#[how do we rewrite the stars

[stellarspecter]

okay i don't know if the hyperfixation will hold long enough for me to actually write this but au where everything is the same but the waylon house is just a bit more structurally sound. max doesn't die and is like 'thanks for this guys, is that the whole party or?' and everyone just sort of looks at each other like. well we don't want to anger him so what can we say but yes. and so the nerds and max end up hanging out for a night in the waylon house and the worst thing that happens is grace chastity is tempted to have a beer for the first time (she doesn't though. but with max offering it's very hard for her to refuse. or focus lol) max keeps giving them weird backhanded compliments like 'wow you guys are way cooler than you look, how'd that happen' which is not the best but it's way better than being beat up for daring to be in his line of sight, so they'll take it.

so they all hang out for the night, max is like weirdly chill and friendly, eventually he leaves and they're left standing outside the waylon house like. ?? what the fuck??? did we just befriend max jagerman???? the nerds are still apprehensive considering pete still has a black eye, grace is still boiling with religious zeal and repressed lust, and steph still doesn't really like him, but they can't help but remember how he said that trying to prank him was the nicest thing someone's ever done for him. and that just can't be true, considering he's literally the star quarterback and the main character of hatchetfield high, but.... the fact that he felt like it enough says a lot, doesn't it?

so they decide to leave the prank footage to gather dust and figure this was probably the best outcome they could have hoped for. who knows what they'll walk into at school tomorrow? maybe max will become a friend.

[gracebethartacc]

Remember how I said the wishes being taken in my rewrite are a mass/kingdom wide amnesia? Yeah. What if tweaked the ‘Aster getting stars wish granted/Magnifico getting Star magic’ part of the plot a tinyyy bit and I used the forgetting part to be evil. What then.

[prosebushpatch]

Okay so I recently, finally, watched Wish and I have some thoughts. Overall, not as bad as everyone makes it out to be, but still has a lot of fundamental story problems and I've got to get them off of my chest. I'll mostly be focused on Magnifico because I think his motivations and arc largely represent the problem with the overall theme.

Okay so my biggest problem with Magnifico is his motivation. His tragic backstory. How on earth does he go from losing his whole family to thinking, the only way he can prevent that from happening again is to grant wishes? The logic doesn't track. It almost makes sense in his creating a kingdom where he protects everyone and "doesn't even charge rent," but it does not make sense with his wish granting. Having a great need to be control to make sure he doesn't lose anyone ever again can be a compelling motivation for a villain, where we see lines crossed that don't justify the intent, but in the movie, he's too self-absorbed to seem to have any actual care for the people of Rosas.

I think if the motivation was changed to something like Magnifico had once been a bright-eyed, enthusiastic wish granter who blindly believed all wishes were good but learned the hard way that that wasn't true could have been a better fit for the overall goal of the movie. Imagine that he granted a wish for a wicked person who used that wish to hurt others, or if Magnifico granted a wish but that wish ended up ruining the person's life because what they wanted wasn't what they needed (i.e. Remember The Princess and the Frog? Dig a little deeper) and that person could have went after Magnifico and blamed him for their troubles (harkening back to We Don't Talk about Bruno). This would be an understandable tragic backstory for Magnifico, and better explain why he's so careful about the wishes he grants. And, perhaps the reason he keeps the wishes he doesn't want to grant is to keep the people in his kingdom docile. No one will be angry with him for not granting their wishes if he makes them forget them and lose that drive and motivation, which makes more sense than the unexplained hording them like he does in the movie? Why does he keep them in the movie other than admiring the wishes? It doesn't make sense to me.

This would give Asha more of a reason to oppose him, if it's shown how his desire to not get hurt or to inadvertently cause hurt turned into a paranoia where he drains people of wishes to fly or play music that inspires others. And, as a side note, we need to see more of how Rosas is a kingdom of people who lack drive and motivation, where only those younger than 18 have that special part of them that inspires them to chase after a dream (something that Astor Rhymemaster touched on). Because that's the point of wishes, right? That's the point of the entire Disney canon. A dream is a wish your heart makes. That star can only get you so far, it takes hard work and determination. It's wanting something better in life, it's dreaming of leaving behind all you know to chase after a tangible light. It's finding a new dream, it's finding a new wish as you grow and learn about yourself and the world.

