#on second thought this is not a drabble

[ghost-bxrd]

Scrapped part from the JayTim spite fic that I judged a little too cracky but still wanted to share anyways 😂

[hvackisser]

🌈 Welcome to WLWeek 2024 🌈

Hello everyone, I wanted to put together a nice, low-pressure event dedicated to my fellow wlw self shippers for one week of June because it's pride month, babey!! This is the first time I've ever tried to 'organize' an event, so take it easy on me, I'll try to be as communicative as possible and if anyone has questions about it, asks and DMs are always open!

On to the details! Its gonna last from Monday the 10th through Friday the 14th, and anyone can opt in or out as they see fit! No one is obligated to participate throughout the entire week or from the beginning alone, just do what you feel like!

RULES:

NO PROSHIPPERS/COMSHIPPERS/NEUTRAL, all blogs with that will be blocked on sight!

Obviously don't participate if you're not wlw/not shipping with a female character

Lesbians, bisexual, pansexual, sapphic, and once again general wlw/nblw are welcome!

Essentially I am tolerating NO funny business, and I won't tolerate bullying either so everyone be very niceys and hey, try to support each other! 💖💖💖 now onto the prompt list

Monday June 10th: Favorite style/aesthetic-

draw you and your female f/o in your favorite clothing style (goth, Y2K, cottagecore, etc.) Or what you think their favorite style would be! alt. for writers, write a drabble about going shopping for these outfits with your f/o!

Tuesday June 11th: Morning routine -

draw you and your female f/o getting ready for the day. Who's the early riser and who's dragging them back into bed? alt. for writers, write an early morning cuddle session/chat. 

Wednesday June 12th: Date night-

draw you and your female f/o on a date! Is it a dinner, a picnic? Are you guys dressed to the nines or at home in your jammies? Alt. for writers, write a date gone slightly awry. How do you fix things/compromise? 

Thursday June 13th: Beach day-

it's summertime, draw you and your female f/o in beachwear and enjoying the sun and sand! alt. for writers, write out a nice dip in the ocean! Can you swim? Can your f/o? Does one have to teach the other? Is it nice and relaxed or does it dissolve into splash fighting? 

Friday June 14th: Role/Ship Swap -

draw your f/o as the self shipper and you as the fictional character role they fill! What kind of s/i do they make? Would they write fanfic, draw fanart? Alt. for writers, write a gush post from ur f/o's point of view! 

And that's it!! Do one of them, do all of them, or do none of them, it's your choice! I just wanted to show some love to my fellow wlw self shippers out there this month and so something fun for them!

Now if you got this far and you read the rules make sure to put 'great googly moogly' in the tags when u rb! And don't forget to tag my blog here when you write/draw for this event!!! 🫶🫶 everyone who does will get a rb from me and a little promo as well, and maybe even a follow cause I need more wlw mutuals :3

[snkyou]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[macaqueconfession]

What if the mc overblots & how.

Ok what if the mc is like a sponge and absorbs the blot magic every time their exposed to it. Like in ch1 when riddle used his unique magic on every one and the mc just absorbed a little magic. It increases as time goes on, and depending on how ch7 ends they just brake.

They can't stand the thought of leaving and running the risk that could forget all about twisted wonderland and all their friends and the adventures they had(they might think it was a dream) they can't leave them. And at first it starts off like an emotional scene where their talking to the people who they spend most of their time with in twst, and then chaos hits the fan. The mc overblots whether it some body horror/a semi regular overblot, the dorm leaders and dorm mates rally together to bring back the mc to their senses and help them like they helped them.

If the game continues after ch7 which I think it will hopefully, they can send the mc home but have it so that they either visit or view the twst boys throw a mirror or something.

[starry-sophrosyne]

Is it maybe a little pretentious to have my persona be more.. god like? Perhaps- XD

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In one manner, Starry is a sovereign of the night sky, the stars at dusk. She watches over the world, spanning across several universes, and her domains resides above them all. She spends her time watching over the little people in their worlds, embarking on journeys, meeting strife, falling to love and loss. She does not instill fate, she simply watches, but she knows of what is to come. She does not exist to any of them, as a concept outside of their universe, the goddess of their gods. And yet?

