#What an intriguing metaphor

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[chronoslovers]

spreading the zorba/louis agenda

[shoujonen]

rella and louis parallels + bird symbolism (cygnus and charadrius) + healing magic corrupted + louis being adopted by a minor noble house + junah adopted by house cygnus + louis junah platonic situationship

=

au where louis is also adopted by house cygnus

[skruttet]

"Vila" self portrait, 1943. A gift to Atos Wirtanen

[qserasera]

ok i know i already wrote the vaguely CLAMP setting inspired horrible exorcists AU oneshots but i would Still really really really love to see some kind of oh, i don't know, glittering exorcist clan shindig near tokyo and natori is there (sparkly as usual, and getting tangentially even more recognized than he usually is--new movie billboards u know, and he just finished a new high end fashion line sponsorship) when another exorcist (dark sunglasses, suit sharp enough to cut) tries to hand him a wineglass, looking like he wants to strike up a genial conversation--

then matoba is suddenly there, and smiles (all teeth), placing a hand casually over natori's wrist and drawing him back

'excuse the disrespect,' the matoba head says, all unerring politeness, to seishirou sakurazukamori, 'i've been looking for natori-san all evening, i've promised him a few minutes of my time, you see--my thanks for saving me the trouble of having to find him.'

'it was no trouble,' seishirou sakurazuka says, pleasantly; the swirl of the wineglass with his wrist reflects an eerie splash of red over his pale hand.

[jacksintention]

Automaton angel

[moe-broey]

I think if you were to put Moe in a dress it wouldn't be in a girl way it would be like dressing up your beloved kitty kitty (who fucking hates it but is sooooo so cutes 🥺🥰) or in the same way you tie a bow around the neck of your beloved stuffed animal (cherished and decorated) OR in a very specific DIY doll styling way where there is an overarching Theme and Vision to the entire ensemble -- artistic expression, love of the craft, meant to represent whatever it's portraying but fundementally at its core unlike that representation. Mimicry, made in the image of, but is something else entirely... a beast or some guy.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of. winston just so happening to run into rian somewhere & they have an Interaction: maybe originally with winston just largely unusually cagey & reluctant to be interacting much, while it's rian more determined to say Something, but it's fairly brief/cursory & yknow, not interacting w/him as a person b/c she doesn't see him that way / doesn't want to, more of a verbal [pitying pat on the head] At him from the place of superiority

then it's winston's yknow no more than 24 hr timeloop, where he can quickly notice that That was the most seemingly out of place And/Or significant event of the day, and focus on essentially trying to see how like oh here's another chance, rian's actually the one who started out with more active interest / motivation in having an interaction, so that's pretty promising, like, oh if he's more open to it, and then he's the one getting to have these repeat opportunities to trying to actually finally connect, say different things, say the same thing as last time but maybe he didn't quite phrase it the right way or give the perfect delivery to result in her understanding & sympathizing and whatall, like, can get frustrated & avoid the whole encounter entirely, can try to express that frustration & try having an argument instead to try to have some breakthrough & be better understood that way. might get seeming "good" results sometimes, like just getting a chance to talk uninterrupted for a minute, maybe getting some slightly less patronizing "yeah that sucks. sorry" from rian, maybe having one of their precedented, seemingly more amicable/successful interactions in commisserating about anything re: work, maybe times they land on like yeah let's have a phonecall / have lunch / shared interest movie meetups together later....but the loop continues, and winston can feel particularly let down / confused like aw but last time seemed actually & unusually good....

meanwhile the potential element of like, do they ever kiss or hook up or such? first of all, billions canon would never allow someone "worthier" than winston to do this w/him (& of course all the ppl who aren't good enough to Not be lower tier loser nerds also only have dating relationships for women (no loser nerd women here, & meanwhile like yeah the s1 gay guy, who was married, & died. all disastrous) to realize their mistake & dump them), but as soon as you're focusing on winston in his own right you're breaking the rules of billions canon already, so, sure. and it might also never happen. b/c it wouldn't even really change what winston's trying to do already, which is, have a genuine reciprocal connection. spoilers: how that's Always been the case. and like it would be clear from the start that it's just not a very practical goal lol, more of something that could maybe happen when like, just really trying to go all in, put in a lot of effort, try things a little differently, and that's a shakeup that could lead to whatever like more outlier spinoffs. maybe you do start hashing out this history where already the mutual knowledge of winston being down re: rian didn't actually fundamentally change the broader context of actually just wanting to have a basic amicable dynamic. argue about it, have this be something he tries to come back to & "redo" thrice, just trying to be Really Listened To & Understood, maybe sometimes it's like yeah sure yolo what if we'd ever hooked up & what if we did so now, just to both see if there was fuckall sort of catharsis or resolutions or anything in that, and if there's not, what changes, we shrug, & at least got the hookup out of it. but ofc it's not The Key to anything, & it's just clearly not like a viable goal to prioritize steering all the way towards that particular reciprocal connection event....and/or maybe it takes a while to determine this, b/c once it Does seem to lead to Something. hanging out at someone's place, maybe winston's used the logic of like "well if i give someone an orgasm they'll (be more likely to) give me the time of day for 35 seconds to talk to them," maybe it does seem to get him that, maybe they do seem to have some kind of breakthrough with like things getting emotional, personal, serious, deep....But I Still Doesn't Change Things, there's not Really a breakthrough. like the way we've seen rian willing to Tell Winston Things that are earnest & personal, cue 5x07, but it's just still unilateral, she's saying things At him, then cutting down & punishing his attempts to interact in turn, reciprocally, or even within the context of [allowed to have an unequal interaction that keeps a positive tone]....like maybe here she does let him say some stuff, does respond like Huh Yeah Sure. winston just trying to share like his feelings, about a lot of things, about the past few years, about his entire relationship with rian, with taylor, with his whole experience in that office hierarchy, in life prior....not even like oh hey maybe if we have sex & an honest conversation we could Be Together? could be a small distance [maybe...] kind of hope, but i don't think he could even pursue that, based on, again, the context of: where their relationship even is at the start, & that to be at this point of maybe hooking up during the nth loop, winston's tried n minus o (let's say o > n/2) times to break through & Really Connect As People, so he can't have the highest hopes that like, messing around could change things up Enough. but maybe one seeming very different, intense shared aftermath of talking & getting personal & shit happens, & he does get his hopes up about that, even as an outlier, and keep thinking like, if i could back to that situation, maybe there's something i could say, and that'd be the change that sticks

and it isn't, because like, they still don't really connect. sure maybe they could've hooked up sometimes, had pretty amicable (or, let's say, unhostile) conversations sometimes, maybe they can even have what really feels like it should've been this Significant Moment. rian sharing things & winston allowed to say stuff back, Seemingly, but yknow, her having more patience/flexibility, "humoring" him, maybe figuring they Are connecting in turn just b/c of the [well, this is what it'd look like / what it'd feature, right] exterior of it....she ofc doesn't have to listen and care. she can be amused by like this access to someone, find it nonthreatening b/c yknow, sure, we have this exchange, but it's isolated, i can feel "sympathetic" but in a way Above It, i can tell him shit & be gratified in having an audience, but i won't need support from him or any particular response, b/c i'd need to genuinely consider what his response is to do so....i mean, Rian's Relationship Advice where she thinks trust is so important that now she needs The Absence of Trust. it was threatening to Really have to trust someone (sure) so now she needs to have access to all their stuff to dig through it at any time (um,). be like, yolo, play around with [winston's Real Shit dialogue options], say her own real shit At him, perhaps be a little warmer, or just relatively less mean and does that count? and winston could feel like, Wow, surely that was something? there could be more there? i Almost got through to this person? i could've better expressed a deeper essence of a more personal truth? which would all just be shit he could end up thinking after interactions at [whatever location they meet up at] lol. which is why a "they could make out. hook up" route is Apropos but not Necessary. it would Not change things. talking at the store or bar or library or museum or wherever could/would inspire those same considerations. so it doesn't have to happen at all. and also could.

but it comes to the point which is The Point, which is that like, even with this Premise that is rian like, motivated to interact with Him, seemingly also seeking Something out of it, more sympathetic than before, outside fo the office or of really being coworkers....it hasn't changed, and there's nothing winston can do here to really, Really change things such that it still wouldn't basically "reset." because winston dealing with rian, and most people, in canon is very much like a doomed time loop anyways. day in & out & he keeps trying, often in slightly different ways, always with a basic hope & persistence, & his various efforts & approaches & attitudes & seeming moments of "maybe this means they're friends for real / now?" gets him nowhere. b/c rian doesn't see him as a person and won't interact with him in a way similarly striving for actual connection / a real relationship person to person. and where winston would just be in a very similar situation as he was in canon if he was in a literal loop where he really cannot do something "right" to connect with rian, even if her approach to him is at all different & seems more promising. she absolutely would not see him as a peer or be open to any genuine personal interaction or rethink how she'd been towards winston before. and it also just encapsulates winston's experience in general, trying to do things "right" to be treated w/basic respect, let alone like positive personal interest, by the people around him. have the valuable skill, act confident, be loyal, be friendly, take the L's endlessly, act according to other people's terms, acquiesce, apologize, criticize, confront, express his genuine feelings, express his wants & perspective, stop expressing anything b/c he was told to shut up & die, roll with it yolo, walk away, walk over, communicate, communicate a whole other way....it's never changed things with any of the people who were already uninterested in interacting with him person to person. and any better results were with people who were different, and, of course, b/c they wanted to do so, if even b/c they have a more general want to have a basic respect for others in whatever interaction lol. and then there's winston being caught up in how like, rian Is interested in interacting with him at all, just completely on her terms, Not interested in a genuine relationship, not interested in winston having any consistency in the dynamic & not always left adapting to what she does or doesn't want from him moment to moment, emphasis on "from him," it's not reciprocal, if their interaction seems more aligned / nonhostile, it's b/c that's what she wants for this moment, and when she wants him to shut up & go away, that gets to determine what happens just as much

