-chilled air fill my lungs. I never wanted this tiny fragment of life to pass, as I enjoyed it to the full. Letting it sink into the deepest parts of my soul and surround me like a thick, cosy blanket. I could feel a warmth spreading all over my skin.

The fabric of my dress caressed my legs, as the wind brushed past it. It accentuated my body in all the right places, from my legs up to my hips and to my breasts. A silver necklace curled its way around my neck with a moonstone in shape of a teardrop set in the centre. It shimmered so brightly as if made of a star itself. To complete my look, I´d chosen some silver earrings. Also with a little moonstone. 

The Cursed Princess of the Night. 

That was my title. At least, that’s what other Fae called me. 

I opened my eyes only to pull back suddenly, as a tall, red-haired Fae stood beside me, watching the Starfall. Apparently I must have been under some kind of spell, as I didn’t hear the man approach me from behind. 

He was at least two heads taller than me and wore a dark crimson tunic with golden embroidery and a creamy white linen shirt underneath. The vest looked like it was made out of blood and the linen shirt perfectly showed off his toned muscles on his arm and chest. A few gold rings curled around his long, slender fingers. And his hair. I almost forgot how to breathe. His hair was a kaleidoscope of fiery colours. A blazing fire of red dawn and golden sunset. Neatly brushed back. He smelled of fresh parchment, rain and red wine. A warmth enveloped him, spreading until I could feel it shiver over my hot skin. 

I knew exactly who was standing before of me. The short, flaming hair. The lean figure. His exquisite attire. Standing beside me was the heir of the Autumn Court.

 Eris Vanserra. 

Apparently, I had let my eyes roam over his form for too long, for when I shifted my gaze to look at his face, he was staring right at me. I´ve never felt so exposed in my entire existence. He watched me as if he could peer straight into my very soul. I was in a trance, an comfortable feeling settled in my stomach. Cauldron! He looks like as if he was carved out of fire itself! All I could do was stare at him in awe. His handsome features. The sharp jawline and his amber eyes. A mischievous smirk played across his full lips, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Blushing, I looked down at my feet. 

„What is a beautiful lady like you doing up here? Shouldn´t you be dancing with your family or perhaps with the guests?“ His voice sounded like a stream of molten gold. Delicate and charming, but with a hidden danger to it. I wanted to answer him. I really did. But… I just couldn´t. The words in my mind, but my mouth frozen.

When I didn´t respond, he tilted his head to the side. Like a fox staring at its prey. Something flickered in his eyes. Was that curiosity? 

„Pardon me, where are my manners? I´m Eris Vanserra. Heir to the Autumn Throne.“ He threw an elegant hand gesture in my direction and bowed his head. A few strands of his bright red hair fell loose across his forehead, giving him a cheeky look. 

„And you´re the Princess of Night, I suppose? Y/n, right?“ It was nothing but a statement. Of course he knew who I was. Not sure what to do, I just nodded quickly. 

Gathering some strength, I looked him right in the eye and then leaned back on the balcony beside him. My eyes were on the city below us. Velaris. He simply hummed at me, his eyes also sweeping over the City of Starlight. 

„It´s beautiful“, he commented, „but nothing compared to the view next to me, of course.“, his voice smooth as silk. I´d never met the Autumn Court heir in person, but I knew of his reputation. It was said he was a cruel and arrogant man. There was no trace of it now. Still I couldn´t help but smile shyly at his compliment. Daring a glance in his direction, I blushed uncontrollably. He stared at me again, a shameless grin on his face. What was going on? Normally, I´m not one to be flattered easily. Must be the alcohol… 

I smiled and nodded gratefully at him before turning my gaze back to Velaris. Enjoying the view of the city. My home. 

„Can you keep a secret?“ A hint of humour flashed across his face. I looked at him with big doe eyes, waiting for him to continue. „Starfall looks lovely, but in my opinion, it´s nothing compared to the Autumn equinox.“ A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. „You should visit it one day. Definitely worth it.“ He stared off into the distance, as if lost in a memory. He then began to tell me about the autumn equinox, about his brothers, growing up in his fathers Court. If anyone else had seen us, they probably would´ve mistaken us for old friends. Was I genuinely surprised that he shared such private details of his life with me, a complete stranger? Yes. Did it bother me? No, not in the slightest.  

I could feel myself relaxing as he spoke and Eris clearly didn´t care that I didn´t answer. He simply went on sharing his life with me. And I listened carefully to every word he said. Something about it felt quite intimate, as if he trusted me with his very soul. The man next to me, was the complete opposite of what others said about him. A ticklish feeling crept its way into my chest and somehow I knew he needed… this. Just two strangers standing on a balcony at the House of Wind. One talking, the other listening. He needed this as much as I did.

We remained like that for a while. Just the two of us, Velaris below and the stars falling upon us. Now surrounded by a comfortable silence. Eris decided to break it first.

„I´ve heard tales about you, you know? The cursed daughter.“ A pause. „Some say the Cauldron is to blame for your inability to speak.“ I stiffened at his unexpected honesty. „Why is it you can´t talk?“ A thousand questions sparkled in those beautiful eyes of his. It was nothing new for people to have questions about what was wrong with me. They made up all kinds of tales and theories. I was used to them talking behind my back, but I hadn´t expected him to bring it up. Always at ease with my condition, I was surprised, when something felt out of place. A sensation that had changed. But why? I didn´t even know him. Why would he elicit such a reaction in me? 

Feeling his eyes burning into my skin, I looked up at him, longing to say: I wish I could answer you. I truly want to! But I can´t…

Another expression slipped into his honeydew eyes. Sympathy. As if to tell me: I understand.

My eyes watered, but I didn´t mind. I felt completely lost in those cascades of liquid sunlight. Framed by his long lashes and fine wrinkles. Some others wouldn't even have noticed them. 

My star, where are you? Your mother is worried about you.

The voice of my father echoed in a corner of my mind, jolting me out of my trance. I blinked a few times, glanced at the door behind me and back at the man by my side with something, others might have called a pleading look. I have to go.

Eris understood and gave a deep bow. „It was a pleasure to meet you y/n. Princess of the Night.“ Something about the way he said it didn´t make me dislike that title.

I curtsied and spun around on my heel, sensing that this wasn´t the last time I would run into Eris Vanserra. 