In another manner, she is nothing. Nothing omnipotent or all-powerful about her, other than her regal/elegant looks. She is a big nerd at heart, kicking her feet and giggling at people's writings and aus. She may have curved horns and stars dotting midnight skin, but she is no more of a god than a human wearing a yellow poncho. She resides our with the community and has the niche ability to summon a blue martini glass that she can communicate through/physically embody if need be. Why? Comedic humor. XD /hj /silly

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Starry & Rosyne's designs :

----------- Self-Insert designs below ----------

Clique's Angel au :

Starry's TTOS au :

Swizard's maidpocalypse "au" :

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

… bro.. that is the most well characterized and most beautiful Knuckles fic I have ever read, oh, my god….. bro

Bro???? Bro???? Fr???? |;A;/ OUGH THANK YOU? I’M GLAD YOU THINK SO

[jayparked]

me crawling out of bed and towards my pc so i can get back to writing

[good-beanswrites]

Hear me out:

Kotoko adopted Es, and Fuuta went ballistic.

Rip Fuuta... he can never catch a break... Asdfsdf thank you for this, it was a blast thinking of all the ridiculous ways this could have played out! (One possibility I toyed with was Fuuta's competitive instincts take over, he fights her for Es, only to realize too late "*I* don't want to be responsible for a whole child WAIT") It's a similar format to the last one, with a knock-at-the-door reveal, but I still think it works 😂

“Don’t fuck with me, Es.”

“I would never.”

Lying brat. Fuuta knew they would every chance that they got. It was the reason he was so relieved that Es decided to find somewhere else to live after Milgram’s end. Fuuta had nothing left to fear from his former warden, but the others’ suggestions that Es become his new roommate still made him shudder. Three interrogations in a closed space with the rude kid were enough for him, thank you very much.

However, it wasn’t all a relief. He couldn’t help feeling concerned about who they’d gone to live with. Given how cryptic they were being, Fuuta would have been convinced they walked into the woods to find a furry family of Jackalopes or something to raise them –except, they showed up for this walk with clean clothing and internet access. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re fucking with me right now. Why can’t you just tell me who it is?” 

“It isn’t any of your concern. Hey, I thought you swore to stay out of others’ business. You turned over a new leaf and all that?”

“Tch. I meant other people’s business. You’re different.” 

If Es had vanished off the grid like some of the other prisoners, Fuuta wouldn’t have cared. But they were here, near enough to arrange some lame meetup, which meant they were going to remain in his life for a while longer. And that meant, as the model citizen that Fuuta was, he felt responsible for ensuring they didn’t get themselves kidnapped by some creep. 

He asked, “how much do you know about them, anyway? I mean, what kind of person can house a random weird kid on incredibly short notice? That’s definitely suspicious.”

Fuuta pulled the mask up on his face as they turned down a more crowded street. He knew people were going to gawk at his eye anyways, but it still helped him feel like he was blending in. With his thoughts on the injury for a moment, he was glad that bitch Kotoko was one of the prisoners who had gone off the grid. Good riddance.

“I promise, she’s fine. Not weird with children at all. In fact, she’s really good with them, which is why she could help me on such short notice.” They muttered, “but it’s not like I’m that young…”

“That’s still not normal. Is she some old housewife or something?”

“Ah, are you trying to do the interrogation this time? Actually, I’d say she’s around your age.”

“It’s just you two living alone? I’m still worried about Milgram coming looking for us again – can a girl like that really protect you?”

“Is everyone supposed to live with a big, strong man, like you?”

“Wha–!” Fuuta’s cheeks burned red. “That’s not what I –!”

“I’m only teasing. It’s cute that you care about me.”

That only agitated him more. “It’s not cute! I’m being realistic! One of us has to think about your safety while you’re just distracted by some pretty girl.”

“What makes you think she’s pretty?”

“Well, why else would you be so careless in deciding to live with her?”

All of the sudden, he saw it in Es’ eyes: that spark of mischief that Fuuta had come to loathe. He could never tell what they were plotting, but it was never a good sign.

Es held up their hands in mock surrender. They put on a ridiculous, overdramatic voice. “Ah, you caught me, Fuuta! I’m hiding her identity because she’s the most beautiful, capable woman in all of Japan, and I want to keep her all to myself!” 

He groaned, but they weren’t deterred. “She’s got everything, I couldn’t risk you falling for her! She’s quite capable of defending me. She’s very strong, with protective instincts much like your own. She understands our situation like no one else could. She’s got intense eyes, and you wouldn’t believe her singing voice. She enjoys deep conversations, she’s a dog person, she –”

“ – now you’re being the creep! Just shut up, I get it already...”