that anyways yeah like over & over again trying to unilaterally change your approach trying to do things "right" this time & earn a breakthrough? that's what winston was already doing. of course he could only walk away. and his relationship with rian was just more of the same, even distilled, elevated....make it a time loop where supposedly he's got this one Especial chance here? where something's different, here's your opportunity, finally, just figure out how to do it right? well what else is new. him Trying over & over, him evidently never giving up entirely / gamely trying Again over & over, with different techniques, trying to smile through it one time, being visibly discouraged another, expressing hurt/frustration another. put it into a time loop where he can even make more dramatic moves and be outside work with it entirely? it still wouldn't be enough. what else is new....gotta walk away again, even if he "can't" lol. just like, do other shit. explore completely different experiences elsewhere, try connecting with other people, try just having his own thing going on, play things by ear, hook up w/somebody somewhere else entirely

like sure maybe the time loop is theoretically For some kind of breakthrough w/rian, but it's wrong. and then like i don't think it ends b/c winston has some discrete "breakthrough" in turn about Giving Up On Rian. can have some loops having interactions with her more in that vein, like, not focusing on any hopes, not trying to "make it work," maybe still kind of exploring, venturing, trying Different things, but more like, detached, observing, picking up on how it's Not working, and not as like notes for what He can do differently, just now like, the facts of how he's thwarted / blocked no matter what he's doing. but like, nobody's ever just flipping a switch like yep Now i've given up on this person happening to change if i just do things the right way, so idk, i think in this case it could simply stop looping Arbitrarily lol, indeed after he's spent a while realizing he should, again, just walk away from this perspective where this relationship changing is really possible, and that's On Him, and a while coming to terms with that, exploring & practicing it a bit, like, can have further interactions, just having that Understanding shift of how like, this person will sometimes take things from you / use you & won't have an actual genuine connection with you, and that's it....spend time & energy & focus on other shit entirely, have a better time, have a better idea of what he wants, & it just goes regular mode after a while, without winston having to figure out one particular "right" thing for him to do it

as a bonus, they could both be in a loop here lol, i.e. both aware of as much, but that just sure adds a lot of extra chaos, and, again, i don't think rian would change lol sooo. not Herself, not b/c of anything winston does. so really it's like, the same journey for winston, just potentially more difficult, if rian's decided like oh yeah i have to pat you on the head the right way or something? but where then it's just put on winston some more, like, you have to respond right, you have to not fuck up the "moment" we'd have here, what can You do differently....like, maybe rian could have some revelation here, i've sure thought about a scenario like that for non looping situations, but even in that case, if it involves winston, he'd have to be hurt in a way that registers Externally to Others like oh yeah i guess that's "objectively" bad....which they still might not, b/c it's winston, and obviously it puts winston Through It, what else is new, but, and then it's like, idk, maybe rian can have a flicker of real self questioning but, At What Cost, and then, again, wanting winston to just like get to walk away and not have to play a part to serve rian's journey(tm), which, don't even think one incident, even a jarring one, wouldn't quickly be pushed into "place" and like justified / smoothed over by the perspective she already has. dunno how she would change, but she'd have to actualy want to, & try to, & it couldn't be through winston saying shit the perfect way when she just inherently doesn't listen to him, and that winston's made to feel like the person who's Responsible, bringing it upon himself, being the one who's acting & existing "wrong," while rian (& others) merely have their Inevitable Reactions to him....but he should get to realize the way it Isn't his responsibility, actually, he's the one interested & trying, rian (& others) are not. not about to Put That On Him, and like, similar to "what else is new?" rian's been day in & day out Like This towards winston, with varying interactions with him, some even almost as though they're actually peers, And yet. winston's Been tormented & negatively affected like [years of this day in & out] like lol lmao well who cares though, we don't think about how he's a person inside just like us, including how he feels or how his life is when we're walking away leaving him alone in a room after hurting him as much as possible to feel better in turn & try to force him back in line

imagining some kind of like "okay but would provide some kind of 'cue' with more of a resolutiony vibe" here like well hmm. one day he happens to go for a meandering [new places / explore] walk and maybe he stumbles across an eatery he'd been to once like oh shit i remember i loved xyz item, maybe it's new to him and then he Discovers a fave. maybe he visits the math museum. he has a brief winsome interaction with a random person of mutual total delight without trying to "act right." these kinds of things, several of them. i do like him re/discovering some especial treat & partaking of that. or maybe it's not even just very especial lol, the spirit of deciding to give himself little a treat, as a treat, despite no indication from the universe or anyone else that he did fuckall extra "right" to have earned it. nothing even shifting right there, just have the rest of a day, go to sleep, it happens to be the next morning now, nice

[sonarspace]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆STUDY BREAK (FT. GOJO)

꒰ synopsis. being in the same class as gojo satoru was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse. content. college au. nsfw. (teasing. slight praise kınk. fıngering. oräl. p in v. multiple ōrgasms.) wc. 5.3k. an. to clear up any confusion 😭.. satoru’s a senior student + the professor’s assistant in the course you’re both taking. (fic is kinda all over the place so idk if this works but let’s pretend like it does).

there’s something about gojo satoru that drives you insane. not in the fun, heart-fluttering way that comes with a secret crush or the thrill of banter. no—this is the kind of insane where you want to hurl something, preferably at his stupidly smug face.

“class,” he drawls, leaning lazily against the desk at the front of the room, his shirt slightly rumpled like he doesn’t give a damn—and he doesn’t. “these papers? a mixed bag. some of you really impressed me. others�� well.” his lips curve into a smirk. “let’s just say the recycling bin was hungry.”

you groan inwardly, already sensing where this is going. he’s done this before, holding your work hostage like it’s part of his routine entertainment.

“and here,” he continues, brandishing a paper like a prop. your paper. “is a prime example of someone… almost getting there. strong ideas, decent execution, but the conclusion? oof. fell harder than my GPA sophomore year.”

a few students laugh. your jaw tightens, the heat in your chest bubbling up into something sharp and biting. he doesn’t have to name you; everyone knows exactly whose paper he’s waving around.

“anyway,” he finishes with a shrug, tossing the paper onto the desk like it’s disposable. “there’s potential. keep at it.”

you don’t even wait for class to end before your resolve solidifies: you’re going to kill him. maybe not literally, but metaphorically? absolutely.

you don’t plan on storming to his dorm room. it just… happens. one moment, you’re replaying his smug grin and the way his eyes gleamed when he mocked your paper, and the next, you’re standing outside his door, your fist raised to knock.

he answers quickly, and the sight of him makes you falter. his hair is damp, sticking out in soft tufts like he just got out of the shower, and his plain white t-shirt clings to him in a way that’s almost—no. you shake the thought away.

“well, this is unexpected,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that’s all teeth. “if you wanted private tutoring, you could’ve just asked.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, brushing past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.

he whistles low under his breath. “feisty tonight. to what do I owe the pleasure?”

you spin to face him, your hands clenched at your sides. “what is your problem with me?”

he blinks, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning full force. “problem? sweetheart, i don’t have a problem with you.”

“you humiliate me in class,” you say, your voice rising. “you make these comments, you single me out—what, are you that bored with your life?”

“humiliate?” he echoes, feigning a wounded look. “i think you mean ‘motivate.’ you’re one of the smartest people in that class. if i don’t push you, who will?”

“that’s bullshit,” you fire back, stepping closer. “you don’t ‘push’ anyone else.”

“because no one else is as fun,” he replies easily, his grin tilting into something sharper. “the way you react, the fire in your eyes—it’s addictive.”

your breath catches, the heat in your chest spreading to your cheeks. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel heavier. “in my room. alone.”

“because you drive me crazy,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

his eyebrows lift slightly, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by your outburst. “good crazy or bad crazy?”

he takes a step closer, too close. the kind of close that makes your pulse stutter and your instincts scream at you to step back—but you don’t. instead, you stand your ground, your jaw clenched as he waits for your answer, his gaze steady and almost daring.

“what does it matter?” you mutter, your voice quieter now, the heat of your earlier anger ebbing into something more uncertain.

“it matters,” he says, his voice low as his eyes flicker to your lips. “because I need to know if I can do this.”

before you can ask what he means, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but you don’t. his hand finds your waist, tugging you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

it’s like a dam breaking. weeks—months—of tension and unspoken words all come crashing down in a rush of heat and urgency. his other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, and the sound you make in response is embarrassing and needy, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

you should stop this. you should push him away, tell him he’s crossed a line. but the way his thumb brushes against your waist, the way he tilts his head just right, the way he kisses like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have—it’s addictive. you can’t stop. you don’t want to.

but then reality slams into you like a cold gust of wind. what are you doing? your chest tightens as the weight of it crashes down all at once, the heat between you dissolving into something sharper, more terrifying.

you pull back abruptly, your breathing uneven. “i can’t.”

he blinks, his expression softening from one of heat to confusion. “what?”

“this—this is a mistake,” you stammer, backing away. your hands feel clumsy as they fumble behind you for the door. “i shouldn’t have come here.”

“wait.” his hand reaches out, almost instinctively, but you’re already opening the door, your chest tight and your mind racing as you step out into the hall. you don’t look back, even as the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin.

────

you avoid him after that. in class, you sit as far from him as possible, claiming a seat in the back corner, close to the door. the usual tension he brought to the room—his teasing remarks, his piercing gaze when he caught you rolling your eyes—feels conspicuously absent. he doesn’t call on you, doesn’t glance your way, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

it’s been weeks since that night in his dorm, and as the semester nears its end, the distance feels heavier with every passing class. his silence, once the thing you desperately wanted, now presses on your chest like a weight. you wonder if he regrets it, if he’s just as caught in the what-ifs as you are—or if he’s already forgotten.

the final project looms, deadlines creeping closer, but the distraction isn’t enough to stop the quiet ache that’s settled in your chest. you remind yourself it’s for the best. boundaries were crossed, a line you know you shouldn’t have stepped over. it doesn’t matter how he made you feel, how his kisses left you breathless and yearning. none of it matters.

and yet, every time you leave class, you rush, head down, praying he won’t stop you. and every time he doesn’t, the ache grows.

when class ends today, the air feels heavier than usual. your peers chatter around you, their voices blending into background noise as you pack your things quickly, eyes fixed on the door. if you can just slip out unnoticed, avoid another day of walking the tightrope you’ve been balancing on since that night—

but then a hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and familiar.

