#WHAT DID HOWLS MOVING CASTLE DO???

[olive-garden-hoe]

No way they put ddlc on the same level as yandere simulator

Also:

- bnha (Ik Ik I recognize its problems and I’m careful with how I consume it but it’s a fun concept and I love some characters)

- ddlc (not super into the fandom but listening to a playthrough has been the only thing getting me to sleep for the past 3 years or so… don’t ask why idk myself)

- markiplier (affiliated with some weirdos sometimes but a sweet guy)

- MIDSOMMAR???? It’s an amazing movie wtf is this person on about????

- seven deadly sins (kinda? Not rlly so much now but I loved that shit when I was younger)

- dangonranpa (not super into the fandom but I like watching some playthroughs and have some cosplayer friends)

- Camp Camp (I get why this is on this list but I think it can be funny. Some eps are better than others Fs, but like, it’s pretty fun)

Reblog if you see your problematic fandom 😳

[callonpeevesie]

Sophie is the diametric opposite of that one person who thought the Welsh flag was a pride flag. Inspired by this Tintin art

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

Idea inspired by this art!

tags: sorcerer!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, au is kind of medieval, mentions of men grabbing reader out of home, burning at the stake, reader is mistaken as a witch but she is a prophetess, it’s giving castlevania x howls moving castle vibes, Satoru is a bit cocky but we love him (might do a pt 2?)

There’s a nice cottage outside the city, 15 minutes away by foot, you live in a home with your mother and brother (your father actually passed from a brutal cold three years ago, leaving you to tend to the home and seek work). It started off as a necessity, advising the horse racing, chicken fighting gamblers on what animal to place your bets on. your reply? intuition. that chicken has sturdy legs, that horse has agile movements. excuses that granted you money for the time being, for your gifts. an ability passed down by the women of your family though yours outweighed the abilities of your mother, so you remained unadvised. using your intuition to get by the day.

Word gets around that a young lady such as yourself is not married. 19, 20, 21, and now 22– you’re questioned behind your back by your neighbors at how you could possibly remain unmarried. It had been 6 months since men started disappearing in your route by your home, reportedly last seen by the lake not far from your home.

You had been labeled as an unmarried bloodsucking siren, a cursed demon who takes the bodies of young men, and although all that is false, it does not help your case that you’ve remained indoors most of your life and the fact that you’ve advised others in the world of gambling.

You were a sinner, sentenced by the court, but before that happened, a large storm broke 7 days before the fated event.

It was windy, dark, and rainy that your mother had frantically put everything away. “I’ll get the lights from the back shed!” you called, putting on a coat, a second for safe measures. the rain pours hard that it overcomes the splish splash sounds of your feet. When you’re walking towards the fence to the main road, and into the back of your home, you catch a man. wet, crouched, and seemingly pained from all the walking he did. the nearest town by foot was over an hour away, and waking in this weather surely meant he could catch a cold.

“I am sorry to burden you, miss...” the voice calls, head hooded from your eyes, “but is there any shelter I can rest for the night? I... I don’t have any-“

“It’s fine,” you speak, soft and understanding before you pull him gently by the arm, “come follow me,” and you lead him to your shed, making a bed of hay for him before you’ve taken your first coat and placed it over the hay for him to use as a blanket or mattress. the man behind you stands silent as you pull out to light a candle for him, turning to him, “it’s not much,” you say, “but you can stay here. It’s better than spending the night outside, right?” with not another word, you hand him the candle and grab the supplies you were originally here for. “stay here, I’ll be right back.” you direct softly, shortly before leaving the shed. at home, you take out a bowl and serve some leftover stew and some bread that you would have eaten in the morning, opting to give it to someone who could have needed it more than you.

“there’s some stew in here,” you say, handing the man a bowl and bread with your other hand. it’s at this moment you notice how unbelievably pale his hands are, almost like the statues outside the cathedrals. it almost leaves you speechless, and he notes. “Thank you, miss...?”

you give him your name without much thought. finishing your arrangements in the shed before you turn to him. “feel free to stay the night, or until the rain has settled. whatever will facilitate your journey, sir...?”

“Go-“ suddenly, he’s surprised that his bread has slipped past his fingers until you’re on your knees picking it up quicker than he can. It isn’t until you look up that your eyes meet his, a breathtakingly striking pair of azure eyes, bluer than any water or sky you’ve dreamed of, it leaves you silent. “Thank you,” he whispers softly, and the sound of his ragged voice reminds you where and what you’re doing. suddenly shy and remembering you’re a maiden, you’re quickly at your feet wishing him a Goodnight without another word, closing the door behind you.

He’s gone the next morning.

Several days pass and the talk of you around town grow more and more. you’ve asked your mother to keep your brother inside so as to protect him, but on the evening of the 7th day you’re harshly pulled from your home, leaving your mother with teary eyes as you’re feeling like the life out of you is being squeezed out with the way so many men manhandle you. pulling you, shoving you, shouting insults, you’re suddenly the main talk of the town as they expose you on the streets calling you horrible names: whore, slut, demon, murderer, and more. the names don’t cut as deep as the memory of being pulled away from your home.

“Burn the witch!” Cry out many, and you’re roughly shoved against a stake before rope is tied around your midsection, burning roughly against your soft skin it hurts. the town mayor gives a speech, then the priest calls your execution necessary for the good of humanity, blaming you for the deaths of over 12 men in a 6 month course. mother’s shout at you and men renounce your existence as worse than satan himself.

everyone wants you dead. and suddenly, the fire runs around you.

“God,” you call out, “please let these people see past their mistakes! you of all people know I didn’t do anything! please save my mother and brother from this fate! please spare their eyes from this shame, this torment they will carry- and please make my end as quick as possible so that I can look after them.” a long moment passes as your head is now dropped low, not long before you hear a chuckle.

“Well, that’s certainly not the type of monologue I’d expect from you.” calls a voice. he tilts your chin up to face him after your silence. you don’t know if you’re hallucinating, the fire is bound to burn you any second and your lungs burn. in front of you stands a man. tall, handsome, and pale. white hair and pink lips like the kind you’d see in paintings. and his eyes? they strike a familiarity you’ve seen before.

the man before you grins, and you can’t help but put your whole faith, even your idea of god on him as he looks at you with such admiration.

“So you’re the girl they call a witch, huh?”

amusement crosses his eyes. and yet again they are breathtaking, finer than any blue mosaic you’ve seen. possibly holier than any church you’ve stepped foot in.

“I’m not a witch, I... I’m a visionary,” you reply, trying not to grow dizzy from the fire around you. when you turn to look elsewhere, no one seems to acknowledge the man in front of you. were you hallucinating?

“So you’re another one of the freaks, huh?” He says, eyes laced with interest. “That’s why they have you here. even when you didn’t murder all those men.”

“I didn’t,” your coughing takes him by surprise and he remembers how sensitive humans can be, “I... I didn’t hurt anyone,”

“I believe you,” he says, lowly. “Tell you what. I’ll save you from this fire, and in return you can help me find out what on earth became of these men. put an end to this. deal?”

you nod, not remembering what happens moments later as the man wraps you in his arms, making you drown into a deep sleep before he kisses the crown of your head. the fire erupts and sparks behind you both as you both rise like shooting stats, terrifying the townspeople behind.

“From now on, you’ll live a life free of torment,” whispers the sorcerer, bringing you into the comfort of his cave.

[ryanthel0ser]

"I don't really understand Howl's Moving Castle" sit down I'm going to explain literally everything about this movie. I am burdened by the fact I understand everything happening in this movie to an insane level and I will tell you everything.

