#the scene is Very Clear in my head!! its tasty

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

most nights kinda suck. but sometimes youre relaxing in a nice motel and one of the tv channels is playing 9-1-1 episodes <3 and everything feels like it'll be okay for a few hours <3

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Headcanon

Alastor being disdainful and aloof when he sees residents playing with and cooing over their pets like fat nuggets and kiki.

But perhaps one day as he is speaking with dear charlie in an overly paternal manner that is causing lucifer to nearly snap hus cane in half, theres a ruckus from the lobby and panicked shouting.

In seconds a great bounding Thing is hurtling through the area all lolloping teeth and claws and floppy tongue.

Vaggie finds her spear knocked absently aside by a microphone staff as Alastor queries a pleasantly surprised, "...vark?"

Surprising the rest of the hotel by not aporising the shark dog thing when it actively jumps up to knock them both over. "VARK! What are you doing here? Yes its quite swell to see you too, what have you been fed? You seem a tad slim. No matter, i think i can find a lovely fresh femur for you in my kitchen, hmm, would you like that? I do believe you would."

"Uh so, how d'you know vox's pet, Smiles?" Angel asked, knowing the creature from the rare times it would gallivant about Vee tower trying to find vox, velvette or valentino for attention and treats.

That snaps alastor back into the reality of being on the floor covered in shark spit, thanks to excited licking, aand he gently moves the shupppy off him (all 7ft) to stand. Pointedly ignoring the giant shiny eyes charlie is making at the rare affectionate scene.

"Simply from association with that insipid little picture box a few decades before, when Vark was an infant and no larger than your porcine companion rotund chicken pieces." Alastor deflects.

He shoots a warning glare at Husk when the latter snorts in response. Which is ignored.

"Sure, if thats what you wanna call it..."

Sensing gossip, Angel slides back to the bar, fat nuggets swinging wildly like a ferret.in a secondary set.of arms. "Oh, gossip on the scandalous secrets of THE radio demon, huskie? Do tell."

Before anyone can, the front doors burst open as a frantic swarm of sauce drenched voxtech employees arrive, all low.performers made into tasty little enticements for the missing pet. Followed by the overlord himself,on a three way call.with vel, val and their own swarm of worker treats. Clearly all searching with different levels of desperation and arguing back and forth.

"...-ell maybe you need to check you locked the fucking door BEFORE the orgy, val, its common fucking sense!"

"As if wither of you were paying enough attention to do it wither, its not my fault Voxxy. Tell him Vel-Vel!"

"You boomers are exhausting but if you can can it for a sec, ive got some sinstagram posts showing he was headed to the hotel your old boytoy is running. Nothing new past that, probs cause'a the scrambling thing the fuxker does."

"Why Podcast and accomplices, to what do we owe this dospleasure?"Alastor drawls, all false cheer and dripping poisoned hospitality. As if he wasnt holding a gigantic shark dog thing in jos arms like it was nothing, and pointedly flicking his ears out of reach of an enthusiastic slobbery tongue.

"VARK!" The television headed overlord shouts in a mixture of joy, relief, frustration and that strange rage all parents and pet owners feel when finding a lostling safe and mostly sound. "Where have you BEEN?! Do you know how worried daddy was?"

The employees all made it very clear they had heard nothing of such a soppy statement by looking studiously at differnt floor tiles, ceiling fixtures and the wallpaper.

Through the split screen, Vel and Val were also smooshing themselves close to the screen and using their own endearments and admonishments at the shuppy. Amusing, ut grating on the ears.

Lucifer, having met and wildly exceeded his quota for social engagement for yhe day aand off the wall.shenanigans, finds his eye twitching. "Can someone explain qhat is happening here and why its happening in my daughters hotel of all places?!"

He gets a dirty look from the radio prick, but who cares.

Before vox can say anything, muting the other two, alastor speaks.

"I believe it is clear, your majesty, thatdear Vark was not having his needs met and so came to find someone who could provide that care. And is not the hotel all about second chances?" Levels the overlord, allowing Niffty to sit on his shoulder to pet the shuppy while giggling maniacally.

"HEY!" Came the trifold scandelised reply from the Vees.

"Or maybe someone left the door open at our tower and Vark came to find one of the few people in hell who spoils him rotten..." Vox trues yo snark back and trails off as if he wasnt sure where that was going. Then a maniacal glee lights up that calculating grin, as the overlord adds, "or perhaps Vark just missed his other daddy and wanted to come visit?"

That caused an uproar.

"You two was together?!"

"That is neither here nor there, my envenomed associaate, do close your mouth before a fly... ah, actually,you might enjoy that." The deflection falls flatin the face of the whole situation.

"Hah!" Comes the unexpected contribution from the King, "so all your snarky little comments about bad parenting, and here we find you abandoned your own kid!"

"Vark is only a shark dog demon, not a child." He drawls back. Pointedly ignoring the huge sad eyes vark was using at him, but skritching carefully by the shuppys gills all the same, enjoying the delighted rumble.it elicited.

Vox and the vees gasped like hed torn their hearts out and ate them in front of their eyes. A twisted mess of indignant statements about how vark was not JUST a dog, he was amazing and perfect and alastor was a bad father to say such things when they might impact the shuppys emotional development...

"Okay, this is very weird and as nice as it is to have three overlords viaiting our lovely hotel, this is getting a little weird." Charlie says diplomatically, exhausted from tbe wgole thing and also.staying up two days in a row to qork on plans for activities and counselling programs.for residents. Which was what a combination of Vagie, alastor and lucifer had been addressing prior to the Vark incident.

That seemed to snap everyone back into reality, and Vox cleared his throat, brushing off his suit and ordering semi sticky 3mployees outside. Nifty already cleaning up their soppy footprints with an almost hysterical glee.

"Apologies Princess, i am afraid you caught my team at an inopportune time..." he bluffed, straightening his coat. "Nevermind. If you could just get your hotelier to relinquish our, and by that i mean the vees, shuppy Vark thatd be great "

"...no."

"What do you mean NO?! Thats our, again the vees, shuppy!"

"In all technicality he is also mine, but really Vox... hes quite thin, are you not giving him enough livers? His skin isnt very shiny..."

"We cant all just go get sinner meat for him all the time, Al..." Vox sighs, then remembers where he is. " hah, i mean, you ancient airwave loving fucker. Hes fine, but we'll take that suggestion under advisement..."

Velvette was visibly scrolling through some sort of online store and adding gorey content (of which livers featured prominently) to the cart. Val was looking throuh a site that seemed an odd mix of sexual items as well as animal toys. No one thought too hard about the implications of that...

Sighing and acting casually bored with the whole affair to the outside observer, Alastor demured slightly by putting Vark down. "I suppose that I shall allow him to return with you for now, with a few items to tide Vark over..." Niffty blurred as she went to grab sinner bones and organs from the fridge in his room. "...but i will be watching. You may leave him here once a month for a few days so i can ascertain he is well, you know he enjoys swimming in the bayou and eating the alligators."

Theres a short.pause, before Vox buffers through the conversation to the underlying meaning. "Uh, yeah... I'll have someone draft something up. Yknow you can always come see him at the tower..."

"Not necessary at this time,Podcast. Do you agree to my terms?"

Theres a moment where the three overlords have a technological discussion, before Vox replied, "Deal." and took the outstretched hand. A blast of green and blue energy, with faint traces of intermingled pink and purple, raced outwards.

"Very well then. Niffty darling, would you be so good as to assist the picture box in returning to his vehicle and ensuring he remembers the bag of treats for Vark?"

"Okay sir!" She salutes excitedly, skittering off and dragging at Voxs pant leg.

"Now Vark, you do need to go with..." there was a deep pause as if the next word was painful, as it came out in somewhat revolted static. "...Daddy... but i will.see you again shortly. And, i believe i promosed you a femur, didnt i?"

His shadow manifested the gristly item and provided it to Vark, who lost his little.mind in excitement. Growl yapping and thindering about before coming back for a final pet, then galloping outside chewing happily.

"Okay, I'll bite... what the fuck just happened?" Angel asked. "I feel like i just watched a hell version of two divorcees making a custody arrangement for their kid "

"Probably cause ya did..." Husk muttered, and the spider spat out his cosmopolitan.

"What?!"

Charlie is trying to offer comfort to Alastor but isnt sure what to even say because the last few minutes had been pretty strange even by the hotels standards.

"So... that happened. Are you okay? Seeing an ex is always kinda weird... and with your sorta kid too? Should we uh, maybe call Rosie?"

That sbapped him out of things and the enigmatic radio host was back. "Nonsense my dwar, wverything is fine. And dear Risie has heard all she cares to stand about that capatalistic shill over the past few decades i would hazard. But perhaps i can arrange her to visit when vark is next here, she does adore the little thing. Always has a fresh heart or two to slide him under the table..."

"Hey, dont ignore me, Smiles! Are you tellin me you was like hell married to fuckin VOX?! Is that why he has the bodypillow ofy- uhforget i said that."

"Why, that is not quite an accurate statement, my pastel pal... i never inferred it was only to Vox now, did i? And-..." a pause as the previous query registers, and his overlord form bleeds through in dial eyes and antlers. " he has a WHAT?!"

His.incredulity and discomfort at the idea is undercut by the howling laughter.of the king of hell, who is near crying from mirth.

Angel is grinning up at him. "You heard me, Smiles. Ots on his bed, and he sometimes shares it with the other vees on occasion if ya know what i mean... i thought it was hate stuff, but now i know its sad ex drama its kinda funny. Does explain that one real.weird video Val got e to do with it a few years back that never aired..."

The overlord form snapped away in am instant. " ...I'd ask for elaboration, dear gellow, but i fear that it may lead to a rampage. Lst us agree to put it from our minds and never spwak of it again, deal?"

"Deal."

A very small flare of green and pink berween the clasped.hands, and both parties immediately move back to what they were doing before everything went down.

"Now, i believe a certain princess needs to go and take a well.earned nap.before she collapses.from exhaustion, hmm?"

Lucifer immediately joins in with Vaggie in attempting to coerce their beloved Charlie to nap before she falls.over. However he does shoot the smug fake smiling radio parental usurper a very pointed glare that said he hadnt forgotten the little drama that just occurred... and felt a thrill of satisfaction as the other's grin dimmed slightly.

At the bar, Husk slips another drink to Angel and a glass of cordial to Niffty (she was a menace when drunk and had access to weapons).

"Hey didja know about all... that?"

A noncommittal hum.

"Do ya think... do ya think Smiles'd let me be like a distant uncle.to that shuppy? He was fuckin adorable and i just wanted to squish his murderous little face. Always wanted to pet him the few times i saw him at work, but... i was usually busy."

Husk cant help the laugh that rumbles.out. "Legs, whether the guy likes to admit it or not he loves that sharkdog like he does Niffty, you're gonna have Vark shoved in your face so often you'll be sick of him after a bit. Heck, qhen that lot broke up i think he was honestly more ypset about losing Vark..."

Angel felt Fat Nugget wriggle about in his arms and scritxhed the demon pigs ears, eliciting a delighted.grumbling squeal.

"Heh, i get it. Things're gonna be interesting around here then, hmm, sourpuss?"

"When are they ever not, Legs?"

[aequoranimae]

22-23 june

Although I was leaving Brussels that day, I rose with a few hours still left to me, so I quickly headed out for some breakfast at the same café I visited before (the one guarded by the bulldog Marcel). As I ate my pain au chocolat and yogurt I carefully planned my time and returned to my hostel on time to check out, leaving that little corner of the city that had been mine for three days behind. Bag safely stowed in a locker, I took the underground tram circuit around to the Porte de Halle, the original city gate. This little castle pokes out from a stretch of public garden mostly populated by elderly migrants at this time of day, and I sat outside its pale walls without feeling too much of an urge to go inside. Since I was feeling hungry I sat down at a café around the corner for a sort of brunch, which was very tasty and European – savoury waffle, meat and cheese, a small pot of carrot velouté. And as with my breakfast it came with both a hot and cold drink of choice, so I was not going thirsty.

Saying goodbye to the city, I arrived at Bruxelles-Midi and boarded my first train of the next leg, headed for Frankfurt in Germany. This trip took about four hours of speeding across the the flat green countryside occupied by the occasional cow until we found the outskirts of Frankfurt—an industrial city, whose main station opened onto a wide and messy street full of clamour. Halfway through the train journey the Belgian police in their white shirts and jaunty hats departed to make way for the German officers, heavy in black with military berets and guns slung under their arms. There were more of these soldiers in the city itself, many more of them, standing post on the roads that teemed with agitated football fans. As I crossed into the city I saw them arguing bullishly with some rough characters causing a scene; and down by the river where the football festival was revving to life they were arriving in truckfuls.

My hostel was only five minutes down the road from the main station—I was only there for the night—so I was able to appreciate convenience where the rest left a little to be desired. It was hot and bright and the streets were so loud, I was covered in sweat as I threw my things onto a creaking top bunk and hurried out to find some dinner. Of course I had been aware that the football was on in Europe from all the Belgian flags and football-themed advertisements over in Brussels, but I was met something else altogether in Frankfurt. Every second person was dressed in colours, there were even Scottish men in their kilts loitering outside pubs, and people honking horns as they drove down the streets with flags hanging out of their car windows. Men were shouting and singing drunken fan chants on every corner, so I retreated into my headphones as I made my way towards the centre of town.

Frankfurt was suffocating and crass on that night, in that part of the city that was only tourists and football fans, mostly young Europeans whose arms were weighed down with their beers. I have a general principle of trying to eat interesting local food if I can, but it was clear that was not to be tonight. So I stopped at an American burger chain for dinner—unjustly expensive, but they get you by offering unlimited toppings on your burger and drink refills from futuristic machines. Then I walked to take a look at the city squares and the Frankfurt cathedral, which unlike the black or pale limestone churches I have seen so far, was built from a faded red rock, as were many of the old 19th-century buildings, But most of what was there in the old town was really new or reconstructed; it had all been destroyed in the war.

Going to sleep felt like a world apart from resting on the quiet canal bank of Brussels, with the window to our dorm open letting into the heat and sounds of the city at night. But when I woke up in the morning all those late partygoers seemed to have stumbled home, leaving the roads empty except for mountains of rubbish. Since I had a morning train I ate breakfast at the hostel (opting for a German delight of cold cuts on toast and chocolate cake) and went promptly to the station where I bought some supplies for the next leg of the journey. To make up for my burger of shame I bought a pretzel since that seemed sufficiently cultural and went to the platform to board my train to Dresden. This trip was just over four hours. I was sitting opposite an elderly German couple who I communicated with through vague smiles and nods. The German countryside was so completely different from Belgium; suddenly it became hilly and the trees were a blanket of deep coniferous green, broken up by patches of village, always white with red roofs. Every old town was marked by a gothic church spire, until at last we turned onto a track by a river and the much greater towers of Dresden came into view.

This was only a temporary stopover, but I was captivated immediately by this mere glance from the window. I anxiously checked the time between our arrival and the departure of my next train. An hour and twenty minutes. Scrambling to find some change in euros for a locker, I stowed my belongings (helpful to be so light a traveller, that it all fitted into the cheapest option), bought a one-hour pass for the tram and went straight into town. Like Frankfurt, of course, this Dresden is hardly an original. But unlike Frankfurt it would perhaps like you to think that it is—the magnificent town square and its church were all rebuilt or restored in the old style. On the shore of the river were those remarkable gothic constructions seemingly untouched even though they'd once been little more than burnt-out shells, and a much older crowd of tourist than the last city I'd been, comprising mostly elderly German interstate travellers. The city, despite how much of it was lost not too long ago, was beautiful, so I promised myself one day I would come back.