“you’re avoiding me,” he says, his voice low and steady. there’s no edge to it, no teasing grin or smug undertone. just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

you freeze, your heart thudding in your chest. it’s been so long since he’s said anything to you that the sound of his voice directed at you feels foreign.

“i’m late,” you mumble, tugging your wrist weakly in an attempt to free yourself. “let me go.”

“you don’t have any classes after this,” he says, his grip loosening but not letting go. his eyes meet yours, calm but resolute. “i checked your schedule.”

your jaw tightens, irritation flashing through you. “you shouldn’t have access to my schedule.”

“probably not,” he admits with a shrug, a hint of the old satoru creeping into his voice, “but i’m me.”

you open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to back off, but he cuts you off first. “come have coffee with me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the casual offer. “what?”

“coffee,” he repeats, his tone light, as if this is perfectly normal. “you like coffee, don’t you?”

“that’s not the point,” you snap, yanking your wrist free from his grasp. “what is this, some weird apology?”

“it’s not weird,” he says, his smirk faltering slightly now, his expression open and strangely earnest. “it’s just coffee. with me.”

you stare at him, struggling to find the right words. “gojo,” you begin, your voice heavy, “you and i are not friends.”

his face falls, the shift so quick and unexpected that it makes your stomach twist. you see the way his shoulders tense, the way his gaze drops for just a moment, but you force yourself to look away. without giving him a chance to reply, you turn and push past him, your steps quick and unsteady as you leave the classroom.

the ache in your chest grows with every step, and even as you round the corner, out of sight, the image of his expression lingers. there’s no relief this time. only guilt.

────

you don’t know why you’re here. no, that’s a lie—you know exactly why you’re here. the memory of his expression, the slight drop of his shoulders at your retort, has been looping in your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

your feet carry you down the familiar path to his dorm, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step. before you can talk yourself out of it, your fist is already knocking on the door.

it opens almost immediately, and the sight of him steals the breath from your lungs. his white hair is a mess, sticking up in chaotic directions, and his glasses are perched crookedly on his nose. there’s a faint crease on his cheek, like he’d been leaning against a book, and his shirt hangs loosely off one shoulder, rumpled from sleep or hours spent working. he looks… soft. disarming. almost painfully cute.

“coffee,” you say, holding up the cups like a white flag. “can i come in?”

his lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through the haze of surprise as he steps aside. “bribery, huh? didn’t think you had it in you.”

his dorm is as cluttered as you remember—papers and notebooks sprawled across his desk, a blinking laptop shoved precariously to one side. you set the coffee down on the edge of the desk, your gaze catching on the scrawled notes and dense blocks of text.

“grading?” you ask.

“research,” he replies, dropping onto the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. his hand rakes through his already-messy hair, making it stick up even more. “finals prep. you know, glamorous TA things.”

you hand him a cup, your fingers brushing against his as he takes it. the simple contact sends a jolt up your arm that you stubbornly ignore. “thought you could use it.”

he hums as he takes a sip, his lashes fluttering briefly before he lets out a quiet sound of approval. the noise is so low, so soft, it makes your stomach twist. you glance away quickly, your grip tightening on your own cup.

“about the other day,” you start, the words quiet and tentative.

he glances up, the coffee still in his hands. his expression is unreadable, but his fingers still against the cup, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “you don’t have to explain,” he says, setting his cup down on the desk. “if you don’t want this—if i got it wrong—just say so.”

“it’s not that,” you blurt, the words tumbling out too fast, too raw. warmth floods your cheeks, creeping down to your chest. “i just… i don’t know what this is.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t fall into his usual teasing deflection. instead, he stands, crossing the small space between you with deliberate steps. his gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you can’t control.

“let me show you,” he says softly, his voice low, uncharacteristically serious.

he’s so close now, his hand brushing against yours, his touch light, almost hesitant. and then his lips are on yours, and everything else fades away.

this kiss is nothing like the first. there’s no uncertainty, no restraint. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth moves against yours, hot and insistent. your grip on the coffee slips, the cup hitting the floor with a dull thud as your hands find his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

when his hands slide under your shirt, the roughness of his palms against your bare skin makes you shudder. he guides you backward, his body pressing into yours until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. you sink down, the weight of him grounding you as he follows, his lips trailing fire along your jaw and down your neck.

his hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, brushing the underside of your ribs, exploring like he’s memorizing every inch of you. when he pulls back to look at you, his lips are curved in a wicked, breath-stealing grin.

“you’re infuriating,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his eyes rake over you, drinking in every detail.

“you’re worse,” you manage, though your voice is barely more than a whisper.

his grin widens, and his laugh is warm against your skin as he dips his head, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re already so worked up. it’s cute.”

“shut up,” you snap, though the way your hips arch into his touch betrays you.

“make me,” he challenges, his lips brushing against yours before descending lower, kissing down your collarbone and tugging your shirt higher with every inch. his hands roam greedily, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

his mouth is back on you immediately, nipping and kissing along the swell of your breasts as his hands work the clasp of your bra. when it comes free, his lips part in a satisfied hum, his hands kneading your soft skin like he’s savoring every second of this.

“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice husky as he leans back slightly to take in the sight of you. his gaze is heavy, filled with something dark and hungry that makes your stomach twist in the best way.

“stop staring,” you grumble, though the heat in your cheeks betrays the sharpness of your words.

“can’t help it,” he says, his grin tilting into something softer, more genuine. “you’re gorgeous.”

before you can respond, his mouth is back on you, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his other hand trails down your stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants. your breath hitches as he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“can i?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his expression serious.

you nod, and he wastes no time. his fingers hook under the fabric, tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. the cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver, but the warmth of his hands is there immediately, coaxing you to relax under his touch.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick as his hands part your thighs, his gaze drinking in every inch of you. “so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks flush, and you try to turn your head away, but his hand cups your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “not tonight.”

his other hand slides between your thighs, his touch featherlight at first, teasing. when his thumb brushes over your clit, a jolt of heat shoots through you, and your hips buck involuntarily.

“sensitive,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “i barely touched you, and you’re already squirming.”

“shut up,” you snap, your voice shaky as your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you. but the way your body reacts—arching into his touch, chasing the pressure—makes it clear that his teasing isn’t far from the truth.

“you don’t really want me to, do you?” his voice is low, almost a growl, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. “i think you like when i talk to you like this. when i tell you how good you’re doing, how fucking beautiful you look right now.”

your chest heaves as his fingers dip lower, sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness. every movement feels deliberate, calculated, like he’s savoring every second. when his fingers finally slip inside you, the stretch makes your head fall back, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate at first. “you feel so fucking good, baby. so perfect.”

your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “oh my god—gojo—”

he tuts sharply, his fingers pausing inside you, his thumb stalling its maddening rhythm. your head snaps up, breathless and confused, to find him staring down at you with a dark look, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“no,” he says firmly, his voice low and commanding as he tilts his head. “say satoru.”

“w-what?” you stammer, your heart racing as his fingers remain perfectly still, the tension building with every passing second.

“not ‘gojo,’” he says again, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his grin sharpening. “say satoru.”

you hesitate, your breath hitching as your body trembles beneath him. he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make your toes curl, and your resolve shatters.

“satoru,” you gasp, your voice breaking on the syllables.

his smirk widens, something dark and triumphant flickering in his eyes. “good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb resuming its slow, torturous circles on your clit as his fingers pick up their rhythm again, harder this time, deeper.

your head falls back against the mattress, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure builds again, higher and hotter than before. his name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, breathless and needy as he drives you closer to the edge.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, his voice dripping with praise as his free hand slides down your body, his touch possessive. “just like that, baby. let go for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens to the breaking point, and when he curls his fingers just right, pressing against the perfect spot, it snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, and his name spills from your lips in a broken moan.

“satoru—fuck—”

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval as he works you through the waves of pleasure, his movements slowing but never stopping until your body goes slack beneath him, trembling and spent.

he pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze fixed on you as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a deliberate, satisfied hum. “even better than i imagined,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance, his eyes gleaming as they roam over your flushed, trembling body.

you blink, your breath still uneven as his words settle over you. “wait—” you say, your voice catching slightly. “you’ve thought about this?”

his grin widens, slow and deliberate, and he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so his face is just inches from yours. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “you really think i haven’t?”

your cheeks flush even hotter, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “you’re—” you stammer, at a rare loss for words. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous?” he repeats, feigning offense, though the wicked glint in his eyes never falters. “i’d say i’m a man of focus. you’ve been in my head for weeks, driving me insane with that sharp mouth and the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.”

“i don’t—” you begin, but his lips curve into a knowing smirk, cutting you off.

“you do,” he insists, his tone softening just slightly. “and every time you glared at me, every time you rolled your eyes or bit back some little retort, all i could think about was how much i wanted to shut you up. like this.”

his lips capture yours again, and this kiss is slower, heavier, laced with an intensity that makes your toes curl. his hands roam, sliding over your bare skin with a reverence that feels almost out of place against his words.

when he finally pulls back, his gaze is still on you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “and now that i’ve got you,” he says, his voice dipping into something darker, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough.”

the weight of his confession leaves you breathless, and before you can respond, his lips are trailing down your body again, his hands parting your thighs as he settles between them.

“what are you—” you start, but his eyes flick up to meet yours, and the look in them steals the rest of your words.

