#we were very hard on our transparency

[igotswag77]

Making a Difference as Part of the Star Wars Community at SWAG77

• SWAG77 is proud to be a part of the vibrant Star Wars fan community.

On all our blogs, take great pride in creating unique and authentic artwork.

AI plays an essential role in our creative process, allowing us to create vivid images with high levels of detail.

The AI artwork is documented as non-fungible tokens (NFTs)

Thanks to this dedication, we have created stunning pieces over time that capture moments from the films or comment on popular culture phenomena related to the franchise.

Some of our artwork is made through commissions

With prior authorization from respective artists, some art will have NFT tags.

[leebrontide]

Every single time I see a take that amounts to "if you write about X happening, or like fiction where X happens, you like X" I'm reminded of this one time I was at a casual friends house as a young kid. We were in her room, pretending to "be orphans" escaping from an evil orphanage and having to take care of each other and fend for ourselves. It was all very Little Orphan Annie/All Dogs Go to Heaven and based on the 80s pop media.

And this girl's mom comes in, hears what we're playing and gets all MAD and UPSET. She says that if we play act something, it's because we want it to happen. So her daughter must WANT HER TO DIE.

First off lady, we were 6 year year olds, so take it down several notches. We barely had a concept of mortality for fucks sake. She made us feel so guilty and ashamed, because she was taking our game personally.

Now I have a 5 year old. And sometimes she looks at me and says "pretend you're dead, and I have to -" Whatever it is. Some adult task she's assigned herself.

And it's just so transparently obvious that she's practicing the idea of having to do things on her own. Which is exactly what 5 year olds are supposed to do. I actually find it very flattering that the only way she can envision me not being available to help her is to be literally deceased. Otherwise, obviously, she wouldn't have to do scary hard things alone.

It's a natural coping mechanism. She's self-soothing about what would happen if I wasn't there by play-acting independence in a perfectly safe environment. She's also practicing skills she needs, and making up excuses for practicing them on her own, without taking on the responsibility of being able to do them by herself all the time yet.

Humans mentally rehearse bad this in their brains all the time. We can do that by ruminating- going over worries over and over again, which tends to lead to anxiety and helplessness and depression. Or we can do it with a sense of play- by recognizing that the fiction is fiction and we can dip our toe into these experiences and expose ourselves to bad things without actually being injured.

My daughter does not want me dead. And I don't want bad things to happen in real life. But fiction and pretend help me face the horrors of the world and think about them without collapsing or messing myself up mentally.

[indierpgnewsletter]

There's Other Kinds Of GM Advice: Theatricality versus Transparency

(This first appeared on the Indie RPG Newsletter)

I find that broadly there are at least two kinds of GM advice – and they have a very different philosophy underpinning them.

The first kind of advice aims at all costs to maintain verisimilitude. It’s a solution that you can implement without breaking the players’ immersion in their characters. This can just be stuff like Matt Colville explaining that if your players are taking too long discussing plans, guess what, orcs attack! We’ve all probably played a game where people were going in circles and not able to decide what to do. If it looks like we’re not able to decide, we’re probably going to be relieved if the GM makes something happen to break the deadlock and prompt us back into the action.

(Historically, this kind of thing was taken to egregious lengths like Gary Gygax saying if players start acting uppity, have a rock fall on their head. It’s mostly gone now but reddit tells me that Cyberpunk Red which came out relatively recently still says something similar.)

The second flavor of advice involves breaking character and talking to your players directly. I know “talk to your players” is a mantra repeated so often that autocorrect suggests it as soon as you type the letter t. At its worst, this advice is vague and unhelpful. We’ve all considered talking frankly to people in our lives, we just find it awkward and hard and annoying. But, but, but – at its best, just describing the problem as you see it and escalating it from a character discussion to a player discussion will make it go away instantly. Like magic. (If you’re not sure what that means: In a previous issue, I discussed Jason Tocci’s excellent advice on escalating conversation in this way.)

And since the theatrical flavour of advice has the weight of history on its side and transparent advice keeps getting boiled down to mantra form, I thought I’d write down some examples of situations and some alternative ways to handle them:

Situation 1: The players are marines discussing whether to dive into the alien lair and recover their stolen engine (their main goal) or go and see if another missing team of marines is okay. There is only 45 minutes left and this is a one shot.

Theatrical: The other marines suddenly come on the radio and say, “hey we’re okay, please complete the mission.”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. There’s 45 minutes left. If we don’t do the alien lair now, we won’t be able to do it at all. Is that fine?”

Situation 2: The players are low-level fantasy nobodies who have a famous wizard friend. They’re about to tangle with some medium-level bad guy and decide to call in their wizard friend.

Theatrical: When the players try to contact her via a telepathic phone call / spell, she sounds breathless and says she’s busy doing something way more important like fighting a dragon.

Transparent: “Hey, folks. If we get the wizard in, she’ll absolutely make this fight a cakewalk. We won’t even need to roll initiative really. Is that what you want? Or would we rather have a fun fight?”

Situation 3: The players were having fun exploring when they meet a cool NPC (an android! an elf! an android elf!) who has this interesting backstory with an urgent, earth-shattering hook. They go along with the android elf because it seems more important but immediately look like they’re having less fun.

Theatrical: Narrate how the android elf meets a group of other android elves and have the elf say, “Hey, now that I have these folks helping me, you can leave it you want!”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. Talking to you as players here, do we want to stick with this whole android elf plot here? It does mean that we won’t do any open-ended exploration. Which would you prefer?” If they want to ditch the elf plot, you could just retcon it entirely or do the theatrical solution.

All of these situations have happened at my table. They’re all relatively low stakes and I think whichever way you handle it, it’ll probably be fine. But that said, some situations absolutely work better when done transparently so if you’ve never tried the transparent way, give it a shot. If immersion matters a lot to you, try it at the end of the session.

/End

PS. The theatrical options often still require the players to willingly suspend their disbelief and go with it. If a player didn’t play along, they might just say “I thought their radios weren’t working, otherwise we could’ve just contacted them before. Why can they suddenly contact us now?” or “Oh, the wizard is fighting a dragon right now. We can totally wait. There’s no reason we need to fight the bad guy right now.” And sometimes I can’t shut off that part of my brain either so I won’t judge. But if there’s a way to sidestep that situation even coming up, I’m going to take it every time.

[strangebiology]

John Oliver just did an episode on body donation, which was very well-reported as usual.

It cites some older news including this amazing series on body brokers by Reuters. Some thoughts on anonymity being an issue:

It is shocking that there is no regulation on what it means to donate your body to "science," although, I'm not sure exactly who can say what that definition is or should be. Also, plenty of people would be happy to have their bodies used in a museum, but you CAN'T, because body donations are shuffled around and anonymized. We wouldn't have any issue with consent if we let people who WANT to be on display be on display.

When I read The Red Market, an amazing book about the trade in human body parts, it really highlighted the issues with mandated anonymity. WHY does a deceased heart, kidney, or blood donor need to be anonymous? That policy has led to horrific abuse of donors all over the world (egregious examples are given in China and India), living and dead, and the recipients have no idea because of that mandate. Mandated anonymity is a shield against regulation, public understanding, and accountability.

I wonder if people believe in anonymizing things because they think that makes the death not real. I've noticed people selling all sorts of human and animal remains with no description as to where they came from, and no one asks, and no one complains. I understand; sometimes some information is lost to time, or a business owner maybe can't take the time to verify the exact origins of things. Fine.

But take for example all these human fetuses for sale on Facebook. I'm not here to argue about that, although it's odd, and I understand both sides of the controversy regarding selling them. When I saw those posts, no one bats an eye.

Then when someone offered to sell her own aborted fetus (context: this person went in for an abortion but was told the fetus was dead anyway) people freaked out. In the same group where they're buying the fetuses of strangers. So...it's only ok to sell body parts when the person whose body it came from did not consent? That's our standard?

The same goes for animal body parts. "Hey, buy these dead rats!" Fine and dandy. "Buy these dead rats! Here is some context about their lives and/or deaths--" Disgusting! How dare you! Those were living things!

Death is disgusting and horrifying and I'm NOT saying that everyone has to think about it all the time or look at dead bodies or even understand it. What I am saying is that when we complain about transparency and enact policies that make it impossible to actually understand who these body parts are coming from, or to track them, that breeds an industry where abuse of consent is hard to avoid.

Lastly, the end of the Last Week Tonight show showed what happens when you let donors be known. It's beautiful.

[riririnnnn]

As I mentioned in my post earlier:

His cuff (that thing around his neck) is near transparent which gives us a lot of room to ponder since we don't exactly know what this chain even represent.

Taking Hiori as an example, let's suppose the chain represents the burden that holds back someone's true ego.

His cuff being transparent gives us two things:

1. It might be plastic which doesn't really make any sense if I were to be honest.

2. It is glass which makes a lot of sense because how's glass? Hell yeah, my geniuses, glass is really fragile which completely fits into what he said:

Further, in that volume cover, he has pulled down his collar which puts a lot of spotlight into his blue rose tattoo, and we all know what that tattoo symbolises for Kaiser.

In case you don't remember: Kaiser got this tattoo as a reminder to himself to never fall back into his weak mentality because Blue Rose symbolises the achievement of impossible, and he saw it as an example to turn impossible to reality since Blue Rose, itself, is artificial and defies the natural order.

What is said above can be found with a quick Google search:

But what grabbed my most attention is this panel:

WHY?

If he only wanted to push the soccer industry to despair, then why he is adamant about winning the Champions league and the World Cup?????

Also, contrary to popular beliefs, I don't actually think Kaiser has a superiority complex because, look:

What Chris said could be considered as an exaggerated way to rile someone, but isn't this, indirectly, exactly what Kaiser says after the Manshine City match ended?

Kaiser said something along the lines of, "BM's main character is Noa and it's impossible for me to be the current number one, that's why I came to NEL to use Isagi as a way to increase my value." He even went as far as to say that he is a secondary character in BM because BM is Noa's team.

I don't think so that anyone with superior complex will admit such real facts.

Further, why did he got so angry when Chris said those things? Isn't someone bound to be angrier if the other one was to point out their obvious weak point? So, does this mean, Kaiser actually got an inferior complex?

I'm not a psychologist, so I'm not dwelling too much into it.

However, there is another thing I want to point out:

So, because of that spreadsheet/official art of a very damaged soccer ball beside Kaiser's foot, the Fandom widely believes that Kaiser was poor while growing up .

BUT!

Being poor as a backstory has already been used three times: Naruhaya Asahi, Noel Noa, and Lorenzo Don.

I understand that in any sector with a lot of money and/or fame, there are many people who come from a poor economic background, but this is fiction, baby. No author wants anything be repeated to the point it feels overused.

That's why, I highly believe that Kaiser was either bullied or mistreated by his seniors when he started playing soccer which explains that he practiced fucking hard that the soccer ball was damaged, and also his supposed hatred towards the soccer industry. It also explains his long, unkempt hair because he was too indulged in practice.

OR!

It goes a bit darker, so proceed with caution:

Soccer somehow destroyed his family's peace just like the brotherhood of Itoshi brothers.

I may write about others in another post, but in this post, I would like to think that the person who destroyed his family's peace was his own father. It could be that his father was a soccer player himself and due to some circumstances, he fell off the soccer industry which took a toll on his mental health, and he started physically abusing either Kaiser, his mom or both.

Why physical abuse? Because Kaiser is shown having an affinity to choking.

If we get our minds out of the gutter, then there have been instances when he choked himself because he was frustrated. Also, didn't he say that he stroked his rose tattoo as a good luck before matches and compared it to, "as if tightening a noose," or something.

That's why, I kinda think that, AT LEAST, someone has choked Kaiser as abuse/bullying.

I'll rant about the above thing in another post tomorrow or some time later because I don't want this post to be too long, and also because I'm hungry af.

.

.

.

I remember a vivid dream when Kaiser threatened me to join BM.

[desmond69miles]

i’m so fucking exicted for batdr to be released so im posting our beloved ink demon :) feel free to send in any and all requests for batim! i love wrtiting for the game and be super happy to fulfil any desires.

Monstrance Clock

synopsis: dark fantasies and desires wrenched your guts. what happens when you decide to indulge your inky lover into one of your scenarios? 

warnings: vaginal fingering, praise kink, hand kink, sir kink, bondage/bdsm, chains, size kink, double penetration in one/two holes, anal/vaginal sex, inaccurate Catholicism/christianity, bratting, dom/sub, slapping, face slapping, light sadism/masochism, overstim, squirting, breeding + creampie

also read on AO3: click here!

“Are you sure, darling? I don’t want to hurt you.”

"Are you sure you want me to do this, darling? I don't want to hurt you."