When they finally had the decency to pull it together, they reassured him. “It’s all true, though. So there’s no need to worry about me. I’m in good hands.”

Good hands, his ass. In only a brief conversation, the caretaker had gone from sounding a little suspicious to sounding way too good to be true… meaning she was extremely suspicious.

“Maybe someday I’ll introduce you, if you’re lucky...”

He turned his eyes away. “At least let me run some background checks on her first.” 

(He would just stalk her on social media, but that still counted.)

“You’re just going to stalk her on social media. That doesn’t count.”

“Eh? I have legit methods!” He hid deeper under his mask.

Even after the topic was dropped, after he and Es parted ways on an awkward goodbye, Fuuta was left thinking about this mystery woman. It took a bit of digging (and maybe a tiny bit of social media stalking) but at last he found where Es lived with this stranger. Contrary to what they may believe, he had turned over a new leaf. There would be no more hiding behind screens or letting others do the confrontation for him. Now that he was a changed person, he’d do the healthy and normal thing with this information: he’d march on down there himself and confront her like a man. 

He made it all the way to the front door with his chin high. He knocked with confidence. 

Then he began to shift nervously. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the woman’s description out of his head. Sure, he was here to check on Es, but if someone happened to check him out at the same time, it was only right to be prepared… He straightened his shirt collar. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered if he should have covered up his eye to look more presentable.

The door swung open. 

The surprise on Kotoko’s face was nowhere near the amount on Fuuta’s.

“Oh, for fucks sake –!”

From somewhere behind her, Es’ laughter rang out.

[senjutsunade]

~Amid the Ashes~

"Who is that?"

The nurse freezes, her hands moving too quickly to cover the body. The frantic glance she exchanges with another medic sends dread coiling tight in Tsunade's stomach. Her steps falter, but only for a second. She knows what they’re trying to do—trying to shield her from something she doesn’t want to see. Which only makes her want to see it more.

“Just another casualty, Tsunade-sama. There’s another patient who needs your—”

She doesn’t hear the rest. Her feet carry her forward, her arms trembling. She’d caught a glimpse—just a glimpse of dark hair peeking from under the sheet. But it couldn’t be.

No. Not him. Not Orochimaru.

Every damn day, the fear gnawed at her. Losing one of them. Jiraiya. Orochimaru. The thought was always there, lurking, suffocating.

But no. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

Her hands shake as she grips the edge of the sheet, pulling it away despite the nurse’s protests. Her breath catches in her throat when the face beneath is revealed.

Not Orochimaru.

Uchiha Shiori.

Relief crashes into her first, sharp and overwhelming, making her knees weak. Orochimaru was safe. Jiraiya was safe.

But Shiori was dead.

Tears well up, and guilt floods in right behind them. Relief and grief twine together like a vise around her chest. She swallows hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of the sheet.

Shiori was dead.

She’d patched Shiori up just yesterday. They had talked late into the night, their quiet voices trying to build a fragile bubble of normalcy in the chaos of the makeshift hospital. Outside, the war never stopped.

Shiori had spoken with a faint, wistful smile, hoping she could return to Konoha soon. Back to her two children, whom she hadn’t seen in over a year. Her daughter, Taeko, had been just eight months old when Shiori left for the front lines. She’d admitted, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that she feared Taeko might not even remember her.

Now, that same smile was gone, replaced by stillness beneath a blood-soaked sheet.

Tsunade chokes on a sob, pressing her trembling hands to her face. She tries, as she always does, to be strong. But today, the weight is too much. In the past fourteen hours, they had buried over four dozen comrades. Faces she had known. Names she would never forget.

She is exhausted. Physically, she feels like her body is running on fumes. Mentally, she can’t seem to process one loss before the next crashes down. Emotionally, she is shattered—barely holding the pieces of herself together.

An hour later, she finds herself outside the medic tent, slumped on the ground. Someone, she doesn’t know who, had draped a blanket over her shoulders. It’s a small kindness, but she clings to it, grateful for the warmth.

She stares at the horizon, silent and hollow, the war still raging just out of view.