“relax,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “i’m not done tasting you yet.”

his hands slide to grip your thighs, pulling you apart with ease as his lips descend, brushing over your inner thighs, teasingly slow. his tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you again, you feel your body arch instinctively, your breath leaving in a sharp, unrestrained gasp.

he’s relentless. his tongue drags up your folds in a languid stroke before circling your clit with maddening precision. his mouth is hot, the slick, wet sounds mingling with your soft moans, and his breath—warm and uneven—fans against your skin with every movement.

his hair brushes against your thighs, soft and messy, and your fingers thread through it again, tugging sharply enough to make him groan against you. the vibration of it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, and your hips buck against his mouth.

“satoru,” you gasp, but it’s barely coherent, your voice breaking as he latches onto your clit, sucking just enough to make your toes curl. “oh my—”

the cold press of something against your inner thigh pulls you out of the haze, just barely. it’s sharp, unfamiliar, and you glance down—his glasses. they’re still perched on his nose, slightly crooked, the metal frame fogging faintly from the heat of his breath. he’s so lost in the moment, so focused on the way his tongue works against you, that he hasn’t even noticed.

your hand drifts down, brushing against the cool frame, and you slip them off without a word. the absurdity of it—the way he’s been eating you out with his glasses still on—makes you want to laugh. the corners of your mouth twitch, and a soft sound bubbles up in your throat, but then his tongue presses flat against your folds, dragging up in one slow, deliberate motion, and the laugh dissolves into a sharp moan.

your head falls back against the pillow, your hand tangling back in his hair as you toss the glasses onto the bed with the other. the noise they make as they hit the mattress is faint, drowned out by the obscene wet sounds of his mouth, the low hums of satisfaction he lets out as he devours you.

“fuck,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as his tongue flicks against your clit again, faster now, more insistent. your body arches instinctively, chasing the pressure, and his hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you even closer to his mouth.

he growls against you, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you in a way that makes your toes curl. his tongue dips lower, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, and the sharp scrape of his teeth against your swollen clit has you seeing stars.

“so fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your slick skin. “can’t get enough of you, baby.”

you can’t respond, can’t think. the only thing you can focus on is the way his tongue works against you, precise and relentless, building the heat in your stomach until it’s unbearable. your fingers twist in his hair, pulling harder, and the groan he lets out in response sends you spiraling.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips like a prayer, breathless and broken. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his mouth dragging you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold on any longer.

your orgasm hits you hard, ripping through you in waves that leave your entire body trembling. your hips jerk against his hold, your moans loud and unrestrained as you ride it out. his tongue slows, working you through every aftershock until you’re left panting, boneless against the bed.

when he finally pulls back, his chest is heaving, his lips and chin glistening with your slick. his hair is a mess, strands sticking up where your fingers had tugged, and his eyes—those impossibly bright blues—flick up to meet yours, gleaming with satisfaction.

“twice,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs as he takes in the sight of you—flushed, panting, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. his grin is lazy, self-satisfied, like he knows exactly what he’s done to you.

“you’re staring,” you mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“hard not to,” he replies, his tone low and full of amusement. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch soft, teasing. “you look so fucking good when you come.”

your cheeks burn, and you want to glare at him, to tell him to shut up, but the words catch in your throat as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. in one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the side, the movement effortless and maddeningly confident.

your eyes follow the shift of his muscles, the way they ripple under his skin, lean and defined. a faint sheen of sweat glistens across his chest, catching the dim light, highlighting every sharp line and curve. your gaze drifts lower, down to the sharp ridges of his abdomen. the faint trail of white hair starting just below his navel draws your attention, leading your eyes further, until his hands move to the waistband of his boxers.

he doesn’t rush. he hooks his thumbs under the fabric, dragging it down slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach. as the fabric falls away, your breath hitches.

he’s fully bare now, and your mouth goes dry.

his cock is… breathtaking. thick and flushed a deep pink at the tip, already leaking beads of precum that catch the light as they drip down the length. it’s long, the kind of length that makes your thighs press together instinctively, wondering how he’ll fit, but the heat pooling low in your stomach burns hotter, overriding any hesitation.

his hand wraps around it, and he strokes himself slowly, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the wetness there. the motion is deliberate, almost lazy, and the soft groan he lets out sends a shiver down your spine.

you’re staring—you know you are—and he notices, his lips curving into a wicked grin as his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, slick and hot. “i’ll make it fit.”

his words send a shiver through you, his voice low and dripping with confidence. the weight of his cock against your folds, hot and heavy, is enough to make your hips twitch instinctively, chasing the friction. but he doesn’t push in right away—of course he doesn’t. instead, he drags the head up and down your slick, letting it catch on your clit with every pass, teasing you until you’re squirming beneath him.

“satoru,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. you’re not above begging at this point. “please.”

his grin widens, his head dipping to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “what’s the rush, baby? we’ve got all night.”

“satoru,” you repeat, more insistently this time, and he groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his cock twitching against you.

“fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight now, losing some of that smug edge. “you sound so pretty when you beg.”

he lines himself up, his hand still wrapped around the base as he presses the head against your entrance. the stretch is immediate, a sharp, overwhelming mix of pleasure and pressure as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch.

“holy shit,” he breathes, his voice rough as his head falls forward, his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’re so fucking tight.”

your fingers clutch at his shoulders, your breath catching as he sinks deeper, the fullness stealing every coherent thought from your mind. he pauses halfway, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“you okay?” he asks, and there’s something softer in his voice now, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your voice shaky as you answer. “yeah. just—keep going.”

his jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he starts to move again. every inch feels impossibly deep, your walls stretching around him, and when he finally bottoms out, you both pause, your breaths mingling as you try to adjust.

“fuck,” he groans again, his voice strained as his hips twitch against yours. “you feel so good. better than i ever—” he cuts himself off with a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “shit, you’re perfect.”

you can barely respond, the stretch and fullness leaving you trembling. but then he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. the drag of his cock against your walls is enough to have you moaning, your head falling back against the pillow.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and approving as he sets a steady rhythm. “good girl. taking me so well.”

your hands trail down his back, your nails scraping lightly against his skin, and the groan he lets out sends a fresh wave of heat through you. his movements quicken, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, and every thrust has him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, making you cry out.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips again, and he leans down, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper.

“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he drives into you. “you feel so good—so fucking perfect for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens with every roll of his hips, the pressure building higher and higher until it’s unbearable. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make your vision blur, and your moans grow louder, more desperate.

“come for me,” he demands, his voice rough and low in your ear. “let me feel you.”

the command sends you over the edge. your orgasm rips through you, your body arching into his as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. your walls clench around him, and the sensation makes him groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.

“fuck—” he gasps, burying himself as deep as he can go as he comes, the heat of him spilling into you, thick and warm. his head falls to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure.

the room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the air thick and charged as he finally pulls back, his weight pressing into you as he collapses onto the bed beside you. his arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he presses a soft, lazy kiss to your temple.

“told you i’d make it fit,” he murmurs, his voice still rough, but there’s a hint of smugness there, his lips curving into a small grin.

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, your body still trembling against his. “you’re such an asshole.”

“yeah,” he agrees, his tone light, teasing, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “but you like it.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no heat to it, your lips curving into a faint smile as you bury your face against his chest. “shut up, satoru.”

“never,” he replies, and the warmth of his laughter vibrates through you, grounding you as your breaths slowly even out.

an. gojo with glasses... *hnnggghh*

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[toovaeloe]

curse biologist!reader x assistant!gojo hc’s

content: gojo pining off his ass . little flirty lab partners . tw for sliiighhtest mention of an autopsy and related tools . warning for gojo poppin’ a stiff one in the lab cause he’s a freak like that (ur a freak like that), so mildly suggestive

mdni

curse biologist!reader— the higher ups want you dead and gone, that’s for sure. You, who has a cursed technique that turns cursed energy into something tangible. After applying your technique to a cursed spirit, it becomes visible to a naked human eye, and instead of disintegrating, leaves a corpse behind. You’re dangerous. Crazy. And well…too weird. But they just hate progress, don’t they?

Not Gojo. He really doesn’t think you’re doing any harm to be honest (and he’ll do just about anything if it creases another wrinkle into Gakuganji’s ugly mug)

I mean, who else has been able to make waves in the integration of curses into science like you have? You’ve uncovered an exponential amount about the inner workings of curses in a few years when the rest of Jujutsu society’s had centuries, only to scratch the surface. It’s really admirable how you deep dive into the nitty gritty, as he calls it.

assistant!gojo— who loves being your little go-getter. Your own personal cursed spirit Fetch-Fido— maybe if you squint hard enough you’ll be able to see floppy ears perked to attention in his snowy hair or an eager tail whipping up a hurricane behind him as he brings you back his latest catch: a detained grade 2 curse manifested by the fear of monsters under the bed. Yeah, he knew you’d like something like that.

assistant!gojo— loves witnessing the way your eyes light up and it’s as if he can see the cogs immediately gearing to life in your smart little brain. He’s saluting exaggeratedly with a puffed out chest when you give him the go ahead to kill the thing after you’ve had your hand at it. It’s all he can do not to ask for a pat on the head and praise of how well he did. Getting a “Good boy,” out of you is on his mental vision board.

assistant!gojo— sticks around for the autopsies. Likes watching you poke around inside the creatures and is waiting on your hand and foot through the entire process. Scalpel? Bone saw? Enterotomy scissors? The bread knife??? He’s even starting to become attuned to your whims, tool already in hand before you extend your palm.