The train from Dresden to Prague was my first time this trip on a train with compartments and a corridor. Everyone else in my compartment seemed to be Czech. They were less fascinated by the landscape than I was, as we wove between forested mountains and passed by the occasional lake. I had no opportunity to actually see Prague until we were in the middle of it, pulling to one final halt at Prague main station. Although nothing could be seen on the journey in, the moment I stepped outside the beauty of the city was evident. I went clutching the handful of Czech crowns I had secured at the station money exchange and began the walk towards my hostel. On the way I first saw the gleaming domes of the National Museum and the spires of many churches situated between the tall, pastel-coloured apartment blocks. The city's charm was uniform, and it reminded me more of Italy, with its three tiny minimarkets on every block and tiled pavements. I wasn't quite prepared for how hilly it was going to be—my walk turned out to be more of a hike.

After settling into my hostel, a nice shared apartment up on the fifth floor, I made plans for dinner. Venturing out I was surprised to see several tiny dogs being walked by their owners in the streets, never on leads but trotting along dutifully beside them. Some were so small you worried less about them wandering onto the road than someone stepping on them by mistake. I arrived at a pub recommended by the hostel where I sat out on the pavement and ordered the most Czech-looking thing on the menu—I have no idea what it was called, but it was like three pieces of tender pork on top of potato pancakes, each with a different type of cheese melted over. Valiantly as I battled this delight of Eastern Europe I only managed about two-thirds, and though it was actually delicious, I felt as though I would be happy to not eat it again for at least several years. So I walked back to the hostel, stopping at a supermarket on my way to buy a few treats from the expansive wafer bar section, already enchanted by the city of Prague, and the cloudless sky that was still warm and brightly lit well into the quiet evening.

[officialgothbf]

Telip and Tamaki wake up and decide to explore the town some. After heading out of the inn, to go to the market, they arrive in front of a local seller who offers them a mysterious and tasty looking pink fruit. He offers it for a measly amount of credits. Shortly after these two buy and proceed to eat the fruit, tasting its rich but stinging flavour, a whisper slips by Telip’s ears, but Tamaki catches it. It’s coming from a dwarf with a helmet and pickaxe standing in the shade of one of the mines. 

The Dwarf gestures and succeeds in getting the party to come to the back of the mines. He explains that he is the mining chief and has watched countless miners fall into the mines, get pinned in a cave-in, and just flat-out die due to a severe lack of safety regulation and support beams. He asks these two tall elves if they can go reason with the town’s leader for more help and supply. 

These two head to the administration building, ascending the staircase to the main floor. They sense something off as they enter this very luxurious room, with a man at the end. 

This is the town’s leader, Zwel. 

The party unfortunately, through much attempted discussion fail and fail again to convince the leader that his people, specifically the miners need desperate assistance. Instead, they remind him of the previous town’s leader who got burnt alive for not seeing an overthrow coming. Which infuriates Zwel to the point he demands they leave him. With no options left, they leave the building. 

Walking out into the town centre, they fail a will save to stay awake as an unknown substance caused them to pass out. 

Tamaki and Telip wake up to a scene of devastation. The Dwarves they promised to help, 20 or so, lay bloodied and dead on the floor of the hall after staging a revolt for the lack of supply, on their own. Zwel is in robes, giving a speech to the townsfolk who range from children to women to the shop keepers.  Standing amongst the Crowd is four, 7ft (2.1m) guards, clad in sheet armour, with large hammers made of metal and cement.

“GREETINGS PEOPLE OF MY LOVELY TOWNSMITH...” Zwel begins.  Telip begins to come around, finding their feet and helping Tamaki snap out of it. They both ignore Zwel’s speech, spotting an oddity in the crowd, a large demon that’s mostly humanoid and stands well above the Dwarves and is clad in armour remincent of Telip’s, Elven. “TODAY IS A VERY IMPORTANT LESSON IN TREACHORY AND TREASON! TODAY MARKS THE DAY TO REMEMBER THE FOLLOWING:” Zwel clears his throat, “THE GENERATOR SAVES ALL, THE GENERATOR IS THE PRINCIPLE THIS TOWN IS BUILT ON!” 

Telip cannot stand for this, so they climb the mine to it’s top and begins, “DO NOT BELIEVE THE LIES THIS SLIMY RAT IS TELLING! HE ONLY WANTS YOU TO STAY UNDER HIS THUMB AND LIVE WITHOUT SUPPLY! HE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOU!” 

The people begin chattering back and forth. 

After a short, yet passionate shouting between Zwel and Telip, no one warns nor sees one of the Guards approach and slam the heavy hammer into Telip, sending them flying across the centre. 

The demon in the crowd, successfully stealths and attacks another guard, but is caught shortly after and thrown near Telip. 

Tamaki succeeds in dodging back over near Telip and the demon. 

The group, demon included, all make a knowing nod. They all raise their weapons, Telip and her pickaxe, Tamaki his knife, and the demon his bow. And they leave in haste. 

Zwel, wildly yelling on the other side of the town’s door, the party patch their wounds in the pale snow. The demon introduces himself as Vincent. The final party member. The party chooses to go south, away from the snow so they can only be tracked for so long. Otherwise the town would have no issue tracking them in the snow. 

[skiyoosmi]

post-break up heartaches

⤷ verse 2. in the dreams that we once shared

⤷ miya osamu, bokuto koutarou

⤷ verse 1 | verse 3

⤷ play. sorrow by sleeping at last, wrong direction by hailee steinfield

commissions: open

⇢ OSAMU stays still in his seat, melancholic eyes contrasting your bright ones while you twirl around in the middle of the ballroom. he admits, your dream wedding gown fit your figure perfectly as it flowed so gracefully the more you moved. but no beauty can compare to the happiness on your face as you danced with his previous volleyball teammate; the latter having a small smile on his face, not even having a single care about the funny looks you've been getting from your distant relatives. despite the minimal expression he adorns, to someone who has known him for a long time, it's clear as day just how ecstatic suna rintaro was to declare you as his wife, just as you were to call him your husband.

that could've been us, his mind screams all throughout the time he's been in the wedding ceremony, that could've been him dancing with you. he remembers little by little— how those smiles and laughters used to be solely for him whenever you try out his new recipes, from tasty to funny, how he used to be the one suddenly dragged to dance with you, how you used to dream of being married to him. him and only him.

but time was a cruel thing. he should've known better than to keep you waiting for more than so many years with nothing but empty and broken promises. i'll be done soon, yn, you know how much this means to me, this is my dream we're talking about here. stop being selfish please— he recalls himself telling you. he fails to see the disappointment and hurt that cross your eyes, fails to protect the already fragile relationship as you say your goodbye's to him a few more arguments and weeks later— i'm sorry for holding you back, samu. make sure to reach your dreams, okay?

i'm sorry. no matter how many times he says it, your fate was already done with him. you only needed him and he couldn't even give you that.

"hey there, stranger. wanna dance for a bit?"

he looks up, blinded by your brightness that almost seemed as if it mocked his sappy mood but he nods nevertheless, taking your hands as you pull him to the dance floor. in his peripheral view, he sees suna give him a wholehearted smile.

"you should stop frowning. it doesn't suit your face you know? what did you do to my lively samu?" you huff after a few minutes of nothing but silence and awkwardness while you swayed side to side with him, pouting when he shrugs, "you're such a gloomy ass! are you still in love with me or something?"

you swear it was supposed to be a joke, something to lighten the air between you two. but how were you supposed to laugh when he replied to you in the way you least expected?

"yeah, actually, i still am."

silence engulfed the two of you as you tried to overcome your shock. and for all the years he has been with you, it was painfully obvious that the answer he hopes for will not come. not now, not ever.

"samu... it's been—"

"i know. almost 8 years, is it? i know but i can't help it, yn. how could i when you're literally all i see everywhere i look?"

you fail to give him back a reply and (un)fortunately, he feels a tap on his shoulder and immediately, he knew it was time. he lets go of your waist and turns around, heart ready to get drowned by the bitter wine he's planning to drink all throughout the night, accompanied by the tears he won't be able to let out until he comes back to his hotel room.

"congratulations on your wedding, yn."

he ignores the hollowness inside him brought about by the unfinished conversation and goes back to his seat and repeats it like a mantra: not all fairytales get their happy ending.

and much to his dismay, his was one of those that don't.

⇢ BOKUTO was a star, luminous and blinding yet always longing to be part of the galaxy that held the awe of many other people. he was a child with dreams that wander all over the world and with confidence, he wants hear it, see that same world cheer for him.

he was an enormous star but his dreams were even bigger— and as he reaches out his hand to take more of what the universe can give him, he unknowingly lets go of yours.

"you look like you've dropped a huge shit on your underwear with the way you're staring down the court," konoha comments as he takes the seat he reserved beside you, hands deep in his pocket while he does so.

you glare at him, scoffing at his vulgar choice of words, "and you look like that shit, asshole. we haven't seen each other for so long and that's how you greet me?"

he laughs out loud, opening his arms and shoving you in them, "here! is this what you wanted instead? so adorable, yn! i knew you loved me at some point!"

you let out a series of groans, struggling to get out of his hold, "no! you're so annoying, get off me!"

he cackles, releasing you as the buzz rings out throughout the whole court, signaling the beginning of the match between msby and schweiden adlers. you shift in your seat, watching the players get introduced one by one, gasping when your ex-boyfriend literally does two cartwheels in his turn. is he... serious?

"where does he think he is... some kind of circus?" konoha snickers, shaking his head in amusement. oddly, you find yourself laughing with your companion. after all, this was typical bokuto, so full of energy and surprises.

"he looks... okay. very much okay," you bitterly state, placing your chin right on your palm as your arms and elbows rested on your lap. envy envelops your whole being as you watch him lively wave to the crowds, a large grin staying on his face. you huff silently, eyes trying to look at the other players but gravity seems to be playing its tricks on you as you find yourself reverting back to his figure. you wonder if time will let you become that happy someday.

"you're not...?" the lad beside you trails off, sighing when you shake your head 'no.'

"of course not yet, aki. it's not that i still love him or anything but he's just... he was everything, you know? he's become part of all my routines and now that he's gone, it... it just feels empty. like the dreams that used to help me sleep at night suddenly went away," he nods, not pushing you to say anything further. you both knew better than to have a shameful breakdown in public.

"god, i keep forgetting that the air conditioning in here is the worst," you grumble under your breath, rubbing your hands together to keep them from freezing out... because bokuto was no longer there to keep them warm, no longer there to offer you his own hands because you both forgot your gloves at home, no longer there to blow on them as if it was effective (it distracted you both at least), no longe—

"here, give me your hand," konoha reaches out to you, palms awaiting for yours to be in contact with his. you blink, surprised by his sudden offer, along with the pink hues that dusted both sides of his cheeks.

"we can't have them becoming numb, can we? i... i want to hold these hands for a very long time, you know?" he stutters as he begins rubbing both of your hands together, successfully getting rid of the cold and providing a new warmth you never expected will come sooner. oh... it's time, huh?

"uhm... yeah... thank you," you felt your face get hot. it seems like something... rather, someone has come to distract from the coldness you've been recently feeling.

"give me your days," he coughs out, still blushing. if anything, he's flushing even more now, "i'll fill the emptiness in them... and... and i can be your dream so you can sleep tight... and you'll be mine."

you gape at him, thousands of scenes flying through your mind but all of them led to one specific scenario.

"i... i have a lot of dreams, yn! i want to become a star player, someone who everyone will look up to and cheer for! and i... i think i want to focu—"

"i get it, bo. i'll get out of your way then. thank you... for everything."

"i-i'll be your dream?"

konoha chokes on his own saliva, "y-yeah! don't make me repeat it though, do you even know how cheesy that sounds? i can't believe i just said that, god... the things you make me do, you...!"

"okay."

it was his turn to blink, "e-eh?"

"i guess this is day one then?"

"eh?! wait... we... we're dating now, right?!"

"shut up now, aki."

as his golden eyes observe the two figures sitting by the stands, bokuto wishes he could've seen sooner that you were the one he had always been dreaming of, yearning for; wishes it could be him that was holding your hands again and he swears to whoever god there is, he won't let go of them anymore.

but then again, it seems like you were finally ready to wander with someone that wasn't him— who was he to stop you from doing so?

he was just a star;

you were the whole universe,

his universe.

© SKIYOOSMI, 2021. reposting, translating, editing, copying and any kind of plagiarism are strictly prohibited, thank you.

[otonymous]

Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard).  Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes:  My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom!  I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it.  This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea.  That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

“Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard!  Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog.  And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh.  There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?!  WHAT THE HELL?!”  

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize.  And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep.  And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate.  The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!”  You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade.  “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it.  You were sleepwalking.  You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to.  My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL!  Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay?  We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye.  So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods.  But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon.  He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions.  And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.  

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.  

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course.  That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual?  Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG!  You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight!  It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol.  Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon:  Hey!  He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate!  Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon.  Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.  

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place?  Was there something wrong with his room?  I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her.  I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏  She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair.  Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.  

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer.  The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with.  And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.  

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop.  Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared.  Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre.  But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave.  Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel?  I just want to help—”  You reach for his arm.  He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE!  I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me.  This has never happened before.  I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been.  I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough.  The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission.  Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?!  I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t.  I don’t mind, Beel.  I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide.  And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive.  I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back.  I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh.  You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam.  And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage.  The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious.  All the time.  And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses.  I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”  

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form.  But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.  

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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Cheddar.  Pickles.  Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want.  I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well.  Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog.  Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel.  Better than fine, actually.  I feel fantastic!”  You smile, moving to sit up in bed.  The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features.  “I’m glad.  I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back.  You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”  

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites.  “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too.  Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself.  “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[trvncyz]

Jujutsu Kaisen characters during Ramzan || random headcannons || part 1

PART 2 OUT NOW

note: before i start, i would like to clear out that these are just some things which happen in my house and may differ from your culture. this is just how i would imagine the jjk characters to behave during ramzan. hope you enjoy!

-4/27/21

part 1- nobara, itadori, megumi, gojo

part 2

1. Nobara Kugisaki

very excited to fast because it reduces weight!

the kind of person who sleeps through the fast and only wakes up for namaz.

eats most of the fruits during iftar

doesn't want to miss any fasts because she had a bet going with itadori to see who could keep the most number of fasts. (being a girl, nobara knew she would lose but she's not the type to back down from a fast either.)

she regularly gets scolded for not helping at all with the making of the iftar.

"HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO WORK WHEN I'M SLEEPING?!"

"IT SHOULDN'T EVEN BE CONSIDERED A FAST IF YOU COMPLETELY SLEEP THROUGH IT" (dadi™)

she's very excited for eid to come because... who isn't? new clothes, eidi (money) and good food? i think yes.

the type to stay awake till sehri so that she doesn't accidentally miss it.

i think she keeps most of her fasts, leave for her periods or a few days where she threw up because of the long day or something.

2. Itadori Yuji ft. Sukuna

alright hear me out, he's the type of person who blocks Jennifer Lawrence, Kylie Jenner etc on ramzan chaand raat and unblocks them on eid chaand raat. (did that make sense?)

has a bet going with nobara to see who can keep more fasts. doesn't matter if he's absolutely dying, he wont miss a fast. (that's good tho?)

accidentally saw one of his bikini posters and chanted "Astaghfirullah" for the rest of the day.

he was teasing nobara for not fasting and got a pillow straight to his face

he starts taraweeh in hopes of praying next to his crush's father but dips midway

like nobara, he's very excited for eid. the type to put his eidi pictures on snapchat

almost swore at sukuna in his head but he held himself back

sukuna keeps talking about food in his head. like dazai in that bsd wan scene where he kept whispering 'curry, curry' in ango's ear.

the type who complains about not enough iftar being made though he barely eats any.

"iftar bohot kam bana hai."

"tum itna toh kha k dikhao"

"there's barely enough iftar" "try to finish this much first"

(the english translation isnt funny at all pls-)

3. Megumi Fushiguro

perfect boy

keeps all his fasts

wakes up on time for sehri. sometimes also goes out to get the yoghurt.

opts for a whole 27 day taraweeh

prefers wearing full sleeve shirts/tshirts and fully covered trousers if he's not wearing a kurta pajama or something like that.