Cheers erupted around her some time later, the murmurs of ceasefire rippling through the camp like a hesitant breeze. Relief stirred somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but mostly, Tsunade felt...numb. Her unfocused gaze caught a familiar figure striding through the chaos.

Not toward her, though. Toward the hospital tent.

A fresh pang lanced through her chest. Uchiha Fugaku. Shiori’s older cousin. They’d been close; she remembered that much from quiet conversations late at night.

Fugaku paused when he noticed her. Normally, she would’ve cringed at being seen like this—red-eyed, shoulders slumped, stripped of her usual bravado. Least of all by him. Their relationship had always been one of thinly veiled feigned antagonism, of jabs and glares meant to keep each other at arm’s length. A ruse really - the true nature of their relationship was simply respect for the other and a shared loss, unspoken of.

But this morning, she was too drained to care. She lifted her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

To her mild surprise, there was no judgment in his gaze. Only a steady understanding. He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment before turning and stepping into the tent, ready to shoulder his own grief.

Tsunade pulled the blanket tighter around her, though it did nothing to stave off the cold creeping through her bones. Her thoughts turned unbidden to Nawaki, to the fragile threads of possibility. How different might her relationship with Fugaku have been if Nawaki had lived? Would the friction have softened into something warmer?

She didn’t have the chance to dwell.

“Tsunade!”

The shout jolted her from her thoughts. Her head snapped toward the sound, her heart stopping for just a moment.

There they were. Jiraiya and Orochimaru, her two idiots.

They were a mess—exhausted, bloodied, smeared with grime—but they were alive. Alive.

She froze, the sight too much to process all at once, and let the first shaky smile of the morning twitch onto her lips. Her eyes burned, threatening fresh tears.

Pushing herself to her feet, she walked toward them. Each step lightened the crushing weight on her chest until she was halfway there.

Then they closed the gap, and for a fleeting, fragile moment, they were whole again.

It became easier to breathe.

[ssongsboo]

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❕ : just the tip hihi

⟢ sex and red wine .ᐟ

hyungseok is between your legs, hands resting lazily on your thighs as he licks into you with no urgency, no real effort- just slow, teasing drags of his tongue that keep you on edge but never push you over. he’s warm, wet, maddeningly casual about it, like he has all the time in the world, like he’s just enjoying himself while you struggle beneath him.

you try to move, to roll your hips up for more, but his grip tightens, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“patience, baby,” he murmurs against you, voice thick with amusement.

you let out a frustrated whimper, back arching off the bed. “hyungseok, please-”

he hums, like he’s considering it, but all he does is flick his tongue lazily over your clit again, making your thighs twitch. it’s not enough. not even close.

“please,” you whine again, fingers tangling in his hair, trying to guide him, but he doesn’t budge. he hums against you, the vibrations making your whole body shudder, but the way he’s taking his time is driving you insane.

“please what?” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your clit before flicking his tongue over it again, slow and teasing, before pulling back again.

you swallow, cheeks burning. “just—” you hesitate, embarrassed, but he just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“more,” you beg, tugging at his hair, but he just smirks, chin glistening as he looks up at you.

“more?” he echoes, tilting his head like he doesn’t understand. “i am giving you more than enough- more than you deserve. you just don’t appreciate it.”

you let out a frustrated groan, hands tightening in his hair, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything except watch you with that smug little smile, fingers rubbing slow, featherlight circles over your thigh- everywhere except where you need him.

“hyungseok, please-”

you suck in a shaky breath, frustration burning in your stomach. “please just fuck me.”

his smirk widens. “oh? you’re begging an awful lot right now.” he leans in again, lips brushing against your inner thigh, voice thick with amusement. “what happened to all that attitude from earlier?”

you whimper, shaking your head, squirming beneath him. “i was just- i didn’t mean it.”

he clicks his tongue. “mhm. too bad. i kinda liked seeing you like that.” his fingers trail teasingly between your legs, barely dipping inside before pulling away again. “now you just sound desperate.”

you are. you are desperate, body aching, frustration knotting tighter and tighter until you can’t take it anymore.

“hyungseok,” you gasp, voice shaking. “just the tip. please. just- just the tip, that’s all, i swear-”

he stills, eyes darkening as he lets your words sink in. then, slowly, a smirk spreads across his face.