[vaguely-concerned]

more for the garashir fairytale grab bag AU I am never going to actually write: garak knows exactly what would break his curse from the start, he just never tells anyone for the longest time b/c he's so sure it could never happen

(it's asking forgiveness, of course. he thinks it's tain's forgiveness he needs, and tain is fucking dead and knew he would be by the time garak woke up so it seems the perfect unbreakable parting fuck-you revenge curse. and garak would expect nothing less from his father than that, so he's resigned to dwindling away painfully. enter julian bashir and his fierce force-of-nature compassion (and also secret illicit immense magical powers) with a steel chair!!! to go 'OH YEAH??? we'll see about that', as you might expect. oh. OH necromancer-ish julian calling tain's ghost up to ask him about what the hell he did and how to undo it, ala his gambit to go see him the wire? and the knowledge he gains from that is what confirms garak's suspicions as to what is Up with this handsome young healer mage because it could be known only by those long dead. cue east of the sun west of the moon part of the narrative once julian understands his game is up and runs away??

anyway getting some true love's kissing in by the end of it all is just a nice bonus it's not needed like strictly magically for either of their situations lol)

[just-french-me-up]

I somehow had never heard the english dub of Howl's Moving Castle and... they truly went Tumblr Sexyman voice on Howl didnt they

[mx-lamour]

Sleepy brain has decided on AU where Sophie and Howl switch places. Sophie is a grumpy castle wizard, and Howl is some kind of heartbreaker vagabond who just shows up sometimes, and they kind of can't stand each other but also respect each other's strengths and fall in love, you know how it is, but instead of Sophie and Howl it's Strahd and Alek.

[gg-is-a-loser]

@pxgeturner tagged me !!

favorite: movie, hobby, animal, character, color, place, season, album, and food

spider-man: into the spider-verse, drawing, flying fox, mimikyu, red, i don’t have a favorite place, autumn, ghost quartet, chicken and dumplings

no pressure tags: @astrid-could-not, @evianlovesblue

[rollingwiththedead]

Thursday is my 10,000th day

[chososcutie]

⟡ ݁₊˚⊹ SWEETHEART, SORRY IM LATE, I WAS LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YOU ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ synopsis♡: when one fateful day leads to you being cursed, you go on a mission to find the infamous satoru gojo and his castle, but little do you know you’d find yourself in his bed later that night..

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ featuring♡: satoru gojo x reader

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ tags♡: unprotected sex, riding, oral (fem!recieving), mating press, praise, making out, p in v, cervix kissing, big dick gojo!

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ a/n♡: howl’s moving castle is my favorite studio ghibli film ever, so you already know i had to write a fanfic about it!

—𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ w/c♡: 4.5k

"oh, darling won't you come out of that hat shop with us, you're truly overworking yourself!"

you smile softly, eyes flickering over to where your expectant sisters stood watching you, before looking back at the vibrant purple hat you had been working on, threading through with flowers. "oh no, i couldn't. you all go ahead, though."

they giggle softly at your reply, already well-acquainted with your firm work ethics and habits of almost never leaving the shop, tossing a, "suit yourself!" over their shoulders.

and as the door closes behind them, leaving you to stare at all of the colorful creations of caps littering your desk, you sigh, leaning back to take them all in.

maybe you had been working too hard..

being the eldest daughter of your family, you had been entrusted with the shop from a young age, making and sewing up hats for a living. it had been your father's, though now had been passed down to your mother, who had appointed you as an apprentice, although you were practically the only one who crafted and fabricated everything, and though the work was quiet and calming, it did tend to get rather boring at times.

the interior of the shop was tiny and just a bit cramped, every available surface being taken by assortments of feathery, patterned hats in almost every color. brown, old, and creaking rows of shelves surrounded your working area along with coatracks dipping under the weight of all the caps resting on them.

and though it wasn't much, it was yours.

you continued working for another hour, listening to the rickety clock on your wall tick tick tick away, with an impending sense of dull weariness.

was this all you were ever meant to do?

finally, you push back in your chair with a squeak! decidedly grabbing your hat and plucking it on your head, locking and closing the shop door with a resolute slam.

you would get out and see the town to clear your head. it wasn’t good to lock yourself away in the shop for too long, so you needed to breathe some fresh air before you started working again, and find some inspiration.

and so, you venture out through the hustle and bustle of crowded markets, trains whistling and blowing gray smoke as they chuff along, and the bumping of carriages along stoney paths.

the air grows thick with the amount of people thronging around you, spilling heedlessly in countless directions, and after more than one person gets in your way and abruptly stops, you huff, veering off toward a side alleyway.

it wasn't ideal but it would just have to..

bump!

“hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone? you lost, sweetheart?”

a slightly heavier set, blonde man leaned in front of you on a wall, blocking your path. he smiled down at you condescendingly, but it lacked any actual warmth, all teeth instead.

“n-no sir, i’m not lost.” you manage to stammer out, trying to duck past him, but seemingly out of nowhere his companion sidles up next to him, bumping his hip and peering down at you, his mean brown eyes and thick mustache seeming menacing in the dim lighting.

“you sure?” his friend snickers, one gloved hand reaching for your side and spinning you around to press against his chest, a sinisterly unfamiliar cologne surrounding and practically suffocating you with its intensity. “why don’t we show you the way home?”

“leave me alone!” you gasp out, trying to break free from their suddenly too-tight grip on you.

“there you are sweetheart, sorry i’m late, i was looking everywhere for you.”

your body stiffens as a large, warm hand comes to grasp gently at your wrist, tugging you away from the two men, and spinning you around to lay eyes on the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

his eyes were azure colored and half-lidded, his voice low and resonant throughout the empty alleyway. he was dressed extravagantly with a poofy white button-up and red and black pattered overcoat flowing loosely behind him, and as his eyes meet yours, something warm twinges in your stomach, the feeling spreading all down your body hotly.

his gaze flickers away to the men still stood there, as if noticing them for the first time, and something about him sharpens, voice noticeably colder. “oh? and what are you two doing?”

"hey, we were just.." the blonde one's voice raises indignantly, trying to pull you back to them with a hasty tug.

"leaving." the blue-eyed man behind you finishes, his other hand lifting to raise his pointer finger and slice it to the side, causing the two men to immediately break into a march, boots landing heavily as they stomp away in sync.

"wha.. how did you?" you stare up at him in wonder, his own flicking down to your face with a small little smirk tugging at his lips.

"magic. now hang on!"

before you can even reply, he's grabbing you by the hand, and lifting you effortlessly up, up, up, into the sky, floating alongside him high above the town, all the people below you seemingly tiny dots scattered around the vibrant landscaping.

"oh!" you exclaim, fearfully clinging onto him as you feel weightless, the air whooshing below and around you.

"straighten your legs, it's okay.." the white-haired man whispers to you playfully, hands curling protectively around you. "now, start walking andd.. see! you're a natural!" he laughs softly at your hesitant steps into the air, growing more confident as he holds you up with ease.

the ground becomes a blur as you match each other's steps, airily floating as if it were any other day, coasting in sync as colors whirl below you in a mess of banners and flags.

"so, where ya headed?" the man's sultry, honeyed tone interrupts you as you quickly turn to glance at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"oh, i.. uh.. just the hat shop."

so much for your day out.

"hmm, a hat maker you are?" you follow his eyes to where they linger on your simple little sun hat adorned with red ribbon.

"something like that.."

he smiles as he glides over to the small overlooking balcony outside your workshop, helping you down easily, your wide eyes gazing up at him as he prepares to leave again.

"make sure to be more careful next time you're out, mmkay? not everyone around here is quite as gentlemanly as me." his tousled, snowy white hair billows around him as he grins down at you teasingly.

" 'kay.." you nod shyly, and he begins to back up, smile widening.

"good girl."

and blowing a kiss to you, he jumps back off the balcony, eliciting a small gasp from you as you instantly rush over to press yourself against it, straining for a better look.

but he's already gone, practically dissipated into thin air.

with a tired sigh, and a combing of your fingers through messy hair, you lock the door to your shop with a click! before slumping down to the floor.

it had been a long day, and just as you're starting to relax, you hear a small, telltale tinkling of the bell that hangs above your door, alerting you when new customers arrive.

"hello? sorry ma'am we're closed right now." you start to stand up, noticing the woman in front of you, her face slightly flushed and eyebrows scrunched, as if in anger.

her figure is awfully plump, with a round, chubbed neck and doughy arms that hang out of her dress like deflated balloons.

her makeup is done rather sharply, as if made to look intimidating with hooked eyeliner and boldly colored eyeshadow, all accompanied by rouge red lipstick and a mole on the side of her mouth.