The lengthy demon said, crouching down in the process, inky claws holding a chain connected to your body.

"Yes, Bendy. For the millionth time, I want this. If you don't feel comfortable with this, we don't have to do it." A soft smile appeared on your face, the chains wrapped around your wrist jingling. It had been your long-lasting fantasy, some demonic force chaining you up, testing and teasing you, fucking you, trying to keep your composure while reading a book. It was bendy's idea to take it to the next level with you reciting the bible. Now that you had your very own (sex monster) demon, you built up the balls and explained your fantasy to the clueless demon. He smiled, well, he was always smiling. His shoulders slightly bounced up while he tilted his head, the tell-tale sign of his smile.

Your pants and underpants were already disgarded, only clothes you were dawning were a cream-colored button up, only a few buttons were fastened, nipples already budding through the thin fabric. Bendy had stationed you on your knees, your legs spread enough so his hand could easily slip down. Your hands had been tied against your back; ankles also chained to your wrists to prevent you from leaning to far to one side. "If you want me to stop, say stop. I don't want to hurt you." Your lover said, his hands now reappearing without the chain. The demons love for you was unmatched; his worry was constant. His fingertips soon ghosted over your stomach, moving up towards your breasts. Light goosebumps ran across your arms, back slightly arching. It was silly how little touch could have so much of an effect.

Bendy's hands stayed wandering, dipping down your hips before sliding back up, one of his hands going to place on the small of your back, the other rubbing over your breast. "Your beautiful, my darling. I'm so lucky to have a creature like you in my grasp." His voice was raspy, fingertips now moving down to the buttons, claws quickly shedding the fabric. The cloth fell open, boobs now exposed. "I'm undesevering, truly. You make this hell somewhat more like heaven." The hand that wasn't on your back moved to your chest once again, cold and inky fingertips rolling over the budding nipple. You reajusted your legs, knees starting to get sore from the hard wood floor. A whine left your lips when Bendy tugged lightly on your nipple. Despite being intimate countless times before, the feeling of his inky skin always felt foreign, gliding over your skin. It was a welcome feeling.

His head leaned forward, forcing your head to the side. A few months back you had learned that Bendy could open is infinite smile, what used to be a smooth mouth was replaced by many razor sharp teeth. He never liked to do it while you watched, but liked to do it against your neck. There was absolutely no doubt that the demon could easily tear your head off in one fowl swoop, the danger making your cunt throb and inner-thighs wet. Bendy's large tongue slowly slivered between his lips, slimey drool dripping from his mouth and onto your shoulder. He began to lick your neck, points of his teeth slightly digging into your skin. A trail of transparent ink was left on your neck, sliding down onto your shirt. A moan left your throat as his teeth scratched you, pricks gently digging down into your flesh. Your hips bucked up, cunt begging to be touched. The inside of your thighs were already wet with arousal, how badly you wanted to add Bendy's tongue and saliva to it. Although, your body was begging for it, Bendy only teased you, one of his fingers gently dipping below to graze against your clit. A whimper left your soft lips. "Please, Bendy. No teasing." The demon grumbled at your words, his other hand moving from your back up to your hair, giving you an affectionate pet. "Then that's no fun, huh darling? Be a good girl and take it for me." He whispered into your ear, a shiver running down your spine. Bendy's hand lowered again, fingertip gently rubbing against your slit. A soft moan left your lips.

He pushed his finger into your hole, going into about his first knuckle before pulling back out and traveling back up to your clit, gathering your slick on his finger. Bendy rubbed tight, small circles onto your nub, arms tugging against the chains. Bendy tutted, reminding you to stay still. You knew he was sensitive to noises, and were sure that the chains had caused an unwanted rattling and ringing in his head. You groaned at your husbands actions, head falling forward to rest on Bendy's shoulder. You wished he would just do more, just put his fingers inside of you. "Sir--! Please..." His teasing had unwinded you, a tight coil springing in your stomach. "Look at you," Bendy hissed, "Falling apart from such light teasing, whats got you worked up?" You knew what he wanted, you knew that he wanted you to submit fully and beg him beyond embarrassment, but deciding to be an ass, you put on a brave face.

Swallowing thickly, you prepped to be punished after this bratty act.

"Nothing; your teasing isn't working. To be honest, it doesn't even feel that good." You said, Bendy's head cocking. Oh. He saw straight through your lie, but still fed into it. You smirked confidently. Bendy had paused and took his hand away, watching you quietly whine and bite your lip. It took a lot to not tell him to keep touching you, to keep teasing you. You watched as his teeth morphed back into his infamous smile, head cocking to the side, fingers twitching. He gave you a look, a look that you hoped only you knew. One that he would always give you before...

Slap!

A harsh hit was delivered to the side of your face. A loud, shameful moan left your lips as soon as his hand collided with your cheek. It hurt, but it defintally caused a pleasurable tingle down below. "Who makes you feel good?" Bendy questioned, lengthening himself out as he stood. You hummed, flashing innocent and doe-like eyes. "I don't know." Smirking, you heard the demon growl before another hard hit was delivered to the side of your face. It made you moan, thighs trembling as you felt liquid gush down your thighs. God, the pain he had inflicted onto you made your clit buzz. Bendy sighed and tapped his foot, "And here I thought I'd be dealing with a good girl. Sit here, my darling." You watched as he walked out of the room, now left alone in the candle light. You sniffled and tugged on the chains, legs being squeezed by the cold metal.

Bendy had come back a few minutes later with a thick book in his hand, footsteps echoing in the empty room. "I know how much you wanted this, pet." He said, flipping to a random page and dropping the book in front of you. It was just now you realized that this is what he meant with the bible, referring to your ever-lasting fantasy. You hummed at the acknowledgement, looking down onto the thin pages. There were a few ink stains here and there, candle light dancing off of the yellowed pages. "Read, darling. Maybe you'll get a reward." Bendy said, crouching down once again as he tilted your head up, watching your expression. Brows furrowed, cheeks darkened, it made his stomach do flips. You licked your lips and took your head off of his hand, leaning down to look at the bible.

"Therefore, rid yourself of all malice and deceit, hypocrisy, envy and slander by going and fucking yourself." Fuck, what? You honestly hadn't meant for that to slip out. You picked your head up to look at Bendy, head tilted as he store at you. You watched as he picked his hand up, and you closed your eyes in prep for a smack, but instead a sweet rub was delivered to your face. "Such a naughty girl." Bendy rasped, "Telling me to fuck myself? A demon? Her superior? Clearly you don't know what your doing little girl." Now, he picked his hand up and slapped you. Not once, nor twice, but three times back to back. His fingers curled in your head, pulling your scalp back so you could look at him. "Do what I say, no buts. Unless you want to come out of here with a few cuts, no?" You moaned at the threat of him cutting you with his claws, fingers curling tight. Bendy let go of your scalp and you looked back down at the pages, huffing.

"Therefore, rid yourself of all malice and deceit, hypocrisy, envy and slander of everykind. Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the lord is good. As you come to join him--" You paused when you felt a warm appendage wrap around your ankle, slithering up towards your inner thigh. You swallowed. "As you come to join him, the living stone, rejected by humans but chosen by god and precious to him, you-ah-you.." The tip of the tentacle flicked against your wet clit, another one soon sliding up your thigh to tease your fluttering hole. "You also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual houuusseah! A tentacle jolted itself all the way up in you, and while it was fairly thin, it was long, the black appendage curling up inside you. More tentacles were slowly wrapping itself around your body, a few going to circle around your chest, two others going to flick around your crotch.

You panted, back arching as you felt another enter you, this one thicker. If it wasn't for Bendy tapping on your cheek, you would have fully given into the pleasure. "R-right,, uhm... Oh! Into a spiritual house to-ah-to be a holy priesthood, offer--" You whimpered when you felt one push itself into your behind, wiggling around. "Ben-Bendy I can-!-can't read any--" You moaned as one pressed against your clit, another entering your behind. A total of four tentacles were inside of you, and three slim ones were squiggling around on your clit, a few wrapping themselves around your chest to toy with your nipples.

Fingers curling, you felt a tight coil pop into your stomach, legs tensing. "I-I'm gon-gonna..." Bendy soothed you at your words, fingers rubbing against your cheek. You looked beautiful in the candle light, body writhing as you whined and whimpered. Your first orgasm of the night was soon delivered, your husband trilling as he moved you into a more comfortable position, one lying down. You were still bound, legs held open by the chain. The tentacles didn't ease up, and if anything, you swore you felt more stretch you out. It wasn't long before overstimulation set in, another orgasm fastly approaching. This one had felt different, however. It felt as if you needed a different release, like you needed to pee or something. Squirting, you remember your sex ed teacher talking about it in highschool. You had only ever got yourself to squirt once before, the same heavy set feeling as it was back then was pressing on your tummy.

It almost hurt the way the tentacles bullied your cervix, pressing up against it and winding around it. On one special flick to your clit done by your husband a band snapped, liquid rushing out and drenching the floor beneath you, as well as your husbands hand. Bendy paused for a second, wondering what had just happened before repeating the flicking motion again, causing more clear liquid to come out of you. Your moans had nearly turned to screams, body convulsing as you despritly tired to close your legs. You barely heard Bendy grunt, his hands coming to place on your thighs, hips aligning with yours. Bendy almost felt bad that he was causing you overstimulation, almost. The way you convulsed and moaned had got him there, he just needed--fuck--you ground your hips up into the tentacles, causing a final snap in Bendy's abdomen, warm ink-cum shooting into your holes and all over your stomach and chest. A minute later Bendy waved the tentacles off, moving to place you in his lap, head resting on his chest. You were twitching, belly full of cum, some if it leaking down onto Bendy and the floor below.

"Your going to have to walk me through aftercare again... I apologize, darling."

vergilsladyfriend 2022. do not repost without permission. reblogs are appreciated!

[drdemonprince]

I read your newsletter about "transmisandry" today. I'm a trans man and I generally agree with what you said. However, I was wondering how you would classify a particular experience of mine and other trans men I know irl or have seen online.

In short, I find that in some queer spaces, masculine and/or "binary" (meaning, not non-binary) trans men are treated as outsiders and enemies. I imagine some straight-passing queer cis men experience similar.

This prejudice against masculinity has nothing to do with us being trans, and is in no way oppressive, but it seems to me that some people have a hatred/disgust/discomfort/etc. with masculine men, especially if we are proud of our manhood. I sometimes feel excluded in queer or progressive spaces, and like I have to change myself to fit into others' idea of "acceptable" manhood.

I think this tends to emotionally affect trans men in particular because being a man is generally hard-won and joyful for us. Have you experienced prejudice in queer spaces, especially trans spaces, for being transmasculine? And while I don't believe there exists systemic misandry, is this not a form of misandry, just interpersonal?

Thanks, I really appreciate your work.

Hi there, thank you for great question. What you are describing is certainly a very real and troubling dynamic within both queer and feminist spaces, and it's put me off for a very long time. I have sometimes referred to this as "playful 'misandry' feminism", always with "misandry" in quotes because, as we've already established, it's not a real locus of systemic oppression. I have also sometimes in the past likened it to "Men's Tears Coffee Mug" feminism in its performative, self-congratulatory, typically white feminist stance.*

*in the Koa Beck sense of the term. Someone who is not white can be a white feminist.

I was always put off by performative man-hating jokes and the exclusion of men within feminist spaces because, well, I was one, and because it nearly always played out in transmisogynistic ways that were transparent to me, and because I was a major ride-or-die for men who were victims of sexual violence yet were frequently excluded from survivors' spaces (again, because I was one, even before I realized that I was).

There are a lot of troubling effects that happen when feminist women make a big performance out of finding all men to be disgusting and evil and frequently express disinterest in men's feelings or suffering (which used to be way more common in my estimation, around the early 2010's or so it seemed to peak). I was driven away from feminist spaces as a young closeted trans man because I could see such spaces were not for me or for any of the other men that I cared about and needed support. On the inverse side of things, I have spoken to many trans men who said that "playful "misandry"" feminism actively made it harder for them to realize that they were guys. Men were seen as the enemy and inherently evil and destructive and so they felt absolutely disgusting about the possibility of being a man, or feared transitioning would get them seen as a betrayer of the feminist movement.

As you rightly note, it is not just trans guys who get excluded by such dynamics. Cis men who are genuinely avowed feminists can be driven away by such forces, which is especially upsetting in the case of sexual assault survivors and queer men. Trans women and TMA enbies are excluded from feminist and women's spaces because they supposedly "look like" men to these types, and their own feelings of superficial safety rank above the actual data on who is the most at risk structurally (which is trans women). Butches are regarded in some spaces as too aggressive or unacceptably masculine because of it. And people's analysis of gender oppression just overall sucks when they buy into "playful misandry" style feminism because they go around saying shit like "femme people are oppressed by masc folks." what the hell does that mean. Does a cis, gender conforming feminine woman have less structural power than a butch lesbian? I don't think so.