“just the tip?” he echoes, shifting up until he’s hovering over you, lips brushing against your ear. “that’s all you want?”

you nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close, trying to get anything from him. “yes, please, just the tip-”

he exhales sharply, pretending to consider it, then he shifts, pressing just the very tip inside, just enough to make you gasp, make your whole body tense in anticipation.

and then he stops again.

you let out a choked whimper, nails digging into his back, and he laughs, pressing a slow, mocking kiss to your cheek.

“you’re so cute when you beg,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “but you’re even cuter when you don’t get what you want.”

hyungseok rolls his hips just enough to make you gasp, just enough to make your walls clench around him, but he pulls back before you can do anything about it, leaving you aching, empty, desperate for more.

“fuck,” he groans, voice low, strained, but his grip on your waist stays firm, refusing to let you take what you want. “so tight… you’d take me so well, wouldn’t you?”

you whimper, nails digging into his back, trying to push down, to get more, but he just laughs, lips brushing against your ear. “ah, but you insisted, didn’t you?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “just the tip.”

he rocks forward, pressing in so slowly, stretching you open by an inch, before pulling back once again, dragging his length against your entrance, teasing you with every slow, deliberate movement.

“aww, look at you,” he hums, trailing kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your breath hitches every time he almost gives in. “you’re shaking. you want it that bad?”

“yes,” you gasp, hands fisting in the sheets. “hyungseok, please, i-” he smirks, kissing the corner of your lips as he thrusts in just a fraction deeper, making your whole body jolt.

hyungseok lets out a low chuckle, rolling his hips just enough to make you gasp, just enough to let you feel just how thick and warm he is inside you, before pulling back again, keeping only the very tip buried in your heat.

your whole body tenses, frustration bubbling over as you try to rock your hips down, but his grip on your waist tightens, holding you still.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he purrs, breath hot against your ear. then, his voice drops lower, teasing, cruel.

“that’s what you could’ve gotten if you didn’t act like a brat all day.”

your breath catches, a desperate whimper slipping from your lips as he drags himself out, teasing your entrance with slow, lazy strokes before pressing just the tip back in.

“you’re so wet,” he muses, voice thick with amusement. “and for what? this little bit?” he rocks forward again, barely an inch, watching the way your lashes flutter, the way your mouth parts on a choked gasp.

“so pathetic,” he hums, nipping at your jaw. “you were all mouth earlier, and now look at you. completely at my mercy.”

you whimper, eyes glassy, hands fisting in the sheets. “hyungseok, please-”

he tilts his head, pretending to think. “please what? use your words, baby.”

“more,” you beg, voice shaking. “i need more, please-”

he groans, his restraint wavering for just a second before he smirks, dragging his lips down your throat. “hmm. i could…” he trails off, teasing your entrance again, dragging his tip along your slick folds, making you shudder.

then he leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice nothing but a breathy whisper, “but do you deserve it?”

[wolfpackmuses]

The Wrath of Satan. A "short" drabble by Zombie.

Heavily inspired by No Longer You from EPIC The Musical

Heavy breathing was all that came from the man. Clutching himself, kneeling on the ground, knowing that someone was watching over him. There was darkness... it was cold, a place that had nothing around. But a place that reeked of death and destruction. Had... he caused this? Had the man caused all of this?

He looked up from the ground at the being above him, shaking, but getting to his feet clutching his side still to try and slow the bleeding that may have been occurring. Neither said a word, both staring at each other, the large being's orange eyes glowing in the darkness. Soon... a step forward. Then another. And another. The being stepped into what little light there was... a white dragon, beautiful in every way, but with piercing orange eyes that glared at the man. In judgment.

❝I am the prophet with the answers you seek... child, speak, and I shall answer what you would like to know,❞ a booming voice said shaking the ground and the man to their core. The man brushed a bit of brown hair out of his face, light blue eyes staring into the orange ones that glared back at him. Something about the dragon was... relieving. Comforting.

But at the same time? The man knew there was more than met the eye here. The man knew he was on the brink of death. Where he was after the battle, he wasn't sure. But all he could think about, all he could remember was the faces of his comrades that stood by him in uniform. Clashing with swords for a cause... whether or not it was noble, was yet to be seen. And he couldn't tell whether or not what he had done was worth it at the end of the day. All he knew... was that he was leaving the world behind.

And, in turn... his wife. His brother.

❝Where am I?❞ the man asked quietly.