"why, you!" she stops right in front of you, lifting her��many─chins to stare down the bridge of her flat nose at you. "it was you he was floating around with this afternoon?"

you stiffen. she couldn't possibly mean..

"that wretch!" she hisses angrily. "eleven miserable years of my life spent chasing him! and this is what he does?" she slams her hand down on the counter loudly, causing you to flinch.

"please leave now! we're closed!" you say, your voice taking on a more firm tone as you try not to tremble, straightening yourself up.

she wheels around at you then, as if having forgotten you were there, still rambling on with passion. "oh? standing up to the most powerful witch, are we?"

her overdone, puckered lips draw up into a sinister little grin as you start to back up, unsure of yourself now.

witch?

"since he likes you so much, let's see if you can win over my precious, when i haven't been able to in more than a decade!"

black oozing spirits erupt from her flabby form, rushing over to you as you stand agape, horrified.

"and if you don't manage to fully capture his fleeting heart, you will die!"

all of a sudden, a cloying murky fog drifts in the homey space of the shop, invading your every sense, and clogging your nose tightly.

"what..?" you gasp, but all at once, it surges over to you, enveloping you in its tepid humidity, your mouth gulping in thick heaves of it, pouring into your throat, mouth, eyes, and nose with tendrils extending out of you, like a possession of your very body.

and then.. all is silent as darkness settles upon you, save for the fading echoes of the evil witch's deep, resounding laugh booming throughout the night.

when you open your eyes again, peeking out through your fingers carefully, you don’t feel different, with the exception of a vague, lingering sense of fear.

you were still plain ol' regular you, the you that stayed in working all day and turned down invitations to go out, opting to sew hats instead.

but something was.. off.

what had happened last night to make you so dazed, and memories so jumbled up?

and then, as quickly as it had been evading you, it all comes rushing back─ the man who had floated you into the air as if in a dream, the witch appearing, the sound of her cackle as she cursed you..

when you think back on the specifics of the spell she had cast however, you feel yourself pale, hands falling to your sides limply.

you were supposed to make the mysteriously magical guy that you had met yesterday fall in love with you? when you didn’t even know his name, or who he was?

that was practically impossible.

taking a deep breath, you desperately begin to wrack your brain for ideas as you try not to panic or think about the cruel ways the witch would kill you if you didn’t end up being capable of it.

one way you knew however that would be worth a shot to undo the curse, would be to find a well-practiced witch or wizard, and have them lift the curse from you, saving you a lot of time having to look for the elusive man and making him love you.

but.. there was no guarantee it would work.

you sigh heavily, trying to calm yourself down. that would mean leaving your town behind to move toward the wastelands where the witches resided, and in turn, leaving your faithful little shop, the only place you’d ever known to travel in the hopes for a remedy.

and so, it was with great strength that you straightened yourself up, huffing determinedly, and placing your hat firmly upon your head before heading out, intent on finding a way to break the curse before it was too late..

to the far west of the town, where weeds ran wild and the flowers never bloomed, muddy trails streaked across the land in brown stripes, was where you found it.

a creaking thing, four-legged and made of rotting wood with rusty pipes haphazardly sticking out of it, emitting black curling smoke to twine through the air, its agape, timber mouth and chipping, corroded eyes bringing a shiver to your spine.

gojo’s castle.

you had heard of it many times from your sisters, stories varying from grossly evil reenactments of how he devoured the hearts of beautiful women in search of his own, to tales of his haunting beauty, with glowing, cerulean eyes that were the last thing you'd ever see of the world, never being able to tell a soul.

and then it occurs to you.

of course! gojo was the most powerful wizard of them all, wielding magic that left no trace, going along with his cold reputation and secretive identity.

he could easily remedy the curse placed upon you with a snap! of his deadly fingers, but with the consequence that you still might not leave alive.

you look back up at the faltering, tarnished castle beginning to build up speed as it strode along.

it was now or never.

and so, with a running start and a leap of faith, you manage to clamber aboard the quickly taking-off oxidized clunker, clutching on to the door handle tightly before the wind practically shoves you inside, falling to the floor in a heap with a little, “oof!”

and when you look back up, rubbing your head with a wince, the enormity of the castle stretches before you, all glittering details that suggest riches, and antique, aged wooden furniture, cobwebs crowding near the top of the roof from the impossible vastness of it all.

slowly, you make it to your feet again, looking down all of the many stretching hallways for a sign of life, your steps clicking on the tiled floor ominously.

“hello? anyone here?” you call out, but to no avail.

eventually, your steps lead you to a small, tucked away room, filled with heaps of glinting trinkets and worn carpet that suggested someone had been here many times before.

there are bookshelves with dusty paperbacks piled atop them and shiny frames, but your interest was in the hefty bed shoved in the center, dipping under the weight of quilted blankets thrown lazily across it, and antique floral pillows that looked alike to a grandmother’s.

from the hours of walking that it had taken you to get here, your feet ached and your eyelids were already starting to droop from exhaustion.

all you needed was a nice sleep, and after evaluating your choices, your fatigue eventually wins as with a soft sigh, you shed your slightly muddied clothes into a pool on the floor, and trudge to the edge of the bed, lifting the heavy covers to slide in, your breathing slowing as you drift off, blissfully unaware of the warmth radiating from someone next to you.

darkness covers the room, so you don’t notice when you turn over on your side and press your soft tits against a moving, breathing body next to you, slinging your leg across him and drifting back off.

but he does, stirring awake with a sleepy murmur and tired, blue eyes blinking open only to freeze on your face, his cock hardening painfully in his pants instantly.

it couldn’t be..

you yawn sleepily, shifting closer only for your hand to drape itself directly across his lap,

fuck.

his eyes squeeze shut, breathing coming in soft, short pants as he tries to control himself.

this was so wrong, you were sleeping, completely unaware of..

your eyes flutter, and you groan as your hand curls around something hot, heavy, and pulsing, twitching beneath your touch frantically.

immediately, his face flushes a tinge pinker, eyes growing half-lidded and his breaths coming faster. wake up, wake up, wake up.

and then with a small yawn, your eyes blearily open to blink drowsily at your surroundings, startling only when they land on the pleading, blue eyed man next to you, hips unintentionally pushing up into your hand for more.

you scramble backward as your eyes land on where you’re tightly gripping him, gasping with surprise and already stumbling over an apology.

“i-i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t know there was someone in here or i would’ve..”

but before you can stutter out another word, his mouth is on yours, and he’s kissing you hard, lips crashing onto yours a little uncertainly, as if he was lacking the experience, only making up for it in eagerness as he quickly finds the softness of your hip, pulling you closer and tugging your leg over him so the heat of your core is against him.

and then, as suddenly as he had been on you, he pulls back, face still shadowed and lined with the darkness of night as you gasp for breath from the intensity of it all.

you lean closer to him, causing your plushy tits to press up against his arm as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark, only being able to see a faint outline of the man before you.

“i’m trying to control myself, but you’re making it a bit hard, sweetheart.” his voice is deep, slightly hoarse, and familiar all at once though you can’t quite place where you know him from.

you feel warmth pooling between your legs and lean forward, your hair tickling his face as you prop yourself up atop him.

“are you gojo? the wizard who eats the hearts of pretty girls?” you breathe out, rubbing your thighs together subtly.

he swallows thickly, lips parting slightly as his hand slowly makes its way to squeeze the soft, supple skin of your thighs as if grounding himself, his body feverish beneath yours as you feel his raging bulge poking into you with every small movement you make.

"s-something like that, although right now i'm thinking of eating something else.." his large hands skim slightly over your inner thighs, grazing the hot, gushing flood of wetness that had already begun to seep from your panties generously, one long thick finger curling slightly to press on your throbbing lil' clit like a button, your pink lips parting in a gasp as your eyes roll back immediately.

