#I MIGHT HAVE TO CUT IT APART AND MOVE IT ELSEWHERE

[cubbihue]

WORLD BUILDING

[lovelivision]

TEMPORARY

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

wc: 5.2k

summary: your close friend gojo is kind enough to let you stay with him for a while, it's just a shame that he's overly curious about what you read when he's not home

a/n; gojo is nosy and i stand by that, also, i can't seem to help myself when it comes to him... this was only meant to be 2k but i think i like him a little too much. that or he just yaps a lot

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, dirty talk, fingering, tease!gojo, hickeys, p in v sex, clit slapping (once), creampie, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, big dick gojo, gojo likes embarrassing reader

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Somehow, you’ve ended up in Gojo’s fancy apartment… the ‘somehow’ is, he is one of your closest friends and the only person you could ask for help. It had already been a long day when you came home to a hole in your ceiling and a bath – that isn’t yours but the floors above – in your apartment, you wanted to give up on life. Your apartment was wet and some of your stuff had water damage.

Maybe if you weren’t so distraught and just wanting somewhere to stay, you would’ve asked someone else but you decided to call Gojo and while he was more than happy to accommodate you, temporary living with him has been… troublesome.

It’s not so much as what he’s been doing but how you’re feeling, you feel self-conscious and too aware of yourself. Constantly wondering if it’s okay that you’re here, that you’re sitting on his couch or using his kitchen. He goes away for days at a time and yet you still worry about whether or not it’s okay you’re here.

You don’t bug him too much with it, you know that can get annoying, asking for constant reassurance but you’re worried that you’re overstaying your welcome. Especially when your building manager keeps calling and telling you fixes will take longer than expected. At this rate, you might just have to live elsewhere.

Another call like that had just come in and when you walk back into the living room and plonk down on the couch next to Gojo, he can immediately tell you’re feeling disheartened, “Not ready yet?”

“I don’t even know if they’ve started yet,” you sigh, kicking your feet a little in your frustration, “I’m really sorry, Gojo,” you lean back into the couch more, head resting on the back of it.

“I’m not worried about it,” he hums, crossed leg bouncing slightly, “Stay as long as you like, it’s nice having someone here when I come home,” he leans his head back on the couch too but turns to look at you.

Turning your head, you meet his gaze, “Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” your brows pull together, “I can always find another place to stay, honestly, I won’t be offended if you’re sick of me… I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

He scoffs, “What inconvenience? You barely make a mess and move around the place like it’s made of glass,” he’s making fun of you a little, trying to get you to relax more, “You should chill out and get a bit more comfortable, it seems like you might be here for a while yet,” he shrugs easily, not at all worried about you staying.

You intake a breath, “Yeah but I–”

“–Plus, where else would you stay? I’m like… your only friend,” he snickers.

Frowning at him, you defend, “That’s not true and you know it!”

“Yeah? Then why was I your first call?” He’s smug.

Looking away, you mumble, “You have no way of knowing that.”

“Ah, but I think your reaction gave it away,” he chuckles, poking your cheek with his finger.

“I wonder if it’s too late to ask Shoko for her couch,” you grumble, ignoring him.

“Nooo~” he pouts, “Don’t leave, you’re such a good guest, I’m sorry for saying you have no friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Do you ever get tired of yourself,” you ask, side-eyeing him.

He smiles big, “Never.”

If Gojo were being honest with you, he’d admit he likes your company, he likes coming home and hearing you patter around his apartment, and he likes that you trusted him enough to call him when you needed help. He likes that he was the first person you called because he wants you to rely on him, he wants to feel wanted and needed by you. It’s just a shame a bathtub had to fall through your ceiling for it to happen.

He's not even mad that your building manager is downright atrocious at his job because that just means he gets to have more time with you.

⸝⸝⸝

You’re in his home… alone, just for tonight. Gojo said he had ‘super important and super-secret’ things to attend to, so you’re choosing to be scandalous and instead of reading your current novel in your room, you’re reading it on the couch.

Under a blanket and snuggled into Gojo’s nice couch is about as close to comfortable as you get these days. His living room is nice and you like it out here, though you tend to shy away from main areas when he’s home, afraid of disturbing his peace.

The book is in depth, the scenes heating up quickly, you quietly read, flicking the pages slowly, savouring the tension. It’s not often that you read stuff like this but you’re getting invested, finding a good book with plot and porn is hard to come by and you’re finding yourself getting more and more invested.

Gojo’s voice from behind you is a scare you weren’t ready for, “Wouldn’t it feel better to actually get fucked instead of just reading about it?”

“Fuck! Geez, Gojo, way to scare someone to death,” you huff, not at all ready for his comparably loud voice in the quiet room.

He’s leaning over the back of the couch, apparently reading over your shoulder, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were lurking behind me for so long… because you didn’t mean to scare me,” you crane your neck to look up at him, your eyes showing your clear scepticism.

“Let’s change the topic back to how you’re reading porn out in the open,” he smiles.

You squint at him, “It’s a sex scene, not a porn book.”

He leans in a little closer, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re nosy,” you accuse.

He clarifies, “I am curious.” He adds, “You were so involved in your book that you didn’t even notice my presence… now I know why,” his eyebrows wiggle at you.

You shoot your head back up so you don’t have to look at him, “Why are you back anyways? I thought you weren’t gonna be home until tomorrow?”

“I’m just simply too good,” he boasts. You grumble at him but pick up your blanket and stomp off to the spare room with your book, he calls out to you, “Don’t be like that, come hang out with me.”

“No,” you cement, feeling overly embarrassed. You know he was just kidding but you can’t help the way your skin feels all hot and the bit of shame that creeps into your bones.

⸝⸝⸝

When you’re in bed, you don’t continue reading, the moment ruined and now you just want to crawl into a ball and die. It’s too early to sleep though, so you end up just lying there lifelessly. Some time passes before Gojo knocks on your door, waiting for you to answer to see if you’re still awake.

“Go away,” you pout out. He opens the door at the sound of your voice, “That’s like… the exact opposite of going away.”

“I know,” he shuffles over to the bed and flops down next to you, making himself comfortable, “But I wanna talk about earlier.”

You groan, “Ugh, that’s like the last thing I wanna talk about with you right now.”

“You sure? Because there are plenty of other things I could think to talk about instead,” he smiles evilly, he sits up slightly, resting his weight on his forearm to watch over you.

Flat on your back, you scowl up at him, “Maybe we should talk about how lovely the weather has been lately.”

“It’s been raining for a week straight,” he reminds.

You cross your arms over your chest, “…Maybe I like the rain.”

“I am sorry,” he changes the topic.

“It doesn’t matter,” you try brushing it off.

“I made you uncomfortable and I didn’t mean to,” he looks away in thought, “I wasn’t trying to pry, I just wanted to know what you were so interested in and when I saw–”

“–Okay! It’s fine, I’m not mad.”

“It would be understandable if you were,” he flops onto his back again.

You turn to look at him, “If you’re still feeling bad, make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Look at that! I think all the guilt I had just left my body,” he smiles cheekily, also turning to look at you.

You can’t help the way your eyes drop to his lips, just for a second, you didn’t mean anything by it… you think. Gojo sees it because of course he does, he doesn’t miss a single thing and he decides to push the limits of your friendship, just a little bit.

He speaks again, “You know… I am curious about something though.”

Unamused, you raise a brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Does it do anything? I mean… reading porn like that? Does it actually effect you?” He knows what he’s doing and he knows the answer to his question, he’s not as dense as he pretends he is.

“Invasive question,” you squint at him before letting your face relax, “I can always read it to you and you can see for yourself,” you joke.

His smile grows, “Fantastic idea!”

Your eyes widen, “No! No it’s not! I was kidding, I’m not reading porn to you Gojo.”

“Boo,” he jeers.

“You’re so weird,” you sigh.

He offers you an alternative, “I’ll settle for an answer to my question if you don’t want to read me porn.”

This man is getting on your nerves, “Who would want to do that in the first place?”

“Me, I will read porn to you right now if you like,” he offers.

“Okay let me rephrase, what kind of sane person would want that?” You’re hoping to guide him away from this topic.

“Ouch, words hurt,” you can see his face light up with his joke, “And arouse, apparently.”

“What do you mean apparently?” You ask, “I haven’t even answered your question, very presumptuous of you.”

“Yeah but if the answer was a simple ‘no’ you would’ve just said that and moved on,” he looks proud of himself right now, “Sometimes… not giving an answer is almost as telling as giving one.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you move your head to face the ceiling again, “Get a load of Socrates over here.” You sigh, “What do you want to hear? That it does arouse me, that I get sooo wet reading porn on your couch while you’re gone?”

He’s quiet, at a loss for words really, which is shocking to you. His prolonged silence has you looking back to him. His eyes look a little darker than before, his gaze far away. You’re starting to feel bad, like maybe you’re the one who took it too far now, “Gojo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you–”

“–No… go on,” he encourages, “Tell me all about what you do when I’m not home,” his eyes glimmer.

“I– nothing really– I’m not…” you’re starting to heat up, his gaze on you not helping, “I’m not being creepy while you’re gone…”

“I didn’t say you were being creepy,” he moves so he’s being supported by his forearm again, your eyes follow him as he ends up almost hovering over you, “I said I wanted to know what else you do when I’m not home.”

You hesitate, “This might not be–”

“You don’t have to tell me, if I’m being pushy, if you’re uncomfortable… tell me, I’ll leave you alone,” he wants this bad but he’s not going to force you, he wants you to want it too.

“It’s not… I am uncomfortable but only because,” your thighs press together slightly, seeking pressure, you’re uncomfortable because he’s turning you on and he’s not done a damn thing.

“…Because…”

“Ugh, Gojo,” your hands cover your face, trying to hide yourself from his eyes, “Because you’re…” you mumble, trailing off.

He leans in a little closer, smug smile loud in his voice, “I’m sorry, what?”

You peak through your fingers, “…You’re…turning me on…”

“I still didn’t get that,” he feigns ignorance, he heard you just fine, “Maybe move your hands properly?”

“You’re being mean,” you mutter from behind your hands, “I know you heard me.”

His gaze lowers, scanning your body, taking in how your breathing has sped up, how your thighs clench together, fighting the urge to rub against each other. “No idea what you’re on about, I can’t hear a thing from behind your hands.”

You drop your arms with a huff, “You’re really quite unkind, you know?”

“I think I’m perfectly kind,” his tone is jovial, happy with your acquiescence, “Now repeat what you said, I wanna hear it loud and clear.”

You’re gonna hit him, you wanna hit him. Taking a breath, your hands reach out for his face and move him so he’s looking you dead in the eyes, “Gojo… you’re making me really wet and needy,” your tone is coquettish, “I need your help, please.”

His eyes brighten, deliciously satisfied with your words and confession, “Tell me what you do when I’m not here then.”

You stare at him, you thought you had one up him but he readjusts alarmingly well, you’ll just have to double down, “I lay on your nice, big couch and I fingerfuck myself, hoping I get to cum before you get home.”

“I already like coming home to you,” he leans into you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “I think I’d like coming home to the sounds of you playing with your wet cunt even more.”

Oh god, he might kill you, he’s clearly much better at this than you are, his words have your eyes glazing over slightly. Just his presence is suffocating, “Gojo, please… touch me?”

He pulls back, “Hmm, giving up already? Where’s your fighting spirit?”

“You’re an unbearable tease…”

“Tease… yes. Unbearable? I don’t agree, you’ve put up with me for this long,” he all but singsongs, he’s so smug – you want to get up and walk away from him but you don’t have the strength.

“Either kiss me or I’m changing my mind and pretending that tonight didn’t happen,” you glare at him.

His smile doesn’t falter, “Now who’s unkind?” You make a show of trying to get up but he pushes you back down into the mattress, his lips finding yours. You moan into his kiss and he huffs against you, “Open your mouth more,” he speaks against you.

You do as he says and his tongue slips into your mouth, he licks at you and you tentatively meet him half-way. If kissing someone felt this good surely you’d have remembered it, so why can’t you remember a single kiss that feels as good as this one.

He crawls onto you more, your hands move to find his shoulders before wrapping around his neck, tugging him closer. He groans into the kiss and you swallow it down, your head is swimming, he sounds hot, he feels hot, he’s making you feel hot.

He pulls back, “Fuck, I gotta touch you, let me touch you.”

“Mhm, yeah, please,” you’re all too eager to agree, not missing the thinly veiled desperation in his words.

His hand is quick to snake down your body and into your pants, slipping past the waist band of your underwear. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers carefully part your folds and slide through you’re very wet cunt. Gojo groans, he wasn’t expecting you to be this aroused, his head swimming with just how slick it must feel to fuck balls deep inside your pussy.

His dick twitches in his pants, he’s been horny since he started this stupid conversation, not that you noticed, too self-conscious to take note of the semi he’d been sporting while teasing you. Fuck, he needs more, his finger moves to your entrance, his eyes watching your expression carefully as he slips it inside you.

Your brows turn up and a soft sigh leaves your lungs at his finger entering you, he doesn’t move straight away, his thumb instead rubbing into your clit. He can feel the way your walls twitch around his single digit; he might go crazy before this is over.

“Gojo~ more,” you want more, you wanna feel full.

“Anything for you,” he teases but pulls his single finger back, easing in another with it.

They curl when reaching their hilt, caressing inside you, the pleasure makes you whine and your stomach jump. He pumps his fingers languidly, enjoying the view, delighting in how you squirm and whimper underneath him from just a couple fingers.

He looks down to his hand underneath your pants, your thighs shake slightly, “That’s cute,” he murmurs.

He pulls his hand away from you, “Wait– Gojo what are–”

Laughing at how frantic you are, he reassures, “–Shh, it’s fine, I just wanna see how your pretty pussy sucks my fingers back in is all.”