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I spent the rest of the night with my family. Mor had a bit too much to drink, but so had her friend Viviane. They sat on the floor with Amren and Varian on velvet cushions, eagerly talking about some event, that happened recently. Cassian and Nesta were leaning on the great balcony, enveloped in each others arms, enjoying their togetherness. Uncle Az was watching the place, searching for any threats, as always. My father had told him, he had the night off, but why break with old habits. And then, there were my parents. High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Their crowns shone beneath the chandelier. Made of the most precious diamonds. Currently they were engaged in a lively conversation with Helion and some other Fae. Nyx, my older brother was next to them, holding a wine glass. His wings properly tucked behind his back.

I stood silently in a corner, observing the room. Every detail. The glittering embroidery on some of the ball gowns. The crystal glasses and the way the light was refracted in them. A scent from the pastries caught my attention and I took a deep breath. They smelled incredible. I was caught up in a maelstrom of iridescent colours as I watched the dancing guests. A whirlwind that carried me away and consumed me. A feeling crept over me as if something was watching me. Or rather, someone was. I scanned the hall, but found no one. 

Then a deep, nocturnal laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. My father's laughter. Seeing him and my mother so happy, made me smile to myself. I loved them dearly. But every time I saw them like this, something stirred inside me. A familiar feeling tugging at my heart.

Silent as a shadow, I sneaked out of the hall and headed up to my chambers. It was another wonderful Starfall, no doubt, but right now I wanted nothing more than to sleep. To swallow those rising emotions and banish them for the rest of the night. 

I quickly changed into something more comfortable and lay down on the large bed. Burying myself under the sheets, I soon drifted off into a deep sleep. 

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Grey rain clouds darkened the sky and a sharp wind tore through the treetops. Loose, broken leaves were blown from the muddy ground. I felt a piercing cold creep up my bare ankles, like a dead hand reaching for me. My tangled hair fluttered around my face as the panic trapped within my chest threatened to burst. Breathe! Breathe! My heartbeat rose higher and higher. I was dressed in nothing but a white linen dress, which swirled around my hips. The first drops of rain trickled down my pale cheeks. The wind grew stronger by the second, howling like an ancient spirit.

Breathe and open your eyes! My body screamed at me, but I wasn´t listening. Everything felt too much, when suddenly something soft brushed my thigh and the world stopped spinning for a moment. The gentle thuds of paws and a faint squeak could be heard. Slowly, I opened my eyes, only to be met with a fox sitting a few steps away. His thick, orange fur swirled in the breeze and his big, smoky eyes glistened with curiosity. He certainly was adorable with his black socks and the fluffy fur, his ears twitching. Squeaking again, he started running away from me. My body began to wake up, my feet stepping forward on their own.

I followed the little creature through the forest, trying not to loose him. Water splashed onto my legs, as I ran through some puddles. Fern leaves got stuck on my dress. The world around me, began to blur into a stream of pastel colours. A chaos of moss and olive-green leaves. Of grey sky and dark raindrops. Mixed with the scent of petrichor. The fox then slowed down and hid in a dark, narrow tunnel, waiting for me to follow. I took a few steps and stood at the entrance. My hand darted towards the shadows, but before I could to step into them, they consumed me. Suffocated me. Stole my air. My vision. And then slowly sunk into my very being…

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Sunrays shone down on my face. They tickled a bit and I scrunched my nose. A fresh breeze blew through the open windows and filled the room. The fine silver curtains swayed. I pulled the covers over my head, not wanting to stay up. But the birds chirping outside had other plans, so I kicked off the covers and got up.

As I was getting into a pair of black trousers and a bell-sleeved top, the entire house trembled beneath my feet. The birds were startled and fluttered away. What was going on? 

I quickly threw on some shoes and almost ran out of the room. Perhaps it was an earthquake? Hopefully nothing too serious. 

Moments like this made me wish I had inherited my father's wings.    

Hurrying down a long corridor, I made a sharp right turn and nearly stumbled down a flight of stairs. As I was about to pass another staircase, a certain darkness caught my eye. It spilled out from under a double door, which was decorated with intricate silver carvings. 

The conference room. 

Oh, yes. My mother had told me, that there would be a meeting with the other High Lords in the morning to discuss some new arrangements regarding the import of certain materials into the other courts and the continent. It didn't appear to be going well. 

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. As I walked towards the door, a low growl reverberated through the walls. Father. 

„Rhys, let us talk about..“ My mother was cut off. „No! I demand to hear it from him! Who is it?“ His sombre voice was full of wrath. What could´ve possibly made him so upset? 

I stepped closer, not sure if I should knock and disturb them. You could literally feel the tension.

„Rhysand, this is a business council. We´re here to discuss other matters.“ I believed, that was Lord Thesan´s voice speaking. A pregnant pause followed. I could almost see my father glaring at him. „Y/n. It's Y/n.“ I couldn't identify the voice. Someone was gasping for air and mumbled something incomprehensible. After that, no one dared to say another word. 

Why were they talking about me? What was going on in there?

„You are not worthy of her.“ He practically spat out the word. My father´s sudden change of demeanour sent a shiver down my spine. „That decision is not yours to make.“ Heavy footsteps echoed across the room. „Call off your dog, Rhysand.“, Cassian snarled as he was addressed like that. „No need for hostility.“, the voice sounded as nonchalant as it could be.

Eris. 

The darkness around my feet grew thicker. With no clue what had gotten into me, I grabbed the door handle and entered the council room. Not a single person noticed me. Just as I was about to close the door and step into whatever situation awaited me, glass shattered on the wooden floor.

„She is my daughter. You are not entitled to her!“ I could do nothing but watch the scene unfold. „Rhys, you don´t understand. Y/n is my mate. You can´t keep her away from me.“ The air was practically charged with lightning. A tingling sensation, that… 

Wait what?…What did he just say?… I´m his.. his mate?

The room seemed too small now. Time stood still. Even the dust in the air had stopped moving. I inhaled sharply. My thoughts were racing. Pieces of memories flashed my mind.

Last night on the balcony. 

His cheeky grin. 

Mor, a dancing flash of red. 

Stars sparkling above our heads.

A full moon shining as bright as ever.

My parents holding each others hands.

The stories Eris had told me about his childhood. 

I must´ve heard this incorrectly. We hadn't even met each other until yesterday. But now it made sense, why he acted so.. so vulnerable in my presence. I was his mate. He was my mate. I had a mate. This one sentence repeatedly ran through my mind. 