If you murmured an awed, “look at thaaat,” he’s quick to huddle in close under the pretense of observing whatever oddity that’s intrigued you. Only to squish his cheek against yours with a feigned, “hmm…mhmm…” nodding stiltedly, and not so discreetly nuzzling his face closer to yours with an impish glint in those azure eyes as he casts a sidelong glance to your skeptical neutrality.

assistant!gojo— staring at you with the widest puppy dog eyes as you discard your gloves and begin sketching diagrams of the latest brain you’ve picked apart, comparing it to the contradicting one of another curse, and contrasting from the drastically different human model you have. He can listen to you babble for hours, if only absorbing every other word of your theories on why a curse’s blood runs violet or how you’re so excited to get these samples to the lab. He’ll still chip in with his own question or hypothesis from time to time, because he’s curious too, but more than that he loves the way you answer.

assistant!gojo— purposely uses candy and sweets as a metaphor whenever you plead with him to explain how he views the electromagnetic spectrum through those eyes of his, just because he thinks it’s funny how desperate you are to know. To this day you can’t decode however the fuck that analogy about laffy taffy and rock candy was supposed to relate to infrared waves.

assistant!gojo— Satoru can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that he can’t get you out of his head or the fact that you want inside of his head

This whole situation is basically him giving you googoo eyes and kissy faces as you scribble down something on your clipboard and try to stick him with a needle

assistant!gojo— who’s willing to be a bit of a lab rat for you. He’s all giggles as he prances up to your vertical operation table, huffing lightly when you strap him against the cool steel. “Don’t be shy now, y’could go tighter than that. You know I like it when you tie me up,,” he encourages oh so unhelpfully.

assistant!gojo— chiding you to be careful when you begin application of the biosensors across his chest, cause he’ll get “a little too excited.” You don’t pay mind to his little quip until you see his already irregularly R-R intervals spike impossibly short on the electrocardiogram readings. And then again as you finish hooking him up to the machine.

assistant!gojo— thinks you might be overthinking what environmental stimuli might have caused that anomaly, or maybe judging by that poorly veiled smile and half-hearted “My mistake,” you’ve purposefully placed that one sensor node a little too low on his pelvis this time. Now that he’s thinkin’ about— yeah—there definitely wasn’t any need for you crouch so low until your nose was practically level with the apex of his thigh. Or for you to look up at him in a way that had him failing to suppress a shiver and his breath hitching when you smoothly rubbed the padding of the damn thing into his hip with your thumb. Aaaand fuck, he’s bricked in the lab. (again.)

He’d kill to know what’s going on in your noggin. And frankly he’s dying to get the pants off his fave smartypants.

a/n: as soon as I got this idea i was like ooo biting my lip and bigbig smile,, onto something? am I onto something??? would anybody maybemaybe read a one shot with this concept 👀? okay I love you byyyee

[astra-ravana]

A Guide To Shape-Shifting

Shape-shifting has long captivated the human imagination, holding a prominent place in the realms of witchcraft and the occult. In fact, the myth of the shape-shifting witch can be found in folklore around the world and across multiple cultures, from the British Isles to the Americas to Asia and Africa. Witches were reported to turn into rabbits, cats, deer, mice, owls, ravens, and wolves. Shape-shifting is an intriguing practice that involves altering one's physical form, or at least one's perception and is often associated with mystical abilities and spiritual connections.

What Is Shape-Shifting?

Shape-shifting, in the context of witchcraft refers to the belief and practice of altering one's form or perception through magick and ritual and can take place in the Otherworld or on our current astral plane, depending on the needs of the witch. It encompasses the idea of undergoing a physical or metaphysical transformation, allowing witches to embody different beings, animals, or even objects. Often times this occurs when the witch wears the body of an animal, we know literal transformation is not possible, but it can certainly happen on an energetic or spirit level. This can occur in one of two ways: the witch's spirit transforms into the spirit of an animal or the witch's spirit 'rides' a living animal or external spirit on the physical plane or in the Otherworld. In either case, both are considered shape-shifting and can be used for the same purposes.

Some History

By the 13th century, it was widely believed witches could turn into animals at will. Witches were believed to turn into hares, toads, dogs, cats, and other animals to steal from their neighbors, curse livestock, and otherwise create mischief and mayhem. In many cases, harm done to the animal form caused similar wounds to the human.

In 1649, John Palmer of St. Albans, England confessed to transforming into a toad in order to torment his neighbor. The neighbor reportedly kicked the toad and Palmer complained of sore shins afterward. Similar stories appear in American folklore, including Aunty Greenleaf who was said to take on the form of a white doe to torment her neighbor's livestock. When the doe was shot with three silver bullets, Aunty Greenleaf was said to later die with three silver bullets in her spine.

Of course shape-shifting myths and folklore don't end there. We also have the Navajo skinwalker, the American loup-garou, Korean kumiho, Japanese yokai, the Kitsune, and the Mexican La Lechuza.

Famous incantations come from Isobel Gowdie during the 17th century witch trials. During her confessions, Gowdie named two charms one for transforming into a hare and and one for transforming back into a woman.

To Transform Into A Hare:

"I shall go into a hare

With sorrow and such a meickle care;

And I shall go in the Devil's name

Ay while I come home again."

To Transform Back:

"Hare, hare, God send thee care.

I am in a hare's likeness now,

But I shall be in a woman's likeness even now."

Other witches reported similar shape-shifting incantations as seen below.

To Transform Into A Cat:

"I shall go into a cat,

With sorrow and such a black shat;

And I shall go in the Devil's name,

Ay while I come home again."

To Transform Into A Crow:

"I shall go into a crow,

With sorrow and such a black thraw;

And I shall go in the Devil's name,

Ay while I come home again."

Modern Uses Of Shape-Shifting

In contemporary witchcraft, shape-shifting has taken on metaphorical and symbolic significance. Modern witches utilize shape-shifting as a tool for personal growth, empowerment, and self-discovery. Through the exploration of different archetypes and primal instincts, witches seek to deepen their understanding of themselves and their connection to the natural world, develop a relationship with an animal guide or totem, or even gain new perspectives on a problem. Shape-shifting becomes a means to tap into hidden aspects of the psyche and to embrace transformative experiences. This can take many forms, including calling upon different animal spirits during spellwork, meditating on different animal aspects, working with animal spirits, journaling, ritual dances, etc.

Shape-shifting also shares a deep connection with shamanic journeying and hedge riding, a practice in which the witch traverses the different realms of the Otherworld for spiritual insight and healing. Within hedge riding and othet shamanic traditions, shape-shifting serves as a means to enter other dimensions, communicate with spirits, and tap into their wisdom and attributes. By assuming the form of a particular animal, the shamen can embody ita qualities, accessing unique perspectives and guidance on their journey. An animal form is also taken often as a form of protection during otherworldly travel, as animal spirits are often able to traverse undetected, acting as a form of invisibility, much like Celtic fith-fath incantations. An animal form also allows the witch to travel more quickly and in some cases, access areas previously unreachable, such as high mountain tops, deep within an ocean or lake, or even borrowing underground or into tight spaces.

How To Shape-Shift

Modern witches engage in shape-shifting through various techniques and practices. Visualization exercises play a significant role, where witches create vivid mental images of their desired form or archetype, often coupled with ritual work such as wearing animal skin/bones, dancing, drumming, or incantations. Through meditation, yoy can enter a state of deep focus and receptivity, allowing yourself to embody the essence and qualities of the chosen form. Energy work such as harnessing personal energy or working with elemental forces, can serve as a catalyst for the transformation, although most witches find it easier to use a mask or skin, or use an ointment to prompt the change. Needless to say, there are multiple approaches to shape-shifting and you need to experiment to find which method works best for you. Below are several ways to engage in shape-shifting from both folklore and modern witchcraft.

• Incantations And Charms- This is probably one of the most commonly cited historical ways to shape-shift, with the incantations from Isobel Gowdie and her fellow witches being cited most often. These incantations can be modernized and adapted to turn you into any animal you desire. Since most witches do not incorporate "God" or the Devil in their craft, these titles can be changed to reference deities or the forces you believe in such as Lord/Lady, Horned God, Hekate, Lilith, etc. Pagan musician Damh the Bard does an excellent job of this in his "Fith Fath Song" where he says "I shall go as a wren in spring

With sorrow and sighing on silent wing

And I shall go in our Lady's name

Aye, til I come home again

Then we shall follow as falcons grey

And hunt thee cruelly for our prey

And we shall go in our Horned God's name

Aye to fetch thee home again

Then I shall go as a mouse in May

Through fields by night and in cellars by day

And I shall go in our Lady's name

Aye til I come home again

Then we shall follow as black tom cats

And hunt through the fields and the vats

And we shall go in our Horned God's name

Aye to fetch thee home again... "

Of course writing your own incantations works just as well, if not better, than using others' words.

• Wearing Animal Skins, Bones, Or Masks- Apart from incantations, many witches engage in shape-shifting by animal skins, bones, or masks to encourage a transformation. This is often coupled with ritual dancing and drumming until an altered state of consciousness is reached. In Call of the Horned Piper, Nigel Jackson describes such a ritual. In order to shape-shift, the initiate would undergo a symbolic death by undressing and crossing a lake or other body of water. Upon arriving on the other side they would don a wolf skin or belt and enter into an altered state of consciousness to "be projected forth into the form of a wolf". This same practice can be replicated with any animal pelt, bone, or mask, using a cold shower as the bridge to 'death' should you not have access to a river or lake and privacy.

• Trance, Meditation, and Visualization- Reaching an altered state of consciousness coupled with one or both of the aforementioned methods is the key to actual transformation. Reaching an altered state of consciousness can be done in a variety of ways, including ritual dancing, drumming, humming, consuming psychoactive plants, or using ointments. The methods used are essentially the same as hedge-riding, however the goal of reaching the trance state is to shape-shift. With that intention firmly in your mind, you can visualize yourself shifting into your animal form, your consciousness slowly becoming that of an animal. You may find walking/crawling on all fours, growling, hissing, or otherwise behaving like the animal aids in this transformation. Become the animal you wish to transfrom into.

If you are looking to shape-shift while hedge-riding, visualizing the shift, reciting an incantation, and donning your animal garb within the Otherworld will also work. Unlike on our plane, you won't need to shift your consciousness again, as that has already occurred. While you don't necessarily need anything physical to do this, having real animal remains or a mask on your person prior to hedge-riding will greatly aid you in your work on the astral plane.

When first starting out, start small, shape-shifting for very short periods of time. Experiment with a variety of methods, combining them into a ritual that works for you.

Shape-Shifting Safety

There are dangers to shape-shifting into an animal form. This includes not being able to return to your body because tou have forgotten you're human, forgetting which realm you belong to, being captured, injured, or killed within the Otherworld or while riding a live animal. There are many tales of witches traversing the world as an animal and being injured only for the same wounds to appear on the witch's human form. These injuries sometimes resulted in the death of the witch, so be mindful of hazards while shape-shifting.