“y-you..” but your words immediately die in your throat as the bed dips and creaks as he rolls you over so he’s on top of you before pressing soft kisses all the way down your body, breathing out a soft, “s’this okay?” to which you quickly nod, already breathless for more.

and then he’s tugging your panties down in one swift motion, and exhaling sharply at the sight of your dripping cunt all laid bare before him, the feeling of the cool air grazing you making you squirm slightly.

two warm, large palms spanning across your waist hold you down as he nuzzles his head between your thighs, placing a chaste kiss to your pussy before pulling back, strings of arousal already attached to his lips.

“mmh.. so sweet.” he quickly buries himself between your legs, busying his mouth with lapping at you like a man starved, his tongue dipping into your honeyed cunt for more as the tip of his pert, button nose nudges against your clit.

“g-gojo!” you gasp out, your head falling back onto the pillows and back arching up helplessly as he uses hot, calculated sweeps of his tongue to stroke against you perfectly, slippery drool stringing sloppily between your legs.

“please..” he grunts, sucking your sensitive, twitchy bundle of nerves into his mouth before releasing with a sticky pop! “call me satoru.”

“satoru.. fuck!” you moan softly, body desperately curving up as you grind against his face for more friction which he lets out a pleased groan at, hands coming to your hips to rock you back and forth, suffocating himself in your warmth.

he quickly throws your legs over his broad shoulders, his head shaking side to side as he sticks out his tongue, gathering all of your honeyed slick with eagerness while you can only writhe and cling onto the snowy locks of his tousled hair tightly, tossing your head back with every loud moan he draws out of you.

it's only when you glance down that you notice the way his hips are desperately rutting against the creaking mattress, humping his throbbing, raging boner into the cushy bed for some form of relief as he eats you out vigorously, parting your sappy folds with his lengthy, dextrous tongue.

“castle gets lonely..” he mumbles into your pussy, the vibrations rocketing up your spine and causing a whine to get stuck in your throat as your stomach knots achingly tighter, the tang of your release on your tongue. “so m’so glad you decided to stop by..”

your eyes glassily cross, barely able to think or hear what he’s saying above the roar of blood crashing in your ears and your heavy breathing, hips twitching up into his mouth and thighs trembling as your stomach aches with the intensity of it all.

and then his whole mouth is covering your core, hot strings of spit mingling with your own sultry mess to streak down your thighs obscenely, and the stimulation turns out to be too much, as all at once your vision turns spotty and you're cumming hard, saturated shimmery squirt just gushing out of you as your body turns into a trembling, whining mess beneath him, sensitivity making your thighs clamp hard around his head.

and as he laps up every drop of your candied cunt, lips glossy and splotches of your sticky wetness pooling across his face, you can only shudder as he continues to suck and slurp at you, until you're desperately pushing him away, the tingling of overstimulation starting to settle over you in pulsing waves.

he sits back, out of breath and you see the slippery sheen of your essence dripping off his glistening chin in droplets, as he eyes you hungrily, like he hasn't had enough until he devours you whole.

he slowly makes his way back up to your face, your back hitting the plush mattress with a thump! as he pins you down, head lazing in a downward angle to draw your attention to the achingly painful, twitching bulge in his pants, sexy half-lidded blue eyes opening just wide enough for you to lock eye-contact.

blue? why did that remind you of someone..

but all of your thoughts are lost the second he's sliiiding his pants down and revealing the neatly trimmed, tufted white happy trail leading all the way to a massive, blushing pink cock, veiny and girthy with milky precum frosting out his tip so prettily.

his lip catches between his teeth as he wraps around himself with one hand, and begins to pull upward in rough-paced tugs, as his head lolls back, more stringy precum coming to gloss over his thickened mushroom head.

"you just gonna watch, or are ya gonna help me out here, doll?" he huskily drawls out, shuddering as you immediately spring to action, coming to straddle his lap in one fluid movement, desperately aligning yourself flush with his heavy cock and sinking down just on the chubbed, rounded tip with a grimace at how enormously big he was.

he makes a gruff noise, leaning back as he helps you to slowly work your way down onto his length, taking every thumping! veiny inch of him to meld into your hot, clenching walls, jaw falling slack at the pure effort it is just to fit him halfway.

"oh g-god, sweetheart.." he chokes out and you feel him pulsating and twitching faintly inside you as if he's fighting back the urge to cum right then and there, his hair flopping into his eyes as he rocks forward slightly.

and then, one thick finger is finding itself on your clit, gliding across the wetness just pouring out of you in sultry sheens as he guides you to take him, and almost instantly, your cunt greedily swallows him to the hilt, a faint bulge outlining his cock stretching all the way up past your belly button generously.

"good.. hah.. girl, taking me so well." he breathes out, and then his jittery lap is already bouncing you slowly, unable to wait another second as you feel his hefty length tracing sweltering hot strokes deep inside you, rolling his hips upward as he pants feverishly, a hand draping its way around your waist and pulling you closer.

drool pours down the side of your mouth helplessly as he moves you up and down on him, your pussy so stuffed and overspilling, it's almost obscene, though he seems to like it, cooing soft praises to you in encouragement.

"i betcha like this, yeah?" quickly grabbing ahold of your hips to get a better angle, he begins hitting into the cushy, soft spot of yours that always makes your legs weaken, smearing gooey precum from his bludgeony tip into you roughly, while the squelching between your legs grows louder, and more lewd with every thrust, the plap plap plap! of your sticky thighs ricocheting off his echoing throughout the vast castle.

he jolts his swollen head allll the way into your cervix, jackhammering with an urgency that leaves your mouth agape and tongue lolling as you feel your abdominals tighten, a familiar tautness creeping its way into your mind.

your pussy flutters around his length as his thrusts grow sloppy, and uncalculated, soft hair tickling you as he leans closer, his musky cinnamon-y scent infiltrating your every sense. "m' s'close my girl, i n-never.. hah.. thought this day would come." he shudders under your touch as you pause, bringing his face closer to truly examine it for the first time that night.

"wait- satoru?" and then, all the pieces come clicking together.

the magical man who had flown and twirled you around in the air was nothing other than the satoru gojo, owner of the infamous moving castle and the most powerful wizard of all time.

and it's then that he cums, spurting heaps n' heaps of creamy bucketloads of ribbony white. so much of it is pouring out, in fact, you swear your tummy swells up with it all, beginning to drip down your thighs in messy rivulets as gojo groans, unable to stop emptying himself heftily inside you.

your release follows just seconds later, as you soak his abdominals in your honeyed essence, slippery sheens coating him generously as he moans softly, still huffing from the effects of his own climax.

as you both come to, stars still blinking hazily behind your vision, you turn to him urgently. "g-gojo, the real reason i came here was 'cause.."

but he quickly shushes you, placing a finger on your pouty lips with a smirk curving up his features. "shh, baby i know, i know. you got a curse on ya, hm?"

you pause, taken aback. "how did you-"

he shakes his head. "in all truth, i was the one who sent her. i wanted to see you." he shifts himself to lean over you, bending your knees up to poke into your soft tits, grinning lazily down at you as he folds you into a mean, mating press. "and sweetheart, even if that love curse was real.. let's just say i already broke it, heh."

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

tagslist: @brownied0ll @iluvgogurt445 @loafteaw @satoruswifeyyyyy @lunar-harts @springismss @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @luvvcho

[yujisdreamgirl]

as the speakers blasted bass boosted music, you sit on the couch with a red cup in your hand, rationing the drink in it because you’re too afraid to go up to the bar alone.

it’s a bit crowded, your friends on the dance floor while you just watch other people rubbing up against each other. not an ideal way to spend your weekend when you have exams coming up but oh well, yolo.

you’re not much of a party person, well- you’ve tried to become one but it just didn’t work. not when it felt awkward to dance and everyone ignored you in conversations. you’ve never felt so unseen.

that was, until…

you felt the couch sink on your right side. you turn your head to see the one and only—“Most Popular” Playboy—Satoru Gojo.

you panic internally, why is he here?!

“hey,” you nod back in response to his greeting, visibly confused on why he’s talking to you—the girl he’s been basically in all of the same classes with since high school but has never uttered a word to?