Unconsciously, my foot took a step back at the realisation and one of the planks creaked awkwardly. As if slow motion, all faces turned to me. 

„Darling, I´m so sorry. This wasn´t meant for your...“, my father stuttered, but I couldn´t hear him anymore. His Apology ended in a swirl of pure silence. All I could do was stare at him. Eris. And he looked at me. Straight into my eyes with a shocked expression on his face. „Y/n, I..“, he tried to step forward but Cass stopped him immediately. Someone then gently grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Away from this moment, that just put my entire life upside down. A familiar scent flooded my nose and golden brown hair waved in my vision. The last thing I remember, was the doors closing behind me, as my mother winnowed us to the living room.

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@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 18)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, threat of violence, weapons. ANGST Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 18 -

I slept deeply for so many hours that it was pitch black by the time I came around. I found I was alone and disoriented as I struggled to work out where I was for a moment, peering into the darkness as I sat on the edge of the bed. Whilst I shook off the confused images of my fading dream, I thought I could hear voices. Men's voices, and more than one.

Quietly, I picked my way acros the floor and slipped out of the door into the hall. I tried to be silent with each step as I approached the kitchen, stopping just short of the doorway to listen in. There were more of them than I had expected, and even without seeing them, I felt a little afraid. When the only familiar voice met my ears, it was somewhat comforting to hear J.

"There are three locations for this, all of them are important," he said.

There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

"What about Maroni?" one of the men interjected.

"What about him? We'll deal with him later. Now listen closely," J replied, the hint of irritation in his voice was like a snake winding up for a strike.

The men fell silent again.

"I need you to put the drums, here, here and here. Then we'll rig up the charges. The detonator needs to be long-range."

"Alright, but what about that building there. There could be a lot of people in that one?" Asked another of the men.

"Your point being what exactly?" J countered.

"Well, what if one of them spots us?"

"They won't. We'll be covert."

"And, if the blast damages that block too?"

"Collateral. If you want to make an omelette, you gotta break a few eggs."

J's casual tone pierced me like a knife.

I knew what he was, but I had been distracted by whatever feelings had begun to take root in me; I had lost sight of this side of him. The revelation of the Joker as he was, as I had first met him, burned. He was dangerous, callous and cruel. I felt sick. I wanted so badly to pretend I hadn't heard any of this.

As I moved to head back to the relative safety of the bedroom, my shoulder caught the faded plastic receiver of the wall-mounted phone - a relic of the appartment's past. I managed to catch it before it hit the floor but the clatter of plastic as it came off the hook had already betrayed me.

I hurriedly replaced it into the cradle and darted as quietly as I could back down the hall. I closed the door as softly as I could and practically threw myself back into the bed, tossing the covers over me and turning to face away from the door. I felt my whole body tense in agonising anticipation as foosteps entered the hall.

I cursed my clumsiness and willed myself to stay as still as I could in the total darkness, barely able to draw a breath. A hand was on the door, unlatching it and a bar of light from the hall illuminated the space. Someone stepped through, and pushed it closed softly, leaving only the tiniest sliver of illumination. With each step towards the bed I felt as though my heart was being squeezed. They stopped at my back and I could hear my pulse, blood rushing, in my ears. There was only this and the silence in the room with us.

I could smell the faintest hint of familiar smoky cologne and realised it must be him. At first I felt a tiny bit relieved, but my heart soon dropped as I heard something which sent my hair prickling up my spine:

The clack of a knife springing open.

Silence again poured over me, drowning me as I was forced to remain frozen in place. He seemed to stand there for so long with the open knife in his hand that I began to wonder if he was trying to decide what to do. The entire time my brain was eating itself, desperately trying to think of some way out of this. Should I move as though I was stirring? Or was it better to stay stock still? Was he debating whether to kill me? Did that mean there was a chance I could persuade him not to?

Still silence. Each second was agonizing. My throat burned as I tried to hold my breathing steady.

It took everything in me not to flinch as he finally broke out of the stalemate and reached out a hand to touch me. He bent over me and stroked the hair which had fallen by my cheek with a delicate tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. I still didn't dare to move. Then he gave a kind of frustrated sigh and I heard him put away the knife before his footsteps retreated again. The door opened and closed softly and I gasped in relief as soon as I heard him go down the hall.

As I lay there in the darkness, I began to wonder what they were plotting. People were going to die, that much was certain. My mind was plagued by the harsh reality which had so suddenly been forced into it. How could I have let myself get so tangled up with him? Killing off mobsters was one thing, but this was different...

The words of the crooked cops wound their way into my troubled mind. They had accused me of whoring myself out to him, of pursuing him like the women who seek out relationships with serial killers behind bars. It wasn't true then; the idea had disgusted me. But what about now? I wasn't able to shake the images of what I'd let him to do me, or the feeling of shame at how much i'd enjoyed it.

I curled up into a ball and stayed that way until long after I heard the men leave. I felt so stupid for not taking my chance to escape several times over. Why had I agreed to stay? I had no cellphone, and no one to call if I did anyhow, and until he left I would not get another chance to walk out of the front door without him knowing. I chewed my nails anxiously, trying to workout what I could do.

The sound of him moving around the apartment only heightened my anxiety. Would he consider killing me again? Did he do this every night while I was sleeping? I thought about the weapons stockpile in the other room. What if I took something? Could I use it in defence, or even, could I kill him first? I desperately scrabbled around in my head trying to formulate some kind of plan.

The sound of the door latch made my breath stick in my throat as he entered the room. He flicked on the table lamp and sank down onto his side of the bed. Then he kicked off his shoes and laid down beside me with a rumbling sigh.

I felt his cold hands snake around my mid-section and pull me closer to him. What would have been so comforting just a few hours earlier now felt like a trap. I continued to pretend I was sleeping while he held me, occasionally stroking his thumb against my bare skin. His breath was tickling my shoulder blade as I kept my eyes tightly shut.

It took a long time but eventually the relaxation of his grip and his slower breathing confirmed he had fallen asleep. I was terrified of waking him but I had to get out. I figured until I was fully clothed and about to step out of the door, if he did wake i'd just have to act like I'd got up to shower or eat - just behave as normally as possible. I very, very tentatively slipped out of his arms.