I don't think the movie Wish understood what makes wishes so important in Disney stories. You know what wishes do? They ignite change. It's not about getting what you want, it's about finding the courage to chase after something better. Ariel wants to be where the people are, but really she wants to be somewhere where others are willing to understand her and in the end, she finds that and makes amends with her father, who finally is willing to see her for who she is. Rapunzel wants to see the lights, and that desire pushes her to leave a tower she's been trapped in her whole life, learning that the world is not as cruel and cold as her abusive mother told her. Cinderella wants to go to the ball, to dance with people who treat her as a person and not a servant of cinders and ash. That wish is granted by a fairy godmother and gives her a hope that is worth fighting for, a hope that helps her reclaim what is rightfully hers; a glass slipper that fits only her and the love that comes with it.

Wishes inspire change. The movie should have been about that. Magnifico could have been right, that some wishes inspire negative change that can drag down multiple people. The kingdom of Rosas could have been so placid because change is scary. Maybe Magnifico could have convinced people, after taking their wish, that it wasn't worth it. Maybe the wish ceremonies could have changed so it wasn't portrayed as some sort of lottery everyone looks forward to, but Magnifico would grant wishes on the spot if he decided they were good and worthwhile, and he would lock away the wishes that would cause trouble and tribulations. 18 year olds could be enthusiastic to give him their wishes, thinking they were surely good and worth granting, only to forget their wish and be told that their wish would have only brought about their unhappiness, this would have justified a more solemn tone in the kingdom, setting up a world where people are mostly downtrodden, thinking their wishes are bad and pointless and they're better off without them. Imagine Cinderella or Rapunzel being told their wishes weren't good, reinforcing all the things their abusive families tell them, taking away that hope and courage to find something better for themselves.

Here's where the true conflict could come in. Asha could be onto this from the beginning, and her opening song could have been about this concern that the people who didn't get their wishes granted aren't willing to try at all. (Because, after all, why doesn't Sabino play music at all? Having that taken from him would take so much joy and creative expression from his life!) But why does Asha know something is amiss?

Simon.

Imagine that Magnifico has a strict rule not to ever share your wish with another person because then it wouldn't come true. It makes sense with our own superstitions, and then makes it so that no one knows anyone else's wishes. Maybe your best friend changes so drastically after giving up their wish, but you believe, like everyone else, that their wish would have only caused suffering. What can you do about it? Well what if Simon told Asha about his wish? What if Asha knew his wish wasn't dangerous and couldn't imagine a way that it could go wrong? That would give her a reason to doubt Magnifico and put more emphasis on how Simon has lost his drive like all the other adults in the kingdom. And it can also emphasize in the end that sharing your wishes and dreams with others can be a powerful thing. Just the act of sharing your dreams can inspire others to go after their own, and they can give you the encouragement to chase your wish too. Wishes inspire change, love gives you the courage to make it happen.

Imagine if the star boy used to be a human, who wished to help others and lost his humanity to do it. Imagine his wish confirms Magnifico's belief, that wishes cause suffering because star boy lost his tether to earth and is separated from the people he loves. Imagine how he foils Asha who also wants to grant everyone's wishes. Imagine him ensuring she doesn't make the same mistake he did while she gives him a reason to change again, to anchor himself to humanity again because he loves her enough not to leave for forever.

Imagine the movie confirming that, yes, change is scary. Chasing your dreams won't always make things better. You might fail more than you succeed and some wishes cannot coincide with each other, leading to grief and strife. But some wishes are worth it. Sometimes, chasing after something better and failing is worth leaving a worse situation. Sometimes taking that chance is worth it, and, like in all fairy tales, if you are kind and generous and act with love, that will make all the difference in the end.