It seems to me that the big problem here is that "playful misandry" feminism is rooted in a deep deep misunderstanding of the structural nature of oppression. Sexism isn't caused by patriarchy and capitalism, it's caused by "men" and so hating men and excluding them is what will fix things. Men as individuals are responsible for sexism and so women should be as detached from them and unsupportive of them as possible. This logic leads to a TERFy place really quickly, and yes, it also really really damages trans men.

My opinion is that it's best to critique this problem as the political failure that it is: a misunderstanding of sexism as individualistic rather than systemic. That's the core issue from which all the problems flow -- from rampant transmisogyny to the exclusion of cis male sexual assault survivors to the feelings of alienation of trans men. Yes sometimes naming the performative nature of "man hating" jokes and the like is helpful because people recognize instantly what that dynamic is when they hear it. But the "misandry" itself is not the core problem -- it's the shitty gender politics and white feminism.

Does that make sense? To be clear, I think it's something trans men get to talk about. I talk about it from my positionality quite a lot really. I don't think "misandry" is ultimately the helpful or clarifying way to name it, but I will sometimes throw around that term with a TON of qualifiers if I'm discussing the specific interpersonal dynamic of women saying that men are evil rapists innately or whatever. But really discussing the broader gender politics failure that leads to those little shitty comments and looks is almost always more helpful. If trans guys and cis guys are feeling excluded from a space due to these dynamics it's almost always the case that trans women, TMA enbies, butch women, and lots of women of color are too.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Deal Maker's Chapter 203

TL;DR - Ahn Roh Man tells more of his parents and the game. Alberu feels strange when he sees Ahn Roh Man smiling brightly like him. Alberu becomes the Roan Kingdom's first player of the game. Cale has to give a speech in the academy.

RMPAG We got to know more about the game and Ahn Roh Man's family. His parents suddenly died in an accident when he was 10, so he was then raised by his uncle and aunt, somewhat becoming part of the Transparent family.

He only figured out the truth behind his parents when he played the game. His parents hid an AI in the game, and the Transparent Co was unaware of it. The AI became Ahn Roh Man's friend and hyung (because it was born a year earlier than him), and helped him attain number 1 in the rankings.

There was also the fact that his initial username was "Unfilial Son" before he changed it to "Searching for the Taerang Thief Bastard."

Oh yeah, Ahn Roh Man called the game as RMPAG, which is the abbreviation of Raising My Precious Absolute God.

Alberu and Ahn Roh Man Funny part of today's chapter. Ahn Roh Man had a bright smile when he told the two that he had a very friendly relationship with the Transparent family. Raon remarked that he had the same smile when Alberu was about to scam someone.

And Alberu's reaction. It was shock. He was shocked to meet someone of the same kind as him. 🤣🤣🤣

Gamer Alberu Ahn Roh Man suggested to install the game in Taerang and have someone play it. Cale and Alberu began pushing the task to each other... 😂

Alberu: … Cale. Cale: Yes, hyung-nim. Alberu: Do you want to borrow Taerang? Cale: I have to go to Aipotu and work hard? Alberu: …I'm busy too? Cale: Thanks to you, I can go out and save the world without worrying about Roan! Hyung-nim, I respect you! Alberu: … *covers face with both hands* Ahn Roh Man (ARM): Don't worry, Me and my hyung, I mean, the AI from earlier. Anyway, we'll carry you. Alberu: …Carry? ARM: It means to help you become stronger easily. Alberu: … Haa…. This is driving me crazy. Cale: Hyung-nim, I believe in you. Alberu: Ha. Let's give it a try.

What was so funny was the narrator's words after that scene. Alberu became the first player of the game in the Roan Kingdom. And his username? Irreverent Emperor... 🤣🤣🤣

It could also mean disrespectful or blasphemous, but irreverent sounds cooler, so I used it. But Alberu calling himself 'emperor'? Is he planning to turn the Roan Kingdom into an empire?

But that did not stop there. The narrator continued that Cale would never have dreamed of the chaos this player would create in the future... 😂 Ahn Roh Man, what are you planning to teach Alberu? Is Alberu going to be like you in the future, shouting hyunpi and game terms? 🤣🤣🤣

Cale's Speech But our overworked Alberu got his revenge on Cale for forcing him to play the game... by making Cale give the speech in the academy's opening ceremony. 🤣🤣🤣

Of course, the 3 kids were excited to hear Cale's speech, and Cale could only frown when he realized Alberu's intention. 😂

Ending Remarks Today had a lot of funny moments. It ended with a message from GoD saying that Cale's request to move the black castle (where Sherrit lived) to Aipotu had been approved. Woah. So it's going to be a dragon lord versus a dragon lord fight? How exciting!

I still harbor some disappointment with the recent chapter. We still have no news of what happened to CJS or Sui, and Cale's conversation with Ron seemed to have been forgotten again. 😞Author-nim, even a mention of them would have been enough! PLEASE DON'T FORGET THEM!

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Sunflower Sorrow - A Hanahaki Tale

A/N: Thank you so much @actuallysaiyan for making the pretty banner! And for reading my drafts and reassuring me multiple times that the story wasn't garbage.

All original artwork is credited at the bottom of the post.

Pairing: Higuruma x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of pain and death, PIV sex, clitoral and vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving),

Summary: The reader finds herself infested with Hanahaki, right at the cusp of beginning to date her long time crush.

Higurma Masterlist

Your eyes open blearily against the sunlight pouring in, feeling like you’d much rather stay in bed than anything else. There’s a strange feeling in your body, almost like you’re about to come down with the flu, your chest feeling tight, and your throat feeling dry. Which is strange because you were fine when you went to bed. 

You groan as you roll over under the covers. Now was not the time to be getting sick. You wonder if you’re even well enough to go to work. Almost instinctively, your hand reaches for your phone, squinting against the backlight as you check your messages. A smile graces your face as you see a text from the man you had been out with last night.

I know this was just our second date, but I’m already thinking about a third. I’ve enjoyed our time together recently and would like to see you again. I guess get back to me? Oh, and I hope kissing you good night was appropriate. 😅

“Hiromi,” you mumble under your breath, feeling a rush of happiness flow through you as you read his text. The man was incredibly sweet and transparent and you loved that about him. Dating in your thirties was hard but he had given off some very positive signals over these last two dates and you couldn’t help but want to set up a third one quickly. You liked being around him, he was laid back and almost goofy, traits that most men seemed to lose at a certain age. Maybe if you recovered from this flu fast enough you can meet up with him over the weekend. 

I’d love that. I’m a little under the weather right now but if I’m feeling better by the weekend we can make plans? I’d like to see you again too. And yes, the kiss good night was totally appropriate. 😊

You text him back, heart fluttering as you hit send. You’re glad you had finally bitten the bullet and asked him out. There were signs of interest, but you had been secretly admiring him from afar for the better part of a year now. He was very gentlemanly, opening doors, asking if he could hold your hand, and checking in on your comfort while you were with him. A lawyer turned sorcerer, he talked passionately about his past cases and the interesting events that sparked his path into Jujutsu. On the first date, the both of you had been so wrapped up in conversation it took the poor waiter a minute to get a word in edgewise to ask if either of you had wanted another glass of wine. 

He was so impossibly handsome, the thick black hair and rich mahogany eyes, that crooked smile that came onto his face when he was amused by something. It was a wonder how he was still single. Just passing by him in the hallways made your heart pound, so sure that his greetings to you were just platonic and nothing more. There were so many other talented people in this institution, that you didn’t possibly think he could have any interest in you, convincing yourself those brief glances he gave you were imagined. 

But after last night’s kiss…so soft and patient, the lingering of lips, his large hands resting courteously on the small of your back, resting his forehead on yours, unwilling to let you go. Your hand had gripped the lapel of his coat, his scent flooding your senses, something woody and spicy that made you want to bury your face into his neck. Sure it’s only been two dates, but you couldn’t help but imagine what your life could be like with him. It felt like a guilty pleasure admitting it to yourself, but it wasn’t hurting anybody. It’s not like you were clawing at his door begging to move in with him. You were just really attracted to him, smitten, perhaps was the right word. 

A small ding from your phone shows a response from him. 

I’m sorry you’re not well. Yes, please get better soon, and let’s plan something for the weekend. I totally wasn’t waiting for your text by the way. You just happened to catch me on a break. 😉And I’m glad the kiss was appropriate. 

His text makes you giggle. How could someone be this adorable? The lucidity of his intentions was refreshing, with no awkward back and forth of painfully crafted messages trying to sound casual. He was making his interest plain, making it easier for you to let down the wariness of sounding too eager. It was a pleasant change of pace compared to some of the other dates you had been on. You hoped this would go somewhere. You wanted it to go somewhere…

A sudden coughing fit overtakes you, racking your body as you feel something come up your throat. You reach for a tissue from your nightstand…and then look dumbstruck at what falls into it. 

You stare at the yellow flower petals, each about an inch long, covered in pale pink mucus. A feeling of dread and anxiety fills you and you crumple the tissue, trying not to think about what you just saw. Your brain races. What could it be? Cancer? Was there a cancer that made your insides turn into tapered flower petals? Or maybe those weren’t flower petals but a tissue of some sort? The feeling of tightness in your chest gets worse. Maybe a visit to the doctor’s wasn’t a bad idea.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Shoko places your X-rays against the lightboard and frowns. You’re no medical expert but even you can see what the problem was. You stare at them with morbid curiosity. 

“Are those…?”

“Sunflowers, it looks like,” Shoko confirms, the large circular flowerheads unmistakable. “And they’re growing very fast. Your lungs will burst if they keep up at this rate.” She throws away her gloves and looks thoughtful.

“It’s strange how recently a lot of Hanahaki cases have popped up. We had Nanami in here a few weeks ago with the same thing.”

“And Nanami is in perfect health,” you interject, hoping Shoko is about to tell you a cure. “What is it? A pill? Surgery?” 

Shoko purses her lips and then faces you. “Hanahaki can be removed surgically. However, you’ll lose whatever feelings you have for the person that caused it.”

Feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, all you could say was, “Oh.”

“But you’re dating Higuruma, aren't you?” Shoko asks. 

“It’s only been 2 dates,” you admit. “But it’s going well.”

Shoko’s expression remains impassive but she continues in a gentle voice. “But it’s obvious you’ve wanted him for much longer than that. The size of these flowers…How long have you loved him?”

Your chest tightens uncomfortably, this time not just from the flowers. “Who said anything about loving him?”

“The flowers don’t grow unless it’s love. But it looks like they were growing slowly and then when you started dating, your feelings intensified and caused them to bloom faster. Hanahaki rates vary from person to person depending on the level of emotions involved.” 

A nervous ripple passes through your body at the thought. You remembered the way you had yearned for him after the kiss but were worried about scaring him off. Who confessed their love for someone on a second date? 

“Is there any way to slow it down?”

Shoko shakes her head no. “The only thing that helps is when they return your feelings. Romantically.” 

“I see.” There’s a moment of silence before you double over as another coughing fit grips you, a blob of red and yellow falling into your hands along with a few black and white sunflower seeds.

“Couldn’t you just tell him?” Shoko helps you get up to the sink in the examination room. You wash your hands and spit out the flower petals that are stuck in your gums. “I mean, he wouldn’t be dating you if he wasn’t interested.”

“You don’t tell a guy you love him after two dates!” You wipe your mouth and grip the counter trying to think. You glance at the X-ray, wondering.

“How long do I have?”

“It’ll worsen over the next few weeks now that the plants have started to bloom. Beyond that…it’s difficult to say. The more time you spend with him and he doesn’t say he loves you, it’ll only accelerate the process. You’ll feel little moments of relief, followed by an even stronger relapse.”

For the first time since this morning, you felt genuine fear. What if Hiromi didn’t feel more for you? What if after a few more dates he decided you weren’t what he was looking for? Were your only choices waiting for him to love you back or to have your feelings surgically removed?

“Am I going to die from this?” The words leave your throat in a whisper. Shoko flinches and appears to struggle with how to word her response. 

“I hope not. I hope for your sake he does feel the same way.” Shoko hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to alarm you but…if it truly becomes critical, have you considered having a plan of action?”

A tense silence passes between you both as you weigh her words. “I hadn’t. But…” You consider the words. “Is it worth dying for love, Shoko?”

“I can’t answer that for you. I can only say that I don’t wish to see you suffer.” 