You feel like you could faint, he’s so crude and for what reason? Just to embarrass you? Or to turn you on? Or is it just a bonus that he manages to do both at the same time?

Your pants and underwear are tugged off at once, he kneels between your legs and very lewdly pulls them wide apart, his eyes greedily watching the way your cunt opens up for him. He salivates at the way your pussy glimmers for him, cunt drooling from your tight hole, down your ass cheeks and onto the bed.

He wastes no more time and fills you back up with his long fingers, his mind registering that you got wetter, fuck you can get even wetter. The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks and he has a feeling he knows exactly what did it.  

A grin on his face, he asks, “You know you could get this wet? Or are you shocked?” It’s not rhetorical, and to demonstrate what he means, his fingers speed up and you can hear the loud and obscene noises of your wet cunt sucking them back in.

You clench around his fingers at his words and his smile grows, now fully understanding the effect he has on you. The delight he takes in it could almost be diabolical, the enjoyment he’s getting out of knowing he can be a little mean or lewd with his words and it will only turn you is immense.

“Come on, I want an answer when I ask a question,” he reminds you.

You gasp as his fingers crook up, purposefully making it harder for you to answer, “I –hah– I didn’t knooww–”

And you didn’t, not to this extent, it’s mortifying, how much your cunt gushes for him. You’re ashamed and also… so ridiculously turned on. His voice doesn’t help, not only the content of his words but just the sound of him, it’s setting you on edge.

“I find that quite shocking, only realising just how turned on you can get and it’s for your good friend? How scandalous,” he tsks at you, his words holding no malice, he truly is amused by how things have unfolded.

“Stop t–teasing me, Gojo,” you frown at him but it’s not nearly as effective as it normally would be. To him you look like a cute mess who’s making a mess on his fingers and spare bed sheets.

His thumb presses into your clit again, steady pressure rounding it, “I like teasing you though~”

Your head tilts back, your eyes unable to focus on anything, you’re going to cum, you’re so fucking close, you just need him to not stop, “Gojo, please, d–don’t stop –ngh– please, please, please please pleaseppleaseplease,” you’re begging him to show mercy – pity, you don’t care what you just want him to make you cum.

“You think I’d be so mean as to not let you cum?” he asks like it’s not definitely within his character to do something so cruel, “I’d never deprive myself of the sight.”

Your toes curl and your head presses back into the pillows hard, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. It feels like your stomach does flips as you moan out for Gojo, your hands clutching the sheets as you shake pitifully with the force of your orgasm.

He massages your walls through it, fucking his fingers in and out of you steadily, letting you ride out your high. He keeps going even as you reach overstimulation, he likes seeing you twitch and shake with your sensitivity, makes his cock leak into his pants at how you clench pathetically around his fingers as he strokes in and out of you as he pleases.

“Gojo… is too much,” you mumble weakly.

He hums at you but pulls his fingers from your sopping cunt, he holds his two fingers up and pulls them apart, watching the way your cum coats them and connects them by sticky strings. Fuck it’s a sight to behold to him, he shoves those two fingers right into his mouth, sucking them clean and savouring the taste.

Pulling his digits out of his mouth, he comments, “I think… if I didn’t wanna stick my dick into you as badly as I do… I’d shove my tongue inside your little pussy and eat you until you came again and again and–”

You’re gonna burst into flames, “–Do you get off on your own words or something?”

“I’m not the one getting off on my words,” he grins knowingly.

The words you were going to retort with die on your tongue as he suddenly tugs his shirt off, exposing his bare skin to you. How are you meant to reply with anything smart when he’s constantly able to throw you off kilter, you can’t win against him.

He undoes his belt and nods towards you, “Take your shirt off.”

“…Bossy,” you pout out.

He stands up to undress completely, “You into that?”

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me, you take directions so well,” he smirks, clearly poking fun at how you took off your shirt as soon as he asked you to. He gets back on the bed and taps your thigh, “Hands and knees,” you look at him with an unamused expression and he tacks on, “Pleeeasseeee?”

You get up and spin round onto your hands and knees, feeling vulnerable like this, extra so because you can’t see what he’s doing. One of his hands slides from your lower back up your spine, gentle pressure behind his touch, encouraging you to push your upper half into the bed, cheek pressed against the mattress by the time he reaches your neck.

“Yeahhh, you take directions so well,” he means it as a compliment but it feels degrading.

Soft clicking noises of him fisting his cock fill the room, he’s spreading his precum all along the shaft, collecting it at the tip. He needs to be slick if you’re gonna take him, though he figures you’ve done most of the work on that end already.

You wiggle your hips back at him, feeling impatient and dazed from your previous orgasm. He chuckles at your eagerness but doesn’t keep you waiting, you’re far too enticing for him to tease any longer. He swipes his dick through your folds a few times first, letting you feel him and also let your cunt drool onto him a bit.

He wants to slam into you quickly, he’s so sick of waiting, he’s harder than he’s been in his life and he’s itching to have your pussy swallow him whole but he doesn’t want to hurt you. If he fucks this up he’ll never forgive himself, he needs to give you the best dicking of your life so that you keep coming back to him for more.

His initial thrust is shallow and barely gets the head of his cock inside you, this is going to be a slow process. He’ll have to take his time, not that he particularly minds, the longer he takes, the longer he gets to spend fucking you. This is a responsible decision on Gojo’s behalf, unfortunately for him, you’re not quite so patient. You’re horny beyond belief and have the sudden urge for him to be as deep as he can possibly get, you want to feel him in your guts, you fucking need it.

Bracing yourself, you spread your legs apart further and push back, his cock slipping deeper suddenly, the stretch has a delicious feeling crawling up your spine, or maybe that’s Gojo’s hand. His hand reaches around your neck and pulls your back to his front, a whimper tumbling from you as you slide down his cock further.

He breathes against you, “Desperate thing aren’t you?” He nips your ear and then trails his lips down to your neck, leaving marks in his wake.  

His hips thrust up, forcing you to take more of him, “Ah~ sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry~ I think it’s very endearing,” his voice is dreamy, “Very flattering, willing to hurt yourself just to take me?”

Ah, of course he’d find a way to boost his own ego through all this, “–ngh– You really do love yourself, huh?”

You can feel his big smile against your skin, “Not as much as I love this pussy,” he thrusts inside you deeper, punctuating his words with his hips.

You can’t do much else but moan and take it like this, though, you’re pretty happy to take it like this. Your slick gushes from your cunt and leaks down his shaft. The mess you’re making on the bed is beyond lewd and you have no idea if you should be more embarrassed of the state you’re in. You’re not here though, you’re elsewhere, head in the clouds as your eyes glaze over.

“Aww~ you’ve gone stupid and I’m not even fully in yet,” he coos at you.

He drops you back down onto the bed in your previous position, face buried into the blankets with your ass in the air, back arched deeply. Gojo thinks he has enough room to slip in completely now so he does, when he does, he knocks something so deep inside you that your cunt quivers and you make the smallest, fucked out sound.

It makes him moan deeply, your pussy gripping him for dear life as you sound out gasped whimpers, you’re a fucking mess in more than one way and he’s gonna paint your walls white before too long if he doesn’t get it together. Your cunt is sinfully tight, snug and warm around him, spilling out around where he’s stuffed you full. Your eyes are glassy and fucked out and you look like you might cry, drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth from how deep you can feel him.

Tentatively, he pulls back, his thrusts initially shallow, wanting to get you used to the motion, you really are not capable of any coherent thought, everything coming from you right now is downright pornographic, you don’t even think you could string together enough words to beg him to let you cum.

He’s ruining any future sex you may have and he’s barely started fucking you, his rhythm, is slow but constant. The pressure you feel slowly building in your abdomen makes your pussy cry on his cock.

“You literally have–” he cuts himself off with his own gasped whine, “–the most perfect cunt, holy fuck.” What he did in life to deserve sticking his dick inside you, he has no clue but he’ll keep doing it if it means fucking your tight hole.

You chant his name at him, it’s all you’re really able to do, in your brain fog you spill out, “S’toru sobig, you’re –hng– so deep~” You can’t think.

His hands grab your hips tight, the pressure bruising, his thrusts are speeding up, growing frantic, desperate. He’s fucking you like it’ll be the last time he ever gets to be inside you. One hand reaches around and lands on your clit, furiously rubbing at it, the stimulation has you biting back a cry as tears slip from the corner of your eyes.

Your pussy spasms and twitches on him violently, you’re so sensitive, in general and to him. His hand pulls you back against him with every thrust in, the resounding smacking of skin on skin and your sloppy cunt are like music to his ears. You’re so messy, such a beautiful and delightful mess, he wonders just how fucking messy he could make you; he’ll need to remember this thought if he ever gets another chance to have you… though he’s probably never going to be able to think of anything else after this.

The muscles in your legs are quivering, you’re not going to be able to hold yourself up for much longer, not with how he’s fucking you. You’re going to cum and then promptly pass out, your vision is dotted and you’re barely able to comprehend your surroundings, the only thing you hear is Gojo’s moans.

“Need you to cum for me, now,” he urges, his words hissed through his teeth, fighting off his own orgasm.

His fingers on your clit speed up, he slaps your clit once and harshly, the sudden contact makes you shake. Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, your legs would’ve given out if he weren’t holding you up, you’re actually just crying now, the force of your orgasm shaking you to your core, it’s so overwhelming that it’s all you can feel.

Gojo moves both his hands to your ass cheeks and spreads them, looking at how he’s plowing into you over and over, watching how you grip him tight, trying to milk his cock. The sight of this, of your pussy clenching around him, has him cumming, he bites out your name before stuffing his dick all the way inside you. His cum dumping itself deep inside, his cock twitching as he spills. The amount he cums is immense, leaking out around the base of him and down onto the sheets, the mess you’ve both made only growing.

He stays seated inside you for a while, letting you both come down before even attempting to move. When he does slip out of you, it’s with a hiss, he holds you up for a bit longer, watching the way his cum seeps out of you, his eyes transfixed on how much he came inside of you, how much of him you took. He’s addicted.

Laying your lower half back onto the bed gently, he flops down next to you, evening out his breathing more. He turns his head to the side to look at you, your eyes closed and a stupid smile on your face, tear stains on your cheeks and a little bit of drool still present in the corner of your mouth.

He reaches out and wipes it way with his thumb, “Fucked dumb taken to a new level, huh?”

“You’ve ruined me,” you mutter back, not really paying attention.

A cocky grin takes its place on his face, “In what way?”

“S’many,” your words slur together.

He jokes, “Better than your book though right?”

You can only hum your confirmation, all your limbs are heavy, you might die, you’re fighting it though, the unconsciousness that’s threatening to take over.

Gojo moves closer to you, kissing your arm, “Hey, sleep, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs into your skin.

That’s the last thing you hear before you’re dead asleep.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[weasleys-wizard-writes]

Return {O.G}

Synopsis: You and Ominis are finally reunited on the Hogwarts express after several weeks apart. The only problem is, you're running late, and Gaunts are not known for their patience...

Note: Here's a little (fairly unedited) Ominis fluff blurb for you all to help tide everyone over until the next big fic is ready for posting <3.

"He's been waiting for you"

Sebastian teased as you all but stormed toward him, that smarmy grin of his making you wish you could recall the spell you'd learned to temporarily move one's mouth elsewhere.

You scoffed, giving him your most unimpressed glare,

"Of course he has. Doesn't he always?"

Except both of you knew what the slytherin had meant when he said those words, and you could tell by the look in his eye that he was more than aware of your understanding.

His grin morphed into something far more akin to a smirk than anything else, and you briefly searched the depths of your mind once more for any recollection of that mouth relocation spell, though you came up with nothing after a few moments of contemplation.

You sighed. There were much more pressing matters to attend to anyhow, it seemed.

"Quite."

Sebastian all but purred in response to your previous remark, shooting a less than subtle wink your way before gallivanting off in the direction of a bickering Leander and Garreth, no doubt hoping to stoke the flames of their already less than friendly conversation.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed open the door to the compartment that you and your friends had sat in for every trip made to Hogwarts thus far.

It was an unspoken rule, after all, that this particular car was favored by the ever particular and oddly intimidating Ominis Gaunt.

And, as things went, Ominis tended to be granted that which he was selective enough to vocalize aloud, whether he ever truly recognized it or not.

"Omini-"

"You're late."

You flinched softly at the obvious displeasure in the young man's voice, not for fear of his doubtless nonexistent retribution, but out of discomfort at the mere thought of being the cause of such a tone.

You wondered if Sebastian ever had the sense to care about such a thing, but found you would rather not know after a moment or two of deliberation on the subject.

You did not need yet another reminder of the ways in which your friendship with the youngest Gaunt heir differed from the one he shared with the sole remaining male Sallow.

Sighing, you nodded, knowing full well after so many years together that the blond sitting before you would sense the gesture regardless of his lack of sight.

He had a way of knowing such things, after all, particularly when they pertained to you and your movements.

He always seemed to know exactly where you were, as if attuned to your every breath.

"I know, I apologi-"

"I had to call in two favors to keep this train from moving without you, you know."

Ominis bit out before you could finish, immediately all but stunning you into silence.

Cutting you off twice in one conversation? Perhaps you'd upset him more than you'd initially realized.

"I mean honestly, late for the train in your seventh year? Was I foolish to believe you might have learned better by now?"

He all but scoffed, continuing with his tangent whilst crossing his arms and fixing his face with a scowl so cold it very nearly had you shivering.

"Probably not,"

You began a few moments later, allowing the sliding door to rest against your shoulder as you stood in the opening, your carry bag of necessities slung haplessly over your shoulder.

"But you know timing was never my strong suit."

Ominis rolled his eyes, immediately causing a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips in spite of your best efforts to keep it at bay.

"Far from it, as you've so kindly shown."