Also, I know everyone wished for a Magnifico and Amaya evil power couple, but imagine if Magnifico was truly in love with Amaya, as he is in the movie, but that love is eventually his undoing. Like Amaya leaps in front of Asha, and Magnifico stops or redirects his attack because she's the one thing he loves more than himself and that is the weakness that Asha and co can take advantage of. Imagine Amaya keeping Magnifico in the mirror and he gets to dote on her from his imprisonment for forever. I'm just saying. At least 30 sickos like me would be into that. Imagine the depth it would give to the themes of love and change and wishing and how acts of love make all the difference.

Alright, I'll get off my soap box. I just really wish Wish could have been stronger because these fairy tales Disney is famous for matter. They really do. But the movie feels too stale and shallow and too much of a cash grab that knows the outline of a disney musical, but is unable to understand the heart of why they work.

[wardensantoineandevka]

I've been going through the massive DATV text file (the excel sheet one of ALL the text, and it's really interesting noticing entire quests that have been cut.

I'm sure when people finally get around to hearing about some of these cut scenes or beats (I'm thinking of the three I noticed relating to the Wardens and one scene with Lucanis and—from what I can tell, I might be wrong—had the Viper in it that had a totally different ending for Lucanis's questline), they'll be really bitter and annoyed about it because they're interesting scenes, but I personally am seeing some of those scenes and going, "Super interesting! But I can see exactly why they cut it, and I'm actually REALLY glad they did because it does not fit that well tonally or thematically with the rest of the storylines and the overall core theme. It works well in isolation and is compelling on its own out of context of the larger narrative, but when considered as part of the whole, it feels like it goes against the thematic heart of the story and what it's all together actually about, thus unfortunately does not serve the overall narrative that well. So, yeah, I agree with cutting or rewriting that."

But, then, I lament already people not being able to think about it that way.

[morganaseren]

Hi! I'd love to know more About We'll Lose the Grip in Waters Dark, the Poets must be out for Blood and the bodyguard au for the wip meme 👀

((I deeply apologize for how long this took me to get out. I work nights now at my apprenticeship, which means I'm on the weirdest sleep schedule... 😅))

Pairing: Leliana/Niamh Cousland

Rating: Teen

AU: We'll Lose Their Grip in Waters Dark Note: While this AU does deal with one of Niamh's worst worldstates, everything in regards to her relationship with Leliana will always be consensual. Honestly, Leliana goes out of her way to ensure Niamh's consent in whatever they do--not necessarily just in the bedroom.

In this scene, Leliana is lost in her thoughts while they're having sex. There's nothing especially explicit about the act itself, but I'm putting everything under a Read More due to length. There's also some mention of what Niamh's past was like before Leliana came into her life, but it's nothing graphic--a brief comment or two at best.

---

Leliana had remembered early on in their relationship how a simple hug had stunned Niamh into silence, words collapsing mid-sentence with the gesture. At once, Leliana had pulled back, wondering if she'd perhaps been too forward with her affection.

Upon Niamh's features, the surprise had been evident, of course, but Leliana also hadn't missed miss the flicker of quiet wonder and yearning in that gaze--perhaps from the simple knowledge that another person would ever seek to touch her with more than just lust in their hearts.

Past the depths of those bewitching eyes had been a soul so starved of such simple kindness, but beneath the oppressive environment of Kinloch Hold, Niamh had long conditioned herself never to ask for it, less it be misconstrued for more by the men and women who acted as both guard and executioner.

Her thrusts slowed then, unable to help the guilt that slowly crept into her. As Left Hand of the Divine, could she say she was any different from them? With an intelligence network that spanned nearly every corner of Thedas and the ability to command the death of any whom dared to seek harm against Justinia, Leliana was one of the most powerful women in the world. Did Niamh feel the need to chain herself to her out of fear that she'd be next?

"Leliana!"

And all at once, Leliana's worries faded at the simple call of her name. Her lover's usual soft-spoken voice had become high and tight with her arousal due in no small part to Leliana's ministrations.

Still, Niamh knew it was her there. Not some Templar or some faceless dignitary in the sea of contacts that Knight-Commander Gregoire had used her to curry favor with. Not the Left Hand. Not the terrifying spymaster or bard.

Just... Leliana.

And did Niamh not know her best?