You drop down into one of the chairs, covering your face with your hands, trying not to cry. You had never wanted anyone quite in this way, trying to brush it off as a crush but the feelings never went away, always persistent, weighing down on your thoughts at all times of the day. You remember the tender way he’d looked at you after the kiss, brushing strands of hair behind your ears, gently drawing you against his chest, a cozy moment. He certainly seemed to be fine with the pace things were going at and hadn’t asked if he could come in like some men had after such a short time. 

“Is there any chance that he’d…love me back in that way?” 

“If he harbors those kinds of feelings for you then yes. But given that the window is narrowing, the sooner, the better.”

But what if…

Your mind resolves, and you sigh, finalizing on a decision. “Shoko.”

She looks at you curiously, hearing the change in your voice. Yes? 

“I want to live no matter what.” Your hands ball into fists and although the notion makes your heart clench, you tell her your decision. “If my health declines, I want to be kept alive with special medical intervention. But if it gets to a point where the Hanahaki is going to be fatal to me… Please surgically remove it.”

Shoko looks at you surprised. “Really?” 

“Really. Don't leave it up to chance.” You rub your eyes wearily. It felt like a cruel joke, longing for Hiromi for so long, then when you finally started dating it ended up triggering the Hanahaki at a faster rate. “I may love him but…I mean I have a life too. If it gets that bad… it would imply he doesn't feel that way…and he may never feel that way. It may sound selfish but… I want to live.” 

“I get it. You don't have to explain to me.” Shoko pats your shoulder. “But considering your life is on the line maybe don't hold back in showing him how much you love him?” 

You laugh humorlessly. “How many men do you know who respond well to a woman saying she loves them after 2 dates?” 

Shoko sighs. “Fair enough. I wish you luck.”

 *＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

You hadn't set the third date. After the intense conversation with Shoko, you just felt like you needed to be by yourself. 

The bed felt so comforting but sleep eluded you as the coughing worsened, shaking your whole being. You got up countless times to clean yourself in between and finally having had enough, dragged yourself out of bed to grab a pot from the kitchen, heaving into it, watching with horror as it filled. After 24 hours, it had progressed from seeds and petals into partial flower fragments, bunches of petals stuck to a portion of the flower head falling out of your mouth. 

Your head throbbed, feeling like it could burst. Almost self-pityingly you think about what life would be like if you hadn’t asked him out. Eventually, it would have made no difference, the Hanahaki would’ve grown despite that, you muse to yourself, feeling the scrape of stems and roots embedding their way into your organs. How did things change so fast? You were fine and one kiss later…

Your phone buzzes, and you barely manage to pick it up, looking at it with one eye open, your pulse racing as you see his name. 

How are you feeling? Still sick? 🥺

A smidgen of relief is felt in your chest, surprising you, as you take in a breath that hurts just a little less. He was checking in on you. Would a man do that if he wasn’t interested? Was there hope that he may feel more for you? You try to calm your wandering thoughts, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good to imagine things that he hadn’t explicitly stated. 

Unfortunately 😔 I'm sorry but I don't think we can make that third date this weekend. Rain check? I hope work was good today. 

Ding. 

Work was fine. Yes, we can certainly hold off until you feel better. 

Before you can reply he sends another message. 

Do you need anything? I wouldn't want you to struggle while you're sick. 

Butterflies flutter amongst the blooms in your chest. You did want to see him, but Shoko’s words come back to you, about how spending time with him without any promise of returning your feelings could worsen things even more. Additionally, the state you were in made you want to immediately decline the offer. You didn’t want him to see you like this, pale, hacking up bloody mucus flowers, pining for him like a lovesick dog. You grip your phone wondering how to reply, then carefully word your text.

I think I’m ok. Besides you don’t want to see me sick. Not a pretty picture.

Ding.

I’m sure I’ve seen worse. But I promise not to run away screaming. 😄  What do you say? 

Despite it all you laugh, noting with wonder how you didn’t feel as bad as you did a minute ago. 

Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. 💀

Ding.

Noted! I’m bringing soup! See you in 30. 

30?! You scramble up suddenly, then hang over the edge of the bed as more flower bits force their way up your throat, falling into the grotesque potpourri pooling into the cooking pot. With as much speed as your exhausted body offers, you dump the flower vomit into the toilet, quickly rinse the pot in the kitchen, and throw together an outfit appropriate for company. You add a little blush to your cheeks and some lipstick to remedy the pale sickly quality that your skin has become. 

You’re jittery when the doorbell rings. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, revealing Higuruma, looking so casual in jeans and a tee rather than the suit he wore to work. He was carrying a bag and there’s a slight twitch to his lips as he looks at you. 

“I’m disappointed,” he says good-naturedly, stepping inside. “Where’s the horrifying red nose and dripping snot? The messy hair and phlegm-covered tissues? At least tell me you have those droopy eye bags?”

“They’re hidden with concealer,” you admit, biting your lip to avoid smiling goofily at his presence. You feel a strange sensation in your body, almost like the parasitic flowers were retracting to allow their host to breathe a little before resuming their consumption of your flesh. 

“Concealer! The ultimate trick. Do you think I should wear some? Look at these.” He points to the just visible bags under his eyes and you give up, laughing heartily, the growing blooms inside you only slightly painful. 

Higuruma grins at you. “Well, they do say laughter is the best medicine. However, soup, as promised,” he says, brandishing the bag, “And decongestants, and a little dark chocolate. Because it’s the best.”

You take the bag from him trying not to blush. “Thank you, Hiromi. You didn’t have to come over. I appreciate it so much.” 

“Aw, it’s no trouble. Besides you don’t let people you like suffer. Well not alone anyway.”

Your heart constricts in your chest as he says he likes you but you try to play it cool, leaves and petals stirring in your heart and lungs. “Oh? Wasn’t aware you liked me.” You try to sound nonchalant as you say it, but secretly hope he’ll say a little more, something more concrete which would imply there’s something stronger between you two. Something that might take away this dreadful thing growing inside you…

“Really?” He widens his eyes playfully and covers his mouth pretending to be shocked. “Oh no! All my efforts have gone in vain!” He drawls dramatically. “What good is bringing someone soup if they’re unaware you like them?”

You place the bag on the kitchen counter and cover your mouth as an unruly snort of laughter leaves you, which you use to hide the twinge of disappointment you feel. Well, at least he didn’t deny that he likes you. That was a start, and it could progress from there, in a best-case scenario. 

Your chest contracts suddenly and you quickly grab a napkin and stand at the kitchen sink, coughing up more foliage, trying to be discreet, attempting to soften your coughing as the fragmented sunflowers fall out of your mouth. Higuruma walks into the kitchen at the noise and you hide the napkin in your hands, wiping your mouth. 

Unlike before his face is lined with concern, and he waits for you to turn around. You try to smile reassuringly, your lipstick smudging from wiping your mouth.

“You don’t have to hide being sick in front of me you know,” he says softly. “We’re both adults. What’s life without a little mucus?” 

You throw away the napkin and shake your head. “We only just started seeing each other. Helping someone when they’re sick is more of a sixth date thing.”

Higuruma contemplates your words, leaning his hip against the counter. “Well, we’ve worked at the same place for a year. So that plus two dates…I think it comes close. Your lipstick is smudged by the way,” he adds, tapping his upper lip to indicate where you should clean it. 

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, like you’re still pretty even when you’re hacking up blood, literally dying from how much you love him. You hastily swipe a finger over the color, and when he doesn’t comment further, you assume it’s gone. 

“Well…thanks.” You take out a bowl to pour some soup. “Do you also want some?” you offer him.

He shakes his head no. “Here let me.”

His large hand takes the bowl from you while the other picks up the takeout container and he deftly pours steaming chicken noodle soup into it. “I can bring it outside for you. C'mon, sick person’s privilege.”

It was odd being ordered around in your kitchen, even if it was in this endearing manner. You shake your head. “You and your chivalry code.”

“I thought women loved it when men waited on them like this! Maybe I should double-check Reddit.”

How did he manage to do this to you? Your stomach is doing flips and it feels like for a brief second, the Hanahaki has frozen, allowing you a moment of clarity. Being near him was like not knowing your head was underwater until you took in that first gasp of air and felt it expand in your lungs, life flowing back into your veins. 

You settle on the couch and accept the bowl from him. He sits down on the opposite end, crossing a leg over his knee, and turns to look at you. 

“I think the remote’s on your end. Feel free to put on anything.”

“Anything? What a treat. I had come fully prepared with a list of rom-coms but I’m glad I can put on anything.”

You roll your eyes as you swallow the hot soup, savoring how it slides down your throat. “Rom coms? Why?”

“Isn’t that the default for when you’re sick?”

“Is that the default when you’re sick?” You probe him teasingly, noting how you don’t feel the irritating brush of the flowers as much as before. It almost felt easier to breathe with him around. 

Sheepish, Higuruma grins at you and rakes a hand through his hair. “It might be. It’s too early to reveal my secrets.”

“Oh? And when would it be appropriate?”

“After a third date.”

You glance at him, spoon halfway to your lips. He hastily adds, “After you’re feeling better of course!”

You busy yourself with the bowl to hide the blush that was threatening to make itself visible and swallow zealously. As mentioned, he puts on a rom-com and you finish the soup, feeling warm and cozy. You’re wrapped in a blanket and Higuruma has remained politely at the opposite end but as he sees your eyes beginning to droop he offers his shoulder.

“No, it’s ok…I’m fine here…” You mumble, trying to focus on the movie but the Hanahaki is beginning to take a toll on your body. 

“It’s all right y/n. I guarantee I’m comfier than a couch cushion.” Seeing your hesitation he chuckles. “I promise to behave. Just…c’mere. I wasn’t joking when I said people shouldn’t suffer alone.” 

He scoots over to the middle and helps you tip over slightly, placing an arm around you as the side of your cheek rests on his shoulder. The effect was instantly soporific. You couldn’t believe it. He was here…and yet so far away. You struggle to remind yourself that nothing was solid, that this was all still in the beginning stages, and that plenty could go wrong.

But the yearning is stronger and you let yourself indulge for a brief moment before your brain switches from consciousness to sleep. Hiromi, warm, gentle, sweet Hiromi, here, next to you, on your sofa in your living room. Letting you use him as a pillow. It was like plucking a private daydream from your brain and shaping it into reality.

If you could disperse the little moments like this…could you possibly slow down the Hanahaki enough that you could date him a little longer until it was appropriate to tell him you loved him? And perhaps when you did…he would say it back? 

 You smelled that familiar scent of wood and spice, memories of the kiss lulling you to sleep. His hand rubs the side of your blanket-covered arm, steady and comforting.

“You smell nice,” you mutter almost imperceptibly but he hears it and his heart skips a beat. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Monitors beep and there’s an IV in your arm. Shoko peers anxiously into your face as you come back to reality. Things had taken a turn for the worse. You had been floating in and out of consciousness for the past few days. 

“I need to know everything that happened. I’m sorry, I know you don’t feel like talking.” Shoko helps you sit upright in the hospital bed and hands you a glass of water which you sip weakly. “But I need to figure out when I should start the special interventions you mentioned. I have all the labs. But I need to know where you are emotionally if I have to make a call about surgical intervention next.”

You take a few breaths of oxygen from the mask in your hand before steadying yourself to speak. Every inch of you hurt. Your body prickled as you tried to suck in a breath, your mouth dry and your words raspy. Living was simply draining right now. 

“Four days ago, Hiromi visited me at home. He wasn’t aware of how sick I was. And I didn’t tell him.”

Shoko’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

You shake your head wearily. “It just didn’t feel right. He put me to sleep. When I woke up, I was laid out on the couch and Hiromi was gone. I felt a lot better and got myself to bed. Then the next day, I was in pain. So much pain. It felt like one of my lungs had burst. Like a million thorns were scratching the inside of my heart and throat. That’s when I called you.”

Shoko paces back and forth as she ponders on what the next best step would be, looking exasperated. “Y/n. I told you that being with him in this unrequited manner will only cause the Hanahaki to spread faster. You should have said no to him coming over. The closeness and then his absence, plus the lack of admission of any romantic feelings made it grow alarmingly. Your heart and lungs are almost purely plant now.”

You lay back against the pillows, taking the most shallow breaths possible to alleviate any further discomfort. “How long? Before…?”

Shoko sighs deeply. “I will have to do the surgery tomorrow.”

You had known deep down that she wouldn’t have any better news. Tears fill your eyes as you stare at the ceiling, dripping down your cheeks and onto the pillow. Your voice quivers are you talk. 