He stirred and I froze, but saw that he quickly resettled without me being in his grasp. I rose up from the bed, slipping along the length of the wall. I wasn't even sure of the time, but it didn't matter. I had to go. It had to be now. I gathered my duffle bag and made it out of the bedroom door. I was too afraid to turn on the hallway light in case it woke him, but knew I had to be careful not to knock the phone down again. As soon as I made it into the blue room, I hurriedly threw on a pair of sweats and a jumper. My fingers were shaking as I laced up my boots and bundled the t-shirt and shorts I had been wearing back into the bag, on top of the clothes and makeup I had put in there back in one of the warehouses.

Here I paused, just for a moment. I felt too afraid to consider where I would go, but I knew if I wanted to have a chance of laying low, I'd need cash. I hurriedly searched the room and it wasn't long before I came across a couple of stacks of dog-eared bills. I stuffed them into my bag and then set to looking at the contents of the crates. Most of the weapons were far too big and specialist for me to consider using. I needed smaller things.

In the end, I pocketed a taser and a handgun. Sliding the magazine out of it, I was able to compare it to the ones it had been laid on top of in the crate. They looked identical, so I took them with me as well. Suddenly, I wondered if the taser also required cartridges and went back to where I'd picked it up. Sure enough, there they were. I stuffed three into my bag. For good measure I grabbed a baton and a set of brass knuckles.

Not wanting to risk being discovered raiding his supplies I hurriedly zipped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder. As I was about to pass back into the hall, something made me pause. On the chair to my right, within reach, was the porcelain face of my carnival mask. I wanted so badly to pick it up, but with the realisation that the bells might give me away, I stopped short. I hurriedly crossed over to another crate and took out a knife. It was stupid but I didn't want to leave it behind so I hurriedly yet meticulously cut each golden bell from the tips of the triangles framing the face, gripping each one to dull the sound. I placed them one by one in a line on the carpet and pocketed the blade.

With the taser in one hand, and the mask in the other, I tip toed my way to the front door. I felt so sure he would know, and be waiting there to laugh at my foolishness for thinking I could outsmart him, but he wasn't. I slowly turned the key in the lock and it clicked open. I could still hear his distant snoring over the buzzing of the refrigerator and figured I was in the clear. I stepped out into the crisp night air and gently closed the door after me.

As soon as I made it down the steps, I bolted like a hare knowing the hunter is at his heels. I ran, and ran, my breath coming out in big swirling clouds of vapour. I darted across the desolate industrial landscape of the docklands, until I finally crossed into the fringes of city blocks, the old tenaments towering over me. I couldn't run any further and had to drop into a fast walk instead, only stopping briefly to stuff the mask into the duffle.

I turned this way and that through the streets until I hit the nearest station. Panting for breath, I staggered up the steps and onto the idling train car just before the doors hissed closed behind me. There were only a handful of other passengers and I collapsed into one of the seats.

I didn't know where to go or what to do, so I decided to ride the trains until I could figure it out. It would help to randomly switch directions occasionally; I didn't want to be tracked down. The fear of discovery was still looming over me - I had just stolen from the Joker and run away into the night. He was not likely to take it well, even if he had promised I could walk away. What had I done? I was in an ungodly mess of a situation... I held my head in my hands defeatedly as the city lights flickered by and the train rattled over the elevated tracks.

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Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨️

[alkaisheonhelp]

Details I Noticed in Dandadan!

Today is number #7 of this series I made and to be honest with you, I have not expected this to gain so many attraction! And for that I thank you sincerely.

Now! For today's topic isss;

The different Aura that effected people!

The anime made Aura's to be this bundle of energy inside you and honestly it's not wrong to say that.

Although by this entire page, you can probably see what I'm talking about.

Aura in the universe of Dandadan is weird, to me at least. It's easy to understand once you know, but it became a little bit more confusing once you factor in momo's power.

Keep in mind that no one else actually can see Aura, I think, even the spirit's can't really see them, they just know that it's there. I think.

Seiko (our standard for anything supernatural, not counting aliens) need to use the mirror and a bucket of water to look inside, it probably means her seeing their aura.

And for all we know, the people that is spiritually aware so far, can't see aura either.

Now, as presented before, we can see how okarun's aura and seiko's aura is different through Momo's eyes.

One engulfed the entirety of their being, while another just sit calmly in the middle of their body.

Although the anime makes it an emphasis using the colors instead. It's kind off clear on the reason why.

Okarun, at that point in time is still cursed, while Seiko is fine with no problem whatsoever. However, when we see Other spirit Aura such as acro-silky

Just like in this page, it looks similar to how a normal aura would look! (Although in the anime they made okarun's(first cursed), turbo granny's, and acro-silky's aura have more black to emphasis the difference between human and spirits, or is it yokai?)

So, with this I made a conclusion that only people not spirits or yokai that are actively being cursed are the ones engulfed in Aura like Okarun. Of course I couldn't be sure 100%, since in the manga, I don't believe we've seen another cursed person just yet. Honestly I hope we see more on how momo's power interact with aura

However! Some of you may say "but Op what about when turbo granny cursed him a second time? Wouldn't that means that his aura would still engulfed him??"

Worry not! Since I do have theory!

As we know, the panel I gave you are the panels in which okarun's was first cursed, having his entire balls and schlong taken. Even with turbo granny stating it clear that yes, this kid is cursed, and yes you have to face me if you want the cursed uplifted

For the second time however, it was when they (kind off) succeed with beating turbo granny, at this point they believe that okarun's fine and well, his organs are back and everything can go back to normal.

That is of course up until he realize his balls are missing.

A major difference in here are the fact that for the first time; turbo granny actually does take his organs with the intention to cursed him.

While for the second one, turbo granny have the intention to stay hidden in okarun's body, so that she could recover while still being hidden.

This is what I think majorly contributed to the fact that okarun's aura isn't engulfing him when he's cursed a second time.

The fact that turbo granny doesn't want to be found.

"Then what about when Granny's power is stuck in him??"

Well looky here;

As you witness I think it probably has the same principle as when okarun's was possessed, but of course without the direct physical changes from turbo granny.

Man, that was long!

Please reminded that this is all for fun, and I did this all by myself without any help!

And may I remind you! This series is for things I wondered/ noticed! Not just the things you might missed, but also things that makes my head spins for a looongg time!

As always, see you in my next post, and I loved to see your own spin on my take. And of course, in a respectful way that is

Welp, that's it for now! Buh byeee!