He muttered beneath his breath before turning his head toward you wordlessly, expression a rather amusing mixture of exasperation, confusion, and dwindling frustration as he opened his mouth to speak up once more after a few seconds of silence.

"And just what in Salazar's name do you think you're achieving by standing in that doorway, hm? Have somewhere else to be that you've conveniently neglected to mention?"

In response to your friend's accusation, you found yourself having to bite back a bout of laughter.

He would never admit it aloud, but Ominis was immensely fond of your quiet train rides back to school with one another, regardless of where he was returning from, and clearly he was concerned that you'd made other plans for your afternoon journey back to Hogwarts.

And of course, you would never admit it aloud, but doing such a thing was so inconceivable to you that it nearly made you burst out laughing, as evidenced by your present struggles.

After all, why would you ever want to spend time with someone else when you had Ominis Gaunt so impatiently waiting for you in the train compartment furthest from the rest in the second car down?

The answer, of course, was that you wouldn't.

"Certainly not."

You replied casually, amusement coloring your tone as the blond sitting before you scoffed once more, his cheeks glowing with a pink so faint that you could scarcely make it out, even in the brightness of the afternoon sun that beamed through the windows from high above the valley you were passing through in that moment.

"Well then what in the hells are you waiting for, a written invitation? Sit down already, you're letting far too much racket in standing there with the door open."

He huffed, averting his unseeing gaze away from you and toward the wall that sat opposite him as you shook your head with a grin and did as you were told with an eagerness you were glad that Ominis couldn't make out.

Making yourself comfortable within your place beside him, you couldn't help but take in the sight of his familiar profile, illuminated ever so slightly by the light filtering in through the glass.

It was always like this on these long rides back, you quietly admiring your friend as he sat, none the wiser, in the spot beside that which he always saved for you.

And, as an easy silence filled the room for the first time since your delayed arrival, you watched as the blond finally relaxed a bit in his seat, massaging his temples in slow circles until you finally leaned forward slightly to place a gentle hand just above his knee, the fabric of his perfectly tailored and painstakingly pleated trousers somewhat rough against your soft palm, though you found that the warmth radiating off of the man wearing them more than made up for that fact.

"I really am sorry for being late, you know."

You assured quietly, watching as the boy sitting beside you sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, his cheeks now pink enough that you could make the color of them out with ease.

You tried not to think too hard about how happy the sight of that color upon his flushed skin made you, nor of just how much the fact that you had caused such a reaction was driving said happiness.

"I know."

Ominis replied gently, his hand finding yours, warm flesh upon warm flesh, the feel of his palm much softer than the fabric that was presently pressed against your own.

"I was simply worried that something had happened to you. It isn't typical to miss the train entirely, even for someone as truant as yourself."

His voice had a teasing lilt to it now, but you could still hear the strain hidden just beneath it as he spoke, poorly concealed even as you squeezed just above his knee encouragingly, reminding him of where you sat, perfectly safe at his side.

He seemed to deflate slightly at the gesture.

"Well, no need to concern yourself with my whereabouts anymore, Gaunt. I'm here, aren't I?"

Ominis chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated exasperation that you could tell he wanted to convey far more than he actually felt.

"Yes, I suppose you are."

And with that, you smiled, leaning your head familiarly upon the shoulder of the young man sitting just to the right of you before closing your eyes fondly when you felt the weight of his own atop it.

The two of you stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, head against head, until eventually, the train began to slow, and the door burst open to reveal Sebastian, who grinned rather obnoxiously as he took in the sight before him.

"Well well well, not waiting anymore now are we, Ominis?"

"Oh sod off, Sebastian."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Long Long Time

Day #3 - Prompt: Mutual Pining | Word Count: 1050 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Idiot 4 Idiot, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Platonic Stobin, Robin Knows What's Up

It's not one realization. It's several, over and over again. A steady falling, until he's in so deep, there's just nothing to be done about it. 

"Stop pining, dingus," Robin says, and Steve looks up at her and smiles.

"Impossible," he answers.

"Just tell him," she urges, and he shakes his head. Eddie isn't interested. He's made that pretty clear with the distance he's put between them. 

"Nah, that's not cool. He's getting ready to go," Steve says, "no reason to make it uncomfortable now."

"Dingus. No. Stop it. I can promise you Eddie is pining for you just as hard."

Steve shakes his head. He knows that's not true. Steve's tried all his best moves over the last two years, everything he knows, and has nothing to show for it, except a heart that's maybe not gonna be his anymore.

Steve sits on the floor of Wayne's house, and helps box tapes. Eddie's going. He's really leaving, and soon. 

And Steve's sure that's gonna hurt him for a long, long time. 

"So, what're your big plans for this summer, Harrington?" Eddie asks.

Missing you, Steve thinks, but doesn't say.

"Oh, I don't know. Hang out with Rob, I suppose. Find new jobs. You know we like to change it up every so often. Wreak havoc elsewhere."

Eddie laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"You could come with me, you know," Eddie offers, but keeps looking down at the box he's packing. "Both of you. All of us."

It's not a real offer, Steve knows that. He knows he's supposed to say no, supposed to let Eddie go, without throwing an anchor around his neck. 

"Oh, you don't want that," Steve rebuffs, and Eddie looks up. "I'll cramp your style."

Eddie laughs, "Yeah, you know me. Party animal."

Steve grins, "You might become one. You won't want me tagging along for that."

"But, what if I do?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks up at him.

"Eddie," Steve says, trying to cut this off before he embarrasses himself.

"You're one of my best friends, and we could have fun together."

They could. Steve knows that's true. But he can't go live in an apartment with Eddie. Can't watch him spread his wings and date, right in front of Steve's face. That'd be too hard.

Even if part of Steve wants to say yes, desperately, just to cling onto anything that's being offered.

But he's trying to be better about that. Trying to grow, and shit.

He can only let his heart get trampled so many times, and he's nearing his limit. He definitely won't be able to survive it happening under Eddie's boot.

"C'mon, Steve. For me."

And that almost does it. He hates to deny anything that Eddie might want, but sometimes, you've got to save yourself first. Put on your own life preserver, then worry about everybody else. Robin's taught him that. Or, has at least tried to.

"I can't."

"Why? Robin? I said she can come, too!"

"Because we don't feel the same way about each other, Eddie!" Steve snaps, and Eddie turns into himself, immediately.

"Oh. Oh shit," Eddie says, "I didn't know you knew. Wow, that's embarrassing," he mutters, and it kind of makes Steve mad. 

"I'm not embarrassed. I can't help who I lov-. Like. Whatever. But I just can't torture myself, man. I want you to be happy, I do. And I'm the wrong guy for making that happen, obviously, so let's just leave it. While we're still friends."

Eddie's nodding, still packing, then he's suddenly frozen in place, "Wait. What? You make me the happiest."

"As a friend," Steve clarifies.

"Well, yeah. But, if you were into it, as more, too."

"Wait. What?" Steve asks, repeating the same thing Eddie had just said. This is gonna turn into Who's on First? if they aren't careful.

"I mean," Eddie says, shying away, "I know you aren't interested like that. But I still want you around."

Steve laughs, fucking cackles, like he's crazy. He feels crazy.

Was Robin right all along? Was Eddie doing the same kind of pining, and Steve just never noticed? Fuck.

They are both goddamn idiots, if that's the case.

"Well, don't laugh," Eddie says, and he sounds dejected.

"Wait, Eddie, hold up," Steve says, crawling across the carpet towards him, putting his hand on Eddie's forearm. "Do we have crossed wires here? Do you like me, like me? Like I like you?'

"You like me?" Eddie asks.

"Uh, yeah," Steve admits, "I have for a while, to be honest."

"Jesus H. Christ, we're idiots," Eddie says, pushing his hand into Steve's hair.

"Dinguses, if you ask Robin," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie's so close he could kiss him. 

Steve thinks he will, and leans in, where Eddie meets him halfway. Kissing him, and it's everything, more than Steve hoped it could ever be.

When Eddie pulls back he's smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges, fucking happy.

He looks thrilled, and Steve decides to go all in. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound.

"I think I'm gonna love you for a long, long time," Steve whispers in a sing-songy way, because even as happy as Eddie looks right now, Steve's still scared his love won't be wanted.

But Eddie just grins even harder.

"What made you think of that song?" Eddie asks, eyes big and bright, almost shiny.

"You hum it all the time," Steve answers, "under your breath. Like it's soothing."

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him tighter. Harder. Closer. They're on their knees, so that kind of hurts, but Steve refuses to let him go as Eddie whispers, "It was my mom's favorite song. She'd sing it to me at night."

"Kind of a sad lullaby," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"I was kind of a sad little boy," Eddie admits, and Steve runs his hands up and down Eddie's back.

"Well," Steve says, pressing his lips to Eddie's briefly, "if you'll let me, I'm gonna make sure you're not a sad adult."

Eddie kisses him hard at that, and Steve really will. Even if it takes his whole damn life. 

"I'll definitely let you. For a long, long time," Eddie echoes, the beginnings of a promise.

And Steve will take that deal.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!t

The title is from the Linda Ronstadt song of the same name.

[gogogodzilla]

day 15, keeping quiet

bigby wolf x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dirty talk, creampie, afab reader, bigby calls reader doll kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

Bigby’s apartment is shitty. He knows it’s shitty. You know it’s shitty. 

The walls are paper thin, so you must be very careful about the noises you make. You avoid having sex in Bigby’s apartment like the plague, but when his hands are touching you just right and you feel like you might explode if you wait any longer, it’ll do.

“Could smell just how badly you needed me from downstairs, doll,” he says, and heat rushes to your cheeks. 

The only downside to dating Bigby is that you can never hide when you’re aroused. He’ll either smell it on you or deduce it some other way. He’s good at reading people like that, and he can read you better than anyone. 

You’re sat on Bigby’s lap, fingertips tracing over his stubble as he kisses you. Your pencil skirt is long gone, and your blouse is half unbuttoned. Bigby’s shirt is opened just enough to expose his toned chest. Below you, he is thrusting lazily into you. You sink your teeth into his shoulder, silencing the moans that escape you. He grunts and loses his rhythm just for a moment. 

He runs his fingers over the bare skin of your thighs and over the curve of your ass, pinching lightly. You yelp and he grins against the crook of your neck. 

“Thought you were all bark and no bite,” he jokes, voice low and gravelly. 

The once gentle rain pattering against the window is now a torrential downpour. You jump as a clap of thunder echoes throughout the apartment. Bigby bites back a groan as you clench around him.  

“Scared of a little thunder, doll?” he teases quietly. You meet Bigby’s thrusts with your own, matching his pace. You secretly hope the thunder will cover up the lewd noises you’re making. 

“Fuck off—” 

Your retort is cut short by Bigby grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his cock. You gasp and arch your back as he continues pounding into you. 

“S’okay, doll,” he reassures through grunts with each snap of your hips. “Big Bad Wolf is here to protect you.” 

You snort and begin to press messy kisses along his neck. He groans as you latch your lips onto his pulse point, your tongue running over the flushed skin. You rock your hips against his, the familiar heat pooling in your core. 

Bigby’s large hands roam your body, fingertips dipping under the hem of your blouse. He tugs at the front of your blouse hard enough for the buttons to pop off, rolling away into the rest of the apartment.

Bigby cut off your protests by pulling you into a kiss. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you let him taste you. His fingers dance up your back and unclip your bra, and you pull away long enough to throw it elsewhere. 

He runs his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck and tugs, pulling your head back and baring your chest to him. 

“Fuckin’ love your tits, beautiful,” he breathes before trailing kisses over your chest. He thrusts into you again as he kneads your breast, rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

You throw your head back, moving your hips along with his. You can’t help the noises that escape you as Bigby takes your breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple. His free hand reaches to where you’re joined and draws tight circles on your clit. Neighbors be damned.

You cry out Bigby’s name as your release hits you like a lightning strike arcing across your body. You clench around Bigby, your pussy holding him in a vice grip, and he soon follows after you. 

His release coats your walls, and you continue bouncing on his cock, milking him for every drop. He let out a low whine, overstimulation settling in. 

Finally, you decide to grant Bigby mercy, and your hips still. Bigby leans his head on the back of the armchair, panting. 

“I hope your neighbors aren’t too mad at you,” you grin, only slightly embarrassed. 

Bigby snorts, “They’ll get over it.” He rolls the hem of your blouse between his fingers, looking sheepish. “Sorry about your shirt.” 

You shrug, “It’s fine, I’ll just wear one of yours.” 

Bigby’s cock twitches within you, and you shudder a breath, arousal heightening once again. You made a mental note to yourself to wear his clothes more often before you ground your hips against his. You weren’t through with him just yet.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Any tips for picking back up in the middle of a revision without having to start over? I wrote a book in 2019 and started a major revision in 2021. I printed the book and tore it apart with notes and switching timeline events/chapters around. Now I look at all the notes that are good advice and I would like to apply this progress to the story, but it's so overwhelming and jumbled up 😵‍💫

I've also recently picked up a back-burnered project I've been dreading, only to realize the notes I wrote solved 99% of the problems I had. The only thing holding me back was me, and it sounds like you're in the same boat.

Draft A New Outline - Having a way to track what changes you need to make is helpful, like using an Excel sheet (I know, but it does work) or color-coding changes. This will help so much, especially if you need to track big changes.

Go Through and Highlight What You Like - You may have to throw out whole chapters, but there's reasons you don't want to. Note what you really like - a turn of phrase, a character moment - and see if you can fit it in elsewhere. Always keep that cut folder or document to dig through later.

Set Micro Goals (And Keep Them!) - It's easier to dive into a new draft than to revise an old one. Chunk your goals in easy to accomplish ways. Instead of tackling a whole chapter a day, tackle a scene or a page. Instead of revising 800 words a day, narrow it down to 500 or 300. I make a big chart with my revision goals on it, and you're damn right I slap a cute Daiso sticker next to each goal accomplished. It really helps.