“you here alone?” you hum in disagreement. he looks out to the crowd of dancers then back at you. “where are your friends?”

okay, now you’re really confused. why is he asking you all of these questions? is this a prank? “oh, uhm.. they’re on the dance floor.” he nods, then eyes your figure up and down.

“i like your ring, it’s from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ right?” your eyes light up, you definitely did not expect that. you stutter a bit before letting out a quiet mhm. he asked you to repeat it, and you just nodded. he smiles at you and suddenly you understand why every girl falls for— no, no. no you don’t. you’re not falling for this propaganda!!

“what other animes do you like?”

—

you step into the room upstairs, entering what looked and felt like being at an anime shop. blue walls, posters everywhere, displays of action figures in glass boxes… who knew this popular frat guy would be such a geek??

you spot various pieces of fiction, such as digimon, ghibli movies, 2000s romcoms, resident evil, and so much more!!!

“didn’t take you for a romcom guy.” he chuckles, sitting at the edge of his bed. “yeah, i don’t think anyone does.”

you hum then gasp at his displayed pokémon cards. “is that the pikachu illustrator?! how the hell did you acquire such a rare card??” he chuckles and explains how he got it, he’s rich obviously!

—

the night was long. the speakers still blare from downstairs, but you and gojo talked about the same interests for hours. this definitely wasn’t on your bucket list, ‘befriending’ the most popular guy in school history who also happens to be super similar to you??

in gojo’s eyes, he’s never met a girl like you. call him teruhashi from saiki k because everyone is all over him. he’s never even had a relationship or involved himself in hookups despite being known as a ‘playboy.’ but tonight.. tonight seemed genuine—like you’re not just another person who’s trying to get in his pants.

it can be tiring. despite there being people who would kill to be him, all he wants is someone he can settle down with for life. someone who’s not there for the money or the popularity, but for him. and that’s exactly how he feels about you. 4 hour conversations about films and niche interests? yes please.

his fantasy was cut off by the sound of a ringing phone—of course it was your friends. why did you have to leave the party just because they want to?

“i have to go, it was great talking to you though!” he grips the sheets as you smile, god you were adorable. he waves goodbye, sinking into the sheets as you closed the door behind you.

he’s definitely gonna search for you on campus tomorrow.

͙͘͡★ divider by @cafekitsune 🍡

[katethevampire]

What do you MEAN Josh hutcherson was in Howl's Moving Castle???? WHAT????

[saintajax]

finished!!!! i will probably pick up catching fire today. highlighted less than i thought I would (only about 9 things, most of which were about katniss and her relationship w/her mom, go figure lmao) but!!!! it was nice to pick up something physical and read again, i haven’t done it in a while

[jijournal]

NEVER GO NEAR A MALFOY| D.M

Summary: You were taught to never go near a Malfoy, ever. But how could you? He's very much unavoidable.

wc: 1.1k+

cw: potter!reader x draco, reader is twins w harry, au where voldy doesn't exist, jily is alive, kinda unsupportive james, reader and james fight.

A/N: I can't stop with the potter!reader x draco fics.😔

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Your parents only ever gave you and Harry one command before your very first year at Hogwarts. Not “study hard,” not “stay out of trouble,” not even “stick together.” No. It was a singular warning, sharp and unwavering, as you stood on Platform 9¾ with your trunks at your feet and nerves buzzing under your skin.

James Potter crouched in front of you, eyebrows furrowed beneath his messy hair, and pointed at both of you as if branding the rule into your very soul.

“You do not go near a Malfoy,” he said with finality. “Ever,” Lily echoed, folding her arms across her chest.

You and Harry glanced at each other, unsure whether to laugh or panic. But neither of you asked questions. You didn’t have to. Their faces were carved from stone—resolute, nostalgic, and more than a little haunted.

So you promised.

And for the first few years, you kept that promise.

⸻

You were now heavily making out with Draco Malfoy.

Pressed against the stone wall behind the library, hidden in the shadows, you felt his fingers tangle in your hair as his lips moved hungrily against yours. Your heart pounded like it always did when he touched you—half from the thrill, half from the guilt.

You broke the one rule your parents gave you. And you broke it over and over again.

You didn’t mean to fall for Draco Malfoy. You really didn’t. He was cold and smug, always armed with some sharp-tongued remark. But there was something about him that you couldn’t shake—something that got under your skin.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. Or the way he softened, just slightly, when you were alone. Maybe it was the fact that he saw you when so few people did.

Whatever it was, you fell. Hard.

The worst part? You didn’t regret it.

Your relationship wasn’t born from passion—it was born from quiet. From shared detentions, lingering glances, sarcastic bickering that slowly melted into warmth.

It started in fifth year, during a late-night prefect patrol, when you caught Draco staring up at the stars through one of the Astronomy Tower windows.

“I thought you didn’t care about anything that wasn’t gold or pureblood,” you had teased.

“I don’t,” he’d replied, smirking. Then, after a pause:

“Except maybe this.”

He never said what “this” meant. But he didn’t have to.

You kept it hidden. For nearly a year, you and Draco became masters of secrecy. Carefully choreographed exits, notes passed in books, fleeting touches under desks. No one suspected a thing. Not your friends. Not Harry. Not your parents.

Until the day the secret fell apart.

It started with a storm.

You and Draco had snuck off to the boathouse, hoping to escape the castle for an hour. The rain came fast, wind howling against the windows. You lit your wand and wrapped yourselves in a conjured blanket, curled together on the old wooden bench. He kissed you, slow and soft, the way he always did when he was trying not to say something out loud.

And then—click.

You both froze.

In the doorway stood Colin Creevey, camera in hand, eyes wide.

“Colin,” you said, your voice weak. “You can’t—please don’t—”

But he was already running. Already shouting your name and Draco’s down the corridor.

By the time you returned to the castle, the damage was done.

You walked into the Great Hall for dinner and the noise immediately dipped into silence. Dozens of heads turned. Murmurs passed like wildfire through the room.

“Potter’s daughter and Malfoy?”

“James Potter’s going to kill him.”

“Bloody hell, are they serious?”

You held Draco’s hand anyway.

Even though Ron gawked at you like you’d lost your mind. Even though Hermione looked at you like she was calculating seventeen different ways your life was about to fall apart.

Even Harry, sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, stood up and walked out the moment you sat down.

He didn't talk to you for a month.

You were dreading the Easter holidays.

The moment you stepped off the train at King’s Cross, the pit in your stomach grew heavier. Your parents were waiting by the barrier, smiling—until they saw you walking hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy.

James’s smile vanished.

Lily blinked like she was sure she was seeing things.

“Draco,” you said carefully, “maybe I’ll see you later—”

But James was already storming forward.

“Is this a joke?” he snapped. “Please tell me this is some Slytherin dare.”

“Dad—”

“No, no, no, don’t Dad me—you promised. You promised us!”

“I didn’t plan this—”

“Damn right you didn’t!” James shouted, voice cracking. “He’s a Malfoy! Do you have any idea what that family stands for?”

Draco, to his credit, didn’t say a word. He just nodded once at James, then looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“I’ll see you later,” he murmured, and disappeared into the crowd.

Back home, the air was thick with silence.

Lily sat across from you at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cooling cup of tea. James paced by the fireplace like a storm cloud.

“I knew you’d rebel eventually,” James muttered. “But I didn’t think you’d break our one rule.”

“I’m not rebelling,” you said. “I’m in love with him.”

The room froze.

Lily’s eyes softened. “Sweetheart…”

“He’s not Lucius,” you said, voice shaking. “He’s not cruel. He’s not obsessed with bloodlines. He’s nothing like the stories you told us.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” James asked, quieter now. “What if he hurts you?”

“Then he hurts me,” you said. “But at least it’s my choice.”

That night, you lay in your old bed, staring up at the enchanted ceiling James had painted for you when you were little—charmed to mirror the sky above Godric’s Hollow. Stars blinked back at you as your heart twisted with everything left unsaid.

You reached under your bed and pulled out the small, rectangular piece of enchanted slate. A matching one sat in Draco’s room at the Manor. You’d created them together last year in secret—a charmed chalkboard where whatever you wrote appeared on the other’s board in real time. Just one more way to stay close without being caught.