“Wow…I really thought…I had more time than that. I thought…we’d go on a third date. Maybe a fourth. And by the fifth or sixth, enough time would have passed that it wouldn’t be weird if I said it.” You press your hands over your eyes and a sob passes from your lips. “I really wanted it to be him Shoko. My end game. I guess…it wasn’t meant to be huh?” 

Shoko pats your arm sympathetically. “It’s not that you won’t ever fall in love again. It just won’t be with him.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing Shoko. Would anything else feel the way this feels?” You let yourself think back on every little interaction you ever had with Higuruma. Every tiny second where the two of you had been in the same room, or just passed by each other at work. The way his eyes danced as he laughed, little crow’s feet forming at the corners. And the fact that you’ll never find out if rom-coms were his go-to when he was sick. It was so bittersweet, to be so close yet so far to the addictive idea of almost knowing what it would be like to be loved by him, yet too late to escape the effects of the Hanahaki. 

“Can you find him for me Shoko? I just…need to see him one last time. Before…you know.”

Shoko’s eyes are contemplative, but she nods. “Let me see if he’s on campus.”

“And Shoko?”

She already knows what you’re about to say but listens anyway.

“Please don’t tell him anything. The last thing I need is him pitying me.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Higuruma checks his phone and can’t hide his disappointment when he sees you haven’t replied to his last few texts. He’d been careful not to wake you when he laid you down on the sofa and quietly crept out that night. He’d been sure to text you to let you know you hadn’t been abandoned, but that he didn’t want to encroach on your boundaries and was looking forward to seeing you again. That was 4 days ago. Had he made things awkward without realizing it? Had you ghosted him?

He told himself it couldn’t possibly be a simple case of ghosting because you hadn’t been coming into work either. He was positive he hadn’t misread the signs. You were comfortable and relaxed around him. There was no reason for you to avoid him. Had your illness worsened? The ideas turn over and over in his head as he wanders the halls of the vast Jujustu High campus, then comes out of his reverie as someone calls his name.

“Oh! Shoko, hi.” He greets the brunette as she approaches him. Her expression looks tight as she nears, and she seems unsure of what to say. 

Shoko knows she’s obligated to hold her silence, but in this case, she can’t bring herself to do it. “Can we find a place to sit down? There’s a lot that needs to be said and I’m not sure there’s a lot of time left.”

“Time left? For what? Is this about y/n?” Higuruma feels uneasy but allows Shoko to direct him toward a bench in the well-maintained courtyard. 

Shoko does her best to explain everything concisely; the origin of the Hanahaki, its unexpected acceleration, and how you would be heading into surgery tomorrow to get it removed. Higuruma listens quietly but it’s clear from his expressions and the way they turn to shock and horror as Shoko describes it that he’s feeling this on a personal level.

“Unrequited love eh?” He runs a hand over the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. “Who would’ve thought?” Higuruma mulls this over in his head. Was there someone else he wasn’t aware of? He shouldn’t be surprised. You were so beautiful after all, and with your Jujutsu talents, courage, and principles, it wasn’t that much of a shock. It couldn’t be him…he was new to everything, needing help, always feeling like he was one step short. He looks to Shoko, needing confirmation. “And do we know who the mystery man is?” 

Shoko looks at him pointedly and he frowns for a second thinking. “What? Is it someone I know? Am I supposed to pass on a message?”

Shoko impatiently tapped her foot against the ground, biting her inner cheek, her expression almost becoming a glare as she prayed he’d have the epiphany soon. 

A lick of irritation passes through him. “Shoko, trust me when I say I want her to live. I'm dating her right now, but if there’s someone else that she needs to be well, I’m not selfish enough to stand in the way of that.” His heart clenches at the thought but if it was a matter of life and death, he couldn’t deny you that. 

To him, you were the moon, the lovely, elegant, marker in his sky, and he was the ocean, hopelessly drawn by your gravity, yet never getting close enough to grasp you and make you his own, waves crashing down into salt and foam after each failed attempt. 

Feeling like she might burst, Shoko begrudgingly gives him another clue. “There’s no other man.”

“There isn’t? Then…” He’s silent as the meaning of her words suddenly dawns on him, making him blush. The realization is stunning. “You’re kidding.” 

“I wish I was. But it’s always been you. Now let me make this very clear. If you do not have any feelings for her that are equal to romantic love, then there’s nothing else that can be done. I’ll take her to surgery and remove all of it. She deserves to live.”

He falls silent as her words wash over him. “And that…would take away everything right?”

“It will. She’ll forget everything. All those times she felt her heartbeat quicken when she saw you. The dates you had. You bringing her soup. She’ll forget and her feelings will become purely platonic.” She looks at him appraisingly and waits for an answer. 

“I…” The words catch in his throat and he feels an unbearable guilt wash over him. He was responsible for putting you in this state. It was his fault you were now hovering between life and death. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and takes a calming breath. Nothing about him was steady at the moment. He was a knot of nerves, worried for your safety. 

“I do love her,” he admits. “For the longest time. It’s just…you can’t blurt out things like that. Scares people off.”

“So I’ve heard,” Shoko says, trying not to sound sarcastic. “But you were dating her. That must mean that you have feelings for her.”

“Who says ‘I love you’ to someone after 2 dates?”

Shoko’s eye twitches menacingly and Higuruma leans away, looking slightly apprehensive at the expression. “What is it?”

“Nothing just that you two…are very similar.” She sighs, massaging her temples. 

“So, what do I have to do now?” Higuruma looks at her helplessly. “I don’t want to be the reason she’s suffering. If I tell her I love her, that’s it? The Hanahaki fades? Because I’ll do it. I’ll tell her over and over. Anything to make it right.”

“That would certainly help but the state that she’s in…verbally making your feelings known would still require her to remain in the hospital for a few weeks.” 

“What else can I do?” Higuruma looks at Shoko with sincerity. “Whatever she needs, I’ll do it.”

Shoko clears her throat wondering how to put forth the matter. “Well, while the verbal affirmations would ease her discomfort, physical love would definitely speed up her recovery.”

“So hugs? Kisses? I held her on the sofa while she slept. I can do that again, I’ll cuddle her until she feels better.”

Shoko lets out a sigh, wondering how much more explicit she would need to get. “We are very much short on time, so let me ask you this. What’s the usual culmination of romantic love?”

“What? The culmination of romantic love? It’s…it’s…OH.” His eyes widen as the realization washes over him, turning his face a brilliant shade of crimson. “Doesn’t that cross a line? We’ve only ever kissed, and it was only once.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind if it saves her life. Besides, I can’t imagine her denying it if it’s you.”

“Ah, thanks?” he says uncertainly, not sure if it’s a compliment. Still flustered, he rakes his hands through his hair, trying not to feel embarrassed. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve loved this. To make love to someone as gorgeous as you? It would’ve been a privilege. But the added complication of you being sick added a layer of uncertainty. But he knew he’d have to figure it out.

Feeling like she’s finally gotten through to him, Shoko smiles at him softly. “Just…let yourself love her naturally. It’ll fall into place. You’ll figure it out.” She pats his shoulder reassuringly. “Think you can take some time off? Stay at home with her?”

He nods, feeling his resolve strengthen. “Of course.”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

The hands that carry you are warm, large, and gentle. Was this it? Were they taking you to surgery? Shoko had given you something strong for the pain. Had she found Hiromi? You couldn’t recollect talking to him. Maybe he was out while you were hospitalized. Well, so much for that…

It was all going to be over soon. Shoko would extract the Hanahaki from your body and the next time you saw Higuruma, you wouldn’t feel a thing. Life really was cruel. 

But something felt different. Instead of being moved to a cold surgical platform, you felt yourself being placed onto a soft bed, the familiar smell of fabric softener surrounding you. Were you home? Was the surgery already over? 

A presence lays down next to you, gently drawing you closer, and as you inhale, you recognize the fragrance of woody spice. Hiromi was here? How? Were you dreaming? That must be it. You were post-op and experiencing whatever pleasant sensation the anesthesia gave you until you woke up. 

You feel your face being caressed, your hair brushed away, being pressed tightly against his chest as his lips skim across your temple. 

“Y/n. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounds regretful. “I guess…I was an idiot. I was so unsure about how you felt, when in fact, it was quite obvious. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want more. Because baby, the things I feel when you’re near me. They take my breath away. I thought the worst thing that could happen was that you would decide you didn’t want to see me anymore. I was wrong.” 

His embrace tightens, and he adjusts so that your head rests on the crook of his neck, your breath falling sweetly on his skin. “The worst thing is seeing you like this, knowing I put you in this state. Why has society made dating so hard? Why are we shamed for feeling things too soon? Or too late? I think it should be different depending on the people involved. Some people feel it early. Others feel it down the line. I guess I’m one of the former. I just know.”

He kisses your forehead, and when he speaks next, there’s a crack in his voice, raw emotion coming through. “I love you. Always have from the moment I first started as a sorcerer. You leave me in awe. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I love you, y/n. I love you so much.”

You stir slightly, listening intently. Did he just…?

“You have to get better. Remember how on the first date, you told me that you’d love to visit Paris someday? We’ll go. Just us. After you’re well. I don’t care what society deems normal anymore. We’ll go on our third date. Because you deserve it. Because I love you.”

His words permeate your body, a curious sensation because it feels like they entered your bloodstream, and were being absorbed into your heart. The tightness of the root system embedded into your veins withdraws, and you feel your breath becoming less labored.

“Please wake up darling. You have to wake up.” 

He presses his lips against yours, full of tenderness and passion, and when he pulls away, he sees color coming into the previously pale and chapped lips. He kisses you again, and it’s bliss, his hands combing through your hair, stroking your back, and you take in a deep breath, the relief feeling ecstatic, your blood humming in your veins, almost purifyingly. Compelled to react, you move your lips gently, feel him still and pull away incredulously, and look down at your face.

“Y/n?” There’s so much relief on his face as he looks at you, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

‘Hey,” you manage to rasp, feeling that same purifying sensation, like the flowers in your body were contracting ever so slightly, making room for you to breathe. 

Higuruma lets out a soft laugh, then rests his forehead on yours. “Oh my…you’re awake. You’re going to make it darling, don’t worry.”

“Do you really love me?”

“I do. So much. I don’t know since when. I just knew I did.”

The fortifying effect of those words brings back strength into your body and you raise your arms, wrapping them around his neck. 

“Hiromi. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

“Oh I think I have you beat there darling,” he says weakly, nuzzling your neck. “I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”

He kisses you again, slow and gentle and your mouth opens to accept his tongue, reveling in the taste, feeling every inch of your body respond to his touch. His hands roam under the back of the thin T-shirt you’re wearing, anchoring themselves onto your shoulders, inhaling your scent as he tries to breathe through it all. He strings a line of soft kisses from your jaw down your neck, stopping to savor the way your pulse felt as it beat with vitality inside you, before coming down to your collarbone. A gasp leaves your lips, fingers tangling with his hair as he does so. 

The noise brings his attention back to you, unaware of the desire pooling into your veins where the flowers were starting to withdraw. Your cheeks had a healthy glow, a flush settling into them as he pulled you against him. 

“Are you ok with this?” He asks, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your neck, waiting for a response. 

“I am. More than ok. Just…don’t stop now. I need this.” You lean up and kiss him, electricity sparking between the both of you. “I need you.”

Hearing you needed him switches something on in him and he groans against the passion of your kiss before burying his face in your neck, nibbling the soft flesh, listening to the flow of breath running through you. His hands sneak up under the front of your shirt and rest against your breasts, letting the heat flow into them, feeling your nipples perk up against his palms before he squeezes, his mouth leaving wet kisses between the crook of your neck and shoulder. 

“Please…” you whisper into his ear, the word spoken with so much urgency that he almost loses control. He finds the hem of your shirt and pulls it off, taking in the sight of your lovely body, the pebbled nipples ripe for sampling. He pulls one into his mouth, causing a quiet moan to leave you, and begins to tease the other, rolling it between his thumb and index, listening to your cues as he increases the friction and pressure.

You feel like you're on a cloud, pleasure tingling into every crevice of your body, sighing, losing all other thoughts except for the man in your bed. “Hiromi,” you call his name in a breathy tone, cradling his head as he suckles, heat gathering between your legs. How long had it been since you were touched in this way? Held like you were precious, kissed like you were ambrosia?

Hiromi observes the way color comes back to your body as he teases you, watching with mild fascination as the pert nipple between his fingers changes color, life coming back into you. 

Your eyes close against the gentle ministrations of his tongue and fingers, the moans becoming whimpers as need takes over. When he finally lets go the need for more contact with his skin was overwhelming. You fist the fabric of his top and pull it off, and he allows it without any questions. Your eyes roam over the broad, tanned chest, the cloud of black hair on his chest leading into a thready trail that crawled lower like a lion’s mane, hidden by the waistband of his jeans. For a moment you stare, drinking in the sheer masculinity of it all, the hard planes and defined muscles, contrasting against the softness of your body. 