Work Backwards, Revise Forwards - If you have an all new ending with bigger and better stakes, figuring out how to get your plot there may require stepping back, chapter by chapter, to see what subplots you should add or scenes that need to be moved around.

However - and this is just what works for me - working toward a revised draft means starting the rewriting/revising process from Chapter One. That way I don't accidentally cover the same ground twice, and catch when I need to start a subplot sooner or rework descriptions I've used more than once.

Move Past The First 50 Pages - Don't get stuck at the beginning! It's so tempting to revise the first act to perfection, but you might need two or three more drafts to get to the real end of your story, and that might mean tossing all that hard work out. Keep going, and if you find yourself getting caught into fixing Chapter 3 when you're not sure Chapter 30 works, make a note and move on. Finishing your second draft is just as important as finishing your first.

Good luck and keep going!

[spirk-trek]

Would love to see a little something about TOS spirk and dress uniforms, whatever speaks to you!! I love the intimacy of getting ready together and dressing up fancy with your partner :)

inspired in part by this post by @flippyspoon, this fan art [deactivated], and also this fan art by @lesbospirk!

i initially wanted to do something with spock's eyeshadow (still might??) but then the idea of him cutting jim's hair broke into my mind and wouldn't leave... and i never stop thinking about mind melds, so.

lastly: fuck hypersonic showers, ok? spock takes baths and jim loves sitting under steaming water for the drama. that is all. hope you enjoy, anon!

now on ao3!!!

~*~*~*~

Jim was toweling his hair dry when he re-entered his quarters, screwing his face up as he scrubbed at any residual dampness. He let the towel fall in an open loop around his neck, cotton sleep pants slipping down his waist as he leaned against the partition. Spock was there, of course. Jim watched as he diligently smoothed the sleeves of a green dress tunic laid out over his mattress.

And, my, was Spock a sight for sore eyes. The reflective blue complimented him, each fold capturing light like shards of zircon, lattice trim evoking something almost… royal, in the way it climbed his high collar. Jim’s eyes traced the line of gold down Spock’s chest as soon as the Vulcan turned to find him there.

“Dressings suit you,” he murmured by means of explanation, pushing off the wall and taking a few slow steps to close the space between them. He propped both arms against Spock’s shoulders, extending them into the room with loose, lazy wrists.

For so long he had savored these moments of up-close observation, even going so far as to fabricate close quarters on multiple occasions just so he could drink Spock in. The shades of barely-there greens surrounding his lips, touching the hollows of his cheeks, arching over where his nostrils met the bridge of his nose. Short, dark lashes lining irises the color of a mud-settled pond. Of tadpoles. Of space between stars.

“You have a significant bias, Captain."

“Do I?” Jim's gaze dropped to Spock’s lower lip. “Based on the evidence,” he dragged his finger down that seam of gold, “I’d say we’re dealing in objective fact, Mr. Spock.”

Spock finally angled his face lower so their lips were mere centimeters apart.

“Aesthetic preferences cannot be objective.”

Jim’s smirk only grew before he finally captured Spock’s mouth, letting a satisfied breath out through his nose. Spock met him, hands bracketing his waist before sliding upward over skin, eventually finding the nape of his neck where fingers curled into damp hair…

Spock broke the kiss and Jim hummed in protest, blinking his eyes open.

“I’ve noticed an increase in the length of your hair,” he observed, as if commenting on the weather. Spock's eyes rose to watch his fingers card through the wave of Jim’s bangs.

“Is that right?”

“I estimate it has exceeded typical length by 2.51 centimeters.”

“Hm. I suppose it has been a while since I had a trim. Remind me after the delegation-”

“We have time presently, if you are amenable.”

Jim drew back, giving Spock an amused look. “I doubt the salon will be accepting appointments at this hour, Spock. Even for the Captain.”

He curled his fingers over the nape of Jim’s neck again.

“I perform my own haircuts.”

Jim’s brows shot up even further in surprise, still sporting an open mouthed grin which he laughed brightly through. “You want to cut my hair?” He withdrew his arms so he could place one hand on either side of Spock’s neck, thumbs just reaching each corner of his jaw. “I’m not sure I could pull off your cut, sweetheart,” he joked.

Spock didn’t answer aside from a quirk of his lips, accepting the implied agreement before extracting himself and moving past Jim to the door of their adjoined bathroom. Jim watched him go, once more thanking Starfleet for their choice of dress uniforms, and still hadn't looked elsewhere by the time he returned holding a basin and several utensils. Jim knew that Spock preferred his own grooming routines (right down to the fingernails), but he wasn’t expecting the fine golden scissors. Nor did he expect the straight razor which resembled antiques from Earth, yet was still different somehow. He reached for the handle, turning it over in his hands, appreciating the way it gleamed.

“You’ve never shown me these.”

“It has not been pertinent until now.”

Jim placed the razor back into the basin, supposing that was true.

“Come,” Spock requested, and Jim did, allowing himself to be turned so Spock stood at his back. Gentle fingers slid the towel from his neck and draped it over his shoulders.

“Sit.”

And Jim did again, lowering himself into the desk chair Spock had wheeled around. He began pulling strands of hair upward and letting them fall free, so Jim shut his eyes, almost losing himself to the sensation until he heard a snip. The very end of a curl tumbled down the length of his arm and fell to the floor. He peered down at it, prompting Spock’s hands to wrap around his head and face it forward once more.

“Remain still, k’diwa.”

Jim smiled, a warmth blooming throughout him. He loved when Spock called him that.

He continued to snip here and there, a halo of trimmed hair quickly forming around them. Jim relaxed into the contact until once again a sound roused him. Water. He cracked one eye open to see Spock running his fingers over the surface of a clear pool now filling the basin, flicking droplets back inside and combing the moisture through his hair.

“Could get used to this,” Jim murmured. Snip.

“I have no objection to making it a regular practice.”

He grinned, shivering briefly as cold droplets rolled down his neck to be absorbed into the towel.

“Apologies.”

“No, no. Feels nice.”

Snip. Snip. Then, Jim saw in his peripheral as Spock set the scissors down on his desk. Gentle pressure on the back of his head tilted it downward, chin to chest. More swishing in the water.

“Do not move,” Spock directed more seriously, and a moment later Jim felt the press of sharp metal scraping down the lines of his neck. He swallowed, hairs on his arms raising as Spock diligently shaped the bottom of his hairline. Slow. Careful. He felt a hot flash of trust, of comfort and care skittering over him until the pressure from Spock’s hand released. Jim didn’t immediately raise his head, allowing Spock to trace his fingers over the line, inspecting it by touch.

The same hand soon reached around to tip Jim’s chin back up. He continued the movement until he was craned back as far as he could go, sure he looked ridiculous as he peered up at Spock, batting his eyelashes.

“You know, the barber usually kisses me once he’s finished.”

Spock’s second brow rose to meet the first before he bent at the middle, pressing a chaste kiss to Jim’s lips upside down.

“I do not find that amusing,” he murmured. Jim brought his hand up to the back of Spock’s neck to pull him back down for second kiss before he could pull away, lingering this time, smiling into it before releasing his hold. He could hear Spock smooth the lines of his uniform and draw a short breath through his nose.

“Regardless, I am not yet finished.”

When Jim tried to twist in his chair, he found Spock already circling around to his front.

“You aren’t?”

“You have not shaved.”

Jim blinked. He usually just used a photon shaver on his way out the door, which could be done in an instant, but when hazel eyes fell to see the razor still held in Spock’s hand his lips curled. He flashed his eyes back up.

“Okay,” he answered with a slow nod. He settled back in the chair as Spock moved to stand closer, eclipsing the ceiling light, and when a hand reached for his face he leaned into the touch readily. Spock's thumb swiped over the rough stubble covering his chin, then fell away again.

After smoothing a layer of lotion that smelled like desert spices over the bottom half of Jim's face, Spock began his ministrations high on each cheek, making smooth swipes downward and carefully steering the blade around the corners of Jim's mouth. He relaxed his jaw, lips parting, eyes falling shut of their own accord. Spock eventually brought his hand to one side, propping Jim's face against his palm as he shaved along the opposite edge.

By the time he recognized the warm feeling wrapping itself around him, the tightening thread pulling through his mind and lifting him from the world, Jim was already plummeting through space. He was vaguely aware, somewhere, of his physical body falling into Spock, a cold hand meeting the drop of his head with gentle steadiness.

K'diwa.

Spock!

Delight spun through him in tendrils. He rushed forward, coiled around Spock’s presence, reached inside and felt the beating of his heart like it was his own.

Jim. His name was feather light, yet somehow more insistent. Echoes bounced around them before Spock brought him back to center. My intention was not to meld with you.

Then I must be dreaming, he thought warmly, and suddenly Spock was there before him in swirls of shimmering twilight, pulling him by the hand, by his chin. He felt his warmth from the inside out. Like he had swallowed a sun. Like he could never be cold again.

Return to me, k'diwa. I must finish.

“I love when you call me that.”

The words, his own voice, were what pulled him back to reality. Their faces were mere inches apart. His cheek was wet. He smelled spices around him, felt humidity in the room. Suddenly, Jim remembered the task at hand and blood rushed to color his face, but the expression he found on Spock’s was fond. Soft. His fingers followed Jim’s chin as it drew back before letting the contact cease altogether.

“Did I…?”

Spock nodded once. Jim bit his lip.

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, denying the apology. “My hand placement was unwise. I admit, I was distracted.”

Jim’s embarrassed grimace began to lift into a self-satisfied smile.

“You, distracted? I'd be curious to know what could've managed such a thing.”

Spock said nothing at first. He placed a considerably more careful hand on top of Jim’s head to steady it.

“Aesthetics.”

And Jim let Spock steer his head sideways once more before feeling the cool metal touch back down on his skin. This time the path began just below the line of his jaw, trailing down and catching fine hairs along the column of his throat. When he could, he tried to catch a glimpse of the unwavering concentration on Spock’s face as he worked his way across.

“You do this every morning?” Jim all but whispered as his head was allowed to level. He instinctively brought a hand up to feel the smooth skin, running his fingers over it in appraisal.

“My metabolism has adjusted to living aboard the Enterprise. I only require this level of grooming approximately once every twenty one standard days.”

Jim blinked. How was he still learning new things about Spock, even after all this time? He supposed that explained why he never had a hair out of place- that is, unless Jim had something to say about it behind closed doors.

Spock was inspecting him now, dark eyes roaming his face, searching for any neglected spots over it's surface. Jim sat still, defiantly keeping his gaze steady until those eyes met his again. They both held it for a prolonged moment until Spock reached out, touching his thumb to what must be a single hair left behind. His fingers climbed…

Jim couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to. He surged forward again, their minds coming together like a flood as if protesting the premature ending from before. As always, Spock was there to catch him. Arms twined around, undefined and abstract, embracing him from all directions. He was steady, as if he himself were the solid ground on which they stood, as if Jim would float away and cease to be without him there. His tether. His anchor. His north star.

Hello, ashayam.

Spock, Jim practically sang. Not for the first time, he felt a certain sort of music shivering free in a distant part of his mind. A single note hanging suspended in the fog. He wanted to hum along, to stretch it into a tune that could be carried by birds, a song composed for a symphony, but instead he simply reached for Spock and thought you’re here, you’re here, you’re here as they twisted together.

Always.

He felt love float up between them, lifting like bubbles from vents below the sea and racing for the surface. Oranges and pinks brightened in the periphery, dropping off into blue below. He marveled inwardly, distracted by the space that was all their own before his attention was drawn to a thought passing over him. Uncertainty. Spock was the one who put words to it.

You are nervous.

It was as if Jim hadn’t recognized the ache in his stomach until then.

That is why you are seeking me. K’diwa. Come.

Clarity. Sense. Logic. Jim followed him into an embrace of sensation; Lying against Spock’s chest in the morning. Finding his hand below the table without having to look. Kissing him in the dark. All at once it came over him, settled inside him. Comfort. Home.

Your nerves are unwarranted. You have prepared thoroughly.

So did the admiralty when the delegation turned them down.

You are Jim Kirk. Decidedly, not the admiralty.

Jim laughed, and the music came back distantly. Bells.

Spock continued. I, for one, have historically found it difficult to deny you.

Jim could feel the ache within him begin to subside as quickly as it had come, could practically feel Spock pulling it from him. He reached out again, hand closing around a wrist which was not there before he decided to hold onto it.

I love you.

And I, you, ashaya.

And with that, the meld began to abate, turning to mist and leaving only filtered sunlight behind Jim’s eyes. His quarters returned to him like waves of a dream. He sighed, nodding forward until the hand supporting his chin steadied him enough for him to open his eyes.

“Are you comforted, Jim?”

And the question was so sincere, he felt his heart reeling in appreciation for the man before him.

“I am, thank you,” he murmured, and seemingly satisfied, Spock brought the razor up and grazed it over the missed spot on his cheek. He wordlessly gathered his belongings, submerged in the now frothy water, and disappeared to return them to his quarters.

Jim raised a hand to ghost over the spot their foreheads had met and thought back to a time long ago, when they were practically strangers. Spock's words to him...

If I seem insensitive to what you’re going through, Captain, understand… it’s the way I am.

Spock’s brow lifted when he caught Jim watching him a beat longer than he should have. He was standing in the doorway now, drying his hands, and all Jim could think was how could I have let him be so wrong?

All he said, however, was, “How do I look?”

“Tempting,” Spock answered without hesitation.

Jim’s grin warmed several degrees. “That is what I was going for.”