[thepoggersdilemma]

Apart from mitsunaru, other ships I like to multiship wright with (as a poll, so you can choose a fighter):

I ship him with more characters too but I think these are the ones that I remember, plus look the most as ships in my head.

Ex.: I think it would be fun for him and jean armstrong to know each other from gay bars but they pretend they don't know each other during the AA2 game. Or I also love Fran using her whip on him but that's mostly because of the BDSM factor than her as a character.

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

Spectre x Tera (The Night at the Hotel)

Smut. But you knew that. Here be the warning. Ye have been warned. @cursed-spectre

“You'll like it, we both will~” Tera whispered, looking down at her shape-shifting girlfriend, now in a dissasembly drone form rather then her more human one.

She hadn't asked her to change for any aesthetic reason, Tera would think Spectre was beautiful regardless of the form she took; no, she'd asked for a very specific reason.

Tera drank in the form of her girlfriend, feeling her tail twitch with anticipation. Then, she leant down and pressed a deep, lengthy kiss on her core. Letting Spectre's hand fall back to press against Tera's own.

Spectre gasped at the contact, hands gripping into her fiancé’s hair as she kissed every exposed inch, fangs lightly scraping against the casing, her tongue following to seal the miniscule amount of damage.

For the simple reason that she knew how to make a drone unravel.

The small claws on the tips of her fingers dragged over the rubber, memorizing every unique rivet and bump, even when she knew the next time they would be slightly different, but that didn't deter her, if anything it just meant she got to do it all over again.

Spectre let out a soft moan, closing her eyes and letting the sensation wash over her, a ball of nerves already tightening in her chest.

She thumbed into Tera's core, the drone above her purring in approval, paired with soft growls and groans of pleasure. Her tail arcs up as the sensation rolls down her spine.

Tera trailed kisses up to her collarbone, hands dipping under to crop top to shuck it off so her hands could travel unimpeded over her chest, claws scratching up the surface to activate every (Though in this case fake) sensor she came acros.

When Spectre's tail wraps around her own and rubs down the braided cord she moans, and she returns the favor, the head of her tail clamping onto the vial.

“Ah Fuck~” Spectre wheezes out, the intensity of the feeling surprising. “S-so t-thats what that feels like~ mnn~”

Tera laughs; chuckling. “Mmhmm~”

She can't keep the laugh up when Spectre latches teeth onto her shoulder though, laughter transitioning into a yowl of pleasure.

“Ahn!~ Shit… fuck~” A plethora of curses tumble from her mouth as the smallest bit of oil drools from the wound. Spectre pulls off, slightly concerned but her eyes hollow when Tera forcefully makes her latch on again.

“Don't you fucking dare~” She grunts, eyelights starting to roll into the back of her head when her teeth sink in again.

Spectre throws her head back when Tera leans back down and bites and licks into the sensitive plating over her core, claws scratching up Tera's back and over her wing scars, which produces long and delighted vibrations directly into her core from Tera's mouth.

Spectre sinks the tips of her claws into Tera's wing scars, which makes the drones back arch and yelp. “Spectre! Hah! Ngh…” Her port opens like it's spring loaded, steam wafting from it.

Spectre laughs. “Aww… guess that's it Kit- mmph-!” She's cut off by a desperate kiss, Tera throwing off the miniskirt and beginning to softly grind their hips together. “Nuh-uh~” She parts just long enough to say before all the attention turns to Spectre.

Just because drones don't have the same equipment, it doesn't mean they aren't sensitive there. Humans did design them after all…

“Tera- hah, hu‐ mmmn!”

Pleasure eddied up her spine, Tera unrelenting on the licking and kissing of her core, to the point the living shadow began to squirm under her, panting and trying to regain her breath.

Tera lightly pulls on her tail, taking a finger and her thumb and lightly rubbing on the sensitive cannister on the end of her tail, claws dug into Tera's back hard enough to draw oil, but her pleased grunt showed she liked it.

Spectre's form starts to melt, dissolving a bit at the edges as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. “Te-era, w-wai-ah!”

Wait she did not, the pressure on her tail, still on her core, and between the sensitive plating on her tail was working up something entirely new in her core, her visor glitched as she grinded thier hips hard and mindlessly, chasing whatever it was like a desperate animal.

She squeezed the vial perfectly, not too rough to cause oversensitivity and just enough to push Spectre over the edge. “AH!~”

Acid burst out of the end of her tail, splattering on the floor, a long moan followed, and the port on Spectre's chest opened, even though where it led was nowhere.

Her form melted more, Thankfully hearing her partner come undone made whatever was building up in Tera's core snap suddenly. “Fu-zzzzht!”

Her wings shot out and arched up, trembling as they spread out above her, the muscles tensing tight as she hit her limit.

Her visor filled with her own code, strings describing thoughts, bits of trait data, and bits of junk data racing down her visor like she was being hacked in one of those cheesy hacker movies until it was replaced with [PACKET STORM! REBOOT!]

Her visor blinks off and she shuts off, falling limp to Spectre's side…

[xxxnightcorequeenxxxv3]

Here is a cursed thought. With the wast multiverse, there is likely a universe Joker & Harley and Bruce, and the kids have swapped themes.

Like Joker & Harley are now bat and bird themed.

While Bruce and the Kids have a full "circus". Did the ppl on discord make lore yes they did. -Instead of the Batcave, they have the Clown Car, a mobile base of operations that started life as a double decker bus and is now a two-story tank. - they shorten Contortionist to Torte on coms. - Someone (probs a rogue) tries to shorten “Acrobat” to “Little Bat” once, and not only is Batman(evil) offended, so is the kid in question Me adding lore : first time Bruce takes all the kids with to help with the JL.

They pour out of it and it seamly fits more than what should be possible.

What can I say? Dick trained his family well, and their just as elastic as him. I'd like to imagine the bus has one of the customs air horns. just warn the pedestrians that they are coming in hot. The Vengabus, lol Bruce's personas swap, the persona is closer to the og dark night.

we "emo bruce Wayne". but hero Bruice, just to mess with ppl. List of called:

OG Joker = Batman

Harleen Quinzel= Robin

Joker = Bruce 🌼

Ringmater= Alfred 🎩

Harlequin = Cas ◼️

Jester = Tim ♦️

Contortionist = Dick ♠️

Acrobat = Dami (*This is the robin title in this universe*) ♣️

Stuntman= Jay ♥️

Trickster = Stef 🔺

Magician = Babs 🔴

Duke ⭐

Mime is batgirl eqivelant. Tim and Cas Play up being "Trouble Twins". They jump out of the bus on jet-powered rollerblades. to get through the allys. Like, I see them going as far as being able to skate up a building. doing a quadruple back filp back into the roof access point on the bus. cackling all the while treating gravity like a plaything.