Almost shyly you run your fingers through the patch of hair before coming down to place a kiss between his collarbones, hear his breath strangle before continuing down, feeling all the muscles in his abdomen tense up as your lips follow the happy trail, delighting in the way he reacted when you nibbled around his bellybutton.

“Y/n you’re making me crazy.” he grits his teeth, struggling to keep a hold on his sanity. You had just recovered, he shouldn’t be rash or grab you but you were making it very hard to ignore the rush of want pouring into his bloodstream. It was so surprising how these acts of love, even briefly, had brought you back from the edge. 

He slides you back up, sees the vitality glittering in your eyes, and crushes his mouth to yours, letting his body speak for him as he runs a hand down your smooth skin, pausing to knead the soft squish of your belly, his hand slipping under the band of your shorts and underwear, bringing them down to reveal the curve of your ass which he grabs possessively, savoring the fat, pushing your lower body against his throbbing erection. He slowly grinds against you, paying attention to your body but you aren’t pulling away from him, rather, it appears to make you crave more, the way your hands fumble at his back, holding on to his shoulders and pressing your face into his chest.

Hiromi’s hands move to your front, repeating the action of pulling the waistbands down, exposing you to his hands. As he slides your clothing off, your legs part for him unashamedly, the throbbing in your sex unbearable, feeling your chest becoming free of the previous pressure that was suffocating it. Grasping your mound in his large palm, he feels for the edge of the swollen labia and massages, grasping the moistening flesh between his fingers and applying pressure, causing you to arch against his hand, the noises you make music to his ears. 

He gently parts the folds of your sex, seeing the slick from your arousal gathering at the entrance of your core, begging to be touched. He looks back up at you and you nod, the small sign of consent all he needed before he plunges his tongue into the most heat of your cunt. The knowledge of knowing he was here at such a sensitive spot on your body sends a thrill through him and he licks up, finding the base of your swollen clit, letting his tongue flick against it, satisfaction flowing through him as you hum your pleasure at the action. Laying his tongue flat, he slides up and down, unfazed when you move against him, trying to build a little more friction. 

He lets his middle finger circle the entrance of your pussy, teasing until you raise your hips slightly before sliding in, the digit feeling so wonderfully filling, curling upwards to find the little patch inside you that makes you take a sharp breath before becoming so wonderfully pliant and soft under him. He inserts his ring finger, and your sighs become a crescendo of gasps and moans, writhing under him, holding the pillow to remain grounded as the ache in your core becomes unbearably sweet, blossoming from the center and filling your body with a thrum of pleasure.

You sob as the orgasm hits, all the muscles in your body contracting before pleasurably spasming, your cries becoming shrill as it passes, feel Hiromi’s tongue slow down and continue to nudge against your clit, ensuring he squeezed out every drop of pleasure from you before pulling away from your core.

You’re a sight to see after that, body rosy and flushed, a fresh vigor visible all over, hair messy and splayed across the pillow. 

“Y/n…you’re so beautiful,” he rasps as he crawls back up to you, licking your juices off his fingers before covering your mouth with his. Shivering from the climax, you taste yourself on his tongue, gripping the back of his neck as though afraid he might slip between your fingers if you didn’t hold onto him hard enough. 

“Do you…ahem…” He suddenly turns shy but powers through. “Do you happen to have condoms? I kind of…forgot...you know with everything that happened.”

Your lips quirk and a peal of laughter leaves you, and he joins in, smiling, cupping your face tenderly in his hands. “Top drawer,” you answer him. “You went to the drugstore a couple of days ago and bought decongestants, but not condoms?” you tease him. 

“Who knew I’d be having sex a few days later?”

“We were dating! It was bound to happen.”

“Oh really? So that’s what happens when people are dating?” he teases you back and it’s your turn to blush, but he’s being sweet about it, brushing your noses together, and pressing feather-light kisses all over your face. He slides off the bed to finish undressing, and you watch him, fascination all over your face as his cock slips free, long and veiny, leaking precum, throbbing with hot need. He fumbles through your nightstand before finding the little wrapped packet, rolling down the condom before joining you back in bed, cuddling you close. 

“Ready?” 

You nod, a look passing between you both, before he positions himself and starts entering, the push of his tip feeling exquisite, going inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to him, feeling your fingernails scratch his forearms as he starts to bottom out. He holds still, your eyes meeting, your mouth slightly open as your pussy involuntarily spasms around him, feeling wonderfully stretched out. 

He starts moving, hips rolling deliciously to set up a rhythm, leaning forward to kiss you as he does so, arching his back to ensure your G-spot wasn’t missed with each stroke. It was so artful the way he made love to you, your body so responsive to everything, and he gathered you in his arms, both of you looking into each other’s eyes. 

“I love you.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and you lock your ankles around his waist, mewling as he thrusts into you. 

“I love you too,” you mumble, mind in a haze, feeling nothing but pleasure flowing through you. Your breathing has changed, no longer ragged and shallow but to a full-bodied draw of air, so refreshing as you both touch and caress each other.

Your body starts the familiar sensation of tension gathering in your belly, coiling, waiting for release. Misty-eyed, you look at him, knowing he’s been watching your face all this while, looking for cues. 

“I’m close…” you whisper, touching his cheek, tracing the outline of his lips as you move with him. 

“Let go for me…I’ve got you…” With a cry, your second orgasm grips you, more powerful than the first, and you barely manage to keep your legs locked around him. 

“Hiromi…Hiromi…” his name falls from your lips, and his movements become a little sloppy, feeling his own orgasm nearing, and not too soon, he falls off the edge, cock twitching inside you, as he rides out the wave of pleasure. 

It was the best sleep of your life afterward, wrapped up in Higuruma’s warm and secure embrace, cheek resting on his chest, and listening to each other’s heartbeats as you both dreamt.

When you wake up, it’s the middle of the night and Higuruma is awake, peering at you through the darkness.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, petting your hair. 

“I can’t, I have the distracting problem of having a handsome man in my bed.”

“Hmm…And this is a problem, how?”

“I want to keep looking at him. Makes for bad sleep.”

A deep chuckle leaves his throat as you cuddle against him. 

“So out of curiosity, if I wasn’t conscious by the time you started up, what would you have done?” You lean up to look at him, legs tangling under the covers.

“Oh, Shoko reassured me that kissing you would bring you around.”

“Yeah, but what if it hadn’t?” you press, curiosity building.

Higuruma makes a funny expression, like he’s weighing whether or not to divulge something to you. 

“What is it? C’mon, tell me!” You lightly slap his chest and he sighs, defeated.

“Well, Shoko gave me a letter of medical necessity.”

Your face turns blank. “She…what?”

Higuruma takes his phone and pulls up an official-looking email with an attachment. Trying not to laugh, he reads out, “I, Dr. Shoko Ieieri, hereby state, that in the event that F/n L/n is only partially conscious, or fully unconscious,  the giver of medical services, Mr. Hiromi Higuruma, has my complete medical consent to make physical love to the patient to ensure her life does not fall into jeopardy. This medical order shall remain in effect until F/n Y/n becomes fully conscious and capable of making her own decisions. See she signed it and everything.”

He tilts the phone screen so that you can see, and you cover your mouth as you try to stifle your laughter. “I can’t believe Shoko!”

“I’m sure she wrote it as a joke,” Higuruma says amusedly. “She was very confident that kissing would wake you up sufficiently.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe my doctor wrote a note advocating for sex to save my life.” You bury your face into his chest and the both of you laugh uncontrollably. 

“So is it a safe bet to assume we’re having another date?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“I’ll have to think about it. I’m joking!” you add hastily, seeing his expression grow stony. He sighs, dramatically shaking his head.

“Guess I better get used to this. Looks like it’s going to be part of my life for a long long time.”

He kisses you again before you can retort. You smile up at him, knowing he is yours. 

All banners by @/ cafekitsune

Girl inhaling flowers in banner image: @greguit on Pinterest

@buttercupbitches @delirious-donna @harlekin6

@pseudowho @hunnie-lily @jadedjane @connorsui

@daswanj ,@estarlias @byul9158 , @mirrors-musings

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Part 1

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

[doggone-devil]

How (Not) to Summon a Demon: Chapter 10 (The End)

Here it is, my dear readers, the final chapter! The end to our story and with that, a big announcement! I am now writing a sequel! This book is now a series. How (Not) to Lose Your Soul will continue where we left off here, with the first chapter being released March 10th, 2024. I do hope you've all enjoyed this one and I hope its ending was well worth the wait. I look forward to seeing you all in the next one, my dear readers. <3 Pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of death, mental breakdowns, loss, and use of profanity

It's instant, happening as fast as the bullet that pierced the air.

One second, he's looking at you as you look up at him, his heart thumping against his chest. He feels peace, something he hadn't in a very long time, and then it's gone.

He shouts your name, hearing Veronica scream but his focus is on you as you fall. He quickly grabs you, easing you to the ground gently. He calls your name again. "Stay with me!" You try to reach out for him but your hand falls. He looks down and his eyes widen. Blood. Your blood. So much of it spilling out from the wound in your chest. Your shirt is stained red. His heart stops, eyes watering. His smile hurts and he curses the way it stays on his face. He doesn't want to smile. Not now.

"You can't leave me," Alastor whispers, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. He feels hands start to pull him away, growling and snarling at them. Police are pushing him back as medics begin to touch you.

"Stay away from her!" he shouts at them. He has to protect you. He has to.

"Al, it's ok! They're going to help her!" Veronica says, stepping into view. Alastor glances at her then back to you. The police release him and he falls to the ground on his knees. He watches as they lift you up on a stretcher, carrying your limp body to the ambulance.

It's so sudden when it happens. He can feel it, like a string being cut. You're gone.

Green swirls around him, the light blinding and he fights against it.

"No! I have to stay, I have to be here with her! I can't leave!" he screams against the light, clawing at it to stay where he is. His hands pass through the asphalt, his body becoming transparent. "No!"

The scenery before him melts into one he's so familiar to, and yet unknown. The hard ground of the parking lot turns to plush carpet of the hotel lobby as Alastor is dropped back into Hell. The contract had been terminated, nullified by your death.

You were dead.

"Alastor!" Charlie runs over to where Alastor stays kneeled, his arms hanging limp, eyes wide as he stares numbly at the floor. "Alastor?" He looks up at her, the tears falling through. She gasps, "What happened?"

The smile that plagues him quivers as he speaks.

"I lost her." Charlie looks confused, placing her hand on Alastor's shoulder. "Lost who, Al?" The others are coming around now yet giving him space, their faces all carrying the same look of disbelief as they watch Alastor come undone.

His shadows start to dance around him, growling and hissing as they rise. His hands claw at his face. Charlie pulls back in fear, Vaggie coming to guide her further away. The shadows continue to swirl around him, giggling and laughing like children. Their hands clasp together, capturing Alastor inside the circle as green symbols appear. Green stitches thread through his lips and his clothes. He slams his fists to the ground, a painful howl releasing from him as his shadows scream. They break the circle and run rampant through the hotel, shaking the walls and rattling the furniture.

He rips at the carpet, anger and hurt burning through his chest as he whimpers. "I lost her."

--

Six days.

You had been in the hospital for six days when news of your ex's arrest made it to you. Veronica, your loyal friend, had made sure the police knew what happened, telling them about your history with John as she showed them the video from your phone. That, plus the fact that he shot you, landed him in prison for life. He was gone for good and yet you couldn't feel happy about it.

When you asked Veronica about Alastor, she had frowned, grabbing  your hands gently. She explained how she tried to give him a ride to the hospital where they were taking you, but when she turned to tell him, he was gone. She had looked all around the parking lot, but nothing. Your heart dropped and you cried.

Deep down, you knew what had happened. The contract you formed with him when you did the summoning would only end when you either made your wish or if your life somehow ended before then. The doctors were able to resuscitate you, but you were dead for over a minute. You knew that's when it happened, the thread holding you and Alastor together had broke.

Another five days and the hospital cleared you to go home. The bullet had pierced your lung and you had lost an alarming amount of blood. Luckily, they were able to save you, a miracle they said. You didn't feel like it was a miracle.

Veronica helped you home, the apartment feeling cold and lonely. You glance at Alastor's room, expecting to see him there, smiling up at you and welcoming you home. The room is empty, cold. You feel the urge to cry returning.