You held the chalk in your hand for a long moment, unsure what to say. But then, your fingers moved instinctively.

Are you still there?

A few seconds passed.

Then, slowly, a response appeared, the words etching themselves across the slate in Draco’s neat, angular handwriting:

I’m still here. If you still want me.

Your breath caught.

You smiled softly, heart aching with everything you felt and everything you chose.

You pressed the chalk to the board again.

Always.

You were told to never go near a Malfoy. But you did.

And now?

You’re not going back.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[brailsthesmolgurl]

VISAGE

PREVIEW: She thought she had it all within her grasp, with Sylus by her side, she is practically untouchable. However, there had always been a thought lurking in the back of her mind ever since Sylus had gotten himself acquainted with a deepspace hunter. For someone who is as mundane as y/n, with no skills and power, what would happen if she were to allow those fears to manifest? It burrows, it festers, rots her from inside out and perhaps, just perhaps, Sylus will no longer be her safe haven anymore.

WARNINGS: Heavy angst that makes your blood curdle, reader is not mc!, suggestive themes, heavy gore.

P.S: Yes I know darlings, it has been a long time since I have been updating my works on here. Work and a lack of motivation got to me T-T. Introducing the debutante for this piece, the daddy himself Sylus! This piece is heavily inspired by those storylines that involves romance and also somewhat slightly related to Howl's Moving Castle vibes? I dunno heh I have some weird ideas cooking in my brain sometimes, hence the lack of frontal lobe growth I guess :,) And yes, there shall be a part two to this but I needed to get this spat out first!

Part two

Dividers sourced from here!

There is always a saying that whenever one wakes up to the sound of birds chirping in the morning, thus marks the start of a beautiful, sunny day ahead. However, that is not the case for y/n when she wakes up to Mephisto trying his best to do 'chirpings' but ends up cawing like a dying bird. Y/n sighed, pushing herself off of the plush bed to invite whatever the weather has to offer to her. Mephisto is not a bird and it cannot sing, so it sure as hell cannot predict the weather. The curtains are drawn close, a reminder of her intimate sessions with her lover in the bed last night, privacy shielded behind two drapes of heavy fabric.

Yawning, she waved her hand in the air and Mephisto leaves the room as if on cue, not wanting to be punished by his master for having a peek at what belongs to him. Y/n pulled on her silk nightgown, the material cooling to her skin and touch and she waddled out of the room. The smell of breakfast immediately wafts into her nose, it smells like buttermilk pancakes and she is sure that he is the one that is preparing the breakfast as there are times when Sylus would cook himself rather than having the chef prep the meals.

The man himself owns a big kitchen, but his sheer height and built makes the kitchen feel mid to his size. Y/n quietly sneaks up behind him, watching him humming while manhandling the pan, flipping the pancakes with ease. As she was about to attack him with her hands, the man had already beaten her to it, his evol stopping her hands from touching the sides of his torso and he turned, hair messy from waking up but still as good looking as ever. "Good morning, y/n." Voice still raspy, he retreats his evol and leans down to peck her lips softly. "Your sneak attacks are too predictable."

"How did you even heard me coming? I made sure I am extra secretive this time." She pouted, bottom lips jutting out and arms crossed over her chest. She watched as the man turned from the stove to the counter, serving the slices of pancakes onto the plain white plates. The image of soft, jiggly pancakes set onto the dark marble countertop, framed within the kitchen of mostly dark colours made it stood out awkwardly. But given the opulent kitchen exhales nothing less of elegance, perhaps, a plate of pancakes is all that it needs to breath a sense of life and humanity within this nearly aphotic abode of Sylus'.

"The moment you stopped snoring is the moment I knew you were going to wake up soon enough." His taunt got her gasping in return, embarassment littered all over her face. Offended, she slapped his taut arm and he chuckled in return. "I admire your effort, but next time, it would just be better if you were to greet me normally and lessen your failure rates." He swiftly wrapped his arms around her small waist and carefully guided her towards the dining table, with a plate in his other free hand. "Here, have some of your favourite."

He walked back towards the kitchen to grab his plate and seated himself next to her. "Did you taught Mephistos on how to chirp?" She asked him as she was cutting into the pancake. Then, that marks the start for their seemingly mundane daily conversations. Chuckles and teasing jokes filled the atmosphere of the once sterile looking kitchen.

Back in the days, this man would never be the type to say yes to making meals of any kind for nary, let alone waking up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast, Sylus yields to nobody. One might also wonder how did she even got associated with him in the first place? As she is only a mundane and the furious leader of the N109 zone was never the type to lay eyes on someone who poses no utility to him. Or so that was what he had once strongly believed in.

Since the day he had laid eyes upon her, in the basement of another clan, tied up against a pole in a mangled fashion, his aether core ached, a cord so tight that it tugged against every fibre of his being. He had never felt this way about anyone, let alone a hostage like y/n. She looked frail, sick and is scared of everything and anything except for the darkness. Sylus recalled the time when he grabbed her arm and she started kicking with all of her might, her wails coming out in low moans, kicks that barely does any damage to insects. She is dying, but Sylus felt like he could not leave her alone. The undulating thumps of his aether core in his eye, was a rare occurence that it overthrew his logic of killing her to ease her of her pain.

The initial idea of bringing her back to nourish her back to health was perished when Sylus realised that he had slowly started to be smitten with her. Within the hollow and scrawny shell of hers, she still possesses a fighting spirit and it is only applicable when she thinks that her life is hanging off of the balance. Although at first Sylus had detested her, warning her multiple times that he only took her in out of pity. However, she had only thanked him, either it would be via verbally or physically, no snap backs, no retaliation, she is just plainly grateful to be alive even if she were to be held up in another unfamiliar place. She would prefer anything else than to be tortured back in that dank basement.

With a little digging, Sylus had only retrieved information about her lineage and everything about it seemed all too mundane for him to be suspicious of anything. On the day he had fished her out of that hell hole, he brought her straight to his handyman to get her checked out for any core abnormalities. There must be a reason why she would be held hostage, kept alive only to be tortured. Sylus likes a challenge, but this challenge holds a mystery that remains unraveled when the handyman came back with a reading that denotes her to be nothing special. When asked about how she was kidnapped, her pallor suggested that she probably had her memory wiped clean amidst the torture or due to extreme post traumatic stress disorder.

After a couple of weeks being around his abode, she had found out a method to thank him and it involves cooking. However, her cooking is absolutely horrible, but Sylus still eats it to uphold his sense of politesse. It took some courage and serious toilet trips for him to finally decide that it is time to get an in-house chef for meal preps. The chef's first day to work was met with a confused y/n, standing at the front of the door with a big kitchen knife aimed towards him.

After explanations were given from the threatened chef, she realised that Sylus did not enjoyed her cooking and that led her to sulk. It went on for days, masked behind her dull appearance and it forced Sylus to use his evol on her only then he realised that this girl had already gotten a grip on him. The leader of the N109 zone had softened up a lot, wanting to know what she has to think, what was going on behind her blank expressions.

The pity for her faltered day by day, and it was slowly replenished with infatuation towards this mundane that he had stayed with for months. Luke and Kieran also teased him sometimes, stating that the unwavering leader of theirs now has a soft spot. Sylus had stopped denying it to a certain extent, it was like the man had lost all sense of rationale when it comes to discussing about her. "Boss, you do like her don't you?" One of the twins would urge, Sylus can clearly imagine their wriggling eyebrows underneath those masks.

"That is none of your business." The leader would scoff, feigning ignorance towards his underlings when they would boo him for not being truthful to himself. As much as he enjoyed their curiosity, he does not feel the need to continue this conversation, as he is a man of few words. "I suggest you both find something to do before I lose my patience." And that sent the both of them careening out of his room in full speed.

"You said you have something to tend to tonight, so I suppose I will not be expecting you for dinner?" Cocking her head aside, a small, curious smile hung on her curved lips. Sylus catches her gaze, the woman he is looking at now being a whole different person than who she was when he first brought her back. Her eyes now gleamed with excitement whenever she sees him, her smile and laughter both contagious, and her heart only directs towards him and only him.