Do clowns fly? In gotham they do! on coms Acro is what the team uses, for Damien. Alfie Drives the bus.

I do have a few more sketches, but they are so bad that only the discord in question got to see them.

[jinxedruby]

Whumptober Day Twenty-Seven: Voiceless

Featuring Legend (and Warriors, technically, but he's only there for, like, three paragraphs lol)

The continuation to day fourteen: hunting gear (the one where Warriors and Legend fight some hunters in the woods)

Heads up for some major violence, major injury, minor character death (bad guys), and a dead body (not very graphic, but it's there) in this one.

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

-------------------------------

The CLANG of the man’s sword against Warriors’ rang repeatedly in Legend’s long ears. He scurried around behind the tree he and Warriors had hid behind, trying to give himself more time to dig through his pouch with his stupid little paws. Blond and blue moved in a blur as Warriors twisted to one side, colliding into the tree with a grunt. A sword streaked toward his head. A spike of panic pierced Legend’s heart. The blade stabbed somewhere on the other side of the captain’s head. But Warriors kept moving so it must have missed and Legend let out a breath, resuming his search. The man grunted and Legend glanced up again, poking his little head around the tree to see Warriors’ sword embedded deep in the man’s stomach. A smudge of brown and gray caught his eye. He looked over to see an archer some distance away, loading a yellow bolt into his crossbow.

“Captain!” Legend yelled.

Warriors’ head snapped to the side to see the archer. But the man on the end of his sword planted a boot on Warriors’ chest, holding him in place as the archer took aim. Legend cursed, paws shaking as he fumbled through his pouch. His paw brushed against something smooth and round.

Something jerked in his chest and the world twisted around him. Paws turned to hands and fur turned to hair. He launched forward the moment he had legs again. He closed the distance in a split second. He dove for the archer with a shout. His shoulder slammed into the archer’s middle just as the man fired. His shot went wide as Legend tackled him to the ground, the bolt firing somewhere into the trees and missing Warriors.

Legend and the man rolled. He made a grab for the crossbow, but the archer whipped it across Legend’s face. He grunted, the force of the blow knocking him off the man and onto his side. He scrambled back, eyes watering. He blinked the reflexive tears from his eyes just in time to see the archer lunge for him. Frantically, he shoved himself up and dove out of the way. He staggered to his feet as he did, reaching back for his sword. Only when his hand hit nothing but his cap did he remember dropping his weapon when he’d been shot. He cursed, backpedaling as the archer surged toward him. His heart thudded rapidly in his throat because he didn’t have his shield either. It must have fallen just before he transformed, lost somewhere in the grass along with his sword.

The man lunged. Legend darted to the side, boots slipping in the grass and sending him crashing to his elbows. His hands and boots skid in the dirt as he struggled to keep moving. A hand locked around his ankle and yanked. He slammed into the ground with a grunt. He twisted, trying to kick the man with his other leg. His heel clipped the side of the man’s face, leaving behind a streak of dirt and blood. The man dragged Legend toward him and launched forward in the same motion. Legend threw his arms up with a shout as the man hefted the crossbow. It cracked across his arms instead of his head, pain exploding through his bones. He yelled, wrenched a leg up as the man fought his way on top, drove his knee into the man’s gut. The man grunted but didn’t seem deterred, grabbing a fistful of Legend’s collar and shoving him down. The ground met the back of Legend’s head with a snap, stars bursting into his vision. Knees squeezed both sides of his hips and the crossbow crashed against his arms again. Panic jolted in his gut, speared through his heart and his hearing buzzed. He clawed at any inch of the man he could reach, nails slashing across the side of the man’s neck. The crossbow came down on his raised arms again and again and again. One blow clipped the underside of his chin, throwing his head back against the ground. In the brief daze after the hit, the crossbow slammed down on his throat.

He gagged nearly hard enough to vomit, black specks leaping into his vision. His head began pounding with pressure immediately as the man shoved all his weight into the crossbow on Legend’s neck. Legend flailed for a moment before his scrabbling fingers found the crossbow. He shoved upwards as hard as he could, forcing the side of his face to the grass beneath him, anything to get blood into his head before he passed out. He got a split second of reprieve before the man doubled his efforts. He jammed the weapon tight across Legend’s throat again, pressure stuffing the collector’s head to the point of popping.

His hand slipped off the crossbow. The pressure on his throat spiked in tandem with the pressure in his skull and he nearly blacked out then and there. He fought to regain his grip on the weapon, twisting his head farther to the side, gasping like a dying fish. His heels dug gouges into the dirt as he kicked reflexively, but the man knelt over his middle, out of reach of Legend’s legs. Distantly, Legend thought he heard Warriors shouting for him. His voice sounded muffled. A little blob of royal blue darted in Legend’s side-turned vision, blocked by two dark splotches that kept dancing in its way.

Legend forced an arm between his shoulder and the crossbow like a wedge. His other hand shot out to the side, blindly sweeping across the ground. The pressure tripled, forcing a drowned gag across his tongue. His fingers raked wildly through the grass. They scraped past something cool. He wrapped them around the rock. He swung it upwards with all his strength.

It crashed into the man’s cheek. He let out a cry, pitching sideways. Legend reached up and clutched two fistfuls of the man’s shirt. He dug the soles of his boots into the ground, shoved with both arms, and threw himself up and over. The crossbow vanished at some point in the struggle. Fingers twisted into his hair, nails dug into his middle. His stomach lurched as the man kept rolling. Just before hitting the ground again, he noticed another flash of royal blue. Warriors, forcing his way past the men he fought. Eyes stretched wide, mouth open in a scream.

Instead of hitting the ground, Legend continued past it. His and the man’s combined momentum sent them wheeling over each other and straight off the cliff. Wind lashed at Legend’s face and his mind blanked. The thought, Oh, it’s close, zipped through his head. He and the man twisted in free fall, still clutching each other as if their fight hadn’t been horribly interrupted. The man’s face morphed from shock, to a scowl, to terror as the world spun around them. Legend caught a glimpse of the night sky so far above them, white stars sprayed across the black. Wind roared in his ears. Then the cliff wall streaked past then treetops and the man screamed and pain-

****

Blinding agony drowned him. He languished for a moment, an eternity.