After taking a moment to appreciate the curve of Spock’s lips, reserved just for him to see, he finally stood to face the green tunic laid out with such care on his bed. Unsurprisingly, each medal was already pinned in perfect position. He ran the backs of his fingers over the dyed fabric, parted it, smiled when he found his undershirt neatly folded there, too. He imagined Spock alone in the room as he had been washing up. His careful movements, so precise and so graceful at the same time, always yielding perfect results. Point A to point B. The path of least resistance. Jim sometimes marveled that Spock, in all his simplicity, could tolerate him at all.

A hand pressed to the small of his back, their hips touching as Spock reached for the undershirt. He presented it to Jim, who pulled it over his head, emerging to find Spock holding his tunic out for him to slide his arms into.

“I’m beginning to feel rather spoiled,” he teased before sliding one arm in, turning, sliding in the other. He leaned back and Spock wrapped his arms around him, closed the shirt over his chest, bowed his head to tuck himself into Jim’s neck. Lips pressed to his pulse. One. Two. Three.

“You are worthy of the treatment, Captain.”

Jim shut his eyes. Captain. It was spoken like a name. Like found treasure. Like he’d follow him anywhere.

He turned again so they would be face to face, leaving some space for Spock’s hands which immediately sought out his sleeves to soothe them down his arms. Comfortable silence enveloped them as Spock resumed closing his cuffs, tightening the material around his wrists and sliding each gold disk through their respective slots.

“Thank you,” Jim said again sweetly once he was finished, reaching two fingers out to find Spock’s and pressing the tips of them together. As he so often did, Spock looked down at the contact, observing it as he pushed more purposefully along Jim’s fingers, up over the first fold of his palm.

“I am confident you will be successful.”

“What, I don’t get to hear the odds?”

Spock’s grip flexed inside Jim’s, their fingers laced now. Reverent. Devout. Jim squeezed back.

“I could provide them, however I see little point as it is your tendency to defy all probability.”

Jim leaned up on his toes to press a kiss to Spock’s cheek, delighted to leave behind the faintest imprint of sage.

“Perfectly logical, Mr. Spock. As always.”

[cyten0]

A Symphony in Crimson

Act 1: A Movement in Black

Chapter 15

You’ve chatted around town. And found a consistent theme.

Many of them wanted to save Vaugarde. In hindsight, that should have been obvious. But that doesn’t help explain what's going on! But another thing caught your attention…. You’d best talk with Loop about this.

✸ “Welcome back, Stardust! Looks like you have some thoughts?”

You sit next to loop

✦ “They wished for the king to be defeated, but we did that, so that still isn’t right. However. Someone mentioned that Euphrasie was asking around about the same thing.”

✸ “You think she knows something?”

✦ “Yes. Moment I heard about that I started asking a bit more. Apparently she even recommended favor trees to people. I think she might have some insights.”

✸ “If she did, it might be worth asking her about it. Hopefully she can stay out of that strange state long enough to tell you something.”

✦ “Right. Might be worth double checking elsewhere first. I’ll drop by her office next time, see if I can find anything.”

✸ “Sounds like a plan! Now then, another meal before you go?”

Right... You... No, you don't need it. You need to stop.

✦ “I… Can we not do that corpse this time?”

Loop looks at you for a bit. Judging you.

✸ “… Very well~ You should be good for now! We did feed you a bunch recently! Though I’m afraid that means I can’t get much for you right now, given the sadnesses I would grab are already infected, and you’ll get those rather soon anyways.”

You nod. You knew that would be the case.

But… You can’t do human anymore. It might be tasty, but that’s the problem. You’re starting to get used to it. You can’t afford to get used to it. For it to feel normal.

Or you’ll be too tempted. Tempted to cross that line, just to buy yourself a few days.

✸ “Good Luck! We’re getting close, Stardust.”

>>>

You're grabbing the key in the kitchen. Making your way through. You don’t want to waste hunger looping ahead right now. Not when you’re FINALLY cutting yourself off of human.

Ah stars, you bumped into the counter again. Wait. Did something… tear?

The others gasp. You look down.

Oh no. You… your disguise is too weak at this point, too fragile. You just haven't had the nutrients to make it work. The fake skin and outfit just. Snagged. And ripped.

◉ “Siffrin! Are you Okay?!? Your Leg looks hurt!”

◆ “Is your condition getting worse? Let me take a-”

✦ “NO!”

You quickly try and put it together before they can see. See your monster body underneath. But it just. Won’t. Go. Back!!!

◆ “Gems, don’t be stubborn, just let me-!!”

Blind it all she saw! Nononononono-

《

...You round the counter more carefully this time.

You… Can’t keep this up much longer. Every part of your guise has become troublesome. Your expressions, your voice, your body, your skin. You looked in the mirror back at the clocktower and could FEEL the monster underneath. It’s all coming apart at the seams.

...It’s fine. You just need to fix this mistake, and then it won’t matter… You just… if only you could stay for even one more day…

It’s fine. Keep moving. Keep them safe. That’s your one purpose now. The ONE thing you can still do. Keep your family safe.

>>>

There. Finally. Euphrasie’s Office. You search their desk. There must be something…

Here we go! A list. Filled with names, and checks with one column being save Vaugarde. Perfect, she was looking into it! There has to be more…

A notebook. You look through quickly. Alright, it says she was looking into wishcraft, after noticing people were wishing at the favor tree. Someone in the house mentioned it offhandedly. She couldn’t read the books on it, but she figured maybe it could still help. So she helped encourage people worried to go to the favor tree.

Hm. So not a lot of knowledge. But. It’s something. It means she had invested time into it. Maybe she knows more then this notebook tells.

You need to talk to her. See if you can get her to talk this time.

>>>>

The king is dead once more. You want to talk to your family first, before anything else.

You talk to Bonnie first. It goes about the same until...

✿ “...So, um…. D-Do you want a snack or something Frin?”

✦ “Sure!”

You're always hungry.

✿ “Okay, I have… well, I’m kinda short on snacks, you ate a lot of them before. So I only have pineapple slices. A croissant. And a half eaten apple.”

Pineapple is never happening. Croissants remind you of that one survivor. So only one option, really.

✦ “I’ll take the apple.”

✿ “Ew…”

You don’t care at this point. Food is food. Even if non-meat like this will barely cover the effort of digesting it. You don’t care. As long as it's not them.

You eat the whole thing in one bite. Bonnie seems a little surprised you managed that. But it’s fine.

✿ “...Frin… Are you okay?”

✦ “Yeah, why?”

✿ “… I dunno. I’m just askin. But if you say you're okay, then it’s true, I guess.”

You thank them, and wave goodbye. They already know about the pineapple slices this time, so you don’t need to remind them. Not that it matters.

You talk to Mirabelle. Assure her. Lie to her. Then.

◉ “Do you feel better now?”

✦ “What about you Mira?”

Your happiness doesn’t matter. It never did.

◉ “M-Me? Well, I’m better now but. I was asking about you!”

✦ “I’m good.”

◉ “Okay… Siffrin... do you remember, a few weeks ago, when I asked you if you liked being on this journey?”

It's been a while, but you've been doing your best. Making sure to hold those memories. The one thing you still can.

✦ “Yeah, why?”

◉ “Back then, you said… You said that being on this journey was the happiest you remember being. Is that… Still true? Are you still happy?”

You wish you could be. You remember every moment of your journey so fondly. You love them all so dearly. If only you could travel with them for even a single extra day. Be human for them for even one more day...

✦ “…Yes. Of course I do. I wouldn’t take back a second of it.”

◉ “… That’s good. I’m glad for that.”

You wave and move on.

You talk to Odile. Dream of going to Ka Bue with her at some point. Feel bad for hoping.

◆ “...Siffrin, are you alright?”

✦ “Yeah, why?”

◆ “It’s just… You’ve been acting off since yesterday. More withdrawn, mostly. Just… Do you want to talk about it?”

✦ “I’m good.”

Stars you hope you’ve not done anything to catch her eye this time.

◆ “...Very well. Just. Let me know when you want to talk. Preferably before we part ways. I’m more then willing to.”

You nod, pretending you’ll take them up on that, just to assure them. You can’t afford to tell them anything. You don’t want them angry at you.

You talk to Isa. Listen to them nearly say it, yet again, but never go through with it. What you wouldn’t give to hear it. What guilt you feel for wanting that.

▲ “...But really, are you Okay?”

✦ “Why do you ask?”

▲ “I don’t know, you’ve had a weird vibe ever since yesterday. So, I’m just hoping you’re all good. Are you?”

✦ “...Yeah.”

▲ “Okay, Good!… I mean, I don’t believe you for a second but we can talk about it tonight. Take your time!”

...Oh Isa. Always caring about you. About everyone. You don’t deserve their love. You're horrible for even letting them.

You nod and leave. Part of you wants to keep this all going. Stay with them longer, even if it has to be in this twisted fantasy. But you know you can’t do that to them. Know that even as you have eternity in your hands, you would not survive it.

It’s time to talk to Euphrasie.

◎ “Traveling one! I’d like to thank you for accompanying Mira-”

✦ “Sorry, bit of a rush. You were looking into wishcraft, right?”

◎ “Oh, yes! I noticed a lot of people were wishing for Vaugarde to be saved, so I thought it worth checking. I suppose maybe it…"

◎ “...!!!”

Oh no! Nononono you were so close you need to find what she knows!

◎ “Oh… Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no…”

✦ “No, stay with me!! Come on I need your help!”

◎ “I-I’m so sorry! There’s no way we can stop it now…!”

BLIND IT ALL!!!

Fine. You don’t have a choice. Time to cross one more line.

You take your claw, and jab it into the back of her neck.

You latch onto her brain-stem, and reach into her mind. There. You can feel it, the force creeping in, scattering her thoughts. You drown it out with your song.

◎ “W-What-!?”

✦ “Can you hear me? Can you talk? Please, before it ends, I need to know! Tell me whatever you can, so I can fix this!!”

Her eyes look at you. For the first time. She’s in clarity. She’s in fear. And… She’s still crying.

◎ “I… It’s too late! I don’t know whats going on! I barely know anything of wishcraft! I just. I know, or knew, that something went wrong… I… I don’t know why! All of Vaugarde wished for a savior. And… It must have done something! Made sure it would happen but...”

… Wait... Oh. Oh no.

◎ “None of us knew how to do it right, none of us knew the ritual! It must have broke something, or maybe someone wished for this!"

Wished for... It clicked. You know. You know what went wrong.

◎ “I don’t know, I don’t know, I… I’m so sorry!! I should have stopped them, should have prevented this, I-!”

✦ “NO."

She looks at you, confused.

✦ "It… It’s my fault.”

You get it now. You get why it’s wrong. Because

✦ “I wished for something impossible. And I knew the ritual. But it got mixed with yours. I… I’m sorry.”

◎ “W-What?”

You look her in the eyes. With your real eyes. Your monster eyes. The eyes of the thing you’ve been trying to escape this whole time. The thing your wish needs you to escape from. That it’s been far, far too late to hide from….

✦ “I wanted to be human for them. For just a little longer. But I can’t."

She gasps in horror. As she should.

✦ “By the time I reached this point… It was to late. And now… I’m sorry… If I had TOLD people the ritual, if I had wished for anything else, if I managed to finish this faster, Blind it all even if I had the decency to DIE on that blinding island like all the rest, then maybe, just MAYBE that wish could have saved you!!!! But...”

You hug her, as her panicked tears run down your cloak. You failed her. You failed them all. Your worst sin, the most horrible thing you ever did, has come back in a brand new form.

You ruin everything you care about. And now, it's too late to die to stop it. You aren't even allowed that luxury.

✦ “I-I ruined another country again. Destroyed another home. I… I’m so sorry. I… I’m so sorry!!! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry!!!”

◎ “I- But-”

You feel the sugary scent start to close in, as the world starts to fall apart.

✦ “I just hope. That one day, you all will have the chance to forgive me.”

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[kararisa]

marigold promises

— 22. look me in the eyes [☕︎ = 0.6k words]

Attending classes in Lawrence Hall is a daily occurrence for you, but today you walk towards the building for a different purpose. Today marks the first day of your training for the annual regional competitions. 

Loath as you are to see a certain someone, Tighnari had informed you that he and a friend of his would be your teammates for the science segment, so you’re holding out hope on the possibility that today might be peaceful.

The moment you see Albedo reading a book on the staircase brings you back to reality.

Working with the person who hates you more than anything will prove to be difficult (or inconvenient at best), but you were always one to step up to the challenge. You’re not backing down just because of some argument.

Albedo glances up and stands up the minute he sees you, making his way up the staircase.

You had come here with the intention of trying to establish one of your temporary truces – it wouldn’t be appropriate to have the two of you fighting over who’s more correct in a situation where you’re supposed to work together. Besides, you certainly weren't going to be crossing a bridge that has long been burnt. Would it kill him to listen to what you had to say for once?

You pick up the pace and make your way toward the second floor, moving in front of him and blocking his way. 

He will hear you out, whether he wants to or not.

“I have somewhere to be,” Albedo greets you, his tone void of emotion, “And I’m sure you do too. I would appreciate it if you would get out of my way.”

You cross your arms and scowl at him, “Cut the attitude. I want you to listen to what I have to say.”

He gives you his full attention, yet his gaze is diverted elsewhere.

“I know we hate each other and everything,” you start, “But we’re supposed to be working together. Can we put our differences aside just for this week? Then you can go back to hating my guts afterward.”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to dislike you,” he scoffs, “Fine, whatever makes you happy.”

Albedo tries to walk past you, but you’re not letting him get away that easily. 

It was instinctual, the way you grabbed his collar and shoved him against the wall.

Even after all that, even after his eyes widen ever so slightly, he still can't bring himself to look at you. 

You grab his chin and carefully turn his face toward yours.

"Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, Albedo."

His cold blue eyes meet yours. 

And this time, he doesn't look away. 

A second passes — Albedo's eyes echo the hatred you yourself felt for him. 

No, not hatred. 

Envy. 