The dragon said nothing but swooped its tail across the ground, having it curl behind the man, bringing him closer, the head of said dragon not changing in expression. It said nothing because the dragon knew that the man knew.

❝I've seen your past life, I've seen the one you romanced... I've seen the sacrifices you've made, the betrayals that have fallen upon you...❞ the dragon commented, ❝I know of your brother, what he has done...❞

The man became visibly angry at the words of the dragon, his hands moving into fists as anger began to build inside of him. While he knew there was more to this than what the dragon had said so far, he was far too impatient to find out what it was. He wanted answers and now.

❝What does this have to do with my question?!❞ he roared, to which the dragon stopped briefly. The eyes narrowed, the tail wrapped tightly around the man and began to lift him into the air so the two could be eye to eye. The dragon could see the fury building inside of the man, the man he had known would come this way sooner or later...

❝Is this how you wish to live your life, Satan? To live out your final moments in anger? In rage of something you can not control?❞ the dragon asked coldly and used their tail to begin to squeeze harder, Satan beginning to choke, struggling to get free, ❝I've seen your home covered in red, faces of men who think you're dead.. I see your wife with a man who haunts with a past she does not recognize...❞

Satan gasped out, staring up at the dragon as his rage reached a boiling point.

❝WHO?! WHO IS IT?!❞ he roared once more.

The dragon stopped briefly... and began to smile. A deep, sickening smile...

❝Tell me Satan... would you be willing to sacrifice yourself for the safety of your family, your wife?❞ the dragon asked to which Satan nodded up and down.

❝I would do anything for them,❞ he whispered.

❝Shall you live out your life full of rage... of anger?❞ the dragon asked to which Satan began to turn pale white in the face, struggling still to get free.

❝What do you mean? No! Of course not! I would never!❞ he spat back to which the dragon began to chuckle.

❝Oh, Satan you poor soul... if only you knew your fate was sealed the moment you found yourself here. You should have considered the number of innocent lives you took in your rage, the number of people you broke because of a simple misunderstanding, the times you simply could not control your anger, leading to those around you being hurt,❞ the dragon snarled softly, ❝You don't deserve salvation, you never did... Your wrath overtook your personality... and you never were able to recover.❞

In that moment, a transformation began to take place. The man that had once been in the grasp of the white dragon was dropped suddenly, Satan smashing into the floor. His body began to change, contouring into something that wasn't him. Red began to take over his body, and soon a tail was added, bits of yellow and orange, before finally reaching his head. And with those final moments... the transformation was complete. In the place of an injured man from battle now kneeled a red dragon. The newest of Sins to join the rings of Hell. And the four yellow eyes of fury stared right back at the dragon that had caused such a transformation.

❝You will have plenty of time to reflect on your actions in life with your new position in Hell. Give Lucifer my best regards,❞ the dragon commented coldly as a portal soon opened and Satan began to be dragged down into Wrath.

❝You son of a bitch, I'll make you pay for this you motherfucker!! I'll end you! I WILL END YOU!!!❞ were Satan's last words before he was dragged completely into the Wrath ring. Taking his place as the newest Sin within Hell's ranks, all the while the white dragon stayed put, contemplating...

Who would be next to join the ranks of Hell?

[barksback]

YOU HEAR THE CONFLICT BEFORE YOU SEE IT, a small voice begging as prey fumbles through the forest. his breathing is coming quick, bordering on hyperventilation. it isn't long before he comes crashing through the foliage below you, stumbling, foot catching on the gnarled roots jutting this way and that. skinny limbs flail as he desperately tries to catch himself before his face smashes into the dirt. heavy-footed predator is soon to follow - an older, taller boy wielding a spear; you immediately recognize him as kai, one of district four's tributes ( and part of the career pack, surely in cahoots with that loathsome augustus braun ).

from your spot in the trees, you have a clear view of the two tributes below you, the scene barely illuminated by slivers of moonlight filtering through the leaves. this is the perfect hiding spot.

no. it's the perfect advantage. you remember kai well; arrogant and unbearable, his taunting voice and grating laughter is incredibly familiar. you remember the ten kai had scored, too; he was immediately filed away under distinct threats in your mind. with both tributes completely unaware of your presence, you have the perfect opportunity to take kai out of the game with very little consequence.