His neck twisted. His eyes snapped into focus.

He tried to move but something pressed heavily against him, trapping him on the ground. He squirmed, hands finding unfamiliar fabric. He gasped with effort as he bent his knees and shoved at the weight atop him. Pain pounded in his head, shredded through his leg. He clenched his jaw against it, the frantic panic of feeling trapped fueling him. Eventually, he managed to heave himself out from under the weight. The moment he was free, he sat bolt upright with a gasp, the air raking down his throat like gravel. His throat burned violently, tears springing into his eyes. He clawed at his chest as pink light faded from his vision. Looking up, he saw a fairy spiral into the night sky and zip out of sight. He stared after it for a long moment, blinking, breathing, pawing idly at his aching ribs. He lowered his head to assess himself for injuries.

His neck popped at the movement.

A scream wrenched from his lungs but caught in his damaged throat and pinched off into a croak, terror seizing his heart and crushing it. The fall, the ground, his head, the sickening, splitting crack of his spine.

He twisted onto his side and vomited into the grass.

He heaved in air, ragged and strained, fighting onto his hands and knees before he threw up again. Red streaked through the bile. Probably from when his pelvis shattered and fragments of bone shredded his guts-

He vomited a third time, an anguished sob following it. The action only made his throat hurt worse. He sucked in a haggard breath, exhaled another strangled cry. He spat and rocked back on his knees, hot tears forcing their way out of bruised eyes. His hands fluttered frantically across his chest and throat, trembling violently as they traced the vertebrae in the back of his neck. The bones sat in a nice, neat row, just as they were supposed to. Unlike thirty seconds ago and he had to force his focus elsewhere to keep from retching yet again.

He lifted his head and immediately regretted it.

The thing that had been weighing him down, the body, lay in a heap before him. Under the cover of night, he couldn’t make out many details. He could make out enough to see the unnatural collapse in the man’s back, an odd bulge between his shoulder blades where there should have been a flat surface. Legend gagged, whirling away from the sight. He pressed the back of his hand to his lips, screwing his eyes shut until he saw stars.

Once he no longer felt on the verge of losing what little stomach contents he had left, he carefully moved to his knees. The various aches in his head, throat, and knee made themselves known again, the fairy that healed him apparently having only prioritized the immediately life-ending wounds. He shifted around and sat down, reaching back for his pouch with a shaking hand. The bag itself had been squashed in the fall, but the enchantments on it kept the contents from being damaged. Everything had been thrown into even more disarray than usual, however.

He spent a minute sorting through it, trying to locate his potions. His fingers closed around what felt like a bottle and he withdrew it. He pulled out the cork, tipped the bottle against his lips, and immediately spluttered and choked when he tried to swallow. Needles dug deep into his throat, igniting with white-hot flames when he tried to use it. He pitched forward, tears springing to his eyes as he desperately tried to calm the reflexive coughing. Everything burned and a scream bubbled in his chest from the agony of it all but he couldn’t release it without making everything hurt even more. One reedy breath shivered to his lungs, then another, cautious and slow until he could breathe again without risk of choking. With trembling hands, he traded his potion for a roll of gauze. If he couldn’t heal himself, he could at least wrap his knee.

As he wound the gauze around the joint, he became aware of just how quiet the night sounded. Warriors had been fighting against the other men, hadn’t he? But as he listened, Legend could hear nothing except the occasional breeze rustling through leaves. He craned his head back, staring up at the cliff top high overhead. It carved a rough silhouette against the night sky, devoid of any figures atop it. If Warriors had finished fighting, Legend imagined that he’d come check immediately to see if Legend had survived. Maybe he’d already checked and thought Legend was dead.

Another thought struck him. Legend went cold.

Maybe Warriors hadn’t won the fight.

Heart rapidly picking up speed, Legend hastily finished the sloppy wrapping of his leg. He jammed the leftover gauze into his pouch and scrambled to his feet. A sharp ache speared through his knee, subdued only somewhat by the wrapping, and he hissed through his teeth, hopping on his other leg. He limped toward the broken body of the man. He swallowed thickly, trying his best not to look at the wounds as he searched the body for weapons. He spotted a quiver on the man’s hip and leaned over to inspect it. Only four bolts remained in the quiver, the rest probably having scattered in the fall. Legend didn’t have time to scour the area for every arrow so he just took the four. He paused before putting them under his belt as he saw the weird glass balls on the tips instead of arrowheads. Something within the glass glowed a dim yellow. He frowned. Were these what he’d been hit with? It had forced him into his Dark World form. The yellow stars that burst out of the bolt on impact reminded him of similar beams that would cancel the effect of his moon pearl for a while. With a shake of his head, he tucked them under his belt, glancing around for the crossbow. He could think about this later.

Just as he started to doubt the weapon had fallen with them, his eyes fell on its form in the grass. He scooped it up, turning it over in his hands and quickly inspecting it for damage. A large crack zagged up the main wooden stalk of the weapon, but it held together. He realized then that he’d never actually used a crossbow before. He hadn’t even seen one before starting this journey with the others, had learned the term from Twilight. He fiddled with the weapon, trying to puzzle out how to make it work. He’d seen Twilight use it once or twice before, but the rancher typically used the kind of bow Legend was used to. He tried to draw on the vague memory of watching Twilight use it, eventually fumbling his way into loading a bolt.

He hadn’t intended to fire it but his finger tugged against a small lever on the bottom of the weapon. The string snapped taut with a loud twang that made Legend yelp in surprise. The bolt he’d loaded launched from the weapon and slammed into a tree. The glass ball shattered on impact and a bright yellow light flared. It dissipated barely a moment later, leaving Legend blinking to readjust his eyes. He breathed hard, staring at the space the light had been. Well. He was down a bolt but at least he knew how to operate the weapon, now. He hooked it somewhat securely to his belt.

An idea striking him, he reached into his pouch. He fished around for his moon pearl and pulled it out, cord dangling. He pulled it over his head and tucked the pearl itself under his tunic so it rested on the bare skin of his chest. If the beams worked like they did in the Dark World, he’d still be transformed if he got hit. Hopefully with the moon pearl, the effect would only be temporary and he’d turn back without having to take the time to get the pearl out.