What did he even have to be envious about? All your life you've had to claw your way to get where you are now. You work just as hard as he does, if not harder, yet he always beats you at your own game. The things you excel in, he exceeds. 

If anyone knew a thing about envy, it was you. 

Your voice is low when you next speak, "You think you're so much better than me. Well, listen up. The two of us qualified for a reason, so you better cooperate. Because we're not just representing ourselves, we're representing the whole school. So let's put our pride aside and work together."

Leaning in closer, you whisper against his ear, "We did it once. We can certainly do it again."

Releasing his collar, you turn your heel and make your way toward Room 208.

You don't bother to see if he follows you; his silence already says as much. 

And you're sure he got the message one way or another. 

— previous || masterlist || next

summary: it was evident that you and albedo have changed in the five years you’ve spent apart, but you know better than to view him through the lens of nostalgia. with one goal on your mind – graduate valedictorian – who better to stand in your way than the studious, intelligent, ice-cold albedo? one thing’s for sure: he’s going down.

author's notes:

had a friend proofread this chapter and she reacted with five separate keyboard smashes and an "OOOOOOOOH"

still really busy though so it might be a while until the next chapter :(

taglist (i):

@fvkkyu @mintreen @edreee @khyllynnn @xxmirrorballxx @aiikalvr @yaefics @unsterblich-prinz @aequha @alch3myy @lovely-althxa @nei-rinn @cridtiins @zestrya @skylions-den @moriiartt @theother-victoria @sunsethw4 @dazaisfavgf @serossidechick @koiir @lazy-sanns @sweetbunnybunbun @dee-zbignuts @redactedhimbo @yurstepm0m @fanfictwarrior @fuyaa @saoiirsee @ireallylikehamsters @elfxiao @whosxangel @kitsuvil @orionicchaos @blurr3db3rry @semi-orangeapple @kunikuzushiit @atlatcaheart @wrrapedroundmyfingerlikearing @scarafrisbee @lost-wicked-artist @kairxse @elysiasbae @eurekatanya @empathum @tatiratty @zannivrs @mikismusings @sunoo-bby @astolary

— the taglist is currently open! if you’d like to be added feel free to reply or send in an ask! – if your blog isn't highlighted it means i can't tag you.

[deadbeatbirdmom]

Good news, my copy of this book arrived today:

Bad news: I don’t have a scanner, so the only pics I have were taken on my phone while struggling to hold the book open. I've attempted to keep light from reflecting off the pages in annoying places.

Although even if I did have a scanner I wouldn't have time to scan everything, this book is almost 350 pages long. Not all of it is art worth scanning, there's a fair amount of screenshots from Volumes 1 to 8 too.

The pics I have managed to take so far are under a read more cut because there's over 20 of them. Mostly Yang because she's my fav, but a fair few of team RWBY as a whole, and some of Blake, and a couple of Raven. And Jaune photobombs a couple of times too. Oh, and how can I forget Zwei? He might steal this post by being too cute.

Art from the covers.

Height charts including heels. It seems Blake’s heels from Volume 7 onwards are an inch shorter than in Volume 4 to 6.

Yang and Jaune modelling Beacon’s uniform.

Zwei concept art, showing him morphing from a lil blob.

Blake concept art, I'm not sure I've seen the bits about what's under her coat before.

Early map of Remnant. Interesting place names, but Signal isn't on Patch but elsewhere, so this isn't a final version. I wouldn't rely on it as a reliable source for writing fic.

Weiss, Blake and Yang concept art, including early versions of their emblems.

Volume 4 to 6 team RWBY.

Volume 7 onwards team RWBY.

Hoverbike chase and backgrounds concept art.

Volume 7 onwards Blake and Yang.

Yang showing off her moves. I can't help but imagine her doing this on that night off dancing with Blake, even if I think she'd look happier.

Blake T posing turnaround.

Blake showing off her moves.

Yang and her fiery punch.

Raven’s bandit camp, excuse my fingers. Oddly enough I think it's using the outline of Yang in her DGAS outfit as a reference for scale inside the tent. She certainly seems to be lacking her right arm below the elbow.

Yang retrieving the Relic of Knowledge.

Raven outside Haven's Vault.

Yang slamming her fists together.

Yang’s turn to T pose.

Blake T posing again.

Raven joining in with T posing.

That's all I've got, apart from a couple of things for separate posts. This one is more than long enough. Let me know if there's anything you're hoping to see from this book, and I'll see if I can share it. You might be better off hoping someone else has the book and a scanner.

[ovwechoes]

hope ur having a nide day so far!!

could u do tokkitsune hcs? sfw or nsfw i dont mind :D

i main kiri and i tweak out when theres a dva but it feels like nobody cares about tokkitsune anymore :(

TokKitsune / D.Va x Kiriko Headcanons (SFW) I never see anything for them anymore so I'm happy to write some (as a D.Va main)! I'll keep them SFW and if you'd like some NSFW ones send another ask through! Thank you for the request and they're under the cut - enjoy!

Who confessed? How did it go? Kiriko did imo - she's more open to the possibility of embarrassing herself with the confession, and would rather get the whole ordeal through and done with so that if she's rejected, the blow will be softer than if she waited too long. It caught Hana off guard, and at first I think that they had sort of a situationship, not putting a label on what they were with each other before actually asking each other if they wanted to be together officially. It was a sweet confession though, and Hana teases Kiriko all the time about how nervous she clearly was, with Kiriko doing the same back for when Hana explained she felt the same way.

Do they live together or want to? I like to imagine that they want to live together, and kind of already do with them both working for Overwatch now. In the beginning, they wanted to take things slow so they avoided the conversation of living together as much as they could, but they realised overtime how much they liked the close proximity they had in the OVW HQ. It made them realise that living together fully, in an apartment or home, wouldn't be any different besides from how many people lived with them. It's something they've decided they want, and they like the idea of having their own privacy and space away from prying eyes. Hana would've been the one to initiate it, asking what Kiriko felt about it and wanting to understand her perspective fully before asking if she wanted to start saving up with her to move out the HQ.

What is their relationship dynamic like? They're definitely the to be ‘opposites attract’ - Hana's the type of person who's introverted but still friendly, and enjoys her friendships even though her social batteries are worn down and barely functioning. She enjoys being able to do simple things with Kiriko, and often finds that Kiriko recharges her energy, bringing new motivation to her life that she hasn't found elsewhere. On the other hand, Kiriko's more extroverted and has practically a brand new social battery; she's not afraid to call people out or jeopardise her friendships with others because they go against her own moral code, and she often finds it hard to forgive and forget. With Hana, she's found herself learning how to forgive, and how to move on from her grudges. Kiriko still struggles with calling people out in an abrupt, brutally honest way, but Hana's shown her that she can do that and stand for her morals without letting her emotions overshadow her intentions. Kiriko likes that they have opposite approaches to things, and enjoys being with someone who's different from her and can show her things that she might not have considered in the past.

What are some places that are memorable for them, and hold importance in their relationship? One of the most memorable would be Kanezaka - when Hana surprised Kiriko with a trip there to celebrate their anniversary, it made her heart soar to know someone remembered that important place to her. Hana was curious about all the things that Kiriko told her about in the past, and wanted to see them for herself finally, so it was a trip that made them bond even more. It was a trip down memory lane, and they both enjoyed exploring Kiriko's past and seeing things that they might've forgotten about or were fixated on in previous conversations. It helped them bond too, and now they make an effort to explore Kanezaka together for their anniversaries, making a promise to do something new and exciting each time. Another general place that's memorable and important for them and their relationship is karaoke bars - their first date was at one, and they enjoyed every minute of embarrassing themselves to each other over bottles upon bottles of soju. It was the first time that they kissed, too, and so whenever they see one it brings up small, funny memories that they tease each other with. It's sweet, and they can't help but give into the temptation of spending the evening at whichever one they saw first, re-enacting their first date but with much more confidence, trust and love for one another.

What are some things they find challenging with each other? How do they work through it? Kiriko finds that she struggles the most with Hana's stubbornness, especially when it comes to accepting help. She finds it hard to watch Hana asleep at her desk, with alarms set for 30 mins from when she fell asleep so that she can continue her work without letting exhaustion get to the best of her. Hana refuses to accept Kiriko's help out of fear of being seen as too reliant, and it's something that Kiriko finds frustrating with her. All she wants to do is lend a hand, or an ear, or anything like that, and she feels helpless knowing that Hana wont accept it. It's something they've talked about, Hana feeling as though that it's not a valid argument and reassuring Kiriko that she truly genuinely doesn't need the help, but appreciates the offers always. It's led to Kiriko teaching herself how to cope with the refusals, and processing the fact that it's not personal and that if Hana wants help, she'll come to her (which she has in the past a couple times). It was hard for her, but she's willing to look past it because the positives of the relationship make this all the more worthwhile, and she isn't going to ruin a good thing because of an issue like this. Hana finds that she struggles the most with Kiriko's recklessness. She understands that Kiriko has a strong desire to show she can protect her loved ones and prove to them that she's someone they can trust, but it breaks Hana's heart when Kiriko comes back from missions with injuries that could've been prevented if this wasn't the case. The amount of pep talks and lectures Hana's given Kiriko about being safer, not to underestimate her enemy's abilities, and to consider her safety more often is insane. Hana worries about Kiriko a lot, and she's learned that as long as she's available to protect her when needed, and help her back up when she's injured, then she's doing something good for her. She wouldn't tell Kiriko how it makes her feel, though, and would instead try and give her ways to protect herself, or talk to others on the same missions as her about keeping an eye out on her.

How often do they go on dates, and what are some they enjoy the most? With their busy schedules, they only tend to go on dates when they're off work, and even then that entirely depends on how much energy Hana has left to spare for the day. Kiriko doesn't mind it, of course, and loves to be able to spend time with her partner no matter what they're doing together. One of the most common would be karaoke dates, or dinner dates at restaurants they've frequented so often to that they have their own table that the staff always escort them to. On the other hand, they'll sometimes enjoy movie nights in, picnic dates at night, or simply spa dates where they do all the high-maintenance things they've been putting off together like waxing, skin care, lash perms, the lot. If they're on the low end of their budget, they'll usually go to the store and buy new skincare they want to try, and spend the night in their robes helping each other with them while they watch reality tv shows with some takeout. It's their way of relaxing, often finding it more rewarding that spending more money doing something they might hate in the end. Though, they're not fussy and they love to spend time with each other in any way possible.

[sillysoraya]

I've been messing around in my Austen sims hood again for the first time in ages, and what a fun group they are! Nothing very serious, realistic, decorated etc. just fun seeing who gets on best.

I dropped out a bunch from uni into houses and apartments in the main hood ,as I didn't think they all suited uni life (Robert Martin on his own farm, Catherine Morland, Fanny Price & Harriet Smith share a house together which I've actually called Mrs Goddard's Parlour House haha, Lydia & Kitty Bennet share an apartment, George Wickham & John Willoughby share an apartment, and Frederick Wentworth is sharing his house with fellow Adventurer James Benwick for now).

Having these sims leave campus might cause some shifts in the relationships that have been developing though, as many of these sims were in raptures with those still at uni! Things haven't developed as much as I'd like in their lives in general as most of the time I load the hood, tweak personalities etc., have a bunch of them mingle on one lot, then save and leave haha.

Here is the beautiful but cruel Caroline Bingley for starters, the rest under the cut.

Henry Tilney and John Willoughby have been all over each other since the beginning, but Willoughby's dropped out, so I'm not sure how that will go over with them both and if they'll stay true or look elsewhere (sweet Henry please don't be attached to him!).

Strangely enough, their girls Catherine Morland and Marianne Dashwood haven't felt particularly bothered by this turn of events...

Frederick Wentworth has been very physical with Mary Crawford, but again, maybe their eyes will wander now Frederick has left campus for life in the main hood.

Edmund Bertram has been very openly affectionate with many of the ladies. With Fanny Price recently moving away, perhaps Mary Bennet or Anne Elliot will take up more of his thoughts now? He has 3 bolts with all of them. But James Benwick (bottom right with goatee) is smitten with Fanny and Anne too.... fight!

Elinor Dashwood has both Edward Ferrars and Christopher Brandon chasing after her, and she has 3 bolts and crushes on both. Who will she choose?

Lizzie Bennet and Charlotte Lucas are still all over each other constantly, and now rolling engagement wants. Maybe they'll stick it out and move in together after graduation?

Augusta Hawkins and Philip Elton are very happy together, which is good as no one else is interested in them! I can see these two becoming a permanent thing.

A cute pairing I didn't anticipate - George Knightley and Jane Bennet! To be fair, Mary Bennet kept rejecting and then bullying him, so I think Jane is a better choice!

Harriet Smith and Robert Martin are both very sweet on each other (Robert was a little obsessed actually), and with both heading back to the main hood, maybe it won't be long before Harriet joins Robert on his farm? He could do with the help at least!

I think giving Jane Fairfax the loner trait was a bad idea - she's constantly picking fights with the cafeteria worker and has minus relationship levels with almost everyone!! Might need to switch that out for shy or something...

[just-your-average-author]

The L Word (Logan)

Gilmore Girls

Hurt/Comfort/Light Angst

What Rory might have been feeling after she and Logan broke up at her graduation because we got exactly no closure/sadness from her about the love of her life she lowkey wanted to marry. Also, I'm aware that the job offer wasn't until after she left her apartment but I already wrote the thing so it's not super accurate but whatever I (haha I mean Rory haha) am heartbroken okay?

Rory stood in the middle of her now almost empty apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes, and tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. Try as she might, her mind always tended to wander back to memories she’d rather forget. She scanned the room, her eyes flicking from one pile of belongings to another, trying to decide what to keep, what to discard, and what to pack for the bus. The thought of starting fresh should have felt liberating, but instead, it was suffocating.

Her hands moved automatically, sorting through the remnants of her life, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had been determined not to think about him, but the effort was draining. 