BLACK KURTA WITH ROLLED UP SLEEVES (SCRREEEEAAAAAAMMMMSSSSS)

sometimes helps out his mom with iftar

cooks for his sister when she's not fasting

it was very hard for him but he completely stopped hitting itadori during the month. he was back to normal from eid.

speaking of eid, he isnt overly excited about it but he's looking forward to the sheer qorma.

megumi (to me) is someone who always needs something playing in his ears. its his way of concentrating and stimulating his brain and it really eases his stress (am i talking about myself? absolutely.) during ramzan, he decided to switch to random podcasts or recitations and stuff.

if he's tired or feeling a bit sick, he sometimes sleeps during his fast.

MAJOR HEADACHES™

i dont know what i can write about this boy, he's absolutely perfect in my eyes and i dont know what he could do wrong except hit itadori.

4. Gojo Satoru

the ultimate cause of megumi's headaches

totally sleeps through sehri

he might be fasting but his energy level never goes down like HOW?! others are almost dead but he just keeps jumping around like he's hinata shoyo or something

halal pick up lines which make you swear

"I want your feet to be my kid's jannah."

"I want my feet to straight up meet your nose."

fr if you spoke to him during your fast, keep muttering "la haula wala quwaita illa billah hil ali al azeem"

always looking for excuses to skip his fasts but nanami keeps him in check

has to be constantly nagged to pray. never does it in time. often his namaz gets qaza-ed. (what's that even supposed to mean?)

he once tried to make iftar for the children. everyone ate iftar about 2 hours after sunset. (pain)

he too, is the type to pray taraweeh next to his crush's father.

speaking of taraweeh, he's just lying there after his iftar feeling like he's missing something when he suddenly remembered that he didn't turn up to taraweeh that day.

complains a lot about how he's thirsty while he's fasting and get's a scolding from nanami everytime.

shoko tried to tell him the positive effects of fasting but he just ended up telling her that "girls use their periods as an excuse to skip fasting." shoko didn't let him eat iftar that day.

weird food combinations even during iftar. cucumber with ketchup? rooh afza on watermelon? you bet he does that daily.

(both of these are very tasty, you can try it out if you want to.)

starts counting down to eid the day ramzan starts.

his RICH GUY EID FLEX PLS. he got his new nike shoes stolen from the mosque and it served him right.

gives everyone lots of eidi on eid because he's RICH™

-----

got a little carried away but i loved writing this! gonna do a part 2 in the future with other characters. maybe even a part 3 but thanks for reading. if you have any questions about this post, feel free to ask me!

ramzan mubarak to everyone and happy fasting!

[prose-for-hire]

Guardian of the lost soul

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: if what the reader dress as an angel (kinda like Supernatural angels) and she finds the scoobies gang  in the haunted house with the costumes magically change them. (you know the episode ^-^)  only this time , Spike sees her wings and in angel terms that's a soulmate.

Requested by: @everlastingartist​

A/N: Kind of a soulmate au I think? I am not familiar with the Supernatural angels (yet - I plan on actually watching it soon) I did google them and I’m still none the wiser lol. So this is my own interpretation of what was requested! I chose a guardian angel, and twisted it in my own way. It is very made up but that’s what I’m here to do!

Also I mashed up two Halloween episodes together for this one but Spike doesn’t have a chip. Not even a soul. But he finds his soulmate.🖤🦇

You loved Halloween in Sunnydale, it never disappointed. The pumpkins were freshly carved, there was candy everywhere you turned and kids really did love dressing up and making a nuisance of themselves. Even when you were running for your life the mood always picked up somewhere after midnight. And hey, being friends with a very protective Slayer had its benefits.

You were basically skipping around the streets, you were excited about going to the haunted house. You had tried to convince Willow, along with buffy to take the ghost costume off but she flat out refused. Even when you begged all the way to the party. You wanted to get to the end so you could join the party with your friends and you waited briefly for everyone to show up so you could enter together. While you and Willow waited outside, a figure in a dark cloak pushed past you. There was something about them that you recognised but they muttered some insult at you for being in their way so you decided to just ignore them. Eventually, everyone arrived and you were able 

You had chosen to dress as an angel. A guardian angel. Not the stereotypical kind, one you had read of in some of Giles’ thick mythology books. You had been bored and the passages had been surprisingly interesting in an I’m-so-bored-I’d-read-the-back-of-a-cereal-packet kind of way. It spoke of the kinds of angels, of the truth about how they operate rather than those spoken of in popular culture. Some of your costume was white however as you wanted people to at least recognise what you had come as (although nobody except Willow had got it). 

You went through the various rooms together and had a laugh at some of the more ridiculous spooks in the house. There had been a slight tension a few words exchanged but mostly you were having a nice time. Everyone was squabbling over which way to go next and you had lost interest, managing to break away from the others.

As you did this, you saw the hooded figure again. You were sure you recognised the flashes you had seen of the person’s face. You left your friends for a moment to tap them on the shoulder and who should turn to face you but the big bad of the moment. Spike. You hadn’t faced him alone yet but he had always singled you out when you were with the others. The conversation always turned suggestive, which annoyed Buffy to no end and made you try to hide yourself when you were with the others.

You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t love the attention though. Hope that he would catch your eye. You longed for even a moment alone with him, although you were well aware of the danger. You couldn’t help like him but there was no way you would ever admit that to your friends. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thought I’d drop by… see what tasty… treats Halloween has to offer” He closed the space between you as his voice became a little huskier with every step. His hand was on the wall, palm flat against it. His arm blocking you in as he slowly scanned your body before returning to your face.

“What has the devil got in store for you this Halloween do you reckon pet?” He asked, the smirk audible in his voice, “Somethin’ naughty no doubt…” He added, biting his lip teasingly.

“I’m an angel. Always preferred them anyway” You shrugged. It had been a very low blow and when you saw his expression darkening into anger rather than lust, you backtracked – knowing better than to get him mad, “To the devil, I mean”

“Bollocks – where are the wings? The halo? And you’re not foolin’ anyone wearing that white-” he gestured wildly to the corresponding area where each item should have been with the hand that wasn’t leaning against the wall. You smiled, about to respond when someone interrupted.

“Spike!” Buffy shouted, having turned to find you in the haunted house. She was relieved to see you (as she had lost the others) but she was not pleased to see the vampire that still had you boxed in, pressed pretty close against you.

Buffy made light work of hauling him away and trying to throw him out of the house completely. She tried to find the front door but it had gone. You were now aware you were trapped inside this now truly haunted house. No, it was worse. It had turned into a murder house as half the student body upstairs had started to scare themselves to death almost before the real threat had.

Everyone was rushing past you and as Spike smelled fresh blood, he ran in the opposite direction to where the others were coming from, straight into the carnage. His stomach was rumbling and he was ready for a decent meal.

Everything was going on at once and you wanted it to slow down, or at least give you chance for a breather. There were too many threats at play tonight. As if the powers had requested it this way, a busy scene of threat and revelations for their own personal enjoyment. 

As you tried again and again to leave and to help find the others, things started to get worse. You had now lost Buffy and were trying to find her by (you guessed it) calling out her name which was the best way to attract anything other than good luck. You had to fight off some cobwebs and now, your own body it seemed. You were hurting, doubled over. Something was happening. You sunk to your knees, grimacing. Nothing was going your way. 

It was a strange night. The strangest Halloween you had experienced. The others were lost and at the same moment, Willow turned into a real ghost. Xander a real soldier and Buffy was now a genuine high society lady from the 1700s. It was spooky and not in a cute way.

You had managed to get to your feet, pulling on the cobwebs as they attacked your head again. As you looked down checking you had removed any stray webbing, you saw that you were glowing. Literally. You appeared human still - no wings or halos but there was a strange feeling that you had aged hundreds of years in just a few seconds. Not in appearance, that was still your skin and your face. But in knowledge. As if you had read every book known to man and then some. You felt powerful. Strange.

You walked around, able to know what was happening in every room. You managed to get places just by thinking about it. Able to protect people before they succumbed to the terrors the house had in store. You didn’t know how this was happening, but you knew better than to question it.

You had hope. You had a purpose and you were getting used to adapting to different people and their needs. That was until it came to something you needed. You turned and saw your friends through a two way mirror. They had all found each other but you couldn’t get to them. They were trying to remember who they were and come up with a plan. You started to panic, banging your fist on the mirror that you could see them through but they didn’t hear you. You hurriedly left through a side door to try and get to them seeing as your previous power wasn’t working. But you never made it to your friends. You had walked straight into someone. The one someone that you always managed to find, no matter what.

Spike had appeared. He seemed the same except... was that a heart beat? You frowned as he stepped towards you, the swagger still in tact.

 “You listened to me then, pet? About time” He muttered as you looked at him confused. You didn’t understand. You looked around for some kind of clue until he spoke again, “The wings. You put ‘em on. Knew it would complete the look… not that you need to be wearing any more clothin’ items” He added, the trademark smirk on his face as he almost prowled towards you further.

“I’m not wearing any wings…” You said slowly as he came to stand right in front of you, leaving not so much as room to breath between you. He frowned, and looked behind you before looking back into your eyes. He could see the wings as clear as anything. They had a large wingspan, it was kind of impossible to miss. He reached out the touch them and you felt his fingers. You frowned, checking behind you. There they were, bat-like rather than the feathered kind you had expected and almost translucent whilst appearing closer to your skin tone. He found them aesthetically very appealing. Almost as if it were a part of you. He just stared, almost in awe as he felt they were warm the texture as soft as your skin.

 It came to you suddenly. The folklore you had been researching. The mythology. The only one that may see the wings of the angel is their soulmate. Their one eternal love. It was said that every angel had a soulmate and that no matter how long they lived, they should find their soul no matter how seemingly impossible. No matter how many times they were lost, they would always be found. And you had found yours. Your love.

You and Spike had been less than useless during the fight to escape the haunted house and regain your own lives back. You were perfectly happy right here. Locked in each others gaze. A happiness neither of you had felt before until this moment. Until this revelation. You had been sharing. Talking so easily to one another. Him telling you stories of his past, and you surprising yourself with stories of your own. Ones that could match his. You felt an entrenched need to protect him. To hold you into him so that no harm could ever befall him. 

The chaos going on around you was now secondary to your story. You holed up in a room together, Spike never looking away from you. The guardian angel in you was screaming for you to help the others again, but your heart was set on him. On relearning of your love. You had faith in your friends abilities anyway.

He leaned in, his thumb trailing your face and lingering near your lips. He had thought about this for so long. His usual crude quips had been founded in truth. Forged to both show how he felt and camouflage them at the same time. He felt for you so deeply his soul had made an unwitting appearance back into his life. Whenever you were around his heart felt as if it may break free from his ribcage in the hopes of greeting yours.

You closed your eyes as he did, the build up to this kiss achingly slow. You could feel his breath on his face he was so close. His touch was warm and familiar, his lips made for yours. You could feel it. The anticipation almost became too much as he finally grazed your lips.

But, just as suddenly as it was cast, the spell broke. The feeling of danger returned to your gut as you were in Spike’s presence. Your kiss never deepening. Your stomach flipping as you snapped opened your eyes. Spike’s vampire instincts kicked back in and it was resoundingly telling him that he was hungry. Your scent was so enticing to him, his face changed of its own accord. His fangs so close to you but you knew he wouldn’t kill you. You knew it as if it were fact. As if it were gravity or the colour of the sky being blue. Spike loved you and wouldn’t harm you. They were each true sentences, you had never been so sure.

Buffy, however, now fresh from being bound in the sensibilities of a woman with no aspirations other than to be pretty was ready for a fight. She had fought to escape the haunted house and now she would fight the nearest big bad in sight. Spike. She wrenched him from your neck.

But when he drew back, he had the same look in his eye as he had only moments before. Your soulmate was still right here in front of you, there was nobody that could convince you otherwise. And believe me, Spike really tried since then.

Buffy and Spike traded blows. Neither became victorious, but you were able to leave the house and Giles had somehow managed to force Ethan Rayne into reversing the curse he had put on your costumes. 

After that long Halloween night, your mind barely stopped thinking about him. Sometimes you walked around after dark to see if he would come along and pretend to eat you as an excuse to just talk to you. He often wished to find an excuse to see you. Without knowing what it was, he felt it too. Deep within. Stronger since Halloween night. Sometimes he found himself standing around in places he knew you would frequent just so he could watch you. Catch a glimpse of you. Although, he had been doing this before Halloween as well.

You remembered so much more than that night, however. Memories that should have been long since buried of you and Spike finding each other over and over in other places and times still lingered as you wished his thumb still would along your jaw. You still remembered those memories and you wrote them all down before you could forget. They were like dreams, something you knew so well but struggled to recall in enough detail to satisfy.

You would forever carry a piece of his soul around with you now. That feeling just couldn’t go away, you wouldn’t let it. It was as if his soul were a locket hung around your neck. You would guard it with your life. Keep it close to your heart. 

He would come back to you, you were sure of it and you were happy to wait until that day came.

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

[pumpkinpaix]

HI! I'm new to the MDZS fandom and I fell in love with Suibian, but you don't see it that much. I seen somewhere that it would burn out a weaker core and I cried cause I wanted to see that, and as far as I know it doesn't happen anywhere. I'm wondering if you could tell me anything and everything you know about Suibian. I'm starving for anything about it

hi anon! ahahah, it’s always a dangerous thing to ask me about “anything and everything” on a topic because I usually have too many thoughts, most of which are unorganized. but! if you’re interested in that, then here we go!

First, re: your comment about Suibian burning out a weaker core: I am not aware of this theory (or is it something from an interview?? if someone knows, please say so!), but if it brings you joy, then it’s certainly an interesting one to consider! Unfortunately, I don’t have much more to say on it because I’m unfamiliar with it, but I do have quite a lot to say on some other Suibian concepts!

ask and ye shall receive (a very jumbled heap of thoughts as i spiral further and further out of control):

[all rough translations are mine, and thus all mistakes are mine. I am using the version of the novel that is available on luoxia because I can’t be bothered to go flipping through my print edition ahaha.]

the questions about Suibian that interest me the most are why it sealed, when it sealed, when Wei Wuxian began to wield it again, and what that might all mean. I’m going to be talking about novel, CQL, and audio drama canon all together, because I think looking at each canon alone and in combination can raise a lot of very different points!! (I have not watched the donghua or read the manhua yet, so forgive me, I have nothing to say about them. /o\)

So! the one piece of information that we’re given consistently throughout all three of the canons is that Suibian was sealed after Wei Wuxian’s death and that no one but Wei Wuxian himself (and Jiang Cheng, by proxy) could draw it from its sheathe. Thus, Wei Wuxian’s identity is revealed and the golden core swap comes to light. Wei Wuxian is surprised by this, and asks Lan Wangji, “Did it really seal itself?” (novel, chapter 63; CQL, ep 42; audio drama, S2E15).

The novel and audio drama both include a line from Wei Wuxian that emphasizes Wei Wuxian’s surprise, implying that sword-sealing is very uncommon:

万中无一的大好事竟然让我给撞上了

Something incredible that happens less than once per ten thousand times, and I actually encountered it.

the irony, of course, is that this incredible thing is what ended up blowing his cover. rip Wei Wuxian.

but what I think gets really interesting is comparing different points at which Suibian sealed itself and what that might imply in conjunction with other information. Jin Guangyao says “shortly after” his death, but CQL includes a scene in episode 19 that implies that Suibian actually sealed itself much earlier.