The captain. Legend jolted, gaze snapping to the clifftop again. He hobbled as quickly as he could to the base of the cliff, wracking his brain for a way to get back to the top. Climbing with his leg was out of the question and walking around until he found a path to the top would take time Warriors might not have. He plunged a hand into his pouch, rifling through his items both there and in his head. He remembered flying on a witch’s broom, wishing she could help him. Considering the beams from his era and the familiarity of the land, he rang the bell to call Irene just in case. After a short while spent waiting, he decided the time must be displaced just far enough for her to not be around.

Frustration prickled in his face as he dug through his pouch. Surely he had an item to help him fly, levitate, something. He had an item for everything. Rings and capes and canes and- He gasped sharply. He rummaged for a moment, hand closing around a rod. He yanked it out, green propeller twirling at the end from the motion. He glanced up at the cliff top. The tornado rod had never sent him up so high, but maybe if he fed it enough magic…

His tongue darted across his lips, nervousness trickling into his veins. He stepped as close to the cliff side as he dared, eyeing it uneasily. The thought of launching himself so high into the air after… after made his stomach turn. But he thought of the silence, of Warriors in probable danger and he narrowed his eyes, forcing the fear away. Gripping the tornado rod tightly in both hands, he let out a slow breath, gathering his magic in his core. He fed a little into the rod, watched the propeller jump to life. He spread his stance, heart thumping rapidly against his ribs. Then he forced his magic into the rod.

The propeller shredded the air and the rod shot upwards. Legend let out a choked shout, the momentum yanking him straight off the ground and nearly ripping his arms out of their sockets. He held on for dear life, jaw clenched, the cliff wall a blur of brown and gray before him as he streaked upwards. He heard the rapid thumping of the propeller slow, stomach lifting with the change in speed. He sailed beyond the clifftop and abruptly realized he hadn’t planned out how to move forward in order to actually land on it. His heart lurched into his throat as his momentum rapidly slowed. He pedaled his legs more out of reflex than anything, hastily stuffing the tornado rod back into his pouch. In the same motion, just as he reached his peak height, he found a bundle of fabric and pulled it out.

His stomach flipped as gravity caught hold of him again. The memory of the snap of his head meeting the ground far below rushed vividly through him. Terror plugged up his veins, seizing his muscles. He forced a harsh yell through his damaged throat, grabbing the bundle of fabric by the collar and holding it at his shoulders. The cape snapped open behind him. His gut lurched yet again as he bobbed upwards and forwards just slightly. He glided over the cliff top just as the cape went slack again. He plummeted the short distance to it. His boots slammed into the ground, the impact jolting all the way to his hips, exploding in his wounded knee. He yelped, collapsing forward onto his face, losing his grip on his cape.

He lay there for a long moment, trembling violently. The rich smell of earth and grass filled his nose. Blood roared in his ears. Pain throbbed in his leg and throat, ached through his entire body. Eventually, he pushed himself up with shaking arms. His vision blurred at the edges. He dimly registered his Roc’s cape in a crumpled heap on the ground before him, streaked with dirt. He dragged his knees underneath him and hauled himself forward, reaching out for the cape and gathering it into his arms. He tried to take steadying breaths as he shoved the cape back into his pouch, only marginally calming the fierce trembling of his body. He attempted to get to his feet once, twice, only succeeding after the third try.

The captain, he reminded himself. He limped forward, eyes scanning his surroundings. He stood alone on the clifftop, neither Warriors nor any of the men anywhere to be seen. Shivering, he continued to move forward. There must have been some kind of clue as to what happened or where Warriors might have gone. At least there wasn’t a dead captain. Legend tried to hold onto that. As he looked, he noticed a gleam of orange metal half-hidden behind a bush. He let out a relieved breath, hurrying toward it. Sure enough, as he rounded the bush, his sword and shield came into view. He leaned all his weight onto his good leg as he stooped to pick it up. He wiped the blade clear of dirt on the skirt of his tunic before sheathing the weapon. The familiar weight of the sword on his back loosened the vice grip on his heart just a bit.

Movement rustled ahead of him as he stowed his shield on his back. His heart stilled and he carefully ducked behind the bush, peering around it. Two men walked through the forest ahead of him, talking in low voices. Legend swallowed, regretted it as his throat burned. Grimacing, he loaded the crossbow. He caught a few snatches of the conversation, making out the words not interesting and bodies. It took him a couple tries to get the crossbow loaded, his heart beating faster the longer it took.

A noise of surprise sounded from the men. He snapped his head up. One of the men looked directly at him with wide eyes. He sharply tapped his companion’s shoulder, pointing. Legend fumbled to raise the crossbow as the men broke into a run toward him. His cramping hands shook as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. One of the men noticed and dove to the side. The other didn’t react fast enough before Legend fired. He grunted as the force of the shot nearly made him lose his grip. The bolt slammed into the man’s chest. He vanished in a flash of smoke and yellow light. In his place, stood a small creature no higher than his knee with no arms and a single antler twisting up from its round head. Legend stared, eyes wide. The sight of the creature banished any remaining doubt he may have had about the crossbow bolts. He’d only ever seen creatures like that in the Dark World as the place twisted the shapes of men into monsters.

The creature yelped and scurried away. Legend spun to face the other man, snatching another bolt from under his belt. The man took one look at him, turned tail, and ran. Legend hesitated before lunging to his feet. He staggered under the pain of his knee, gritting his teeth. The man glanced back and Legend yanked the crossbow up, pointing it at him even though it wasn’t loaded. It did the trick, the man whipping his head back around and continuing to run away. Legend hobbled after him as quickly as he could. He ducked behind trees as he went, trying to make the man think he wasn’t in pursuit. He attempted to keep his steps light, but the pain in his knee causing him to limp made the task difficult. Even so, after chasing the man long enough to nearly lose him several times, the man began to slow. Legend pressed himself against a tree, carefully peeking around it to watch the man. The man looked around hurriedly, planting his hands on his hips as he panted. Legend pulled back behind the tree again, straining his ears for footsteps.

The man might lead him to the other hunters. Hopefully, that would also mean leading him to Warriors. If he’s still alive, a little voice whispered in the back of Legend’s mind. He gave his head a shake, pushing the thought away. If the men had killed Warriors, his body would likely be by the cliff. People were going missing. Legend began to suspect he and Warriors had unwittingly found the perpetrators.

(Continued here)