"I'm gonna grab you some water, ok?" Veronica says, helping you to sit on the couch. You sit there numbly as she power walks to the kitchen, staring at nothing until she returns. She calls your name but you don't listen. Sighing, she sets the glass down on the coffee table. "Girlie, talk to me, please," she asks, grabbing your hands in hers. The tears begin to flow slowly.

"He's gone," you whisper.

"Well, yeah. Bastard's gonna rot in jail now." You shake your head.

"He's gone," you say again.

"Oh, you mean," she stops, not wanting to say his name in fear of you crying harder. "I'm sure he'll come back." You want to believe her, but you know he's gone. He was in Hell while you were stuck on Earth. The pain in your heart tumbles forth and you shake your head again, closing your eyes tight. You sob harder, wincing when your body shakes, pain throbbing in your chest. The wound was healed enough to no longer be fatal, but the remnants left behind still hurt.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," you whisper through the tears.

"You make it sound like you won't ever see him again," Veronica jokes, but her smile fades when you don't laugh. "Oh honey. You love him, don't you?"

"Yes," you admit, your hands gripping your chest. You love him. You love him so much and you didn't even get to tell him, the chance ripped away from you. Veronica grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug. She rubs your back in an attempt to calm you.

"It's gonna be ok," she says. "If I know anything, it's that he loves you back so I'm sure he'll come waltzing through that door any day now."

"He won't," you sigh, wiping some of the tears away.

"Well not with that attitude. You gotta have some hope, right? Do you have his number? We could call him!" Veronica pulls out her phone. You stop her.

"It won't work."

"And why not?" she questions. You feel strange for what you're about to say, like you're betraying him in some way, yet you decide she needs to know.

"He's not here."

"Yeah, I got that Sherlock," she states, rolling her eyes. You shake your head.

"I meant he's not here on Earth." She looks at you like you've lost your head.

"Ok, gonna need you to start making sense here, girlie."

"Remember the book?" you ask. She nods. "Remember when I said I tried it out, too, when you went to get pizza?" She nods again and you sigh. "It worked."

"Wait, so," she sits further onto the couch, turning towards you, "are you saying that Alastor isn't here because he's the demon you summoned from the book?"

"Yep," you say with a pop.  "Sounds insane when you say it."

"That's cause it is!" She stares at you in disbelief. "I mean, come on! The man might've been a bit weird, but, a demon?"

"A demon," you repeat, ignoring the look she gives you. You decide to give her the whole story.  "He appeared in my room that following morning, talking about Hell and how he was contracted to make a wish with me for my soul." You smile fondly as you tell her about the deal you two made, how he'd live with you until you could make a wish. You even told her how you tried to make a wish for her but it was against the rules.

"You know this sounds bat shit crazy, right?" Veronica asks.

"Crazy or not, he was real. He was real and now he's … gone," you choke on the last word, folding in on yourself. Veronica frowns, crossing her arms.

"Well, you summoned him once, right? Do it again."

You look up at her. "What?"

"If you really did summon him, just do it again. We still have the book don't we?" You jerk upright, gasping in pain. "Easy!"

"The book," you say through the pain. "Where is it?"

"It's," Veronica trails off, looking around. You look, too, unable to spot it. You can't remember where you had put it, either, after that night. "Well, shit."

"We have to find it." You stand up, swaying slightly before moving forward. "Check the cushions. Under the table. It's got to be here."

"Alright, alright. Calm down, we'll find it." Veronica helps you look. It's not anywhere in the living room, nor in the kitchen or on the dining table. Did Alastor move it? God, you hope not. You'd never find it then. "Check your bedroom!" Veronica suggests.

"Good idea." You walk to your bedroom, throwing open the door. Your check under your covers, in your nightstand, your closet. You even force yourself to bend over to check under the bed, ignoring Veronica's protests. It's not there.

The book is gone.

"Fuck!" you shout, kicking your bed frame. You hiss at the pain in your toe.

"Don't hurt yourself more," Veronica warns, coming to help you. "Books don't just get up and walk away. We'll find it."

"Veronica, if I -," tears spill once again. "I have to see him again."

"Good lord, leave it to you to fall in love with a demon," Veronica huffs. "But I ain't one to not help my best friend after she's finally found someone. Not after all these years of me desperately trying. We'll get your man-demon-whatever, don't you worry." You manage to smile, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, girlie." Veronica returns the hug, gentle as to not irritate your chest. You pull back, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You felt a surge of determination, of renewed hope. You were going to find that book, you were going to summon Alastor again, and you were going to tell him how you feel. Then, you would make your wish and neither Hell nor Heaven could stop you.

A knock at the front door startles you and Veronica, the two of your sharing a puzzled look. You weren't expecting company and neither was she.

"Stay here," Veronica mumbles, grabbing pepper spray from her pocket as she leaves to go see who it is. You wait patiently, worried, until she reappears.

"Who was it?" you ask.

"It's for you," she responds blankly, her eyes glazed over. You stand, walking to her.

"Veronica?" You wave your hand in front of her face, but she doesn't respond. You look past her and see a tall woman standing in your apartment. You quickly step around Veronica, shielding her. "What have you done?"

"What needs to be done," the woman speaks, her voice cold. It unnerves you.

"Who are you?"

"We both know you know the answer to that, my child," the woman says. You look at her more closely. Her eyes are angled, like an owl, her hair feathered out and down her back, pure white. It reminds you of feathers.

"You're an angel."

"Correct." She steps closer, her hands outstretched. "You have committed the ultimate sin, little one. I'm here to warn you. Turn back now, forget what has happened, and all shall be forgiven."

"What?" Forget what has happened? Forget… "No." You glare at her, fists clenched.

"No?" Her stone blue eyes narrow at you. "You would defy the word of Heaven?"

"I would defy the word of God himself if it meant I could stay with him," you state, teeth bared at her.

"Watch your tongue, little one. I can not save you from the fires if you so willingly go towards them," she warns. You bark out a laugh.

"If the fires are what I must walk through to return to him, I would gladly do so any day. Not you, nor any one else, is going to stop me."

"How sad." She drops her arms, her form shifting from human to something otherworldly. Her lips sharpen into a beak, her lashes growing out past her face. Multiple wings sprout from her back. "I ask once more, my child. Would you deny the gates of heaven, eternal peace, for a demon?" She sneers the word, as if it burns her tongue just to speak it.

"Yes," you answer. There is no hesitation, no doubt in your mind as you confirm your resolve. This is what you want.

"Very well, then." Her wings stretch out wide, flapping once. "Let's see if you can find your filthy demon again." In a flash of light, she's gone, silver glitter falling where she once stood. You hear Veronica groan behind you.

"The fuck just happened?"

You walk over to the front door, picking up a single feather. You twirl it in your hand, looking at Veronica with fire in your eyes. If Heaven was so adamant to stop you, taking away your only connection to him, then you'd go find another way. If you couldn't have his book, then you'd find another. You'd use every book depicting summoning you could get your hands on, calling forth any and every demon that would answer, until you found him. No matter the cost.

"Grab your hiking gear," you say, crushing the feather in your palm.

"What, why?" Veronica looks at you, confused. You smile, letting the crumpled feather fall to the floor.

"We're going hunting."

Until we meet again, my dear readers!

taglist: @i-like-potatoes12533, @girl-nahh-two, @mcntsee, @projectdreamwalker, @sassmasterxx, @alsemain, @yunimimii, @noraunor, @justneo11, @dragonlover123a, @falsemain, @ephemeralxv, @theshello, @wonderlandangelsposts, @weirdflower2024, @yourworstgf, @youroneandonlysimp, @alastorstandard, @florelll

Masterlist ... Ao3

[notroosterbradshaw]

I have a thought that’s been playing in my head for the past few days. Maybe rooster finds out he’s gonna be a dad w/ reader and on the outside he’s thrilled but on the inside he’s terrified. He doesn’t sleep since finding out and one morning before the sun even rises he hears footsteps come out onto the covered deck behind him, and reader is wrapped up in a little blanket, but it’s raining and cold so of course he’s like, “go inside, you’ll catch a cold, you’re pregnant are you crazy?” And of course the reader knows he’s got something going on so while it’s like early morning raining they sit on the porch and talk about it and rooster feels so much more confident about being a good dad. I just have feels about that and idk if I explained my thots well? 🥹 if you’d be interested in elaborating on this I would love that? 💕

Here’s a wee drabble, nonny x

“Ew, rain,” you mutter, coming to sit with Rooster as he sat on the porch swing. Not what you signed up for when you made your way across the country to live your life with Bradley in San Diego. “Looks like it’s settling in,” you took his hand and tenderly kissed his knuckles.

“Looks like,” he agreed quietly. God, you hated when he internalised like this. He wasn’t great with his emotions at the best of times, but when he took his space, you knew he wasn’t processing your news.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” you said softly.

“Anything,” he admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“I know it’s scaring at you," you said softly. He noticed your free hand gently rubbing the non-existant bump of where his baby was starting to grow within you.

"No, baby," he lied. He blatantly lied to you, and sadly for him, you were so schooled in the wiles of Bradley Bradshaw and he was so transparent at times. "I’m okay."

"You're internalising, sweetheart. I know you."

He sighed. "Baby," he tried, turning to face you. He watched you shiver as the light drizzle started to cover you. "Baby... come here," he wrapped you protectively in his strong arms.

"Do you not... want the baby?" you asked, the fear in your voice that something you were sure you were both ready for (you'd had the birth control discussion, and he was very excited about that part, you'd had the baby discussion, he was just as excited about that too. Sure, it happened fast... but there was a lot of practice and wasn't that a good thing?).

"Oh, baby. Yes, I do, so so much," he said, his heart falling that you were upset now too. "I am so happy that we're having this baby," he desperately tried to reassure you. He turned you to face him and held your face, the tears threatening to fall from your beautiful eyes - the eyes he hoped your beautiful baby may share too. "I can't believe you're going to make me a father. That is the most amazing thing you could ever do for me. This is the biggest thing we will ever do together.”

"Then why are you being so... quiet? Reclusive?"

"I'm scared," he said simply, the shrug that joined his statement so limp. He couldn't meet your eyes and stared hard at the rain before you. You could see his disappointment oozing off himself and your heart ached. "I am so scared I'm going to be such a bad father. Goose wasn't around... and then I lost him. I hardly remember him anymore. I don't know what a father is supposed to do, act..."

"Oh, Bradley," your tears finally fell. "You are going to be the most wonderful father. I understand why you might be scared. Trust me, I am terrified too. We can be duly terrified together."

His face softened. "What? How could you possibly be scared?"

"Well, we're about to have this baby together and it's not like your job isn't a massive risk. I'm really scared to do it on my own and you're away so often - but there is no doubt in my mind, Bradley Bradshaw, that we are going to be amazing parents. Gimme your hand," you gently linked fingers and placed his big, strong hand under the tee you wore. "That's our baby. And it's going to be a massive learning curve. But I know one thing is for sure. You are going to be a magnificent father, Bradley."

"You think?" he said finally, his hand carefully rubbing against your soft skin. He lowered his face and rested his forehead in the crease of your shoulder, he breathed you in, letting your sweet scent surround him and centre him. “Believe me, I’m so excited, baby. I’m just so scared.”

“Trust your intuition, sweetheart. You do it every day.”

He reached up to kiss you. “I know I will be a great dad…” he said, hopeful.

"You will be a beautiful father. Just have a little faith in yourself. You’ve got time to get your head around this.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you, baby.”

You moved and caressed his face, your thumb tracing the edge of his moustache, and he reached to try and catch you with his lips. “You could never ever disappoint me, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Send me your Rooster thots.

[autisticlancemcclain]

parts one two three

———

The first emotion Keith feels, immediately upon waking, is intense dread.

And if that doesn’t sum up the day he’s about to have. Fuck’s sake.

He already feels pretty guilty about yesterday. Besides the fact that Lance is his right hand man — they’re supposed to have each other’s backs, and Keith definitely didn’t have Lance’s, because even though Lance wasn’t in the right he wasn’t in the wrong either — and they’re supposed to be leading this as a team, Keith knows part of the reason things fell apart so quickly is because he didn’t talk to Lance last night. He probably couldn’t’ve convinced Lance to kill the beast, obviously, but they could have definitely explored some different angles together. By letting things fester, Keith pretty much ensured that Lance was going to come up with some elaborate, dangerous scheme that was going to cost them an alliance, and worse, possibly get Lance hurt or killed. (Lance had a good track record with dangerous animals, sure, but this is a beast. The thing sounded like a mix between a polar bear and a dragon. There’s only so much Lance can do, uncanny abilities or not.)

But what’s done is done. Keith can’t very well redo yesterday and make Lance un-mad at him and everyone else, so he’ll have to make do with what he’s got.