[ID: Gif from episode 19 of the untamed drama. Lan Wangji attempts to draw Suibian after he and Jiang Cheng storm the Nightless City and retrieve their swords. He cannot pull it from the sheathe. /end ID]

(in case anyone is curious, it’s about 30 minutes in. I spent the effort to make the gif, so I might as well give you the timestamp lol)

this scene takes place during the period of time when Wei Wuxian is in the Mass Graves (aka the Burial Mounds) after Wen Chao cast him down and left him for dead, right near the beginning of Sunshot. I’m fairly certain it’s not mentioned in either the novel or the audio drama, so this is a CQL-only detail. (please correct me if I’m wrong; I get my canons muddled all the time //hides face)

CQL basically does nothing narratively with this scene other than giving us some sad shots of Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng (honestly, valid ;A;) but!! if we decide to accept this scene as our jumping off point, we can get to some interpretations about Wei Wuxian using information from the other canons!

take this exchange from chapter 57 of the novel (immediately prior to the massacre at lotus cove):

江澄道：“还不是又为咱们的剑的事去温家了。一想到我的三毒现在说不定被哪只温狗握在手里，真是……”

他面露嫌恶之色，魏无羡道：“可惜咱们的剑还不够灵，要是能自动封剑，那就谁也别想用了。”

江澄道：“你再修炼个八十年，说不定可以。”

Jiang Cheng said, “He’s gone to the Wen sect regarding our swords again, hasn’t he. Whenever I think that my Sandu might even now be in some Wen-dog’s hands, ugh…”

His face filled with loathing, Wei Wuxian said, “What a pity our swords don’t have enough spirit. If they could seal themselves, then no one could even think about using them.”

Jiang Cheng said, “If you kept cultivating for another eighty years, maybe.”

from the novel, it seems clear that sword-sealing is something that only happens when a person’s cultivation level is exceptionally high. if this is true, and we go with the CQL timeline of Suibian sealing itself long before Wei Wuxian’s death, it means that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation level wasn’t just high, it was leagues above pretty much anyone else when he was still a teenager. (In fact, Suibian had most likely already sealed by the time this conversation takes place.)

If we don’t go with CQL’s timeline, however, I think we could make a very different argument. It’s a bit of a reach, but I think it’s a lot of fun, if you’re willing to come with me on this journey!

Jin Guangyao says Suibian sealed itself “shortly after” Wei Wuxian’s death, but we don’t really have external confirmation of that. For all we know, someone only bothered to test it sometime after his death, and Suibian had been sealed for some indefinite amount of time. All we can say for sure is that by some point shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian was already sealed and resisted being drawn by anyone who tried it.

We’re told over and over that one can only wield a spiritual sword effectively if you have a golden core/the spiritual energy to match it. Wei Wuxian stops carrying/using Suibian because he knows that in his hands, it will act as nothing more than an ordinary sword. His method of cultivation is no longer suitable for the sword. Suibian is tied to both Wei Wuxian’s soul and his golden core.

If sword-sealing only happens when the cultivator’s level is unbelievably high, then I think we can make the argument here that by the time of his death, Wei Wuxian’s core was likewise unbelievably strong – but Wei Wuxian is no longer the one developing his core. Jiang Cheng is.

I know it’s a ridiculous reach. To be clear, I don’t think the text actually intends this or supports this in any meaningful way, but I do think that it gives us some very tasty potential!! If Suibian sealed itself sometime after the core transfer (which, honestly, we wouldn’t know – after all, who’s been trying to draw Wei Wuxian’s sword?), but just if, I think we can plausibly make the argument that Jiang Cheng’s cultivation is truly extraordinary.

:DDDDDDDD

It’s fun right?? It’s a fun concept!!! Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s not that deep, even if this was an unintentional coincidence, I think it would be interesting to look at this as being some kind of measure of Jiang Cheng’s accomplishments. On the flip side, I also think it’s very important thematically that Jiang Cheng’s value as a person has nothing to do with his cultivation, that he is, in fact, always second-best, but that doesn’t make him any less worthwhile or deserving of love. Maybe I’m just projecting lmao. Of course, being extraordinary doesn’t preclude him from still lagging behind Wei Wuxian–Wei Wuxian might have just been more extraordinary ahahah. We can have both!!

Now for a totally different thing! Interestingly, this conversation about cultivation levels and sword-sealing (the one with Jiang Cheng) also happens in the audio drama, S2E12 (about 15 minutes in, since I just checked), but Wei Wuxian adds an additional comment:

(don’t have the transcription of the original chinese, I’m just going to translate it as I hear it)

“But maybe you don’t need to cultivate to a certain level to have your sword seal itself. What if there were some other way?”

these two versions of the conversation actually imply pretty different things, I think! this addition opens the possibility to the audience that sword-sealing is possible even without an extraordinary level of cultivation, and I think lends credence to the idea that Suibian is just an unusually loyal sword, regardless of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation level. Whether that’s something inherent to Suibian’s “personality”, or whether this says something about how Wei Wuxian inspires loyalty wherever he goes, or whether it just speaks to the strength of their bond remains to be seen.

(obviously, this could imply any number of other things as well, but I find this to be the interpretation that makes me happiest.)

If we go with “Suibian seals itself after Wei Wuxian’s death” in this canon, I think this emphasizes the loyalty aspect with a touch of grief.

If we combine this with CQL and have “Suibian has been loyal since he was a teenager”, that also emphasizes the loyalty aspect – just in a different way.

Of course, doing meta combining unique details from different canons is largely pointless in terms of crafting any real “analysis”, so I’m mostly saying all of this because I enjoy the process of building the supercanon in my head that brings me the most joy! To summarize the varied interpretations I’ve brought up in this post:

CQL-only: Suibian sealed itself when Wei Wuxian was a teenager, at latest, by the time he was thrown into the Mass Graves.

Novel-only: Sword-sealing is very rare and achievable only through extraordinarily high cultivation. Shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian is discovered to have sealed itself, so Wei Wuxian’s core, by the time of his death, was extraordinarily powerful.

Audio drama-only: Sword-sealing is considered very rare and achievable only through extraordinarily high cultivation, but might also be accomplished by other methods. Shortly after Wei Wuxian’s death, Suibian is discovered to have sealed itself. If Wei Wuxian’s core is not wildly and improbably powerful, this implies that Suibian has become an exceptionally loyal sword by the time of his death.

CQL/novel: Wei Wuxian was already incredibly powerful by the time he was a teenager.

CQL/audio drama: Suibian has been exceptionally loyal to Wei Wuxian since at least his teenage years.

Novel and audio drama-only have a much wider range of when Suibian could have sealed itself, as mentioned, so there are further variances within those interpretations.

there’s a lot of potential here!! with my personal feelings regarding the story, I like novel-only with Suibian sealing post-core transfer, audio drama-only with Suibian sealing post-Wei Wuxian’s death, or CQL/audio drama with Suibian sealing as a teenager pretty much all equally. I think the CQL/novel interpretation gets too close to casting Wei Wuxian as a hyper-special and innately noble individual in a way that undercuts the strength of his character arc, but that’s my opinion. (As an aside, this is actually one of my major complaints about CQL in general, independent from what I’m talking about here. But that is a topic for another day ahahaha. To be clear, I still love CQL very much, despite my many frustrations!)

As for what I think is the most “likely” to be the “right” interpretation (whatever that’s worth), I would probably say the one that emphasizes Suibian’s loyalty with Suibian sealing post-death, because I think it’s the most thematically cohesive and has the textual support to back it. (I think it’s a valid interpretation even using novel-only text; it’s just slightly less explicit without the additional comment from Wei Wuxian.)

A final detail:

We don’t get anything from either CQL or the novel that explicitly addresses when/if Wei Wuxian is able to wield Suibian again, but the audio drama’s rendition of the “Yunmeng” extra very subtly indicates that by the time that extra takes place, Wei Wuxian has cultivated a golden core and is carrying his sword once more. You only get it at a couple of moments, but Suibian sometimes clinks when Wei Wuxian moves or when he bumps into something. The two instances I can remember specifically are when Lan Wangji tosses the ring onto him (the ring hits Suibian), and when he’s rowing the little boat onto the lotus pond and the motion makes a sound. It’s!!! Extremely good!!! It makes my heart very full!!!!!

ANYWAYS, if all of my scattered rambling didn’t fill the Suibian-shaped hole in your heart, I would also like to recommend @zeldacw‘s wonderful WangQingSuiChen series of comics, featuring anthropomorphized versions of Wangji guqin, Chenqing, Suibian, and Bichen. I believe the most recent comic is here, and there are links to the rest of the comics in the post. If you just want her general tag for the AU (which is more than just the comics), it’s here!

If you have interest in listening to the audio drama yourself, you can purchase it through the MissEvan app (Mao’er FM). There are buying instructions linked in this post! If you need English subtitles, @suibiansubs is the group that does them. :)

I really can’t recommend the audio drama enough, tbh, it’s really really dear to my heart, and the team clearly worked so hard and cared so deeply for the story they were trying to tell. Consider this my regularly scheduled plug for the audio drama ahaha.

As always, my meta is my meta and if you don’t vibe with it, that’s chill! I change my opinions constantly (I think I changed them like three times in the course of writing this ahahaha), and I know some of my older meta has been making the rounds and every time I see it I think about all the ways my views have shifted since I wrote it rip. For this post moreso than usual, I want to emphasize that pretty much all of the meta included in this is meant to explore intriguing what-if possibilities, not for serious literary analysis purposes. I am aware that a lot of this is reaching/overinterpreting into implications that probably aren’t there. I just think they’re fun to consider!

so this was a mess, but I hope you or someone out there enjoyed it anon!!

(ko-fi, if you’re so moved)

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

[slasherholic]

synopsis: Your pleasant Christmas dinner at the sorority house is ruined when Billy, ever the horny little shit, decides to make a call.

Concerning the Man in the Attic | Billy Lenz x Reader | NSFW

(Author’s note: this is a -slight- AU where Billy hasn’t actually begun his murder spree yet. All the sorority sisters are still alive and thriving.)

“A slice of ham for you, dear?”

You shake off your daze and blink up at Mrs. Mac from your already full-to-bursting plate. She holds a slender knife to her steaming Christmas ham and looks down at you with an expectant smile, a rosy glow pinkening her plump cheeks, jolliness shining like candlelight in her wrinkled eyes. You can smell the alcohol on her from where you sit.

“Oh, no, that’s alright.” You put on your cheeriest face. “Thank you though Mrs. Mac—maybe a bit later. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

You don’t miss the way the portly woman’s grin falters. She exhales through her nose.

“Later, then.” Says Mrs. Mac, her smile just a bit more shallow than it had been before, and moves on down the table to ask the same question to Jess. You drop your eyes back to the glob of mashed potatoes crowded on your plate and think, Nicely done. Now you’re on her shit-list.

Except you probably would have made it on Mrs. Mac’s shit-list regardless, because unless you want to puke it right back up all over that stupid Christmas ham, your food is already as good as wasted; your appetite is well and truly gone, and it isn’t coming back.

All because you can’t stop thinking about the calls. 

Today the moaner phoned not once, but twice.

Jess and Phyllis, and Barb especially, her wine glass filled nearly to spilling in her hand, already seem to have forgotten the ordeal. Jess sweeps her dark hair out of her eyes and prods at her asparagus with her fork. Phyllis cups her mug in her slender hands and takes dainty sips. And Barb, sprawled out across the couch with her feet propped on the armrest, knocks back another tall glass of Sauvignon Blanc. She’d popped open her first bottle at 4:00 and has showed no signs of slowing down since.

Whatever thoughts might be preoccupying your sister’s minds you’re confident that they do not concern the man behind those awful calls. The other residents of the house consider the moaner akin to a barking dog—as long as he remains a disembodied ruckus in the neighbor’s yard, why should they fear being bitten? And so they forget him as quickly as the line goes dead.

But not you. Forgetting is off the table for you. Because the reality of the situation—and it is so painfully clear—the reality of the situation is that the dog was never in the neighbor’s yard.

All this time it has been curled up somewhere nice and cozy in yours, and has pissed all over Mrs. Mac’s petunias for good measure, and nobody seems to be batting an eye at the stench. Nobody but you.

But you’ve grown used to covering your nose with your sleeve and pretending you can’t smell it, either.

After the first obscene phone call back at the start of December you could never shake the feeling that something in the house had changed, had soured, had become just not right. There was the case of the missing food from the cabinets; and at night, no shortage of strange creaking and grinding sounds from the attic above; and yes, it was a big old house, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard a rusty pipe squeal like a suckling pig before.

And so you suspect the worst; that the truth behind the moaner is far more sinister than your sisters, than Mrs. Mac, than anyone seems to realize. 

And yet, you wouldn’t dare to bring it up. You wouldn’t dare.

That pervert living in the house somewhere? What a joke. You had no hard evidence to show for it, just a gut-wrenching feeling. The claim would sound paranoid at best.

So here you are, resigned to gritting your teeth; and covering your nose; and bearing the stink.

You tune out most of the chatter as Christmas dinner carries on. Barb chatters to Phyllis—Phyllis lends an ear, sipping lazily from her cocoa with a snide smile plastered across her face. Barb chatters to Jess—Jess doesn’t bite. There’s something eating at her, you think. Mrs. Mac interjects occasionally with chatter of her own.

When the phone rings, the chatter stops. So does your heart.

Your eyes race to where the receiver rests on its stand in the adjoining living room. 

“Rrrring. Rrrring.”

The shrill note carries through the cavernous hallways of Mrs. Mac’s grand old house. Once, twice, three times. 

Barb is on the scene in seconds. She springs upright from her place on the couch, wobbling dangerously when her feet hit the floor—only to regain her precarious balance with the very next step. You chew your lip as she lifts the receiver and presses it to her cheek. 

An ear-to-ear grin sprawls across her face. She sticks the phone out for all to hear.

“Tasty cunt.” Comes the garbled voice over the phone. “I can smell it, I can smell your ripe wet cunt.”

The room must drop by ten degrees because you start to shiver. It’s him again; the moaner.

“Maybe you’re smelling your own breath, pal.” Barb quips.

“Oh Barb, just hang up.” Pleads Jess, worry written across her pale face.

“I’m gonna eat it—ooh, I’m gonna come and eat it, I’ll stick my face in it, let me smell it, let me eat your dripping pussy, I know how wet you are…” 

The phone crackles with manic snickering.

“I watched you stick your fingers up your cunt… I watched you rub and rub and ruin your pretty pinky panties…” 

Your heart drops. Your face burns. You cross your legs beneath the table. You have a pair of panties which might fit that bill. Panties which—perhaps not-so-coincidentally—have been missing for three days.

The man on the phone squeals like a hungry pig. The squeals peter into grunting, shallow and hasty, and Barb, covering her hand with her mouth, has never looked so amused. 

When the line goes dead the living room erupts with hooting laughter.

“The poor guy didn’t even last twenty seconds that time!” Barb barks. She plants the phone back on its stand and slumps onto the couch, her chest heaving.

“No rest for the wicked I guess.” Phyllis suggests. “Not even on Christmas.”

The chatter resumes; you try your absolute hardest to focus on your mashed potatoes and on your green beans and not, for the love of god, on what the moaner is doing with your underwear.

You volunteer to clean up after dinner. Luckily, Mrs. Mac had been too many drinks in to remember that you hadn’t touched a single bite of her hard work (No no, don’t worry yourself, I’ve got it, dinner was splendid, you’ve outdone yourself, really, you deserve a lie down. Merry Christmas to you too Mrs. Mac) and the woman had given you a dull smile, and toddled off to bed.

You scrub at the dried cranberry sauce caked on a plate and try your hardest not to think about the man in the attic. You know you should go to the police. That’s what any rational person would do, right? You can picture the conversation now;

Yes hello officer, there’s a strange man in our house and nobody knows he’s there except me. How do I know? Well it’s simple, you see, I know because he watched me finger-fuck myself and then stole my panties and then called over dinner to gloat about it.

You furrow your brow and scrub harder.

Yeah; fat chance.

If you’re going to do this you need to be certain. You need irrefutable evidence that there is, in fact, some creep squatting in your house. You need to wait for him to slip up—to make a mistake—to show himself.

You huff and drop the sponge into the sink, bending to load the plate into the washer.

“Hugnhh—”

The abrupt sound is a grunt; almost animalistic. It comes from somewhere behind you.