you ready your axe as kai readies his spear. unflinching, unblinking, you send it flying. with a sickening thunk, the blade finds its home in kai's skull. the boy below him cries out as blood drips down kai's face, district four's tribute swaying and sputtering before crashing to the ground. it isn't until the canon finally fires that you make your descent.

now able to get a closer look, you finally recognize the younger tribute as

' you're axel, yeah? from district six? ' you firmly plant your boot on kai's lower back as you pull your axe free, wiping the blade clean on his shirt. axel is certainly one of the lesser threats; quite short and skinny, with an unimpressive training score of four.

when you turn back to him, he's still on the ground, terrified, wide eyes brimming with tears. ' wait, you- you remember me? '

' don't feel too special. i remember everyone. ' it occurs to you that you could take him out- quite easily, too. he's prone; he hasn't moved an inch despite having plenty of time to take off. he's got little more than a hunting knife gripped in his unsteady hand. at most, he'd swing it blindly at you. might manage to nick you before you bring the axe down into the center of his skull. it would be so easy.

kai must've thought the same exact thing. axel is a wisp of a boy, no older than thirteen. there is no advantage that he holds over you, or any of the remaining tributes, for that matter. it would be so easy.

instincts are screaming for you to disappear into the shadows, leave axel to sort his own affairs, but the thought of seeing his portrait in the sky by the end of the week makes your chest ache. with a quiet sigh, you're securing your axe in its holster and approaching axel, hand outstretched. ' jake, district seven. ' he's lowering the knife, terror turning into confusion. ' don't just stare at me, kid, c'mon. we need to clear out before the rest of the pack comes looking for him. '

his trembling hand grasps yours like a lifeline, and you haul him to his feet. still, he remains suspicious. ' why're you helping me? '

because you're scared and helpless and you weren't built to last this, you're just a damn kid. ' honestly? i don't know. ' you begin to make your way farther into the forest, not bothering to check to see if axel is following you or not. ' do not make me regret this. '

[macaqueconfession]

I wanted to elaborate on the seamoon cures.

As mention in the last post i did on this. In the mc/yuus world has a story about the sea and moon's forbidden love. And in their world this story is very popular, and used in every movie,book, show, ect. It's mostly superstition, and only a few believe in the the story. Those who do see it like the zodiac signs. If a person was born during a day the sea was more active their associated with the sea or if the moon was full or eclipsing or anything there associated with the moon and so on.

Anyways, The yuu would like to believe that the moon and sea found a way to see each other and be with each other. The yuu is a helpless romantic, so to their surprise the person who they like so happens to reciprocate their feelings and agree to date. Until they have to go home, mc promises to find a way to visit them when they leave. Unfortunately nothing comes up the mirror can't make a portal back to twisted wonderland for some reason they can't. They tried using their worlds version of magic and rituals and nothing, nothing worked, their partner hasn't contacted them.

Their partner has been trying to contact them but the magic mirror isn't complying, until they figure out that twisted wonderland works under different natural rules and those who brake will be punished. Something yuu didn't know.

Before the yuu left their partner gifted them a magical gift(really anything a flower, gem, trinkets, ect), so the yuu makes the ultimate sacrifice. They use the gift their partner gave them to go to twisted wonderland, and they make it.

Only to wind up frozen in place where ever they found themselves in(the school or the dormitories,ect) when their partner finds out what happened they obviously wants to help them and free them, but are stopped or unable to break the spell. The reason why yuu was cursed the first time was because someone summoned them here, she forced the magic mirror to bring them back and the world's rules and punished for their crime. Who knows mabey someday the curse will lift.

[oikasugayama]

maybe some domestic fluff w/ aku like lazy mornings together? making tea/coffee, cuddling, him not letting you get out of bed🤭 hope you feel better lovely, the laundry detergent is literally foul bruh WHO DOES THAT :(((

I feel like Akutagawa is so soft and sweet in the morning. No one can be all tough and scary right after they wake up, you know??? one of my favorite posts that i think about literally every day is "humans are not meant to wake up and jump straight out of bed, they're meant to stretch and wiggle and hit snooze" and i quite literally live by that

akutagawa is all tired eyes and messy hair, and he's prob just in a black t-shirt and shorts or his underwear or something. he might have sleep lines on his face from where his arm or his pillow was mashed into his cheek for hours.

the sun shining in the room from the open curtains would make him look so soft and fuzzy (in that way the sun kinda blurs your vision sometimes yanno?)