And what he’s got is first shift on make-sure-Lance-doesn’t-mutiny-duty.

Fuck, Keith thinks as he makes his way out of his room, this is going to be the Actual Worst.

As usual, Keith is one of the first people on the bridge. Unusually, Lance is next. (Usually he is last, and also late).

“Hey, Lance,” Keith says, trying to muster up a smile.

Surprisingly, Lance beams right back. “Hello, Numb — uh,” his smile falters. “I mean, hi there, Mullet.”

Keith slumps. “I’m still Mullet, huh.”

Lance nods.

“You reckon I’ll work my way back up to Keith, soon? I’ll do anything, you know I will. I’ll even try your horrible face mask with you.”

To his further surprise — Lance must have actually slept well, or something — Lance smiles again, and this time it’s soft even to Keith’s eyes.

“Really? You would do that?”

“I’d do anything for you,” Keith says, and it’s more than he means to.

Lance frowns, and Keith’s heart sinks for the millionth time in just a few hours.

“Except help me save an innocent animal’s life,” he says, and there’s nothing Keith can say to that.

They sit in tense silence until the rest of the paladins arrive.

Shiro counts them once they do, like they’re kindergarteners and he’s a very tired EA, and furrows his brow when he finishes.

“Six. Including me. Who are we — where’s Coran?”

“He said he’ll be here in a few dobashes,” Lance says. “A calibrator broke down in the control room somewhere — nothing urgent, but he wants to get it fixed to get it out of the way. He’ll be back before we’re gone long.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Lance,” Allura says, transparently trying to ease the tense line of his shoulders, a little.

It does not work. Lance sets his jaw and looks away.

Allura sighs. “I’m sorry, Lance,” she tries. “I know this is hard for you. If it were possible, and we had more time, we’d find another way.”

“Whatever.”

Keith decides that enough is probably enough. Allura and Shiro look genuinely dejected and apologetic, and both Pidge and Hunk look upset.

“Look, Lance, this situation sucks for everyone, okay? It sucks. We’re going to do what we can. If we get to the situation in question and we can actually manage to fix things without killing the beast, then that’s what we’ll do, okay? We’ll do our best.”

Lance exhales, shoulders slumping. He looks… guilty, and his guilt certainly does nothing to appease Keith’s.

“Sorry,” Lance mutters. “I know this is hard for everyone.”

Keith swallows the lump in his throat. He genuinely can’t remember the last time a non-major battle mission sucked so unequivocally for everyone involved, but Jesus Christ.

“Let’s just go,” he says, and everyone nods before following him off the castle and to the wet, humid heat of the planet.

———

part four

[mirai-e-jump]

UTB (Up to Boy) Magazine, February 2024 Issue (Vol.334) ft. Hirakawa Yuzuki Interview and Photo Shoot (translation below)

Publication: December 22, 2023

Immovable Upside

Currently appearing in "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger," the currently airing Super Sentai series, actor Hirakawa Yuzuki-san makes her second appearance in our magazine. She's changed her hair, having it cut into a shorter style, as she presents her pure and mature duality, which has become even more transparent.

-We've been rushing through the year-

"You've cut your hair short, and your look is totally different from the last time we saw you. Personally, how do you feel about your current short hairstyle?"

Hirakawa: Before I started acting, I always kept it short, so it somehow feels nostalgic. I cut it because of my role, but I thought it was abit of a waste since it's been that long for about 5 years (laughs). Still, I think it'll be fine since it grows quickly.

"Starting from episode 27, the second chapter of King-Ohger is set two years later. We think the change in hairstyle made it easier for you to make changes in your performance."

Hirakawa: That's true. I think I'm able to show more strength. I think that after two years, they're more aware and prepared as a king, and that they have a greater sense of responsibility.

"Now that the story has progressed considerably, are there any memorable moments from the episodes that have been broadcast so far?"

Hirakawa: In episode 25, the sense of distance between Rita and their retainer Morfonia, or rather, the values of their relationship have become much closer. It was a time where Rita gathered the courage to take another step forward on their own, so that episode left quite an impression on me. From there, the way they interacted with Morfonia changed completely, so I think it was a turning point for them. Also, in episode 38, they reveal the face they've been hiding up until that point, and showed all kinds of facial expressions as an "idol," so I hope you enjoyed it.

"It's already aired, so if you haven't seen it yet, please catch up and watch it…..! By the time this magazine comes out, filming for the final episode will be underway, right?"

Hirakawa: In about another month or so……"We've got such a long time before it starts!," is what I thought, but only for a moment. I think it was more instantaneous after the Summer film ended. Until then, we weren't used to filming, and everyone was in a state of just trying to figure things out. The cast members have been good friends since the beginning, but since we spent alot of time together, including during the regional promotional campaigns for the Summer film, we became even closer, and that time really flew by.

"For those who view things similarly, the "loss" seems to be intense."

Hirakawa: It might be because me and the rest of the cast are starting to become aware of the end, or maybe it's because some fans are also like, "It's coming to an end….?" I still go out to dinner with all the cast members after filming, so I think we'll still probably see each other again ever when it's over. We've been together for a year and we've gotten to know each other very well, so when I imagine the end of filming, I feel incredibly sad.

"As a fan, I'm going to miss seeing everyone's friendly conversations on Toei Channel very much……Now, 2023 will soon come to an end, looking back, what kind of year was it?"

Hirakawa: We've really been rushing through the year. I've been working hard during the filming of King-Ohger in order to make it better and to help myself grow. I was able to experience many things this year, as there were quite a few jobs that came about as a result of King-Ohger, and it was the most thrilling year for me as a performer. Of course, there were many things I worried about, but I think it was also an extravagant year, filled with many happy and frustrating experiences.

"What kind of year do you want 2024 to be?"

Hirakawa: I think I'll be apart of King-Ohger until the first half of the year, when we perform at G-Rosso, but after that, I'll have to move forward on my own. I'd like to "polish" my inner self and become a more appealing person. As for my work, I'll do my best to continue to appear in productions without taking any breaks inbetween.

[thewertsearch]

AT: [...] mY TAKE ON THIS IS, AT: tHAT YOU CREATED OUR IMPOSSIBLY HARD BAD GUY, wHO WANTS TO KILL US, AT: aND BY ASSOCIATION, i GUESS THAT MAKES, AT: yOU THE BAD GUY TOO, AT: iNSTEAD OF A GOOD GUY WHO'S JUST MEAN, AG: Nice deduction! AG: Wrong, excruci8tingly linear, and laced with the sort of a8solutes morons like to throw around…….. AG: 8ut nice!

"Only a loser deals in a8solutes!"

It's hard to characterize Vriska as cleanly as Tavros is trying to - but we don't need to psychoanalyze her to know she's a liability. Vriska is actively impeding the team's attempts to deal with Jack, and she's not even pretending to blame causality anymore.

AT: i THINK, AT: i AM GOING TO HAVE TO STOP YOU, [...]

I like where your head's at, Tavros - but if you really want to stop Vriska, then you should drop that lance and run.

Make a beeline for the common room, and explain to Karkat that Vriska caused the Mistake. He'll fly into an incandescent rage, rallying the remaining trolls against her - including Terezi, who can actually stand up to her.

If you fight her yourself, you're fucked. An analysis would be a complete waste of time, and not just because your psionics are useless here. I could give you Bec, and I'd still bet on Vriska.

AG: Tell you what. AG: If you can find me in this la8, you can have at me. AG: I'll even give you a free shot! No funny 8usiness or anything.

Lady, you can survive a bomb to the face. This 'free shot' business is basically just a taunt, and everyone knows it but Tavros.

AT: oK, AT: tHEN, AT: hERE i COME,

Damn it, this is not where you want to be aiming your confidence. You can still reconsider. Please reconsider.

Or maybe you can take her, I dunno

Hello, Jade. What business could you possibly have with your other self?

More extracanonical shenanigans from Hussie, I take it.

Looks like this recap's going to be Vriska-themed. She seems to be controlling Hussie to write it, so I hope it's from her PoV - I have a feeling she'd be a very funny storyteller.

Not even Fantastica is safe from Lord English.

THE WINDY THING subsides, and clear skies prevail. You soar to the highest rung, and rule over your echeladder as the HEIR TRANSPARENT.

John's hit the level cap already?

Davesprite was killing Underlings for months, and he never hit his. Maybe he didn't have access to as much EXP, since his Underlings were only triple-prototyped.

You can also gain Echeladder levels by completing non-combat objectives - so actually, maybe Davesprite just didn't hit the proper milestones. His session was incomplete, after all.

With the Reckoning ticking down, the Players need to rush through the story, so they're probably just hitting Echeladder milestones offscreen.

The clouds have returned. The fireflies are still trapped. The spell remains unbroken.

Send all the hurricanes you like, John. Typheus yet lives, and the sky remains his domain.

[spring-sage]

I was a couple hours into my shift; busy with all the usual duties required of me in my role as a nurse. All the important tasks of a typical morning routine were completed. Assessments were charted, old and new orders from various providers were acknowledged and recorded. As were notes and entries of care plans, lab results, and everything else in between.

I made sure to greet each of my patient’s with the usual smile I always do, and displayed the professionalism they’d expect from their nurse by providing them the opportunity to discuss their needs and goals for the day, assuring them their concerns matter.

Are you comfortable with the temperature of your room? Do you need a warmed blanket? Would you like some coffee? Is there anything else I can do for you?

All the typical questions I would ask.

From an observer’s viewpoint, I’m sure it appeared to be any normal day. Nothing unusual or odd stood out. Nothing that would cause anyone to suspect that my mind was flooded with the filthiest of thoughts.

Thoughts that echoed loudly as I smiled and nodded at doctors and fellow nurses and caretakers with whom I pretended to be engaged in conversation.

Thoughts that stirred my senses as I listened to lung sounds, heart sounds and bowel sounds through my stethoscope.

Thoughts that made my cunt drip and tingle; moistening my already moistened panties.

Thoughts that lingered from what happened hours earlier that morning, just before I had to leave for work.

Thoughts that just wouldn’t be ignored.

"How's my naughty nurse this morning?" His message flashed on the screen of my phone. I immediately felt my cheeks turn pink as though our secret had become transparent for everyone to see.

"...Currently corrupted by very naughty thoughts, thanks to you."

"Mmm. Good girl."

Such a simple response, but there was undoubtedly a devious smirk behind his short reply. He quickly reminded me of what he will be expecting when I returned home that evening; leading my mind to revisit all the details of what transpired just 3 hours before.

< >

I was in the laundry room ironing my scrubs for the day, wearing only my bra and panties when he greeted me with a fresh cup of coffee.

I gave him a sleepy smile and thanked him. He stood in the doorway, and looked me up and down as I ironed away at the creases of my uniform.

When I glanced over at him, I couldn’t help but notice his cock. It was hard and protruding up and out of the elastic band of his briefs, making it all too tempting for me to stop what I was doing to give it my full attention. But instead, I gave him a pouty face, and in a most pitiful tone I said, "I can’t….I'm already running behind on time."

Seemingly unfazed by that piece of knowledge, he continued his stare and pulled his cock out to stroke it slowly in front of me, and gave the smirk I know all too well.

"Oh, you are a cruel man..."

"Come here," he said. And then instructed me to stretch out my panties to show him.

"Just like that" he grunted, "Such a pretty little cunt." His breathing became heavier as he stroked faster.

I could tell he was on the edge of the inevitable, so I pulled my panties down a little more to reveal how wet they were.

"Cum in my panties." I said.

And at that moment, he steadied his cock and aimed it at the glistening layer of my cotton crotch; spraying his sticky seed all over them; soiling them with his morning lust.

Once every last drop was deposited, I gave him a big kiss and pulled my panties back up to finish ironing my uniform.

I gave him a big grin as he walked away, "Looks like you're coming to work with me today!" To which we both laughed.

And now, hours later, I was at work looking for every opportunity to sneak to the bathroom to look at my panties.

To see the stains. To take them off and hold them to my nose. To smell them. To deeply inhale him and breathe in his scent.

I wondered if anyone else got the occasional whiff of our lust from this morning. Or if it followed in my wake as I walked past them.

Throughout the entire shift I remained in a perpetual state of arousal; feeling like a dirty whore in my dirty panties.

When the shift finally came to an end, I hurried home, and was promptly greeted at the door with his arm extended and his palm out.

"Now hand them over to me." It was as though he had been thinking about it all day as well.

I slipped out of my scrub pants, and removed my panties, and handed them over.

He held them to his nose just as I did many times during my shift. I watched him breathe in the aroma as though it was his very first breath--or maybe as if it could be his last. And then he balled them up in his hand and put them in his pocket.

"And tomorrow, you will be coming to work with me."