You straighten up like a springboard and turn on your heel, planting your hands on the kitchen sink, your frantic eyes sweeping the room.

The grunting stops as abruptly as it began—but you weren’t imagining it. You couldn’t have been. No way in hell. 

All the hairs on your arms stand on end as you peer out into the dining room. It is silent; silent and still. You hold your breath. You eyeball Mrs. Mac’s beautiful lace cloth; it is draped across the dining room table, nearly touching the floor.

Your grip on the kitchen sink turns your knuckles white.

There’s something underneath the table, screams a voice inside your head.

“Claude?” You whisper to nobody but yourself.

It must be Claude—Claude is on the prowl, and he’s licking at some table scraps. That must be it.

“Come out of there, you silly fat cat.” Your voice wavers that time. As you let go of the sink you approach the table as if it were a living thing, about to rear up on its hind legs and charge you down like an angry bull.

It’s just the cat. Just that stupid fat cat. In a second I’ll feel like a total idiot.

You tell yourself these things as you sink to your knees on the cold wooden floor and grab a fistful of tablecloth. The cloth is silky and cold in your fingers. Your heart pounds as you lift it, peering into the unknown beneath.

For a moment, you forget how to scream.

A dark silhouette is hunched over like a gargoyle beneath the table. 

It is a man, you realize; a man with wild hair and wild eyes. His pants are unzipped. Pearly teeth flash as he gawks at you, a horrible grin sprawling across his face. He pumps a piece of fabric furiously back and forth around his member.

“Pretty—mphh—pinky—ungh—panties…” The voice is instantly recognizable.

You drop the tablecloth and scramble backwards.

The man lunges from beneath the table like a rabid animal. Cold hands scrabble for a grip on your wrists; his momentum topples you. Your back meets the hardwood floor. He pins you with his weight.

You whip your head back and forth as fingers grapple at your jaw and pull on your nose and wrench your mouth wide open. The pink fabric is stuffed in, muffling your scream before it can leave your throat. 

The man clamps a cold, slender hand over your mouth. The grin he wears is manic. Your pulse thuds as hard and as fast as a runaway train in your neck, and as he leans in close you turn your head away from him. The wool of his turtleneck is scratchy against your clavicle. He reeks of mold and dust and cat food.

“Shhh-shush-shush-shushhh…” 

His mouth is inches from your own, sour breath hot against your cheek. 

It’s him. The man from the attic.

The tears come streaming down your face. You think you might die from the shock of it all alone, if the moaner doesn’t kill you first.

“Noisy. Noisy little pig. Trying to run away; trying to run away and tell on Billy.” He strokes your hair like a young girl fawning over a coveted doll.

“You’re not gonna tell, though.” The sound of his snickering is even worse in person. “No-no-no-no. You won’t do it. You won’t.” 

You recoil when his cold fingers graze your cheek, your whine stifled by the gag; your own panties. The taste of Billy’s seed on the fabric is salty and bitter. He’s been using them.

“Greedy greedy little piggy~” Billy’s garble is a sing-songy whisper.

“You think about Billy, you like Billy’s calls, you want to know how Billy tastes, you want his fat cock in your pretty lips so you can suck it, suck it, suck it-suck it-suck it.”

“Nnng-unnh—” You whine at him. A pang of anger flares in your belly.

No. No, no, no. That is just plain wrong. Those calls were vulgar. They were disgusting. Obscene; the very definition of the word. You were most certainly not rubbing one out to the thought of this vile man—to the thought of Billy—with all his classless promises of what he would do to your sisters, if given the chance, and of what he might do to you, in particular…

Above you, Billy snorts.

“Liar. You lying bitch-pig. You’re wet; you’re dripping. I can smell your ripe wet pussy.”

Suddenly those cold, roving fingers are dipping down below your waistline, burrowing beneath your pants. A finger hooks into your cunt up to the knuckle. You writhe, bucking your hips like a mare in heat and trying desperately to throw him off, but Billy’s weight is more than enough to keep you pinned.

Billy looks downright giddy; like he’s about to blow his load then and there. He flashes his lop-sided grin at you and his finger retreats from your warmth, only to be shoved hand-deep into your mouth. You taste your body’s own excitement.

“Soaking! Soaking wet! Nasty pig, filthy pig!” Billy squeals.

I don’t want it, you think, as Billy shifts his weight on top of you, facing your undeniably dripping cunt, planting his knees on either side of your head. His unzipped member dangles inches from your face. You kick your legs, but he is quick with the zipper of your jeans, and shucks them down your thighs with ease, offering your panties the same rough treatment. You squeak into your gag when he gropes starving handfuls of your ass, squeezing and kneading, as if enamoured with your curves; mesmerized.

It’s like he’s never touched a woman before. You suspect you’re not far from the truth.

You can do nothing but watch as Billy’s head dips down between your legs, dark hair tickling the flesh of your thighs. You whine; and that hot, wet, filthy tongue licks a long, sloppy stripe down your bare cunt—from your clit to your ass.

Billy mewls.

“Nasty, nasty nasty nasty—”

His erection bobs in your face, strained and swollen. You suppose you could spit out the gag at this point if you were determined enough. You could scream for Mrs. Mac and Barb and Jess and surely the neighbors would hear, too, and this pervert, this fucking creep, would be thrown back into whatever institution he crawled out of.

But then, the warmth of Billy’s mouth returns to suck and suck and suck at your clit.

You heave a muffled moan and thrash beneath him, no longer trying to dismount him—just because you can’t take it. 

You tremble when Billy’s hot tongue probes at your opening. It is a full-body tremble, a horrible shiver, and you feel that you are both burning up and freezing to death at the same time, a terrible hot-cold sensation. His tongue delves in as far as it can reach; he laps you up greedily. He grunts and moans and squeals all the while, and his member drags across your cheek, and you are not surprised when he plants his elbow on your chest and takes himself in his fist, pumping his cock furiously; back and forth, back and forth.

Billy grunts like an animal when he comes. Hot ropes of his seed spurt out on to your face, coating your lips and your cheeks and your nose.

“You won’t tell them…” Comes Billy’s pitchy whine. It is almost desperate. “You want more of Billy, so much more, so much more…”

You shudder, because you think he’s right.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Okay so the Bakujirou fic made me want to read more of ur writing(uwu💖💖💖💖)so can you please write a fluffy tdmm fic of them playing Animal Crossing:New Horizons together featuring trans girl Momo(which is my favorite bnha trans hc tbh)?Pls include all your headcanons i want this to be as self-indulgent for you as possible

We are getting up to some hopefully good nonsense up in here~! Let’s see if I can’t cook up something tasty for ya! Also this was one of those prompts that really got away from me and kinda... rambled away from the main point of the request and dissolved into a bit of a character study with added notes of fun shipping goodness so please forgive the length! And obviously if this is unsatisfactory please feel free to scream at me for my sins.

Trigger Warning: Transphobia, Mentions/ References to Body Dysphoria

She wasn’t Nashi. 

Momo had to remind her of that fact every now and again, when the doubts about her appearance started to leak in. Did she present well enough? Did her hobbies speak loudly enough of the truth of her femininity or did people think she was faking? If she decided to go with a bob cut like Ochako’s, or a cute pixie like Mina's, would it make her features stand out wrong? Would she be fine wearing shorts, or would it be safer to pick a skirt or dress? It wasn't as often as it used to be that the anxiety about her appearance reared up - especially since she had been eagerly accepted by her peers when she confessed that she'd been deemed male at birth - but there were still moments where it did.

Like that evening, in specific.

While Father and Mother still worked in Pro Heroics, their roles had shifted quite drastically over the years. Momo herself had only been eight years old when Father was gravely injured in a Villain fight, taking a serious blow to protect a fleeing civilian. There had been countless surgeries and treatments to follow, leaving Father unable to move as well as he used to. He retired as an active on-duty Pro and became more involved with the agency behind the scenes. He worked more with the finances, employee relations and things of that ilk while Mother took over control as the public face. For a while, things were fine like that. It was a nice balance between them and, even though it was clear Father missed interacting with the public, he settled into his position quite well.

But as Momo's second year at UA started its second half, Father's health started deteriorating quickly. His immune system had been compromised as a result of all his past procedures and the side effects of that started to hit fast and hard. Momo herself had missed three days of classes to rush to see him when his cold escalated enough to warrant a hospital stay. While there, Mother and Father had discussed an upcoming business mixer. It would allow for them to connect with various other agencies to locate team-up partners as well as connecting to a few new support development teams. Mother had seemed rather concerned by the idea of going alone given that Father had always been the social core of their team.

And so, despite her discomfort, Momo had volunteered to go along. Mother had seemed surprised but agreed to take up her offer.

The day had been very strange leading up to the event itself. After getting out of her classes that Saturday, Mother picked her up to get put together. The full works were done for her; hair, make-up, manicure and pedicure, all coordinated to match with the long, sapphire blue evening gown Mother had picked out for her. Mother was an odd mix of overly involved and incredibly distant, taking care to ask if the length of her heels were comfortable for her or if the red of her lipstick was too dark for her liking. Once getting a response, though, she’d be heading off to tend to something for her own attire for the night without a second glance.

A part of her said she should have expected as much. It was a hard thing to define, her relationship with her mother. Ever since she came out and asserted who she really was - claimed Momo as her true name - Mother had never misgendered or dead named her. Even in the beginning, when the change in name and pronouns were still new, she’d gone out of her way to speak more carefully, to address her daughter the correct way. Momo took that as a sign that she was accepted, yes, but… Mother had always been incredibly distant. She seemed to only take an interest in Momo when it involved her Quirk training and her accomplishments therein. She often wondered if the problem was more that Mother had never wanted children in the first place and only agreed to having one to placate Father, or to carry on the family name.

It was rather disheartening to think about. 

The moment they entered the extravagant ballroom for the mixer, another Pro that Momo couldn’t place was flagging Mother down excitedly. “Yaoyorozu-San, such a delight!” he greeted happily, offering her his hand. His gaze flickered over to Momo, smile remaining in place though his eyes gleamed in confusion. “Ah, and who is this? A niece or cousin of yours or your husband’s?”

“No,” Mother said, quirking an eyebrow as if the answer should be obvious, “this is my daughter, Momo.”

Momo made sure to flash a demure smile as she bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”

“A daughter? I heard your only child was a son,” Momo could feel herself tense as she righted her posture. Of course, she thought, it would already be starting so quickly into her evening.

“A mistake, I assure you. This is my daughter and I expect you to respect her as such,” There was an odd undercurrent to Mother’s tone that caused Momo to glance at her sideways. She looked thoroughly unamused, judging by the scowl and slight glare she had fixated on him, and her shoulders were squared as a show of confidence. She supposed that Mother got tired of hearing this same statement time and again.

He blinked slowly, nose wrinkling briefly, before nodding curtly. “Of course. My apologies,” he shifted his gaze away from her to Mother quickly, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyway, Yaoyorozu-San, I had been hoping to have a word with you! I have a case on my hands that seems well suited to your skills.”

Mother perked up a bit at that. “Hmm. For now I’ll just take a general overview. I assume you do not have any official documents regarding it on your person currently, yes?”

Momo let out a small breath at the attention being directed away from her. “I’ll be going to get a refreshment, Mother,” she announced, though she doubted that she was heard. She made a beeline for the aforementioned table. It was often at these kinds of get-togethers that there were two separate refreshment areas; one for the younger crowd and another for the adults. She grabbed the ladle in the punch bowl and started to pour some into a decorative plastic cup for herself. There were orange and lemon slivers floating on the surface of the liquid so she prepared herself for the tart bite of citrus on her tongue, a small smile on her lips.

For a second she thought of Shoto, most likely settled in the dorms with his Nintendo Switch, most likely catching bugs or fishing on his new Animal Crossing game. The system and game - according to him - were a bribe from Hawks to keep some secret from Endeavor. Shoto had held up that part of the bargain but, he confessed, had snitched to Natsuo. It had been the most entertaining family meal they’d had in a while after that, he assured, and she giggled to herself as she sipped her drink. He may not seem like it, but Shoto had a mischievous streak in him.

“No way! Is that you, Nashi?” She jumped and whipped around, noticing a group of three boys around her age approaching. She recognized one of them from her first grade school, before she’d started her transition, but it took a moment to place a name to the face.

She plastered on a smile as she turned to face them fully. “It’s Momo, actually. It’s good to see you again, though, Hiroki-Kun,”

Hiroki blinked and tilted his head, confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in epiphany. “Oh, okay, my bad! Momo it is!” he agreed with a grin before indicating the other two with him. “Well, let me introduce you! This guy to my left is Yori, and the one to my right is Manzo! Guys, this is Momo, the one I was telling you about!” His tone dipped slightly as he introduced the second boy with him, as if saying his name had left a bitter taste in his mouth, but quickly perked back up after.

Yori offered a shy smile, staying close to Hiroki, but still offering her his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Momo-San. Hiroki-Kun says a lot of great things about you,” he said quietly.

"Does he?" she asked in slight surprise.

Hiroki grinned at her, folding his hands behind his head. "Of course! You were, like, the coolest kid on the playground! Cool Quirk, super nice, really smart… Who wouldn't admire that?"

She looked away bashfully and giggled. "You're too kind, Hiroki-Kun," she mused, turning her attention to Manzo. She held out her hand to shake his hand next. "You're Manzo-Kun, right?"

“And you’re Nashi, yeah?” he quipped, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

She flinched and shook her head, still trying to be civil. “No, I’m not. As I just told Hiroki-Kun, my name is Momo,”

“Your name now is Momo, but your real name is Nashi,” he retorted.

Her hand dropped to her side, clenching into a fist at her side as she tried to keep her cool. “Momo is my real name!”

“No,” Manzo laughed, taking a step towards her that caused her to take a step back, “Momo is the name you use to play dress up.”

Hiroki stepped forward, shoving an arm against Manzo’s chest and nudging him back that step. “Dude, don’t be a disrespectful ass!”

“She hasn’t said or done anything to offend you. And even if she did, that doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” Yori chimed in as well, a disappointed frown on his face.

Manzo glared before shoving Hiroki’s arm aside and advancing on Yori, who recoiled at his approach. “Oh, what? You think just because you have your stupid little buddy here you’re hot shit?” he barked, moving to shove him.

In a flash, Momo rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Leave him alone!” she snapped.

Manzo whipped around to face her and wretched his arm free, a nasty grin on his face. “Oh, what, you wanna fight about it? Fine! Let’s fight like men! Since that’s what you really are, Nashi-Kun!” he goaded.

“I’m not a boy and my name isn’t Nashi!” she shouted back, grip on his arm tightening slightly as angry tears started to pool in her eyes. “My name is Yaoyorozu Momo and I’m a girl!”

There was a beat of silence following her words, making her glance up as she realized that all conversation had died around them. Her stomach churned at the realization of the spectacle they’d become. She wasn’t supposed to behave like this! She was supposed to come and be the perfectly sociable young lady her parents had raised her to be. She wasn’t supposed to be getting dragged into situations like this.

“What is the meaning of all of this?” Mother’s curt tone cut in, snapping her from her thoughts. She had to steel herself to look up only to see that furious orange eyes were not fixated on Momo herself, rather, Manzo.

“Yes, son, explain,” another voice chimed in from behind Mother. The man she’d been chatting with when Momo first wandered away approached, looking directly at Manzo with a clearly forced smile on his face.

Manzo opened up his mouth to speak when Hiroki interrupted with “Manzo was being a dick to Momo! He wouldn’t respect her identity or name!”

“I was just stating the truth!” Manzo sneered angrily, finally wrenching his arm free from her grasp.

“Son, you-!”

“Momo, we are leaving. Now,” Mother said, tone clipped and flat.

Manzo’s father looked at her in panic. “Um, uh, Yaoyorozu-San, how about we select a time to discuss that case I mentioned in a more professional setting? One where the adults can talk without the children around?”