Her mind instead went to Dean, her first-ever breakup that felt like eons ago. She remembered the cold dread in her chest as he accused her of being selfish and ungrateful. The words had cut deep then, and even now, they stung like fresh wounds. She winced, not just at the memory, but also as she sliced her thumb on the edge of the packing tape. The sharp pain grounded her, pulling her back to the present, but it couldn’t chase away the tightness in her throat. Dean had told her he loved her, and in return, she said nothing. She frowned, remembering that was arguably the kindest she’d ended things with him. The second time, she all but cheated on him and pushed him away, eventually drifting toward Jess. 

The thought of Jess brought a bittersweet smile to her face. Theirs had been a turbulent relationship, marked by passion and miscommunication, yet there were moments she cherished like the night they went to see The Distillers in concert. Rory picked up a CD from the box she was packing, her fingers brushing over the cover, wiping off the dust. She could still hear the music, feel the energy of the crowd, and see Jess’s grin as he joked about them joining the mosh pit. But the smile faded as quickly as it had come. That memory was also tainted—by the angry voicemail she’d left him, the harsh words she couldn’t take back.

Her stomach churned as she thought of how much she missed Jess at that moment. She longed for his advice, for his steady presence, but she had driven him away, too. Sure, he may have left first, but she knew she left last. They ended things so bitterly before; she had broken his heart. She had a pattern, it seemed—a pattern of ruining things, of pushing people away until there was nothing left but regret.

With a heavy sigh, Rory moved the box of CDs to the couch and tried to shake off the weight of her thoughts. She needed to stop this downward spiral. She had a new life ahead of her, a promising career as a journalist, with the potential to travel the country—maybe even the world—with Senator Barack Obama’s campaign. She should have been excited, but the excitement was clouded by doubt and self-recrimination. It didn't matter. He didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She didn't matter. 

“Stop, knock it off,” she muttered to herself, her voice cracking as she forced the words out. “Stop, stop, stop.” But the tears that had been threatening to fall all day finally broke free, sliding down her cheeks. She swiped at them angrily, determined to keep it together. Today was supposed to be a good day, a day of new beginnings. She needed it to be that, but the weight of her feelings kept pulling her back. She was going to have a good day no matter what. Matter. That word sounded funny now. 

The word “matter” echoed in her mind. Chilton taught her a lot about matter. Matter, the substance of the universe, made up everything—light, heat, cold, trees, plants, animals, people. Her mom. Herself. And him.

No.

She wouldn’t let herself think about him. Not now. Not ever again. She grabbed the packing tape and sealed up the box, being extra careful not to cut herself this time. Her eyes fell on her phone, and she saw a text from her mom: Be there as fast as I can invisibly drive through Hartford in hopes of avoiding my mother.

Rory smiled at the message, feeling a flicker of warmth in her chest. Her mom’s quirky sense of humor was a small comfort. At least she wouldn’t have to go through this alone. With her mom here, it would be easier to keep the dark thoughts at bay; easier to focus on the practicalities of moving on.

She turned to her suitcase, unzipping it to add the last few items she would need for her new job. She mentally checked off each article of clothing as she packed it, but her mind was elsewhere, drifting back to the door where her gaze landed on the bag.

The sight of it stopped her in her tracks. To think, this bag once brought her such joy. Now all it brought was pain and misery. She struggled to hold back the tears that were already threatening to spill over. Her throat burned. She hated it now; it almost mocked her with its bright cheerful color and welcoming demeanor.

She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it—it was worth too much. Should she sell it? Give it to Emily? Maybe her mom? She almost laughed at the thought, had she not been so depressed. Her mom would probably rather burn it than use it.

Rory picked up the bag, her fingers tracing the smooth leather, and the floodgates opened. The tears she had been holding back came rushing out, and she crumpled to the floor, sobbing harder than she had in years. She had been so close to real happiness, to love, to a future she had once dreamed of. But she had ruined it. Just like she had ruined everything else. She could have had a husband, a house, a family. She could have had 

Logan.

She curled up on the floor, hugging the bag to her chest as if it could somehow fill the void inside her. The pain was overwhelming, and for a moment, she wished she could just disappear, fade away into nothingness. How could she love again? She had loved so many times, and every time, it had ended in heartbreak. But with Logan, it had been different. It had been real. And she had thrown it all away.

The memory of him proposing, of her saying no, replayed in her mind, torturing her. He had offered her everything—a life together, a home, an avocado tree. But she had said no. Why had she said no? The question echoed in her mind, unanswered, and she knew that it would haunt her forever. The thought that she had lost him, that she would never get the chance to make things right, was unbearable.

As she lay on the floor, the reality of her situation hit her like a tidal wave. It was never going to be okay again. She would always carry this pain, this regret, with her. And no matter how much she tried to move on, she would never be able to forget him. Hell, not just forget him, but even be able to stop thinking about him for even a minute.

Rory remained on the floor for what felt like hours, her sobs gradually quieting to soft, uneven breaths. The weight of everything—the past, the regrets, the uncertainty of the future—pressed down on her.

She sat up slowly, her fingers still clutching the pink bag. She had made mistakes, yes, and those mistakes had cost her dearly. But she was still here, still alive, still moving forward, even if it was with a broken heart.

Rory took a deep breath and forced herself to stand. She walked over to the mirror on the wall, studying her reflection. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face blotchy from crying, but there was a strength there too—a resilience that had carried her through so much already. She wasn’t the same girl who had first fallen in love with Dean, or the one who had emotionally drifted to Jess, or even the one who had said no to Logan’s proposal. She had grown, learned, and yes, she had lost. But she was still standing.

She turned back to the suitcase, zipped it up, and then glanced at the pink bag one last time. She couldn’t keep it, not if she wanted to heal. But instead of selling it or giving it away, she decided to put it in the box she had just packed. She would store it away, out of sight, until she was ready to face it again—until the memories no longer hurt so much.

As she placed the bag in the box, she heard a knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, but quickly she reminded herself it wasn’t him. But it was her mom. The one person who had always been there for her, through every heartbreak, every mistake, every triumph.

Rory wiped her face, forcing a small smile as she walked to the door. She opened it to find her mom standing there, a warm, understanding smile on her face. Without a word, her mom stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug, and Rory let herself sink into the embrace, feeling the comfort and love that only her mom could provide.

As they pulled back, her mom gave her a knowing look. “Ready to go?”

Rory nodded, though her heart was still heavy. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

They began to gather the remaining boxes, working together in comfortable silence.

She closed the door behind her, letting out a deep breath as she did. She knew she had to let go. She had no choice - life would happen whether she did or not. And in that bittersweet moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay again someday. Not today, or tomorrow, or even this month. But someday.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

4th November >> Fr. Martin's Reflections/Homilies on Today's Mass Readings for Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time (Inc. Luke 14: 12-14): ‘Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind’.

Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Luke 14:12-14 Do not invite those who might be able to invite you back.

Jesus said to his host, one of the leading Pharisees, ‘When you give a lunch or a dinner, do not ask your friends, brothers, relations or rich neighbours, for fear they repay your courtesy by inviting you in return. No; when you have a party, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; that they cannot pay you back means that you are fortunate, because repayment will be made to you when the virtuous rise again.’

Gospel (USA) Luke 14:12-14 Do not invite your friends, but those who are poor and crippled.

On a sabbath Jesus went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees. He said to the host who invited him, “When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or sisters or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

Reflections (7)

(i) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

There is a saying in the English language, ‘Birds of a feather flock together’. We tend to mix with people with whom we have most in common. It was the same in the time of Jesus. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus notices that, apart from himself, the other guests were all Pharisees or people close to them. The host who was a Pharisee would have expected that his guests would invite him to a meal in return. There was a giving with a view to getting something back. However, Jesus wanted his host and his fellow guests to break out of this mind-set and, instead, to invite to their meals those who were not in a position to return the complement, such as the poor, the cripple, the lame and the blind. Jesus was trying to create a community of disciples where everyone was equally valued and, especially, where those who normally lived on the margins felt just as much at home as everyone else. How this community ate their meals would reflect how they lived. The diversity and unity of the community would be reflected at meal times, and would also be reflected at every Eucharist. We know from the letters of Paul that this didn’t always happen in the early church. Yet, this is what the Lord is always calling the church to be. The church is to be a family of faith, hope and love where all feel equally at home, where, as Paul says in the first reading, everyone regards the other person to be better than themselves and where everyone puts the interest of others before their own. As church, we may not always be the kind of community Jesus calls us to be, but we need to keep his vision always before us. With his help, with the help of the Holy Spirit we have in common, we can move ever closer towards becoming the community the Lord calls us to be.

And/Or

(ii) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus lived in a culture where those who had the means to do some good expected to get something in return for the good that they did. If they paid for something to be built, they would expect to be honoured in some way. Similarly, if they invited someone to a meal, they would expect to be invited to a meal in return. This was the culture of giving in order to get. Jesus cuts across that culture in today’s gospel reading, and elsewhere in the gospels. He calls on his wealthy host to invite to his table people who have no means of returning his generosity. Jesus calls for a selfless form of generosity in place of a self-serving form of generosity. Jesus himself shows us what it means to give without expecting or getting any return. Jesus gave everything, his very life, and he received nothing in return from those for whom he gave his life. He did receive something very precious from God; God raised him to new life. Jesus promises us that if we give to others without looking for a return from others, God will give us a return which far exceeds what we gave. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘repayment will be made to you when the virtuous rise again’.

And/Or

(iii) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

In the world of finance a working principle is that whenever you invest you should invest in a way that guarantees a good return. Unfortunately during the boom years many people invested only to discover that over time their investment lost value. We can sometimes take that working principle from the financial world into other areas of our lives. We invest in people only if we are sure of getting some tangible return on our investment. It is that more general principle that Jesus criticizes in today’s gospel reading. He tells his wealthy host not to invite to his table the kind of people who have the means to repay his compliment. Rather he should invite to his table those who cannot repay his hospitality. Jesus is calling on us to give without looking for something back in return. We are not to look for a tangible return on our investment in others. Jesus seems to be saying that giving is its own reward, or rather that God will reward us in God’s own time for the hospitality we extend to others. In the words of the gospel reading, ‘repayment will be made to you when the virtuous rise again’. Paul is in harmony with that teaching of Jesus when he says in one of his letters, ‘God loves a cheerful giver, and God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance’.

And/Or

(iv) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus addresses himself to a wealthy Pharisee who was his host at a meal. The Pharisees tended to eat only with their own kind. Jesus challenges his host to invite to his table those he would not normally invite, people beyond his circle. Jesus, in contrast to his host, shared table with all sorts of people, with the rich and the poor, with the educated and uneducated, with the religious and those considered sinners, with men and with women. His very broad table was a symbol of his whole ministry. He did not exclude anyone from his outreach. He wanted to reveal the year of the Lord’s favour to everyone, especially to those who would have considered themselves outside of God’s favour. By his whole way of life, including his style of eating, Jesus was revealing the broad hospitality of God. In contrast, the God whom the Pharisees revealed was a God who wanted to exclude more than include. The gospel reading calls on all of us to reveal something of the hospitality of God by our whole way of life. We can all be tempted to exclude others, even whole groups of people. It is very easy to move purely within a circle of people whose outlook, attitudes and social class are like our own. The gospel reading this morning invites us to keep widening our circle so that it reveals more and more of the expansive heart of God revealed for us in the life of Jesus.

And/Or

(v) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

The opening words of Jesus in today’s gospel reading can seem a little strange to us, ‘When you give a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your friends’. We know from the gospels that Jesus’ friends invited him to their table and he accepted their invitation. He shared the table of his friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus. The last meal Jesus ate before he died, the last supper, was shared with his friends, those who had been closest to him during his ministry. Jesus certainly recognized the value of a meal among friends. However, in today’s gospel reading, as a guest of a leading Pharisee with other Pharisees present at table, Jesus wanted to highlight another value. Jesus noticed that his host and fellow guests had the habit of inviting to their table only those who could give them something in return, such as their friends, family and rich neighbours. He calls on them to invite into their lives those who appear to have nothing to give in return. He is highlighting the value of a truly selfless form of giving. Some forms of giving can be ultimately self-serving. We can give with a view to getting. Not all giving is an expression of authentic love. Saint Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians declares that we can give away all our possessions and still not have love. Genuine love never asks the question, ‘What is in it for me?’ This is the love that Jesus revealed in his life and, above all, in his death; it is the love of God. In his letter to the Romans, Paul says that this is the kind of love that God wishes to pour into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.

And/Or

(vi) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus was very aware that in the culture of his time, especially among the elite sections of society, giving was generally with a view to receiving something in return. People like the leading Pharisee in today’s gospel reading, the host at a meal at which is a guest would tend to invite the members of his own social class to a meal, so that they would invite him in return. As a result, people of a certain social standing tended to form something of a closed circle. Jesus has a different vision for humanity, where there is genuine communion between people of different social classes and different backgrounds. That is why he challenges his host to broaden his guest list when hosting meals in future, inviting not only his friends and social peers, but those he would not normally associate with, whom he would consider his inferiors, the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. They will not be able to give anything back to the host for his generosity but he will receive repayment from God in the fullness of time. The call of Jesus in the gospel reading is reflected in Paul’s call to the church of Philippi in the first reading, ‘always consider the other person to be better than yourself, so that nobody thinks of his own interests first, but everybody thinks of other people’s interests instead’. Each of us in our own way, in our own sphere of influence, is called to help create, with the Lord’s help, this new kind of diverse community that Jesus began to form during his ministry and continues to inspire as risen Lord. The Lord inspires us to build communion not just with our own kind but with those who are very different from us.