The man nodded. "Yes, I will be out with the hunter tonight." He laid down his fork and fetched a napkin from across the table. Afterwards, he leaned towards his lover slightly and rubbed the napkin across her lips, muttering under his breath about the slight brown tint of maple syrup she had left sitting on the corners of her upturned lips. "Is there something the matter?"

Y/n hesitated, not sure if she should be telling him about her opinion. Ever since she had gotten here, she had learned that voicing out opinions are allowed here and that she could have a say in anything she is unhappy about. With enough courage, it started out with rejection, then it went on to providing her own opinions and now it's time for her to be honest with her feelings. These are values that Sylus had taught her about, and being the stubborn man he is, he does not expect himself to be repeating his words.

"It's just, you had been spending a lot of time with her, Sylus." She blurted out, lips becoming numb after the sentence when she expected vituperation from the crimson-orbed lover of hers. Not that he had ever cursed at her, or had been abusive with her, but it was the probability of him doing so is what scares her. Furthermore, it is clear that she still harbors malicious memories of her past. Just the mere thought of being stuck in that basement had gotten her wincing uncomfortably.

"You mean that hunter?" His eyebrow curved upwards, head slightly tilted as he tried to get a better look at her. He could sense her hesitation, her regret after the end of her sentence. Swiftly, Sylus traced a finger down her temples, trailing downwards and leaving goosebumps in its trail till it stopped beneath her chin. He tilted her head upwards so that her gaze would be aligned with his, yet she was staring at the walls right behind him. "The hunter and I are tending to a ruckus that had happened downtown and she is helping me with the investigation."

His explanation although was to soothe her, it only got her feeling on edge, teeth chattered as she struggled to think logically. She had never felt this sort of emotion; one closely related to jealousy, possessiveness and envy. "Why her?" Her fists tightened, hidden beneath the table cloth. "I can be of use to your investigations too." Couple of blinks to push back the tears, she looked into his gaze, to search for an answer she was expecting. "Why does it have to be her?"

The man sighed, not being the type to want to overexplain issues and he stood up from his seat, collecting his plate at the same moment. "You are not exactly useful when it comes to an actual battlefield." Voice although calm, but words of his pierced through her, reminding her of the reality she is really in. Sylus finds no use in her other than her existing as a pretty little thing next to him. Like an eccentric jewel on display on a pedestal but could never get off of it because she is not 'useful'. An angered y/n stood up, her chair screeched against the hardwood flooring and she angrily stomped off, her usually hushed footsteps resonated through the ornated hallways and leaving Sylus sat alone in the kitchen.

If one were to wonder over what the man thinks, he also spoke of facts. He sees her not being an object to aid in his investigation, but he only views her as someone that he wants to protect, and wants to come home to. A prized possession of his, if one dares to admit. Sylus too got up from his seat and started to tail behind her, watching her outline from behind, disappearing into their shared chambers. He watched her plopped face down onto the pillow, her actions almost comical. "Y/n." He called out her name but received no response. As expected. "I do not find any means to utilise you." He approached her, finding his seat next to her outstretched legs. He then places his hand onto the back of her thigh, thumb drawing aimless circles. "In fact, I do not want to use you at all."

"Just get out." Her voice was muffled but her tone seethed with anger. "Just go and do whatever it is that you wanted to do with the hunter if she is much more worthy on the battlefield with you." Her voice cracked unintentionally at the end and Sylus sighed, hand leaving her thigh. He could tell that he had messed up, said something that he had failed to filter and caused her to be so upset. As much as Sylus would like to stay behind and to comfort her, the hunter and his mission awaits. A mission that he is dwelling into for the sake of y/n. A mission that would ensure her safety once and for all.

“I have to go now, but I promise that I will make it up to you later.” With a quick kiss to the back of her neck, she could only hear the heavy footsteps of his disappearing after the clicking shut of the door. A part of her did not want to be jealous just because he is doing business with another female counterpart. Another part of her however, shaped like a devil, whispered sinful nothings into her ear, coaxing her to be jealous, to practice distrust upon her relationship with Sylus just like how she never had the courage to trust anyone. Dissolving into her pillow, her tears blended into the mix of polyester and cotton, her sobs quiet but reverberated within the four walls of their shared room. Mephisto landed on a branch directly outside of her window, guarding her but quietly and patiently stayed outside whilst accompanying her with the whistling winds.

Sylus’ meet up with the deepspace hunter was supposedly to be nothing more than just business. After the raid where Sylus had rescued —much like kidnapped— y/n, deepspace hunters were on a hunt for y/n and a particular deepspace hunter stumbled upon a lead on Sylus being the raid leader and without fear, she confronted him only to land a deal between the both of them. Sylus did weighed on the deal, whether was it worth his effort to involve someone from the government but he knew that her database would come in handy for him to continue conducting raids on the gangs that had any connections to the capturing of his lover. You see, there is one thing that still bothers the white haired man from the day he got her back. Now, with the deepspace hunters on the hunt for her, it only further proved his suspicion and he is planning to utilise the deepspace hunter’s database to get to what he is actually seeking for.

So far, is Sylus impressed? No, because he knew that he could easily do that with the amount of moles he has in this undercity but he needed something to give the deepspace hunter a sense of purpose, to trail for a sense of achievement before he gets what he needs from her and then he shall disappear within the bat of an eye. To Sylus, it just makes the chase more interesting, especially with a deepspace hunter right within his grasp. A mere deepspace hunter like her poses no threat to him afterall. “Still nothing?” His voice rumbled through his chest as he stepped onto bits of broken glass, to get to the entryway that leads to the basement. They are currently at an abandoned motel, in search of the supposed gang members. But Sylus is here for another reason. A reply came from below and he hastened his steps to make it to the bottom.

“I found a safe here, but there are only some sketches, and maybe some formulations or reports for something technological?” The deepspace hunter’s voice hesitated, standing up and showing him the papers that she had found. “Why would these be in a safe? It seemed to be something out of a nightmare.” Sylus took the papers from her hand and studied them. The creature sketched onto the papers with charcoal resembled somewhat of an uncanny human being. Messy, seemingly rushed handwritings were etched onto the side to form notes. ‘DANGEROUS, UNSTABLE AND UNCONTAINABLE’ were the words that he was able to make out while the rest of it are scribbled formulations for who knows what. The creature was drawn out roughly, with hollow dark eyes that bled with tar black substance, elongated and bony body proportions, alongside with a forced smile to make up its final look. The ends of Sylus’ lips twitched as he stared at the drawing. It seemed almost…familiar to him but he just could not quite catch what it resembled.

“Have you ever thought maybe because it is nightmarish hence they would keep it in a safe?” He retorted, a sigh leaving his lips when he realised that common sense may not be equipped within the brains of some deepspace hunters. He folded the papers and shoved them into the pockets of his leather jacket, the deepspace hunter however, held out her hand and beckoned her palm at him, wanting the papers to be within her grasp. “It is better for me to hold onto it as it may not impose any usage for you deepspace hunters.” Seeing her unyielding palm, he continued. “If I received news about this creature you will be the first to know so you may report it back to your HQ.” Her pupils lit up at his suggestion, a sign of agreement.

Stepping out of the abandoned motel, they headed towards their respective vehicles. As they were about to hitch onto their rides, shots were fired. “Duck! We are getting ambushed!” The deepspace hunter shouted and then they both ducked behind their motorbikes, trying to cover themselves from bullets and to sought out the shooters amidst the dark. “There, behind the trees!” Right when she said that, another bullet ricochet and then followed a searing sizzle. Sylus took the opportunity to jump onto his bike and he roared the engine to life, twisting the handle and throttling the bike towards the deepspace hunter.

The wheels screeched in rejection against the tar road and he angled the bike towards the road. The fizzling sound of the broken exhaust notes a ticking time bomb for the bike. Sylus fuelled the bike of his and it started lurching forward, propagating him towards the road. Along the way, he grabbed the deepspace hunter by the neckline of her leather jacket and he heaved her onto his bike with the strength of only an arm. The female squeaked in surprise but quickly reacted by grabbing hold of his bike’s seat and hoisted herself up onto the back seat. Securing her arms around his waist, they both faded into the covers of the darkness as the bike they left behind went off with a deafening explosion.