Mother glared at him, the look so harsh he shrunk back, before moving to wrap an arm over Momo’s shoulders to lead her out. She said nothing as she allowed Mother to lead her out and to the car, the air between them tense and awkward, barely catching Hiroki trying to call an apology after her and Manzo’s father berating him.

The silence in the back of the limo once they were settled inside was staggering, making Momo wish she could stick her head out the window to scream instead of keeping her gaze fixed on her toes. It was even worse than the air between them on the walk over with the added lack of escape route. She felt like such a failure as she struggled to take in breaths to keep herself composed. She was a top student in the top class at the top Pro Heroics school, for crying out loud! She should be able to handle herself against a bigoted moron! He shouldn't be more terrifying than the ruthless villains she'd faced!

“Momo,” Mother said, her tone so shockingly soft that her head jerked up. Her gaze was fixated on her, as unreadable as ever.

Momo swallowed thickly as she forced herself to square her shoulders. She should apologize for her behavior. She’d caused a scene and surely Mother had been embarrassed by that. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said, blinking in surprise at her words. There was another pregnant pause as Momo let her gaze wander away again, fixated on a small fuzz ball in the limo carpeting by the heel of her left shoe. “Is that normal? What that little brat was saying and doing. Is that what normally happens to you at these kinds of things?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded timidly, wringing her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, for blowing up like that. I can normally keep myself more composed than that during im-!”

“Do not apologize to me, Momo; you were not in the wrong,” she insisted, her voice catching in a mix of irritation and… concern? Mother opened her mouth three times before shutting it again and sighing, her shoulders slumping. “So this has happened and you never told us.”

Feeling a lump sprout and block her throat, Momo could only nod in response.

Mother lifted her head to meet Momo’s eye, her expression filled with sadness and regret. “You don’t feel comfortable coming to me with these concerns, do you?”

“It’s not just… I… So many more important things are going on right now. I don’t want to put more on your plate,” she said softly.

“Nothing is more important than you, Momo,” she argued with a shake of her head. She looked away for a moment before taking a breath and reaching out, setting one of her hands on top of Momo’s. “I haven’t always been the best with affection when it comes to you, or, well, really anyone aside from your Father. I suppose that I had always assumed that it was fine to leave those things to him, that one of us would focus on the emotional side of things and the other the more practical. Father was the fun parent you could play games and sing songs with, while I was the parent who made sure you kept your Quirk in check and your grades up. I thought… I thought that would be a good balance, that it would give you everything you needed. I’ve come to understand how wrong that belief was.”

“M-Mother?”

She placed her other hand above her heart, giving Momo’s a small squeeze as she held her gaze. “I’m going to work at being better for you, at giving you what you need from me. I need you to understand that my failings as a mother... None of that was ever your fault. I’m sorry that my actions made it seem like my love is something you have to work to earn. I love you, Momo, and I’m sorry I’ve presented that fact as being conditional and not eternal,”

She could feel more tears starting to pool in her eyes before she surged forward to embrace Mother. She was tense for a second before she embraced her back, one hand gently combing through her hair soothingly. The rest of the ride back to campus was spent like that, with her face burrowed into Mother’s arms as she cried and settled. It was strange, how nice it felt. It wasn’t like the bear hugs Father used to give her, where her small frame would be completely enveloped and held snug. No, this was something a bit more careful and delicate, something nostalgic and delicate but just as important.

Mother offered to walk her in, carefully dabbing the smeared mascara and smudged eyeshadow aside with a handkerchief, but Momo insisted she’d be fine alone. After stepping out of the vehicle and into the brisk evening air, she took a breath to help settle her nerves and maybe alleviate the twinge of a small headache she could feel brewing. It rattled inside her, still a little shaken up, but she squared her shoulders and made the trek inside. Mother didn’t leave until she was inside, she noted, and made a mental note to talk to her later more about everything that had happened that night. The incident with Manzo had been one thing, but there was the separate can of worms it had opened that she wanted to take care of, too.

She made sure to be quiet as she made her way to the elevator, the sounds of some of their peers milling about in the living room easy to hear. She was pretty sure they were gearing up for their Saturday evening game fest. Surely there’d be a barrage of broken controllers a la Bakugo if it was one of their Super Smash nights, she thought with a small huff, before turning to hit the elevator button. “Momo?” A familiar voice chimed beside her, causing her to jump.

She turned and blinked to be greeted by Todoroki Shoto, staring at her with his usual unreadable face, and let out a small squeak of shock. “Ah, Shoto,” she sighed as her shoulders sagged slightly. “Perhaps Ochako-Chan’s suggestion of putting a bell on you wouldn't be such a bad suggestion. You startled me.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, tilting his head as if sizing her up, and blinked slowly. “I got my Snooty and Cranky villagers earlier,” he said.

She gasped before pouting at him. “You said you’d wait for me to do any more island hopping, Shoto!” she huffed.

“I needed to load up so I could give Ojiro some oranges, and then I got kinda wrapped up doing stuff,” he admitted. He stole a glance at their classmates as Sato and Tooru made their way from the kitchen area with a few bowls and snacks. “Are you going to join everyone else for JackBox tonight?”

She shook her head. “No. Tonight has been a bit more… eventful than I would have liked,” she said, making sure to keep her composure. She didn’t want to worry him over it all. “I just want to go finish washing off the make up, put on some comfortable clothes and relax.”

“I’ll get snacks, then,”

“Huh? Snacks?”

“I still have two plots left for my island and a lot of Nook miles tickets. You get changed and I’ll meet you in your room in a few minutes so we can do them together,” And with that, he moved towards the kitchen.

She blinked and watched him before letting out a small laugh and shaking her head, hitting the elevator button. Shoto was an odd one to be sure, especially since he’d started working towards coming out of his shell more. A part of her was grateful but another part found his stubborn streak to be a bit exasperating. Then again, he only seemed to push when he knew something was wrong, so maybe it was more just trying to offer comfort? Despite his usual aloof demeanor, he was surprisingly astute at reading a room. As to whether or not he could understand how to react to what he was able to deduce was another matter entirely, though.

She set that aside while she got washed up and changed. Her mind shifted gears as she stared at her reflection, thinking about what Mother had said. She felt a tightness in her chest as her mind whirled again. There was some comfort in Mother acknowledging that there was room for growth, sure, but… The catalyst that remained unsaid left her sick. Even if Mother hadn’t said it, she knew this was a reaction to the looming shadow of Father’s death. She had to swallow a growing lump in her throat and shake her head, put those thoughts to bed until a more appropriate time.

She didn’t want to ruin the rest of she or Shoto’s evenings.

She opted for some old sweats and a tank top, taking a moment to comb her hair out from the complex updo it had been styled into, opting to leave it loose afterwards to help abate the small headache she had brewing. Though, if she was honest, sitting and playing games with her boyfriend seemed like a nice way to wind down. She had been having a blast watching Shoto become completely enamored with his little island and all the cute animal villagers with him.

She’d had her own file a good time longer than him and was mostly done with all the villager-hunting and replacing she’d wanted to do but found watching him work through his first experience with it endearing. He’d never even played an Animal Crossing game before so everything was completely new to him. Once she was settled, she took her unit off the dock and propped open the door. Not too long after she’d taken the time to give daily gifts to Phoebe, Ozzie, Chai and Shep, Shoto appeared in the doorway. He had four lychee ramunes, a bowl of popcorn, a bag of konpeito, a variety bag of hi-chews and a package of black licorice tucked away in his arms, his Switch case strap around his wrist. “Ah, here, let me help you,” she urged, setting her Switch down and getting up to help him. “Also, you can dock your Switch on mine. That way we can see your island visits on the big screen together.”

“Thanks. I grabbed a few different things but I can go downstairs and get more later,” he offered as she took the drinks and popcorn. He set the other snacks down on her dresser before heading over to her bed to rearrange the pillows to form the usual cocoon they made for play sessions together. She took his Switch and docked it for him, then grabbed his joycons and put them in the controller holder. Once that was all set up, Shoto settled into the large pillowy ring with his legs spread so that she could settle between them, resting her back against his chest, him using her pillows to prop him up and her relying on him.

She used her remote to flick on the television, then grabbed her console from the other end of the bed and reached for the bowl of popcorn, popping a few pieces into her mouth. “So you did some island hopping while I was gone? Find anyone you liked?” she asked as they watched his game load up.

“I encountered Diana on one of them. She talked to me like she didn’t know me, which was weird,” he said.

“Well, of course she did! That Diana is different from the Diana on my island,” she giggled. She then perked up and glanced up at him. “Oh, and I still need to come get some oranges from you. They’re the only fruit I’m missing on my island.”

“I still can’t believe that out of the fourteen people that have this game, I’m the only one who ended up with oranges as their island fruit. Or that one of you didn’t at least get it as your exotic option,” he commented as his character stepped out of his house. “Oh, and how soon before I can move my villagers' houses?” 

“You’ve already gotten your first three furnished homes, so I think you should have access to it. It’s just a matter of having the bells to spend on moving someone,” she explained as she glanced down at her own screen. Shep came rushing from the left to talk to her excitedly. “Who were you thinking about moving?”

“Roald. I want to move him to the other side of the island from me,”

“Aw, why? He’s so cute!”

“I think he’s plotting to kill me,” he said, completely serious as he stopped in front of the penguin in question's house. When he’d first made his file, Shari and Roald were his beginning villagers and he’d decided to place their tents close to his own for the sake of ease.

She snorted and looked up at him. “He’s just a penguin, Shoto,”

“Just look at his eyes, Momo… He’s a villainous mastermind,” To illustrate his point, he ran his character in a circle around the little avatar, before turning and darting to the left. “That’s why I need more villagers like Ruby and Kyle, who have my back no matter what. I need a whole squad for the day he finally snaps.”

“You don’t think Gayle and Punchy would have your back?”

“Gayle would probably be on my side. She and Roald had a fight the other day so there’s bad blood there. But I don’t want Punchy putting his life on the line. He is a precious boy who must be protected,” he said, glancing down at her with a stern gaze.

She couldn’t help but snort at the expression. Specifically in that it was being enacted regarding pixelated animals on a Nintendo game. “And did you find anyone worthy of enlisting for this most noble of causes?” she teased.

He hummed, reaching with one hand to grab a bit of popcorn himself as he came to a stop between a labelled plot at the edge of the beach. He clicked on the sign, pulling up a card that read “This spot reserved for Static’s new home.”

“Oh, you got Static? He’s a great choice for your Cranky!”

“I like that he is a very tiny squirrel with a very deep voice,” he said.

“Much like how you like that Punchy is a cat and is Lazy?”

“You get me,” he said before running upwards. He crossed a bridge to another area to show another plot with a sign that read “This spot reserved for Willow’s new home.”

Momo giggled. “Willow’s a good choice, too. I almost expected that you’d try to get another cat villager for your Snooty villager, but sheep villagers are always a good one, too,” she said excitedly. She plopped a few more pieces of popcorn into her mouth as she walked into Bruce’s house on her own game. “So you officially have every personality type on your island! Do you have any idea as to what kind of personality types you’d like to have duplicates of?”

“Hmm… Not too sure. You have two Jocks and two Normals, right?” As he asked that, he ran back to his Resources Center to get the first of his last two house kits.

“Yeah. I have Bam and Tybalt, and Bertha and Savannah,” she hummed. She watched as he placed the new house right behind his own, as if it would be watching the back of his own. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the sheer ridiculousness of him.

He hummed thoughtfully before he made his way into the airport. “I guess I’ll just go for characters I like. Personality doesn’t really matter to me since I already have one of every type.”

“That’s a good approach, I think,” she hummed, tossing a bit more popcorn into her mouth. “How many Nook Tickets do you have?” 

“13,” he said while speeding through the dialogue to board the plane. “I farmed Nook miles after I found Static and Willow so I could go get more villagers once you got back.”

She tilted her head up and pressed a small kiss to his chin. “So sweet,” she hummed before looking down at her own game as she started looking for her daily fossils. She’d already completed the fossil exhibits in her game, but like the extra scratch she got from selling the duplicates.

For a moment things were quiet as Shoto used his ladder to climb up the three tiers of the small island to the top, where his potential new villager was waiting. To then immediately start climbing back down at the sheep sitting in front of the campfire. “Nope. Nope. N. O. P. E,” he mumbled as he did.

“Aw, you don’t want Pietro? He’s considered rare!”

“And he can stay rare and away from my island,”

The next three islands were deemed ones Shoto wasn’t interested in - Eugene, Jeremiah and Limberg - not that she could blame him with Limberg. “He’s not particularly good,” she mumbled.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen a single mouse villager that I like the design of,” he commented as he wandered off the desk and onto his fifth island.

“Bree and Dora are pretty cute but most of them are really lackluster,” she agreed, saving her own file and setting her Switch in her lap as he approached the campfire.

Shoto blinked in slight surprise. “A snow leopard?”

“Actually, Bianca’s classified as a tiger, despite her markings,” she said. She watched as he immediately invited her to his island. “Just so you know, she’s a Peppy type, I think.”

“She looks like Fuyumi-Nee,” he said. Ah, of course that would be enough to get him on board with adding Bianca to his roster.

She set her Switch aside and carefully maneuvered off of her bed. “I’m going to open one of the ramune. Do you want me to open one for you, too?”

She made quick work of opening the drinks and offering him his once he finished placing his last plot back on his own island. She took a quick sip from hers before opening the package of black licorice and eating a piece as she watched him. “Mind if I ask you something unrelated, Shoto?”

He glanced up at her, mismatched eyes sparking with something she couldn’t quite place, before he set his drink on the bedside table and patted the space she’d left. “Sure,” he said, his avatar boarding the plane to do his next round of island hops.

She was quick to settle back in with him, turning her body this time to snuggle into his chest. She felt him shift to wrap his arms around her, controller lax in his hand. “We’ve discussed it before but… What do you think it takes to forgive someone?”

He let out a thoughtful noise. “Well, I think forgiveness is different from person to person. Everyone has a threshold for what they feel is forgivable, so I think that needs to be considered,” He set the controller off to the side to card one hand through her hair while the other stroked up along her spine, the movements slow and soothing. “Speaking from my own situation… I chose forgiveness because I could see a genuine change and a refusal to shy away from the wrongs that had been done. I’m still keeping a distance, and I’m ready to burn that bridge in a heartbeat if I see a relapse, but… I can see authentic change. And that’s enough for me to offer my tentative, conditional forgiveness.” 

She nodded at his words, closing her eyes and burrowing into him further. She had always wanted to have a better relationship with Mother, if she was honest. So… This could be a good chance for that, right? They could work on mending things between them and find some common ground. The thought of having a better relationship with her left a warmth in her chest, one that made her smile. Could they have proper Mother-Daughter days? Maybe she could learn more about the older woman’s hobbies and interests outside of Pro Heroics work? That could be nice. “Thank you, Shoto,” she mumbled.

“Any time, Momo,” he said, tipping his head to press a peck to the top of her head. He perked up again and glanced at the screen. “Not to derail but… I think it’s another cat?”

“Oh yeah? What color?” she mumbled.

He shifted his hands to pick his controller back up, keeping his arms looped around her though. “Grey. Oh, their eyes are different colors,”

“Oh, that’s-!” Momo’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking wildly over her shoulder at the screen. “Shoto, that’s Raymond! You got Raymond!”

[angeltears-writing]

The Brother’s and movies

Lucifer

v  Lucifer tells anyone who asks that he enjoys serious, dramatic movies set during the wartimes the type that get Oscar nominations but are quite intense and a little dull.

v  Lucifer however holds a dirty little secret that his prideful nature will not allow him to outwardly share.

v  He LOVES Christmas movies.

v  The end of year holiday movie’s just alleviate all the stress in him. He is so happy while watching that he can barely keep the grin off his face.

v  DO NOT watch Home Alone with him and Mammon. Lucifer every 2 minutes is mouthing off against Mammon stating that HE is the Kevin of the family.

v  His favourite holiday movie is the Santa Clause.

v  The holidays are so special to him and the movies just capture the atmosphere and joy he feels.

v  He loves Christmas because he finally gets a break from his duties, he can have a fun little party with his beloved brothers and friends, he receives and gives meaningful gifts and even Satan is nice to him on Christmas.

v  When you come to the Devildom you bet Lucifer is watching Love Actually with you and every single romantic Christmas movie so he can feel enjoy the warm fuzzy feelings assiociated with his favourite holiday with his beloved Y/n.