you could probably reach over and play with the ends of his hair really gently or push his hair out of his face and pulls the blankets up over his shoulder to tuck him in a little more, and he probably wouldn't react because even subconsciously he knows he's safe, he knows he's with you. in the past or if he was alone he would jump at any little touch, but on a nice coy soft morning he's still and he sleeps deeply which he doesnt usually do

when he does finally wake up--probably at the feeling of the bed moving as you try to get up sneakily--his arms instinctively reach out for you. the first thing he wants to do in the morning is make sure his love is still there, still safe, still with him, so even before his eyes are open, even before he's processed any noises or movements, even before he's stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked what time it is, he's reaching for you.

when he realizes that you're trying to get up he makes an incoherent noise, some type of grumble as he tries to take his voice up, just some sort of noise to let you know that he's displeased. no, don't get up, he's basically saying. stay with me. lay back down.

you usually relent. it's a game, kind of, trying to get up without waking him up. you'd feel accomplished if you could do it, but you'd also miss the feeling of him reaching for you. you've never actually managed to get all the way up without him waking up. the final loss of your weight on the bed always wakes him, and his arms or his hands always manage to find you before you can fully get away.

sometimes you think he's fallen back asleep as you're laying there, wrapped up in his warm arms, waiting for him to open his eyes. he always denies it when you ask, though, the first crackles of his voice tumbling out defensively. "i am awake, if only barely"

"shall i make us some morning tea?"

"five more minutes."

and you always oblige him, always without fail you lay together, him counting seconds off in his head until he has to force himself to let go of this single piece of peace that he gets in his hectic life, and you relishing in being held, in holding, in being warm and loved and calm and good

[dixie12]

jonnnyyyyy

Get off your phone, Pat.

but i'm bored. this party sux

It's the All-Star Game mixer, Pat, not a party. Go mingle.

noone fun is here tho :(

Everyone is there! Larks and Saader. Your boy Seguin.

i can see u judging from here. segs is good people.

There you go.

yea but he's off w benny anyway

wish u were here

u look so hot in ur tux. its so tight i can pretty much see ur dick

i miss your dick jonny. u should be here

You know I wish I were, Pat.

send me some pix

... Fine

[azurexsnake]

Hnnnng…

Thinking thoughts about making love to Vash again. Gentle strokes of your cock rocking in and out of him. There’s no reason to hurry. No need to rush through your intimacy with him. Just savoring the feeling between you both and hushed conversation. Quiet compliments and praise. Secrets shared to stay just between you of love and pleasure. How adorably his face scrunches when you hit a good spot inside him. How much he likes being caged in by your arms on both sides of him. There’s so much safety between you, so much trust. And you just lazily keep moving the whole time, mindlessly pushing in til your hips meet the backs of his thighs, and pulling out until only a little more than your tip remains in him. This constant loop of slow pleasure that only builds when you start teasing him, carefully feigning the threat of slipping from the warmth of his body so he whines in a panic. And you can kiss his fears away as you steadily push back in, only stopping when you’re seated to the hilt, hitting the deepest depths of him, and making him feel so full of you. So full of love as you move to hold his legs open with him, your tongues dancing around each other’s just for him to whine into your mouth when you spread him further in an attempt to get closer. Reach parts of him only you know that make his arms fling around your back as he shudders. And suddenly you’re forehead-to-forehead and every thrust has purpose. Intent put behind every roll of your body to make sparks fly in his vision for you to see as you look into his eyes, bluer than blue and brighter than the stars. But you know your angel and the magnetic pull that has his brain fizzling, abandoning the want for depth over the need for closeness as he pulls your body flush to his. You dutifully pick up your pace to make up for it anyway, letting his legs fall to wrap around your waist so you can hold him in your arms as he shakes, one arm around his back, and the other cradling his head into the crook of your neck. He pants so hard, dampening your skin with more than just your combined sweat and, honestly, he loves it. Loves the tacky feeling gluing you together. The resistance it provides when your hips leave his skin because, if he had his way, he’d stay like this forever. Loving and being loved for an eternity. He doesn’t care for cumming, reaching the heights of pleasure, though you’d doubtless take him there regardless. But, for him, he just wants to feel you forever, until you both wither into nothingness within the cosmos. If he could just be showered in your love, and shower you in return on this plateaux, he’d be happy with that.