What You Can Do To Protect Yourself

1. Set clear and firm boundaries and time limits for travel. Setting an alarm or using a musical cue can help pull you back from a trance.

2. Have a spotter who can help rouse you should you not come back when originally planned.

3. Have a safe word or incantation that when spoken pulls your spirit into your body.

4. Use a red witch's thread tied around your finger or arm to anchor your spirit to your physical body. If you get lost, follow the thread back to your body.

5. Carry or wear protective charms that will prevent your spirit from being stolen or harmed while in the Otherworld. Your familiar or household pet can also act as a protector of your body, sitting on or near you during shape-shifting to ensure nothing else tries to inhabit your body.

6. When you are finished, make sure you are completely grounded in your human body.

Shape-shifting in witchcraft remains an enigmatic and alluring practice, intertwining myth, history, and contemporary spirituality. It offers a gateway to explore the depths of our own selves, connect with the primal forces of nature, and embark on transformative journeys of self-discovery. Whether through the exploration of archetypes, communion with spirits, or embracing the hidden aspects of our being, shape-shifting provides a mystical transformation that resonates with the essence of true witchcraft.

[toxycodone]

The way i need kabru to teach me the anatomy of the human body by using himself as a model and he’s explaining how all the vital points are laid out but he’s struggling because my hands are dipping a little too low below his belt and squeezing his neck a bit too firmly

vital points (kabru of utaya x reader)

wc. 1.5k

cw. romantic/sexual tension, nothing explicit

No one in Kabru's party is a particularly skilled dungeon crawler. Despite all efforts it seems his party is always taken out before they can do any true exploring of the dungeon's secrets.

Therefore, being the excellent leader that he is, Kabru has decided to take it upon himself to give out combat lessons. And it's only logical he starts with you first. Mickbell has his own specialties--poison darts and all. Kabru's not sure if he'd even be interested in lessons. And even if he was, would he even pay attention? It's probably not worth the trouble. Kuro is well, Kuro. What part of that demihuman's body isn't a weapon? His sharp senses make him one of, if not the most well-equipped members of his team. It's the main reason Kabru keeps a demi-human, one partly monster, like him around. Aside from the fact he's a package deal with the half-foot. Kabru's sure Kuro could make it throigh the dungeon on his own.

Daya is the second best. Strong. Capable. A weapons expert. She can take a hit and throw it back with ease. Rin and Holm are the magic users. Combat would likely be wasted on them. Rin's frail, but she already has similar knowledge to Kabru as she grew up with the same foster mom. And Holm...likely wouldn't agree to lessons. He's maintained a commitment to do no harm to others unless absolutely necessary. Kabru's not going to try to convince him to learn his way around a weapon and how to maim unless it's completely critical.

However. That leaves you.

You're different. Not entirely useless, but not entirely skilled on the other hand. Kabru's still trying to figure you out. Quite the enigma you are to him. He's come to the conclusion you're a jack-of-all-trades type of figure. For now, at least. You don't exactly take away from the party. But you're not hindering their descent, either. It's intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, yet infuriating from his stance as leader of his party.

But again, he wonders what skills you do possess, exactly. Everyone has their specialties, be it what it may. He wonders if combat might be something he can help you succeed--no, excel--in. He'll bring out the best in you via this method, and come to learn more about you in the process. Two birds with one stone. In the back of Kabru's mind, his own desire rears its head. The desire to be close to you. He's not exactly sure why or where this desire stems from. However...it can be satiated via a combat lesson. Three birds, he muses. You pique his interest in a variety of ways.

When it first comes to combat, jumping right in is never ideal. The first means of success comes from mapping out vital points. The human anatomy is a good start. Dungeons are full of demi-human and human adversaries alike. It's important to know them for one to defend themselves, unarmed or not. And these vitals seem to remain uniform among all creatures.

Head. Neck. Abdomen. Groin.

The four major sensitive groups one should know. He's starting small for now. Too much information could be overwhelming. It wouldn't be worth to teach you so much at once that

You're in front of him now, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not in a literal sense. A metaphorical one. Well, your eyes are bright. He's always liked them. Not that it matters. Why is he thinking of this?

Kabru shakes his head a little, trying to steady his thoughts. Back to business.

"The first lesson in defense is understanding anatomy." Kabru muses, looking through his notes. There's no real time to fetch a book at this point. Or a model. Kabru's not necessarily gifted at art either. Not that a simple drawing would do.

He can serve in its place, as an example. A physical specimen would be the most insightful. You're probably a hands on learner, he decides. It's definitely not as an excuse to have you close to him. Definitely not. Not that he's entirely against that, though.

"Starting with the head. There's plenty of areas you can exploit there," Kabru points to his eyes. You follow suit. They're such a striking blue. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.

"Eyes are the easiest to access. They're the first thing humans notice. You can predict someone's movements by figuring out where they're looking towards. It'll likely show you where they intend to attack." Kabru leans forward absentmindedly. "They're also sensitive. Even a simple move can distract or blind an opponent. Don't be afraid to strike there. Even though Mickbell might tease you for fighting dirty. All's fair in dungeon combat."

You chuckle and agree. Kabru's pleased his attempt at humor landed. It seems to lighten the air around you two.

"Next, the neck. There's two main points here you want to recognize." Kabru takes your hand, offering a reassuring smile as he does so, then presses it to the underside of his neck. They're a little cold, you note. And almost dainty. His hands aren't particularly calloused. He must take good care of them.

He guides your index finger to the skin on the outside of his neck. His skin carries a hint of heat to it.

"This is where the external jugular is located. It's one of the most important veins in the body. It carries blood to the head and neck area. Just a simple cut can slice through it. A simple turn of the head is enough to expose it."

He moves your hand more inward, now pressing slightly into the divot close to his trachea. His chest rises slowly, then falls. There's a faint beating under the skin now. Kabru's pulse.

"The internal jugular is here. If you can land a hit here, do it. You'll have to go deep and make sure you slice clean through the skin. It can disable a foe in seconds."

You try to keep your mind on the lesson. But his skin is remarkably soft. And smooth. You're close enough now to count his stubble. Well, you would if there was any to count. How does Kabru manage to keep himself so well groomed on dungeon excursions. Maybe you could count those thick, lovely eyelashes inste--

A simple call of your name breaks your thoughts. Not only were you not paying attention, but your fingerpads dig slightly into his skin. You struggle to find an explanation for your absentmindedness, then decide to pin it on you being hyperfocused.

Kabru, ever so forgiving, decides to move on without further question. Internally, you thank him for preserving your dignity. What's left of it. You're almost certain he's caught onto the fact your no longer solely doing this for the sake of combat knowledge.

"The abdomen hosts a majority of the body's necessary organs. The lung's can be pierced easily through the ribcage." Deft fingers lead you across the expanse of his chest. You're a bit shocked. Without his armor, Kabru's a lot smaller. Being revived time and time again has left its mark on his body. There's still power to him though. His muscle isn't all gone. You can surmise your leader has quite the lithe build.

Kabru continues to go on, despite you not listening. He likes to talk about anatomy, for one. But he's also trying to hide his own amusement at your reaction to touching him. You're admiring him in your own way. Which means you may harbor similar feelings towards him that he has towards you. Interesting. He takes note of this as your hands are guided lower.

Stomach. Liver. Kidneys.

And last is the groin.

Kabru's puzzled. He didn't really consider how this would play out in his hands-on anatomy lesson. Desire clouded his mind earlier, but now that he can peek through it...the realization of the situation sets in. How should he proceed? He can tell by your reactions you're fascinated by the lesson at the least. Kabru's sure you need this lesson. The groin is probably the most effective place to punch, kick, or slice in a pinch. As inappropriate as it is, in general and a workplace sense, he still wants you to keep touching him.

His hands leave yours. He's leaving it up to you, now. Whether you choose to continue or not will tell him what he wants to know--if he's been going too far or not.

"The groin is the last area you should become familiar with. I'm sure you're aware, but it's particularly sensitive." Kabru's not sure whether to look at you or your hands. He goes for the latter when your fingers trail over his belt, threatening to move towards the linen of his pants below.

"The genital area, more specifically. No matter the sex. A swift punch, kick. Even just grasping it. You can get an advantage in combat. Either as a distraction, or...."

Your fingers keep going lower. He's sure you aren't paying attention, now far too invested in your personal lesson on anatomy. There's a slight bulge in his pants. It's stiffens when you ghost over it.

Kabru's breath stifles. He swallows his spit like it's cement.

"A-and that's the gist of it."

Kabru stutters for the first time ever, you think. Your curious hands flee his body as a result, now returning to your sides. That was...exhilirating. So simple, yet...you can tell the two of you are craving more.

"Uh," You're first to break the awkward tension. "Thank you, Kabru. For the lesson. It was very informative." A certain tone lingers on the last word. Kabru can practically see the air quotations around it. His dark skin deepens with color. For once in your span of knowing him, Kabru's eyes don't tear into you.

"Right. It's my duty as your leader, after all. Thank you for listening. We can go back to the others now."

Kabru is known for his penchant for understanding others. Almost being able to predict their next moves with ease. However, your next move is wildly unpredictable, tossing out everything he once assumed about your attitude and demeanor.

You ask when the next lesson is. You'd like to study anatomy-perhaps his anatomy, more thoroughly.

And what he also doesn't expect is his eagerness to respond. The next lesson can't come soon enough.

[redocity]

What about reader and Maddie going shopping and reader surprising buck with some cute lingerie after that she just bought??

WELCOME HOME — E.BUCKLEY

you always missed buck when he was at work, so you organised a little surprise for him when he finally got home.

evan buckley x fem!reader | suggestive | 2.1k | requests open!!

cw — 18+ content, minors do not interact. not technically smut but an insulation of smut at the end, buck picks up the reader

a/n — ya girl is back after over a month 💀 sorry bros, exam season ripped me to shreds

masterlist.