Mammon

v  Before you came the Devildom Mammon solely watched hardcore triple X action movies. Unless on movie night with his brothers, then he’s forced to watch some boring artsy flick or some anime junk movie .*cough cough Levi*

v  He was a total dudebro and loved PointBreak.He owns the full collection of the Fast and the Furious. What’s not to love with the live fast, die hard law breaker lifestyle?

v  The man also lives for heist movies, Oceans 11? He has it memorised! He thinks about how HE would be a huge asset to the team and dreams about pulling off some high action super cool heist with you.

v  When Y/n comes to the Devildom it is like a flip of a switch for Mammon.

v  He says he can handle horror movies but you both know that’s a big fat lie so only insist on watching them if you wish to torture him.

v  He will complain and insult your choices of chick flicks and romantic comedies but he is enraptured.

v  HE LOVES it, he watches a couple of them in secret and daydreams about you and him as the main couple.

v  This man wants to pull a Heath Ledger and serenade you to “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” in front of his brothers, Diavolo, RAD, heck even the whole Devildom.

v  He is living for these romantic comedies and constantly tries to recreate his favourite cutesy moments with you. (Did he get you “special wishing sparkles” and told you to close your eyes and make a wish? Did he then give you a shy blushy kiss when you opened your eyes and say wish granted? Who knows that’s between you and him.)

v  Oh and you bet he’s crying when the couple’s fight and cheering so hard when they finally get together. He can’t help it he’s a secret romantic. Don’t be so loud about it Y/n! He has a tough guy attitude to maintain.

Leviathan

v  Anime movies. Need I go on?

v  He has the Blu-ray special editions of Studio Ghibli movies and he loves watching them on rainy cold days snuggled under a blanket with you.

v  He loves Ponyo for obvious water and fish related reasons. You guys have defiantly done cosplay photo shoots, he was Ponyo, you were Sosuke and Henry was the fishy sisters.

v  Other than anime movie’s Levi is a 80’s movie aficionado. He has seen every 80’s movie. He particularly relates to the high school movies for the theme of the awkward nerdy guy getting the super cool, popular girl of their dreams.

v  He does enjoy the nerdier comic book, big budget action movies, like Kick-Ass. He and Satan have faced off against each other regarding whether DC or Marvel movies are better. (He prefers the funny antics associated with Marvel plus he’s a Peter Parker fanboy)

v  He also is a huge fan of any Edgar Wright movie since seeing Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. (He let out a Woaahhhh when he saw the comics)

v  May Lord Diavolo have mercy upon you if the movie is a book or tv show adaption because Levi will not shut up during the movie. (He will pause the movie he’s not THAT inconsiderate.) You will not have a moment of peace after the movie has ended. He simply must share every single thought he had on what the movie did right and what the movie did wrong. Then he has to show you his fan casting list of who would better fit the roles and then just when you think it’s over he pushes you to re-watch the movie with him to listen to the director commentary.  

v  Levi will generally save his commentary for after the movie if you got to the movie theatre with him. Something about the change of atmosphere and the excitement that comes from the movie watching experience just puts him in a calmer less frantic mood and you can enjoy a simple quiet movie date for an hour or 2 before your ear will be talked off.

 Satan

v  DO NOT WATCH BOOK TO MOVIE ADAPTATIONS WITH HIM! HE IS WORSE THAN LEVI AND TWICE AS BRUTAL IN HIS CRITICS.

v  Now that that fact is out of the way Satan is a mystery fan. He enjoys the cheesy who dunnit type movie’s especially if the detective solving the mystery is very cool and charismatic with a fun catch phrase.

v  One that caught him of guard and quickly became his favourite was Knives Out. A clear mystery with a wacky bunch of characters all with misleading facts and motivations. Additionally he was thrown for a loop on the ending so he really enjoyed it for its unpredictability.

v  Of course Satan enjoys DC movies I mean he and Levithan read the comics and he is a clear believer that the serious tone and consequence from DC makes them the far superior super hero franchise.

v  Contrary to popular belief Satan does not like documentaries, he gets restless and bored watching them, but you keep putting on those boring long documentaries because it leads to a very steamy make out session with a slightly huffy Satan who had been complaining that his movie choice would have been much more enjoyable. Hush hush Satan we are not watching the Blue Planet to sate our curiosity of the inner workings of the environment but rather to quiet your adorable little tuts and huffs with soft sweet kisses and gentle touches.

v  The double edged sword that comes from picking a documentary is that Satan will indeed make you suffer by making his pick a terrifying horror movie since he thinks you are oh so adorable when you’re frightened. He thinks it’s really cute when you ask him to walk you to the bathroom because you’re afraid of the big scary monsters and it’s even cuter to him when you throw your face into his chest and refuse to look until the scary scene is over. Haaa he cannot resist and must pat your head and give you a small peck.

Asmo

v  When one watches a movie with Asmo, one does not simply see it, one lives it.

v  Asmo loves 90s and early 2000s movies about the pretty popular girls because he lives to see their fabulous closets, outfits and their dewy supple skin. He’s a huge fan of Clueless, Legally Blonde and Bring It on.

v  He also simply dies for those cult classic like, Mommie Dearest, Troop Beverly Hills, Drop Dead Gorgeous, Marie Antoinette, Death Becomes Her and many more. You guys put on face masks grab a couple of tasty cupcakes and start reciting the movies line for line bursting into giggles every time, that’s how many times you’ve seen them.

v  Asmo gets the appeal of campy movie’s that have not been appreciated for their odd charm so when you come along you bet he’s going to be shouting out his favourite one liners and you fire the responses right back. He’s in love.

v  What he loves most about the campy movies is the fabulosity and authenticity that comes from the movie’s just wanting to tell a great story and celebrate the oddities and dramatics of the characters. His favourites are the ones with drag queens particularly Priscilla Queen of the Desert, To Wong Foo and The Birdcage. How is he not meant to simply adore the beautiful wigs, costumes, the attitudes of the queens and the sharp, dry, witty humour.

v  Big blockbuster wise Asmo is inclined to see any musical, and yes for 3 weeks straight he will sing the songs of the musical, much  to the displeasure of his brothers but to the delight of you and Solomon who cheer him on and request encores. (Yes you all went to see Cats together, yes you dragged Satan along. Yes everyone but especially Satan was traumatised and yes Asmo did drape himself across every available surface in the House of Lamentation and belted out Memory for practically the whole Devildom to enjoy. Enough with the questions!)

v  Asmo’s favourite musical is Rocky Horror Picture show, you have monthly viewings where Asmo dresses up as Frank en Furter and performs…well not for you more on top of you.

v  Movies with Asmo are always fun treats, you both have a great time with each other and walk away from the movie’s feeling more emotional and closer with one another.

Beel

v  Beel’s taste in movies is similar to his taste in food he is not picky and enjoys a wide variety.

v  He enjoys mafia movies of any variety He likes the familial bond and the trust between members but does not enjoy the double crossing, it makes him feel sad.

v  Other than that he lives for the lively mood, the Italian food, the dramatic situations and the action sequences.

v  He has seen a few animated movies and his favourite is Brother Bear, it reminds him of him and Belphie and makes him soft.

v  He does actually does like twin movies because the plots are always outlandish and funny to him at least.

v  When it comes to movies where food is central to the plot, do not get him started. The amount of times you had to pause Ratatouille so he could get his 20th snack in the last 10 minutes was astonishing. He get’s extra hungry watching the movie but generally enjoys chatting to you about the food making process of each dish rather than paying attention to the plot. (You: Would you prepare food made by a rat? Him: Well I ate Solomon’s cooking once so even a rat’s cooking would be better than that)

v  He loves to ask which dish would you eat when restaurant scenes come up because he’s curious of your taste while watching the movie and sometimes he’ll stop paying attention the movie and instead just watch your reactions.

v  Generally speaking any movie suggestion he’s fine with as long as he gets to spend time with you and can binge on delicious movie snacks.

Belphie

v  The total opposite of Beel, Belphie is a total film snob and will harshly berate your movie choice and say ‘You really made me stay awake for this crap fest.’

v  He doesn’t mean to be mean (yes he does but he doesn’t like making you sad) he just has a very particular taste for movies and if he’s going to extend the effort to stay awake and pay attention he wants it to be worth his time.

v  He is actually the one in the house who does enjoy documentaries. What can he say some habits die hard and he’s still a total Earth nut even though he human-phobic.

v  Not to mention the gentle voice of David Attenbourough soothes him until he is just barely awake so when he finally drifts off he dreams of the wonderful parts of Earth and the miracles or nature.

v  He is a fan of Shakespeare movies particularly the rich dark one’s that are a bit more violent. The atmosphere surrounding them just fits and the plot is a classic so why watch a cheap knock-off of what he has dubbed perfect writing.

v  This man is an emo so of course he’s going to watch the slightly pretentious movies with poetry, his favourites are Dead Poets Society, The Crow and V for Vendetta.

v  On movie nights he is selfish! He insists that you watch his movie first then he immediately falls asleep after it ends. He feels no shame over this.

v  He hates twin themed movies, he thinks they’re cheap and over use the same gag of ‘Whoa they’re twins.’ (Sorry Mary-Kate and Ashley Belphie does not like you guys at all)

v  He watches brother themed movies with Beel and gets really soft because he loves his twin so much.

v  If you truly force him he will relent and watch your movie with you but he will make fun of it and bully you every second he is awake and the only way to silence him is to cuddle up close, let him lay his head on your chest or shoulder, massage his head or give him tons of kisses.  

v  Generally speaking a bad movie buddy but a great cuddle buddy for movie nights.

[merryfortune]

Saving the Best for Last

Relationship: Asuka/Manatsu

Fandom: Tropical Rouge Pretty Cure

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Canon Compliant, Missing Scene Fic, Fluff, Pre-Slash, Pining, Coda

Synopsis: Manatsu wants to thank Asuka for inspiring her to try something new with her eating habits.

  Manatsu could almost feel her reflexes fighting against her as she moved her chopsticks towards the simmered pumpkins that she had prepared over her usual selection of eating her favourite meat patty first. It was so incredibly tempted to switch back to her normal habits but Manatsu was strong and it was totally worth it. Both for Asuka’s sake, of trying something new, but also for the sake of her mother found it amusing but welcome to see Manatsu change things up.

  Her mother delighted to enjoy the simmered pumpkins between them both first. She beamed as she enjoyed them; they were a little wonky regarding flavour and texture but as Manatsu’s mother, Aoi couldn’t have been prouder that her daughter wanted to take up more responsibility around the house and was even taking so much initiative. It made her heart swell and so, she happily ate the simmered pumpkin. Seeing how much hard work Manatsu had put into making it all made it all the tastier.

  Very quietly, to herself, Manatsu was aware of the flaws in what she had prepared for herself and her mother, but she ate eagerly regardless. It mightn’t have been her mother’s cooking, but it was her own and she was proud of that. Not to mention, when she had finally eaten through all her side dishes – the cherry tomatoes and the broccoli and even the omelette – the hamburger patty really did taste fantastic at the end of it.

  Manatsu couldn’t believe it. Asuka’s advice was unreal. Maybe patience really was a virtue after all. She had been a little bit worried that her meat patty might have cooled down too much but she guess that wasn’t really a problem given how she had devoured her side dishes in preparation of her main course. And it really was worth it. It was a little bit burnt on the underside but Manatsu ate it enthusiastically, nonetheless. It was super tasty with all the other merged flavours of the previous side dishes on her palette.

  She just had to thank Asuka later. Her smile permeated the whole of her demeanour as she swallowed down her meat patty.

  “You look happy with yourself.” her mother chipperly piped up – and interrupting her reveries.

  Manatsu’s eyes went wide and she could have choked on her own spit. She could feel the warm blush in her cheeks and now her ears and it was just getting worse as she realised, she was daydreaming about her friend before her mother had spoken. Aoi, however, only laughed.

  “Nothing wrong with enjoying your own food, it’s a good skill to have, believe it or not. Especially when you’re just starting out and experimenting, you don’t want to waste food after all.” Her mother made blithe conversation.

  Manatsu giggled awkwardly, pinching tightly onto her chopsticks and tried desperately hard not to think about the fact that she had been thinking about Asuka. She very much wanted to believe the hot blush she felt was because she had been interrupted daydreaming and nothing else. And its not like it was a weird daydream or anything.

  She was just thinking about Asuka. Asuka and her pretty, shiny, long, red hair. And her pretty purple eyes which were always so sharp and intense. It was intruging. But enough of that. What Manatsu was really thinking about – and definitely not Asuka’s nimble hands or her tall, fit physique – was that she wanted to practice saying thank you to her very friend. It was kind of important, after all as Manatsu wasn’t exactly the most patient person in the world so Asuka being that anchor of serenity meant a lot to her. She hadn’t enjoyed a meal like this in so long and being so busy, especially with her own family, which was so much bigger than Manatsu’s, she just had to say thank you.

  “Thanks for dinner, dear,” her mother said to her – Manatsu blinked, when had her mother cleared the table like that?! – having finished her plates, “I’ll wash up, if you like, it’s only fair.”

  “N-No way!” Manatsu rebuked her, rocketing to her feet, making the dinner table tremble and rock in her wake. “You clean up all the time after all the tropica-shining dinners that you make so its only fair that I clean up after tonight!”

  Her mother blinked. She hadn’t expected being roared at but given that Manatsu was offering to do chores, she didn’t mind too much. She laughed and let Manatsu go about to the kitchen to do the clean-up.

  Manatsu grabbed all the crockery and cutlery off the table to all but immediately dump it in the sink. She all but ripped the faucet out as she tried to turn it on and was incredibly aggressive as she scrubbed them down with hot, soapy water. But at least the job got done quickly and more surprisingly, thoroughly. Her mother was very impressed to see the various plates sparkle once Manatsu was done with them.

  “Good job.” she praised her.

  Manatsu sighed. She drooped with exhaustion. “Thanks, Mum.”

  “Off to bed now, I take it?” she asked.

  Manatsu nodded.

  She had wanted to do more but scrub the dishes clean, she wanted to scrub her mind of all her over-thinking. It was totally unlike her, but it was really frazzling her. It was bizarre just how thinking about and daydreaming about thanking Asuka for something so cosmically insignificant in the grand scheme of things was doing this to her. So, just as exuberantly as she had marched to the kitchen, Manatsu marched to her room to go to bed.

  Even Laura found it strange.

  Manatsu tore off her evening clothes and got into her pyjamas, trying to force her head through her sleeve before realising that she had it around the wrong way – and also inside out.

   Laura sighed. Humans were a different species to mermaids, and she found them rather incomprehensible and then there was Manatsu. Manatsu, Laura was fairly certain, was another species against compared to the other humans that she had since had the mixed pleasure of observing since emerging from the depths of the ocean in search of the Pretty Cure.

  So, rather than flopping out of the Mermaid Aqua Pot to have some quality time with Manatsu who had finally, blessedly, figured out that her head was not supposed to be going into the sleeve of her sleep shirt, Laura settled back down into her own, clam shell-like bed with Kururun who yammered aloud with happy snoring. Laura felt the same. It had been a long day filled with good food and there was nothing better than going to sleep after a day like that.

  Even Manatsu, for all her vigour and boundless enthusiasm, had to agree.

  Though, she did wrestle with her sheets and her pillow a lot that night as she tried her very best not to think about how she was over thinking something as simple as wanting to say thank you to Asuka.