“Where are we going?!” The deepspace hunter called out from behind, the wind beating against her rubicund cheeks as he shifted the gears to turn a sharp corner. Home. That was all the man could think of. Leaving his lover behind in shreds, with tears depicting strokes of her loneliness, rolled up in bundles of borrowed warmth from satin sheets is not the last scene he would want to encounter upon departing onto a mission. He felt like he had somewhat betrayed her, perhaps even, made her felt unwanted. This man now reeks of self guilt, silently cursing at himself only within the confines of his own mind. There, he left the woman behind him in obsolete silence. Yet, the direction of his motorbike suggested another location he had in his mind.

Y/n's chest felt tight, an unbearable weight pressed against her small body as she struggled to break free from the grasp of an unknown force. A voice travelled through the void, calling out for her. "You're sinking in the mire of your own twisted fate." The voice panned onto her, and her restrained wrists started burning, making her wince in response. "Love was never an option for you, bereft suits you better." An amorphous outline formed, bulky and large, symbolising nary of a man but more of a beast. Two orbs formed at the top of the silhouette and y/n recognised those eyes anywhere, the bright crimson orbs are hard to miss. "If you do not remember, fate always reminds." And a jaw snapped opened, darting straight towards her and she screamed.

Snapping herself awake in bed, y/n could feel her heart slamming against the walls of her chest cavity, begging to be set free. Her wrists still scorched, a memory she had never really freed herself from that dank dungeon. Her tears pierced the back of her eyes, vision blurring in the progress. There were no signs of Sylus in the room and the deep maroon walls swallowed her plangent cries. She could hear the voice echoed in her mind, muttering imprecations repetitively to put her under a trance. Y/n grabbed the roots of her hair and started to tug brutally, aching to pull off her scalp if she was given the chance to.

Luke and Kieran dashed in, horrified at her actions and they both did not hesitate, for they knew if Sylus comes back to this, they are both as good as cadavers. "Y/n!" They both shouted in sync, jumping onto the bed to restrain her but it only agonised her, her body hunched forward and tears spilled onto her clothes. None of the twins knew of her nightmares, how Sylus would sometimes wake up to her crying in the middle of the night, how the word 'somnambulist' was not just another fancy nickname their boss picked up from the lexicon to address her in a teasing manner, and how sometimes she would showcase uncontrolled enmity towards herself in the covers of the night by holding herself at gunpoint. It was also at times Sylus thought that bringing her out of the dungeon may just be the worst decision he has ever made but that did not stop him from wanting to pursue her, to put on the veil of a saint not just to quench his ego for a hero complex, but to hold love for someone who he used to love. The man may have been hurled at life multiple times, reincarnated into different lives and different statuses in different times, but one thing he knew for sure, is that in this life, he met a gaze that he could never forget even if his memories were wiped. For she, held that gaze. The linger that made him see himself, the linger that reminded him of every lifetime, that there is that someone that gave him the warmth that he could never quite grasp, a feel that he has to seek for in every parallel life of his.

"We have to call boss!" Kieran exclaimed, his hand kept rubbing her back in hopes of soothing her as she wailed into her palms. None of the twins knew what to do and Kieran had decided that patting her back could be the best way. Luke careened out of the room hastily, in search of his phone. His hands trembled with every press of a button and he pressed the phone to his ear when the dial tone goes through. However, the call did not manage to get through and Luke stumbled back into the room, his footsteps the only sounds heard throughout the empty manor and it made him wondered if Kieran had done some sort of voodoo magic to calm her cries down. "Luke, no!" Kieran's voice echoed from the room and there goes a deafening blast, sending Luke flying through the air and landing onto the floor like a cordless puppet.

Sylus wasted no time in arriving at the location of a secret auction. One where he knows that he would be able to find the man whom would bear the fair description of non compos mentis, a mad scientist who owns adulations for his 'creations' that shall be witnessed at this auction tonight. The hunter beside him craned her neck upwards, her mouth moving, hushed whispers followed. "Is this where we can find that crazy guy you mentioned just now?" She had been forced to change into an exquisite attire and was given a last minute identity to fit the occasion.

"No more questions from now on." Sylus' brusqueness tied the hunter's lips and she could sense his irritation radiating off of him. He offered his arm to her and she wrap one of her arms around it as they approached the grand entrance of the manor. The manor is gigantic, spanning probably a few acres of land, with patterned bonzai tress and manicured bushes lining the front yard and two large golden statues signifying a nude man and woman guarding the main door. The manor seemed to be a casting location straight out of a cult movie. A footman stood at the entryway, a clipboard in hand.

"Hello, welcome to the Prescott Manor." The footman probably around in his twenties spoke, his voice a welcoming baritone. "May I get your names please as this is an invitation ONLY party."

"Sylus," He replied swiftly and his gaze followed the footman's, landing on the female counterpart next to him. "This is my partner for the night." The footman nodded and trailed his pen on the piece of paper on the clipboard, reading through names before stopping at the alphabetical S and he ticked a small check box next to it.

Smiling, he greeted the both of them and ushered them towards a row of safes located next to the coat room. "Welcome Mr. Sylus and Miss MC to the Prescott Manor. Before you head in, we would like you to kindly surrender your electronic devices and any sort of weapons into any of the locker of your choice here." Seeing the slightly raised eyebrow of Sylus', the footman swallowed and quickly followed up with an inept explanation. "This is a charitable night and we have children around. It is to ensure the utmost safety of all of the guests tonight."

Both Sylus and the hunter started shedding themselves of their electronic devices and weapons. The locker slowly piling up with all of their belongings. "Miss, that includes that claymore tucked in your thigh holster." One of the footman's eye gleamed an unusual cerulean, indicating he is equipped with X-Ray vision to conduct body scans. The hunter scoffed and grabbed the claymore out of her thigh holster and chucked it into the locker, the clang of metals made the footman grinned in satisfaction.

The huge doorway welcomes guests into the expansive hall, chandeliers crafted out of translucent protocores hung high above the ceiling, shimmering and refracting patterned lights across the polished marble floors. One may be in awe at this view but Sylus is too used to this, not to mention he himself is an owner of a manor himself. The hunter however, was in a state of shock, her throat tightened as she struggled to not vomit. Glass cabinets arranged all over the hall displayed preserved creatures, not human nor beasts alike. It closely resembled a sick combination of genes from humans and wanderers.

"I am going to excuse myself." Hand slapped against her mouth, the hunter scampered off to the nearest toilet available while Sylus just rubs his nose bridge and sighed in disappointment. He certainly did not expect a hunter to have a weak stomach given the nature of their work.

A shadow loomed beside him and he was quick to snap his neck over. "Fancy seeing you here." The man of the hour, Dr. Prescott stood next to Sylus, height on par with the Onychinus leader. His piercing grey eyes, hidden behind a pair of sleek glasses pranced with curiosity as he wondered why the leader of Onychinus would appear at this auction for illegal hybrids. "What brings the most feared individual in the N109 zone to my humble abode?" His voice, smooth and commanding makes one hard to discern his true intentions.

The enigmatic doctor has always been one to operate in the shadows, always conducting experiments that makes life and death a blurred maze. In the zone full of villainy, Dr. Prescott stands out not just for his freaky science experiments, but also for his twisted advocation for 'bio-weapons' that shall reform warfares in the future. And that, makes even the nefarious Sylus look like a novice. However, it is his perilious experiments that grants him the trademark, and makes him an easy target.

Sylus adjusted his cufflinks then finally meet the eyes of the man standing next to him. "I came here for answers." His eyes narrowed. "Answers that you would be able to provide." Dr. Prescott, bemused with the demand, tilted his head upwards and started weaving through the crowd. Sylus followed in suit, his senses are heightened when he started noticing the crowd had their glances set on him. "However, I'd like to say, it's very daunting of you to step into my territory with that deepspace hunter."

Part two here!

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.