Buck’s apartment always seemed bare when he wasn’t in it, the metaphorical light that made it feel like a home disappearing whenever he went on shift.

You never knew exactly why it made you feel so different, you’d been living with him for almost six months, but Buck’s absence never failed to make you feel lonely.

So you made an effort to stay out of the apartment for as long as possible when Buck wasn’t there to share it with you, seeking comfort in the company of your friends to pass the time.

Today’s excursion was a mall trip with Maddie.

It wasn’t anything special, a lunch trip and some random shopping for god knows what (mostly stuff for Jee), but as the afternoon turned into early evening, the stores you visited became less ‘family oriented’ and more… personally intriguing.

Case in point, a very well placed lingerie store right on your way back to the parking lot.

The two of you had justified your little detour as a little ‘treat’ for yourselves after being so responsible with your purchases for the rest of the day, delusion feeding delusion as you both convinced yourselves of any reason possible to be there other than just wanting to go inside.

“It’ll only take ten minutes” you’d both agreed.

It did not take ten minutes.

The two of you paraded around the store for almost an hour, picking out certain things you liked to show them off to each other and promptly putting them back on the rail once you looked at the prices. Rinse and repeat.

Although, there was one singular set that you had kept coming back to throughout your window shop, a cute silk bralette and shorts ‘pyjama’ combo with a silk robe to match.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t come back to it at least every ten minutes, and by the third time Maddie was practically forcing you to pick it up and keep it on hand “just in case,” you decided you wanted to buy it before you left.

You were convinced you weren’t going to, but ever persuasive as she is, you followed her instruction either way.

And you did end up taking the set home with you.

It was a sizeable blow to your bank account, and Maddie’s victorious attitude as you got to the counter didn’t help your defeat, but you knew you were going to regret it if you didn’t.

You deserved to look sexy, to feel sexy, and above all else the small image in the corner of your mind of Buck’s face when he saw you in it was motive enough for you to shell out on yourself.

What was the harm really?

You stripped to try it on basically the second you stepped into your apartment, spending god knows how long parading yourself around in front of every mirror you could find.

You solidified that it was indeed a good purchase when the front door clicked open and Buck’s work boots thumped heavily against the wooden flooring, joined by his bag as he breathed an obvious sigh of relief at being home after a full 24 hours away from home.

“Babe? You here?” His voice practically sent shivers up your spine as he called out to you, setting your heart racing as you prepared yourself for the ‘reveal’ of your new purchase.

It really shouldn’t have been so adrenaline-inducing, but you wanted him to like it as much as you did.

“Hey baby, welcome home,”

It’s like Buck’s vision is trained to gravitate towards you with how fast his eyes flicker to you as you walk around the corner to stand at the top of the staircase.

He gives a very obvious once over when you’re fully in sight, letting out a low whistle as he kicks off his boots to start his ascent of the stairs.

“How was your day?” You walk down the stairs a few paces, still remaining a few steps higher than him to rest your arms over his shoulders in a hug.

“Long..” Buck murmurs, his hands falling to rest on your hips automatically as he stands below you on the steps, tilting his head back to maintain eye contact. “But definitely just got better..” Buck says with a small smirk, glancing over your attire again with a low hum.

You give a soft hum at his approval, practically preening at the attention he gives you as his eyes take a tour of your frame. “You like?”

Buck’s thumbs begin to trace small circles into your hips as you ask the question, his gaze shifting back up to meet your eyes with an almost offended tint that you’d assume anything else. “Love..”

“Yeah?” You lean forward until your noses brush together, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “I bought it today,” And another kiss, “Just for you,”

“And it looks so damn good on you..” Buck murmurs in response, his hands sliding down your hips to cup at your ass, giving it a firm squeeze through the silk as his lips return the chaste kiss.

You let out a short chuckle at his brash show off affection, fingers carding through his hair as your faces part. “Thank you,”

Buck presses another firm kiss to your lips, his tongue teasing against your lips as he pulls you closer to him. “Anytime, babe…”

His hands continue to trail further down until they grab the backs of your thighs, lifting you up with ease to carry you back up the stairs towards the bedroom.

The sudden change elicits a small gasp from you, one that quickly turns to laughter as you wrap your arms over his shoulders for stability.

Your laughs are echoed with Buck’s own as he kicks open the bedroom door to drop you onto the mattress, soft kisses pressed against your neck as he leans over you.

“Hi,”

The smile the spreads on his face is almost giddy as he speaks, his fingers tracing up and down your sides.

“Hi,” Your echo of a response is almost entirely a giggle as you run your hands over the curves of his neck and shoulders.

Your laughs seem to be contagious as the two of you continue to share soft chuckles and giggles, Buck’s fingers drifting across your skin and the silk covering your chest, leaning down to brush another kiss onto your lips.

“Missed you…” he says quietly, his eyes slowly closing as his nose brushes against yours.

“…missed you too,” The quietness of your voice mirrors Buck’s as you cup his face in your hands, leaning your forehead against his.

It was hard not to miss the love of your life when he worked such long hours.

Buck lets out a soft sigh at your touch, his fingers lifting up to brush away hair from your face, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“This new schedule blows…” Buck murmurs, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

“No kidding,” You wrap your arms over his back as he lies on top of you, his head buried into your shoulder with no consideration for his inherent need to breathe.

Buck’s breath is warm on your skin as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, a small smile playing at his lips as he just soaks up the comforting presence.

“Think you’re the only thing keeping me alive this week…” He murmured against your skin, a small shiver running through him as his lips gently brush against your skin.

You let out a small laugh at his comment, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple as your hands continue to roam the expanse of Buck’s back, carefully pressing and massaging into his shoulder blades until he’s pliant in your arms.

“You’re a pretty good pillow..” Buck jokes against your skin, his eyes slipping shut at the soothing, repetitive motion of your fingers. “…sexy pillow,”

Your laugh evolves at his murmured approval of your use as his personal pillow, and you revel in the positive attention it brings you, allowing your eyes to fall closed so you can focus of the feeling of him in your arms.

Buck can’t help but begin to laugh too at the sound of your amused chuckle, smiling against your skin. “Just what I need after today…” he gently tilts your head to the side with his hand to bite down gently on the skin in the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

“To come home and just unwind..” he whispers as he begins to nip and suck on your skin, slowly leaving behind a small trail of reddening marks. “And to have my beautiful girlfriend waiting for me..”

Buck’s gaze slowly travels up to meet yours as he pulls away to admire his handiwork, a small smirk on his lips.

“..With this sexy little outfit..” he adds with a small hum, his fingers gently tugging at the hem of the bralette as it sits snug against your chest.

“Don’t get me wrong…” Buck begins, his smirk widening into a grin. “I’d take you in anything, but when you get all dolled up especially for me I almost lose my damn mind…” He punctuates his words with a kiss pressed against one of the ripening marks, the redness slowly fading into a soft purple that would be a nightmare to cover up tomorrow.

The laugh you let out at his apparent enthusiasm is more of just a breath as his lips his your sensitive skin, with his hands moving slowly over your body, his eyes following their movements as they run up over your sides, your ribs, over the curves of your boobs, as he just drinks in the sight of you.

“You gotta have the most perfect body I’ve ever seen..” Buck murmured softly, almost adoringly as his gaze remained focused on your chest.

“…God..” he mumbled against your skin, leaning in to press a few, slow kisses at your collarbone. “I’m the luckiest man alive…”

His tongue flicks out at his lips as he begins to run his fingers teasingly under the waistband of your shorts, the other moving to gently cup one of your boobs through the fabric with a low hum.

You let out a soft hum of your own at the roaming of his hands and the languid kisses he leaves against your skin, your fingers carding through his hair, gently tugging at the scalp in a show of your responsiveness.

Buck’s body lets out a small shiver as your fingers run through his hair, his eyes closing again as a small smile comes to his lips at the soothing feeling. “Mmmm…” he mumbled, peppering the skin at the top of your breasts with more kisses, his tongue teasing out occasionally to dip down into the cleavage exposed by the v-neck of your bralette.

The kisses on your skin get a little bit sloppier as he slowly works his way lower down your body, occasionally letting out a low hum and biting down on your skin.

“Can we just stay in all weekend..?” Buck murmurs against your skin, pulling away for just a second to rest his chin on your stomach as he looks up at you.

“that sounds like a great idea…” You practically breathe out your words as you respond to Buck’s suggestion. God knows you’d been missing him all week, and god knows you wanted to revel in this moment for as long as possible now that he had a full 48 hours at home.

Buck’s face lights up with a wider smile at that, a small, happy laugh escaping his lips as he nods in agreement. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.” He murmurs, returning to his previous ministrations on your skin, his lips pressing down kisses as he lowers them downward to your navel.

Buck’s hands finally slide underneath your shorts to tug the silk down your legs, grabbing onto your thighs as his lips slowly trail lower and lower, his eyes lifting up to meet yours.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good baby..” Buck promised in a low grumble, his fingers squeezing gently into your skin. “I promise,”

[kkai-zen]

hihi ^^ can u pls write ab the bllk boys with a rlly tall reader! remember to drink water and take care of yourself ( ^ω^ )

hiii! love your request, and here’s my take on some of the bllk boys with a tall reader! thank you for being so so sweet, take care of yourself too! ♡ ‧₊˚

⤷ blue lock boys with a tall s/o!

⋆˙⟡ itoshi sae...

I feel like Sae would not care in the slightest if his s/o is tall. What he values in a partner has nothing to do with physical appearance, and much more to do with strength of character.

But regardless, he still loves admiring the length of your legs and arms, and finds your stature so elegant and picturesque. Sae’s masculinity isn’t fragile enough to be insulted by having a tall s/o, anyways.

You guys definitely make a badass couple, with your stature and Sae's countenance, and the paparazzi always has an absolute field day when they catch the two of you together.

⋆˙⟡ itoshi rin...