And/Or

(vii) Monday, Thirty First Week in Ordinary Time

In the time of Jesus, people with resources used them to gain something for themselves, such as honour, renown and recognition. If they used their wealth to help build a public building, their name would appear in some prominent place on the building as one of its benefactors. Much the same happens today at times. Someone uses their wealth to build a library and it is called after him or her. There is nothing inherently wrong with being generous with a view to getting something in return. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is a guest of a wealthy host and he is aware of the practice of wealthy people inviting other wealthy people to a meal so that the favour can be returned in due course. A small circle of wealthy, privileged people give generously among themselves with a view to receiving back as much if not more that is given. Jesus, however, challenges his host to break out of that narrow circle of mutual giving and receiving by inviting to his table people who cannot return his invitation because they don’t have the resources to do so, the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. Jesus is calling for a generosity of spirit that is not in any way calculating. He calls on all of us to be generous with what we have without any thought for a reward or a return. We are to find our joy in the giving itself, rather than in the return from the giving. One sure way of taking this path is to give to those who appear to have nothing to give us back. However, more often than not, in giving to those who seem to have nothing to give us in return, we actually end up receiving more from them than we give to them. The Lord serves us through those whom we serve.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[sunlitsparks]

Chapter 1: A New Pair of Boots

Summary | Next

Chapter under the cut ☆

Hooray. Another day at work.

Honey twirled her pigtail around her fingers distractedly, watching the bustling outside from the view of the store’s front glass door. The store was a cozy little place, with shelves lining the sides of both walls and racks full of more clothing, spaced evenly enough apart for some walking space, plus two fitting rooms in the back of the store near the register. They sold a small variety of clothing including dresses, skirts, shirts and pants, shoes, and a counted selection of purses occasionally. It was mostly marketed towards feminine individuals. Being located at a small shopping center, the entire front of the store was glass, with no windows or doors located elsewhere, save for one more door in the back for employees to exit.

Working in a boutique had once been her dream job—she has always wanted to start selling her own line of clothes someday, so working in a clothing store would give her just the experience she needed to begin pitching her own sales and researching what styles customers enjoy! When she was approached with this job opportunity, she knew she had landed the jackpot. What could possibly go wrong??

Oh. Right. The fact that her store was always dead.

“Honey? You went quiet all of a sudden.”

The voice sounding from her phone jolted her out of her thoughts, reminding her that she wasn’t quite fully alone. “Sorry Mina,” she laughed half-heartedly. “Just… thinking how boring it is here!!”

“Hey, I’m sure someone will show up at some point,” her friend reassured, though Honey doubted her words. She appreciated the attempt at reassurance, though. “I’d show up myself to hang out if I weren’t getting ready for my gig tonight.”

“The gig that I’m not even gonna make it to because of work,” Honey grumbled, slumping down against the register desk even more than she was before. Her yellow mongoose friend was a talented singer, occasionally landing small gigs in local restaurants and such; Honey always did her best to be there for as many as possible. In fact, today’s gig would be the first one she didn’t make it to in the year since her friend started.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! I know you can’t help it,” her friend reassured. “It’s not like there’s many other employees there you could’ve swapped shifts with.”

The amber-colored cat sighed, twitching her tail to and fro. “Well… I just hope it all goes well for you.”

A figure moving closer towards the door caught her attention again; at first she suspected it was a passerby, on their way to one of the local restaurants or grocery stores. They appeared to be crossing the street to their side, though the longer they walked, the more they appeared to be headed straight for this location after all.

“Oh hey, looks like I’ll have a customer after all,” Honey remarked, standing on her toes to get a closer look, trying to judge what they might be looking for before they even walked in.

The longer she stared, though, the faster her heart began to beat. They were an armadillo with a dark red shell and deep blue eyes. They appeared to be on the phone as well, smiling at some point in their conversation, making Honey audibly gasp without even realizing what she was doing.

“Honey? Did you hear me?”

The armadillo raised his gaze to the door and made eye contact with Honey, and she let out a startled squeak and ducked behind the counter out of his sight. “Oh no he’s hot!!”

“What?” Mina was now dying of laughter from the other end of the conversation, and Honey flattened her ears out of embarrassment. She knew she had no reason to be embarrassed though—this was her best friend, her partner in crime, the person she shared all of her darkest secrets with!! And yet she could feel her face flushing dark red, and her fur frizzing up. “Wait, hold up, scale from 1 to 10?”

“I don’t know I can’t look again or he’ll know I’m staring!!” Honey thought to herself, trying to conjure his image in her head once more. “Probably like an 11 or something dude, he’s hot!!”

“Ohhhh,” the mongoose’s voice giggled. “Dude, go shoot your shot! He’s coming into your store isn’t he? You gotta acknowledge him anyways! Besides, I gotta go meet someone before this gig.”

“Wait Mina don’t go—”

“You got this, girl! Love ya! Byeeeeee!”

Click. The phone call ended.

“Ughhh!!” Honey groaned, kicking her feet a little. She was tempted to curl up into a ball and tuck her head between her legs, but instead she tapped her cheeks gently with her fingertips. Snap out of it, you got this!!

She grabbed a random stack of papers from one of the shelves on her side of the counter, standing back up as the bell rang, signaling the customer walking in. “Welcome to Vivienne’s Vibrant Boutique,” she called, placing the stack of papers on top of the desk, trying to play it cool as though the reason she ducked in the first place was simply to pick it up.

He was no longer on his phone, having apparently ended the conversation before walking in; he smiled shyly and mumbled a small “H��lo”, gazing around. He had a kind of lost expression on his face, giving Honey the impression he had genuinely no idea what he was doing here.

She walked out from behind the store counter, her heels clacking with every step; the sound caused the armadillo to lift his gaze again, realizing he was being approached. “Anything I can help with, doll??” she asked, giving him a smile, though she was quite convinced it came across as a goofy grin rather than comforting and inviting.

He didn’t seem to take notice of her awkwardness, however, and his eyes brightened a little, looking somewhat relieved. “As a matter of fact, yeah,” he answered. Honey’s heart fluttered more as he spoke. His voice was somewhat smooth and bright, not extremely deep but not too high pitched either, perhaps… boyish? It was rather handsome—wait, can voices be described as handsome?? Is that how that works?? “I’m looking for a gift for my younger sister; she’s been wanting some new boots, but I can’t quite decide what she likes…”

“Well you’ve come to the right gal!!” Honey giggled, immediately wishing she could smack herself. “So what does she generally like?? What activities are they going to be used for??”

“Hmm…” The armadillo rested his hand against his chin, pondering. “She’s kind of introverted, honestly. She likes to go on hikes though. So probably just for that, and school.”

“So normal wear and tear, enough for hikes though,” Honey mused, glancing around the selection available. Her eyes landed on something simple, a smooth black, slightly higher than ankle length, with zippers along the side as well as standard shoelaces, with black soles. The material was faux leather, and it was a reasonably affordable price, in her opinion.

“These are a good option,” she suggested, pointing them out to the customer. “Faux leather but very good in quality and budget-friendly too!! I own a pair of these myself in red, and really like them!!”

He looked them over, intrigued, but not quite fully satisfied, it would seem. “They do look nice… but she likes to doodle on her shoes, and I’m not fully sure these would work for that…”

How cute!! She couldn’t help but smile at the thought and at this armadillo’s thoughtfulness.

“Then this may be closer to what you’re looking for!!” she replied, passing him a different pair towards the left. The soles were rubber as well, but the outside of the shoe was white and made of hemp, providing a smoother texture. This pair lacked the zipper, and though it had shoelaces they didn’t actually tie anything; they were made more for simply slipping on and going.

“These are a little cheaper in price but still good quality as well!! Also comes in other colors and is much more ideal for drawing on.”

His expression brightened, and almost as soon as he looked at the shoe she was holding out to him, his gaze darted toward the other pairs, looking at the other colors presumably. He seemed to find what he was looking for, a shade of light green, and once he picked out the correct size, he pulled out the box and handed it to her with an adorable grin on his face.

“So what’s the occasion, a birthday or something??” I asked, walking over to the register with him so I could ring him up.

“Nah, just… her current shoes are falling apart at the soles, she needed something new, so I figured I’d pick some up for her since I got paid today.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, setting down the box and scanning them with the handheld scanner.

“So, it doesn’t look like it gets too busy here, huh?” he mused, looking sideways, almost as if… avoiding eye contact?

Is he trying to make conversation with me??

“Yeah, not really,” she laughed awkwardly, placing a hand behind her head and subconsciously rubbing behind her own ear. “Uh. Small businesses, ya know how it goes.”

“True,” he replied, glancing back at me and giving a small smile. “I work for a small construction company, so I don’t work a lot in between contracts, unfortunately. Have to pick up side hustles here and there, where I can.” “Wow, it must be tough.” Honey was lucky enough to live with a relative, so she didn’t have to rely on bills and such, and was mainly focusing on saving enough money to enroll in a fashion design course at the local university.

“Yeah, it has its challenges for sure, but I try my best to make it work,” he responded, pulling out his wallet to pay as I finished ringing him up. “Oh, uh, not that I’m trying to brag or anything—”

“Oh don’t worry, I get you,” Honey giggled, handing the armadillo his receipt. “Here you are! Anything else you need?”

“Um, yeah actually… I was wondering if I could get your number?”

“HUH?!?!” the cat exclaimed loudly, her fur and tail frizzing up with surprise. “Wh—huh—just like that??”

His gaze was warm and steady but he was flushing furiously. “I always figured a direct approach is the best way, right? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Nonono, not at all.” Honey was shaking her head frantically, though that was perhaps also because she was a bit shaky. Her heart was beating so fast and her head was spinning. “Just—no one’s ever been so direct with me before. Not that it’s a bad thing at all!! Normally it’s a lot of beating around the bush and then I have to make the move—which, I don’t have an issue with, it’s what I’m more used to. Just, this is new but not bad!! I think you’re really cool,” she confessed quickly, realizing she was rambling. “I like your aura, and you seem really sweet, and you’re handsome, and I’d love to get to know you better!!”

“Is that a yes?” he pressed cautiously, his small smile getting slowly wider.

“Yeah!!” Honey answered, pulling out her phone to enter his contact info. “Oh, wait um—this sounds so silly!! But… what’s your name??” She realized that she also hadn’t introduced herself, but he probably already knew her name from the name tag on her blouse.

“Oh, of course!” He smacked his forehead softly, shaking his head. Once he gathered himself, he met Honey’s eyes again. To Honey, it almost felt like a scene from an anime, where the main protagonist’s hero or savior introduces themself by name in a big, epic reveal.

“My name is Mighty. Mighty the Armadillo.”

Summary | Next

[runicmagitek]

NaNo is around the corner and I'm getting ready for Yet Another Keinatsu Longfic, so just dumping my thoughts here bc it's Friday and slow at work and it's been a while since I've done this. (Massive spoilers under the cut)

So in the game, it's mentioned that Project Ark is meant to prepare the 15 compatibles for life in the real world. The first 18 years are spent living in their assigned Sector within the simulation. The last 2 years are spent in a training session for final preparations. Due to the fuckery that happens in the game, the simulation is reset every 16 years after the Deimos invasion. Insert the events of the game here, where they finally break the cycle and free themselves.

However.

What if there were no Deimos, no Sentinels? What if everything ran its intended course? What if these poor kids were living their normal lives and wake up elsewhere and discover the truth? What would this two-year training program look like? What would be different in this AU, where everyone grew up in their assigned Sector?

Well, that's more or less this fic in a nutshell.

To literally no one's surprise, this is yet another keinatsu fic. It's very similar to WLYH in that it's got a bunch of angst and trauma recovery (all the more reason to lean into that comfort after all the hurt), but... it should be more light-hearted in comparison? Hopefully? It's hard to tell, because the abrupt shift of everyday life to "oh hey that was all a lie and now you need to get ready for the actual real world as humanity's only survivors" is... A Lot. And I don't think that's something anyone, let alone these kids, can digest in a single day, never mind two years.

Natsuno will be the main POV character, a) because I don't feel I write from her perspective enough, b) she's super fun to write, and c) I think out of everyone involved, she'd be the most excited about this reveal. She's actually living her sci-fi dreams! Why wouldn't she love that?! I'd also need to take into consideration a) what she did the extra two years in the simulation and b) the fact she didn't really have anyone else growing up, especially after Yuki moved. I looked up the rates at which high school students moved onto university in Japan each decade and for women in the 1980s it was stupid low. Like 15% ish, or so my research is telling me. So that plus Natsuno being Natsuno, I don't think she ever thought about higher education. Maybe she struggled with holding a day job. Maybe her parents pressured her into dating and finding a good man to settle down with and start a family with. All very Not Natsuno things. No shit she'd be happy to escape that and live this sci-fi dream come true.

But then on the flip side, there's Keitaro.

It guts me apart to think about how his 2188 iteration was aware of how long the simulation would run and being okay with his clone living through not just WWII, but everything pertaining to the atomic bombs and then the aftermath of losing the war. As much as I want to put Keitaro in a bubble and save him from this mess, if I'm sticking to this concept, I need to drag him through this hell. God, this is probably going to be the toughest part for me to write - this poor shell of a young man who has seen too fucking much. Which, again, is a big reason why the story will be from Natsuno's POV, because for the first half of the story, she doesn't know what he went through. She just thinks he's being quiet because he's shy, because maybe he's nervous or misses his home, because maybe he's like her and struggled to fit in due to being a weird nerd, so all the better to try and befriend him! 🫠

But overall, it's a very slice-of-life coming-of-age story that will probably read like a weird college AU. I just want to explore the worldbuilding possibilities along with what their relationship might look like in those circumstances. I really love their reincarnated soulmate vibes of always finding each other and always falling for one another. And despite the angst and trauma (yet again lolsob), I'm really excited to write about them meeting for the first time, learning about each other, and very slowly falling in love.

And according to my tracker and based on the current outline, the word count range is anywhere between 60k to uh.... 280k 🥲 it's a good thing I love these sweeties