  To no surprise at all, Manatsu woke up the following morning looking like a visible wreck. She had bags under eyes and the usual pep to her step wasn’t quite there. Fortunately, unlike most people who had had a horrid sleep the night before, Manatsu had the advantage of being Manatsu and by the time she had her breakfast, drunk some water, and brushed her teeth, she had more than perked up.

  With little resistance, Manatsu was ready for school so she grabbed the Mermaid Aqua Pot from atop her desk and bolted out the door thereafter. She heard Laura shrieking in protest of being manhandled so carelessly Manatsu hardly cared. It was far too important that she arrived at school early so that she could catch Asuka before classes.

  With the Mermaid Aqua Pot stuffed in her schoolbag, Manatsu came flying past the school gates and in the blur of the wind and the scenery, she caught a glimpse of red. Shiny, sparkling red. And her heart leapt to her throat. Asuka.

  Manatsu smiled a wriggling smile as she cooled off her hot heels. She swerved hard at the tip of how straightforward careening through the quadrangle so she could catch up to Asuka who was still standing by the gates, looking bewildered and gobdmacked at the tornado that had just past her by.

  Manatsu smiled wonkily as she ignored Laura’s complaints about her royal chariot was treating her this morning as she approached Asuka. Stiff-legged and eyes wide.

  “Okay…. Someone’s acting a little strange this morning,” Asuka said in lieu of a greeting.

  Manatsu laughed, straightening up her back and toying with her hair, all shoddily putt up in her usual ponytail but there was bubbles and streaks amid it. “Good morning, Asuka.” Her tone was dragged on.

  “Good morning to you to, Manatsu,” Asuka replied, and she folded her arms, her brow quirked, “I have a feeling you want something from me? Something that can’t wait until club activities, it seems.”

  “Yep!” Manatsu chirped. “I, er, wanted to say thank you. For yesterday.”

  “Oh, yeah, no worries.” Asuka said and she flashed a simmering smile. “I had fun too, teaching everyone to cook.”

  “Oh! Um, not that specifically but thank you again for doing it.” Manatsu said. “I tried it last night. Saving the best ‘til last, that is. And it was super-duper delicious. More delicious than usual. Thank you.”

  Asuka’s eyelashes fluttered as she was thanked for such an unusual but small thing. She smiled shyly.

  “Thanks, Manatsu, and, um, funnily enough…” Her voice trailed off, so she had to clear her throat. “I tried your style of eating last night too.” She confessed quietly.

  “No… way…” Manatsu gasped.

  “Yes, way.” Asuka laughed awkwardly. “And it turns out, I do prefer my style of eating my favourite things last but its really cute how you put your passions first rather than making them last. I feel like I understand you a bit better now.”

  Manatsu blinked. “Really?”

  “Really.” Asuka smiled.

  “Thanks…” Manatsu smiled too. A big and huge smile that made her eyes truly shine – and that almost detracted from the fact that her cheeks had gone a bit red too.

  “Anyways, I was going to help out with the soccer club this morning, they wanted an extra hand to re-pump up some balls and, well, I couldn’t say no for some reason so if you would excuse me but you did catch me at a good time.” Asuka said.

  “Yeah, sure go ahead.” Manatsu replied.

  Asuka’s arms slipped down from in front of her, she put one hand on her hip and said, “See you later at club activities. I’m looking forward to them more and more.”

  “Me too.” Manatsu agreed eagerly. “See you later.”

  Asuka smiled and she nodded her head. She sashayed off and Manatsu watched. She felt her heart throb in her chest and was becoming all too aware of just how red her face was getting. Almost as red as Asuka’s hair, she would reckon.

  Sighing, Laura poked her head of both Manatsu’s pocket and the dimensional window of the Mermaid Aqua Pot, “You are behaving rather irregularly this morning, Manatsu, just what has…?” Laura’s voice trailed off as she took note of Manatsu’s demeanour. She nodded her head sagely. “Oh, I see now. Someone’s been pinched by the crab.”

  “Huh? What crab?” Manatsu asked, all but jumping out of her skin. She didn’t feel pinched by a crab.

  Laura just laughed knowingly. “You know… the crab. The one that makes people behave irregularly, even people like you, Manatsu.”

  “I don’t get it.” Manatsu whined.

  “In due time,” Laura said, “now don’t you have a classroom to get to? Perhaps some homework to do, I don’t recall you doing any last night and didn’t you mention, the day before, there would be a pop quiz today?”

  From one extreme – tomato red – to another – white as a piece of paper – Manatsu’s face changed. She had totally forgotten about that pop quiz; she was originally planning to study last night but then things changed because of the Yarane-da and, of course, because she couldn’t stop thinking about Asuka. Manatsu groaned and felt all her energy deflate.

  “Let’s go to the library and study there, yeah?” Manatsu suggested.

  “It’s your test, not mine.” Laura pointed out before disappearing back into the depths of her mobile home.

  Manatsu then wandered off, just hoping she wouldn’t fail if she threw everything that she could at that test but it sure was weird these past couple days. She was happy too though. She had tried Asuka’s way of eating and apparently Asuka had tried her way, even if it did fail her a bit. It still got her heart racing, perking her up even on the brink of scholastic disaster.

  She still didn’t get what Laura meant by being pinched as Manatsu most definitely did not feel pinched. Even in a pinch like this one.

[hitsuackerman]

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.4

Part 4 of WINTW? :D Enjoy!

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi​ @oikawalmart-hq​ @extrasugafree​ @bbykiyoomi​ @apricotjihyo​ @simpformiya @colorseeingchick @something-that-idk

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5

“How is she?” Todoroki asked as he witnessed the scene before him.

None of them were expecting your quirk to go rampant for a few seconds. Being kept under surveillance, it was a miracle that UA signed the papers to let Recovery Girl be in charge. With your quirk’s sudden outburst, a good portion of her office was now upside down. The closest bed to yours was flipped over, the machine monitoring your vital signs now rested on the floor, and the window separating you from the rest now torn into shreds.

“Her vitals are still normal.” Recovery Girl said as she fixed the machine. Making sure that everything was as it was, she sighed and stared at your sleeping body. In all her years as a nurse, this would have to be the first time she would experience this. “Todoroki-san. Your father’s lab sent me some EEG results. I went over them a few hours ago.”

Todoroki nodded. His fist slowly balling.

“It perplexes me.” She pointed her index at you. “Her brain activity shows no sign of being in a commative state. In fact, it’s the opposite. The results told me that her brain is as active as ever.”

“Then why is she sleeping?” Bakugo asked. All this time he had been quietly observing. “If this extra’s brain is acting up, why the hell isn’t she responding?”

“I still have to run a few tests. And maybe call a few colleagues. It’s only been the second day, with a quirk like hers, it may be normal for her body to remain in a constant state of consciousness.”

Deku was about to speak up till he saw the faint glow of yellow on your palms once more. Everyone in the room prepared and distanced themselves from your sleeping body but nothing extreme happened. Staring at how the glow was steady and disappeared after a few seconds, collective hums and tiny gasps filled the room. With nothing happening next, Recovery Girl motioned for the three boys to leave.

Inside the classroom, everyone was waiting for the doors to slide open. When it did, everyone began bombarding them with questions till Bakugo finally yelled at them to shut their mouths. Commanding Todoroki to tell them, the half and half boy began.

“Recovery Girl said that (y/n)’s brain doesn’t show signs of being in a coma.”

“The girl’s quirk went haywire in the clinic. Either she’s sleep fighting or her quirk is getting out of control. You two were handed a mission, right? What exactly happened half and half? You hidin’ somethin’ or shit?”

“Kacchan, Todoroki-kun already explained what happened.” Deku tried to calm down the angry pomeranian. It worked but he received a snarl. Looking at Todoroki, Deku asked. “You’ve known her longest, do you think she’ll be okay?”

“She was in pain when I last saw her conscious. It angers me that there’s nothing much I can do but to hope that she’ll recover.”

~

Meanwhile, in another dimension, you were now preparing the gym with Yukie and Kaori. Dragging the cart out, you had been assigned to take care of the volleyballs. Pumping and making sure that there was enough air in them, you felt glad for the mini work out. It had been too long since you last worked out and even this amount was barely enough to maintain your body.

Asking a member, he hesitantly agreed into letting you become the new ball boy.

“(y/n)-chan? You sure you wanna be incharge of the balls?” Konoha asked.

“Yeah. There’s more than enough managers and it would be good exercise for me.” It was a shocker that Konoha even talked to you. Among the team, he was one of the few people you didn’t bother to research about. All you knew was he could cheer Bokuto up and that was that. Satisfied with your reply, you watched as he excused himself and walked back to begin his warm up.

At the end of the day, your body was far from sore. Not even an increase in your heart rate. Though, you did sweat but only due to the heat the gym radiated. Now that you were inside the girl’s locker room, you stretched your limbs only to be left unsatisfied.

“You moved and caught the balls like there was no tomorrow yet you barely broke a sweat.” Kaori commented as she took her shirt off. Yukie chimed in and agreed with the statement.

“I used to work out a lot back in Musutafu.” Taking your shirt off, the two girls gasped at the sight of your toned body. It had only dawned you that this would be the first time you were changing with them. You always made it a habit to enter the gym earlier than the others.

“Were you in a gang? Why do you have a lot of scratches on your body, (y/n)?” Yukie took a step closer and feasted on all your small battle scars.

Mentally cursing that you did not think this moment through, you chewed on your inner cheek and tried to think of an explanation.

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m a clutz, Yukie-san.”

“A big one at that.” She pointed to a particular one. The most painful one of them all. Running from your shoulder to the tip of your breastbone, the memory of Toga digging her knife across your skin made you shudder. Seeing how you shuddered, Yukie felt guilt for intruding such personal space.

“It’s fine, Yukie-san~ No need to apologize.” You stopped her before she could speak. “Those were just… tough times ya know? But, this doesn’t hurt or even affect me that much anymore.”

“Well, you better get dressed quickly,” Kaori commented as she giggled. “Akaashi-san just sent you a message saying he’s waiting by the gate.”

Changing quickly, you could feel the stares behind you.

“Nothing is going on, okay? We’re just neighbors.” You pouted with your eyebrows furrowing.

“So you mean to say, you have the strength to walk past his beautiful face?”

“Yes, Kaori-san.” You replied with a deadpan voice. Yes, you admired him during the first day here in this dimension but that was it.

“And that none of those athletic boys caught your attention?”

“None at all.” Shrug.

The two girls shared a quiet giggle. Squinting your eyes, you stared at them till they waved you off and told you to have fun on your walk back home with the setter. Now that you were walking towards the gate, you checked up on your quirk once more. The pulling sensation was a little stronger, the glow a little brighter, but no significant changes. When you saw Akaashi leaning on the wall, his gunmetal blue eyes looked silver under the moonlit night.

“Shall we?”

“Yeah.”

The walk began and it was wrapped in silence once more. But, this time, the silence was comfortable. It gave you enough time to gather your thoughts. Every now and then, you would ask a school related question to the setter and immediately a response was given. Passing by a cafe, your eyes were glued to the (favorite pastry) being showcased. On record time, your stomach sang and your cheeks turned red.

“You hungry?” Akaashi asked as he stared at the (favorite pastry). “I don’t mind eating dinner out. The food this cafe offers is pretty tasty.”

“Can we?” A wide grin formed on the corners of your mouth. When he nodded his head, you grabbed on to his hand and dragged him inside the cafe. The scent of brewed coffee accompanied by the soothing melodies of soft jazz reminded you of Kiri and Bakugo’s study sessions.

Bringing him to the counter, Akaashi’s eyes focused on both your hands. There was no spark now, but this time a small pulling sensation took its place. Judging that it might have been the effects of practice he brushed it off and enjoyed the warmth your hold had to offer.

“I’ll have pasta and a slice of that (favorite pastry) please!” The giddiness in your voice made the cashier smile.”What about you, Akaashi-san?”

“Caesar salad and a pork chop.”

Offering to pay for the food, you let go of his hand and fished out your pocket. It wasn’t too expensive and the money your o-mother gave you was slowly piling up. Getting the number, you pointed to a small booth that had enough privacy the two of you would appreciate.

“Do you eat here a lot, Akaashi-san?”

“Not quite.” The way he sat down was very proper compared to yours. Though he didn’t really mind. “I do like their latte’s here. What about you, Firecracker?”

“Firecracker?” You raised a brow and your palms began to sweat.

“Have you eaten here before?”

“Nope. This would have to be my first time.” Your eyes scanned the decoration. It was homey and rustic. The lights above you looked as if the designer had a lot of glass bottles at home. “You’re pretty good at dealing with Bokuto-san’s personality.”

“Barely. I just grew up with him.”

“Were you in the volleyball club in middle school?”

“Yeah.” He began to play with his fingers. “But my teammates weren’t as dedicated. What about you?”

“Well, I didn’t join any club.” You placed your elbow on the table and rested your chin on your palm. Your stare glued to the boy sitting across you. “But I did like aiding the support department from time to time. They built some pretty interesting gears that helped me and my friends cope with the curriculum.”

“Gears?” The look of confusion was amusing. It was subtle but clear.

“Yeah.” You smirked. “UA was pretty brutal when it came to subjects. Being in 1-A was interesting and the smallest trip caused a lot of chaos. It was fun, scared the shit out of us, but the experience was worth it.”

“You’re talking as if you have special abilities.” His eyebrow was the one raised now. The playful glimmer in your eyes evident.

“Are you saying I’m not special, Akaashi-san?”

“I never implied that, (l/n)-san.”

The both of you stared each other down for a while. Being with Akaashi in a private booth was a different experience. His extra shirt was a little loose on him, thus hiding his well formed shoulders. A little sad, you had to admit. Being given the opportunity to stare at his face, you had to give him praise. He really was gorgeous despite looking a tad tired from the heinous practice.

“I’m kidding. Ya got me.” You pulled out a tissue and threw it on the table. A white flag, so to speak. “I wasn’t into sports. I was mostly in the background and focused on my studies. Boring right?”

“Far from it.” The corner of his lip curled up for the slightest bit. That small smile made your tummy feel weird and tingly.

“Indeed. I’m far from boring.” You winked. “I’m probably the most interesting person here in this dimension called Tokyo.”

“You’re rubbing ass now.”

“So the very proper and dainty Akaashi Keiji knows how to swear?” You feigned surprise and couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the words he had just said.

“Ass is not a swear word, (l/n) (y/n).”

“You’re right. It’s something you're blessed with.” Fuck. You got carried away. Biting your tongue and clearing your throat, the food finally arrived. Hopefully he’d let it slip and just enjoy the meal. “ANYWAY~ Thanks for letting me drag you in here.”

“My pleasure.”

The meal was pleasant and the embarrassment of complimenting his ass forgotten. Yet, the feeling of finally telling someone about a few things back home was a huge weight off your shoulders. Having to bottle up so much knowledge that you’re a complete stranger in this world was straining.

Akaashi noticed it too. How your shoulders relaxed and your features as well indicated that you had just taken a load off your problems. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was but he was pretty sure that there was more to what you had just told him. Not to mention your choice of words were far from being carefully selected, almost as if it was natural to you. Swallowing his thoughts, he continued savoring the food and the enigma before him.

Now standing on the street, in the middle of your houses, you stared at the gap between the two buildings. 5 meters was your estimated distance. Not too far and not too close, a pretty standard distance based on the houses in the neighborhood.

“Thanks for walking me home, Akaashi-san.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (l/n)-san.”

“Ya know, we might as well drop the honorifics. Neighbors, same year, same team.” You were never one to like formalities anyway. “But, I’m cool with keeping it tho.”

“In that case, I can agree with your proposal.” Akaashi now walked towards his side of the area. With his back facing you, he glanced over his shoulder and bowed. “Goodnight, Firecracker.”

Firecracker. That was more of a Bakugo thing, if you were to be honest.

But, coming from his mouth?

You were more than willing to let him call you that.

- - - - -

so did ya’ll like this chapter? we now have a picture as to how our BNHA friends are doing~ Akaashi is still accepting in his line up :) comment if youd like to be a part of it!