Rin realizes that he’s grown an appreciation for tallness after meeting you. He dislikes looking down at people when needing to talk, standing at 6’1”, so when you stand next to him for the first time without him needing to bend down, he realizes how nice it is.

In a way, it also makes Rin see you as an equal. Your height combined with your natural intellect, charm, and beauty captivates him, and he ends up falling head-over-heels for you.

You’re not ‘lukewarm’ like all the others, is what he thinks. You have a strong presence that comes from a perfect combination of strength, grace, and intelligence. You’re his equal, which makes you his perfect, ideal partner. 

⋆˙⟡ nagi seishiro...

I think Nagi would really enjoy having a tall s/o! At 6’3", he’s a giant, and he finds that constantly craning his neck downwards just to talk to someone is bothersome. Having a tall s/o makes it much easier for him to have conversations with you (and makes it easier for him to admire your pretty face).

For Nagi, it’s just naturally easier for him (the notorious sloth of a man) to interact with you because of your height, which sets the foundation for the rest of your relationship.

He also loves how his clothes fit on you! You don’t drown in them, but still manage to look cute. To him, your height only adds to your attractiveness.

⋆˙⟡ mikage reo...

Reo, canonically being into older, more mature women, is naturally drawn to your height. He sees you breeze by, absolutely stunning with your long, graceful limbs, while he’s sitting in a cafe one day, and immediately knows that he wants you to be his.

He's utterly enchanted by your confident elegance, and finds himself replaying the moment he watched you walk by over and over in his head.

He loves watching you do damn near anything, finding your height so attractive, and sometimes he’ll buy a small fortune’s worth of clothes for you to try on just to admire you. 

⋆˙⟡ michael kaiser...

Kaiser is a master at appreciating beauty and after meeting you, he’s instantly charmed. He spends the next couple hours asking his manager to track down your information, intrigued by your captivating looks that come from your statuesque figure.

He loves how easily he can spot you in tight crowds or in the stands at one of his games, and the fact that you (both physically and metaphorically) stick out to him makes him all the more drawn to you.

Kaiser sees your height as a facet of your beauty, making you that much more unique. He’s not looking for some run-of-the-mill partner, after all—just like his trademark blue rose, he finds a special beauty in you that he just can’t find anywhere else. 

[lover-of-mine]

Hello and welcome to Anna thinks they just kickstarted Eddie's queer arc and *coldplay starts to play* it was all yellow (and blue). (metas on the blue and yellow here and here if you feel like reading)

I feel like at this point I have made the point that I think Eddie's queer arc is gonna be yellow where Buck's was blue very clear (post on that here, more on the theory applied to buddie here), so I'm watching for any amount of blue or yellow around Eddie. The whole thing comes back to the way 704 is very blue and yellow and the climax of Buck's bi arc, the coming out scene since it's the one scene Buck chooses to come out, is also blue and yellow, but Buck himself is blue.

This actually starts in the locker room in 701 tho, but we have established that Buck is blue, so they are in the wrong colors. They're also in the wrong colors during the will reveal, which is interesting if they follow through it this particular symbolism the way I'm expecting them to.

The will reveal is interesting because they don't match their backgrounds the way Buck does in the coming out scene, but the backgrounds have the right colors, but I digress.

The thing is, the thing that I keep waiting to happen, happened. The sandy yellow shirt. Something about Buck's journey to blue, is that he is in darker shades of blue while Eddie is in neutral tones, mostly black, until he reaches a shade of blue that's basically the color of Oliver's eyes, so it's a brighter color.

So my working theory is that Eddie is gonna mirror that, and we will have Buck in neutral tones while Eddie finds his golden yellow, that right now I'm 90% positive will be the shade behind him in the coming out scene, but Eddie's arc will be lighter shades working up to the darker ones. And this is a promising start.

But I wanna talk about Eddie's arc on the episode. Because his arc is blue and yellow, but he's drowning in blue. Which is the wrong color. And not just because the uniforms are blue.

Something in particular that's intriguing me is the fact that they changed the waiting room of the hospital, so it is yellowish now, where it used to be a more neutral blue color.

Something else is the fact that this is the school from 504, an episode called home and away, that has "you're the guy who likes to fix things" conversation, where we actually discuss the way blood family knows you differently than a significant other. So we have a few s5 callbacks going on, and I feel like this will be a pattern, even though I don't think Eddie is in route for another full breakdown, I think deconstructing parts of who he is will have a lot of callbacks to his s5 arc.

The dialogue of the ambulance scene is very interesting too, because Eddie is talking about fixing someone's heart in less-than-ideal circumstances, and he actually manages to pull it off after some struggle. I'm probably reading too much into it, but the fifty/fifty on 2 attempts is making me 👀 because if we take this to the more metaphorical possible Eddie and his own heart, unless we are talking Buck, he failed all times, but it interesting to think Shannon vs Buck since Ana and Marisol where superficial relationships. Considering what we know, how young he was and the way his relationship with Shannon got to serious to fast vs the way Buck squeezed his way into his life and Eddie did take some leaps of faith in less than ideal conditions, I can see a symbolism hidden there.

The talk with Bobby is also interesting because of the whole yellowish setting and the implication that the issue can be traced to the mustache, and since we know the mustache is gonna be important for Eddie's character in the following episodes.

But the thing that had me screaming was actually the shop scene. I wrote a meta on this (you can read it here) but 911 uses blue and red for parenting issues. And the shop, the car the dad is working on, and the equipment are blue and red. And that makes sense, they are talking about parenting. Eddie is there as a father, at least at first.

And all of this is happening while Eddie is in white.

After they go outside, while Eddie is talking about being a father in a more detached manner, he is surrounded by the blue and red, even though the chair is yellow.

But while the dad is talking about his struggle understanding his kid, he is blue and yellow. This is interesting even though I don't want to sit here and say that Weston is queer just based on the fact that he's a cheerleader, because yes, the blue and yellow is used for Buck, but is also used for henren, and if we expand on the 911verse, it is also used for tarlos, so the metaphor there.

And attached to all the struggles Eddie has expectations that were placed on him, and specifically 517 where Eddie talks about his father not wanting to seem weak, and how that obviously affected the way Eddie grew up and how he moves on to defending Weston by saying he survived something he knows soldiers who wouldn't, we have something here. Because we don't have the focus on the red anymore once Eddie starts talking.

The green elements of the scene are interesting in the same way I said the orange is interesting about the birthday party (read that one here). Eddie is a green character, I feel like a lot of us associate him with army green, but if I'm right about the color theory we have going, Eddie can't live his life as a secondary color. That's where getting to his yellow comes in.

Eddie needs to move on from that. We talked a lot about the green army armor, with that jacket he wears when Shannon dies and when he leaves the 118 (first 2 pictures up here) so he needs to stop hiding behind the green. And the green is there, but it is out of focus, it's not supposed to be the main thing even tho it does take a lot of space in Eddie's frame. Mostly because you can see the yellow very clearly behind the dad, but not the green car behind Eddie, the edges are blending, which is good. He is moving in the right direction.

He also ends the episode drowning in blue again, which, yk, wrong color.

He's also in the same color he was in 506 after the whole kidnapping and yet another moment Eddie risks everything because there's a kid involved. But this time he can't go home to his kid. Someone give him Chris back right now (set on this parallel here).

So, since Buck's queer arc was blue and yellow, and Eddie just started an arc with those, I am choosing to believe they just kickstarted Eddie's queer arc.

That's all for today, if you read this I love you 💜

taglist (interact with this post if you wanna be tagged, or send me a message, just let me know):

@sparkedblaze @hermioneindisguise @eddiedisasterdiaz @mosaicstardust @stagefoureddiediaz @kejfeblintz @glasscities @angelcamael @sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @dangerpronebuddie @ijustdontlikepeople @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @joshwritesfics @lunarsolar1 @dingdongfries @wolfdeans @jesuisici33 @miles--to--go @hopefuldreamers-world

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 5

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

alice so hesitant at the piano

lol even the harpy thought it was shitty for agatha to snatch the main role

✨emoting through the pain✨ you know this dramatic bitch is living for it. and isn't it funny how she knows all the lyrics to lorna's ballad? oh wait not funny I meant painful and devastating.

rio honey it's just cymbals, you're not at coachella

no who am I kidding. you're doing amazing sweetie!!

GIRL.

I know this is cathartic for alice and all, but maybe they could have found a way to make it a tad less dramatic? help her out a little bit? huh, agatha????!?!

that's what I'm saying!! lol she's playing the triangle now

I told you rio can see it!

did I make a separate entry for the song so I can screenshot all the funny faces patti's making? yes, yes I did

and then alice just naturally replaces agatha at the lead? and her voice is so beautiful?? and she's crying and putting all her immense heart and soul into it????

my heart

patti at the maracas!

what in the george a. romero is that

you could go to therapy to learn how to recognize and fight the trauma that shaped your life. or you could do whatever this is.

ooh mama's angry

oh she's fierce. is it just me or is it hot right now? not talking about the literal fire

so cheesy. i llllove it

lol agatha was on the floor doing a grand finale and nobody watched it because alice was outperforming her. and lilia with the tambourine

and this kids is why you tell your mom right away about the gaping wound you got from a metaphorical harpy and you don't let it bleed until you pass out

just... look at agatha in all her deep seated trauma

the way she barks at lilia

the way she begs, she literally begs rio. don't take him away from me again.

and rio looks at her. intrigued, surprised. hurt. and she takes a step back.

"vulnus ab aqua curare", curing the wound with water. when nicky died, agatha was alone. she didn't have a potion witch with her. nobody had ever taught her any healing spells.

“Three of swords.” heartbreak, sorrow, grief. future!lilia witnesses the most devastating tarot yet

the way she looks at jen when the spell works

lilia's soft, oh so soft voice when she says, jennifer, look what you did.

a healer being a healer, no matter what.

the way agatha looks at rio, who didn't take the boy. not this time.

pointing at the saddest most pathetic soaking wet rat of a character: there she is, the love of my life

you guys know what comes next. see ya tomorrow!

go to episode 4 part 6