"Leliana, please..." she begged again, voice breaking with the entreaty as blunt nails scrabbled helplessly against the back of her tunic. "I'm so close..."

"Shh... I have you," Leliana reassured, pressing her lips against the damp skin of the other woman's temple in apology for her distraction. "I have you," she repeated. "Just as you never need to hide your pleasure from me, you never need to beg from me either. I will always give you what you desire."

With silken heat still clinging to her fingers between the apex of Niamh's thighs, Leliana swiped her thumb in such a way that it immediately had the woman's body going taut beneath hers with a sharp gasp. Leliana couldn't help her own trembling as she felt velvet walls tightening and shuddering beneath her touch. She wound her arm behind Niamh, providing support as the mage's back arched instinctively with the rush of pleasure coursing through her. Leliana continued to work her fingers through wet folds albeit at a more languid pace, gently coaxing Niamh to the end of her release. It was only when her lover released the tightened grip around her shoulders and ceased shivering did Leliana finally pull out.

"Oh, good girl..." she rasped. She smiled when her words earned a lazy hum of delight at the praise. Leliana then peppered slow, tender kisses across Niamh's face, and the gentle laughter it caused was ever sweet music to her ears. "You did so well. Can you sit up for me? Ah. There we go. Good girl. I'm sure my desk can't make for a very comfortable surface after all that."

Leliana gently maneuvered Niamh's body to the side so that she could get her arms beneath her knees and shoulders more easily. With an effortless flex of muscles, she lifted her lover up and away from her desk. Carefully, she moved to seat them both into the chair behind her, settling Niamh atop her lap with the woman's calves draped over the lacquered arm.

"Are you alright?" she questioned, reaching out to adjust Niamh's robes, where it had settled awkwardly around her waist. Sheepishly, Leliana could admit that she'd been a tad too impatient to deal with the intricacy of the belts and knots there. As such, she had simply tugged and pulled at the fabric until her mouth and hands had unimpeded access to the treasure of soft flesh beneath. She could also see the marks dotting the area around Niamh's neck--all too visible now that enough time had passed--where Leliana had been unable to resist sampling the flawless temptation of skin before her. She was a delight in more ways than one, truly.

"I'm fine."

"You're certain it wasn't too much?" Her continued inquiries only drew a roll of those mist-grey eyes, but there was little missing the smile upon her lover's lips.

"You ask me that as if I didn't provide you ample incentive to take me here. Besides, your own attire didn't escape entirely unscathed either," Niamh remarked, reaching out to touch the vee of her tunic, where it had a more noticeable rip that split further down the middle. The lacing that held it together was now noticeably frayed, barely held in place by the eyelets that were threatening to split at the seams. "Hm. Leave this with me in the morning. Madame de Fer mentioned wanting to introduce me to her seamtress. I can ask if she'd be willing to mend this as well."

"As you wish," was Leliana's own response, unable to deny her, given how so rarely Niamh asked for anything. Granted, Leliana was somewhat distracted with the attention being given to her as Niamh gently adjusted the wide collar of her shirt. She quite enjoyed those small, exploratory touches. "Would you like anything from the kitchens?"

"Later perhaps." Niamh turned her head then to guide her arm back into the sleeve of her robes. "I don't think I can feel my legs ye--"

And then the other woman paused very abruptly, tensing in her lap.

Confused, Leliana's arms tightened instinctively around her, her senses immediately going on alert for anything that could have startled her lover. "Niamh?"

But the mage continued to stare ahead. "I... I think I've ruined your desk," she answered haltingly, disbelief evident in her voice.

Leliana blinked, letting the words settle over her before following Niamh's gaze to the object in question. Her desk had been unceremoniously cleared before she had laid Niamh atop it earlier. Before long, she had her lover's bare back against the wooden surface as they rocked against one another. At one point, however, she could remember feeling the faintest tingle along the nape of her neck during their coupling. It wasn't unlike how she could detect Niamh using her element of her choice out in the battlefield before the mage allowed lightning to strike.

It did in fact strike there as Leliana curiously eyed the fractal burns now etched across the wood grain, perfectly encompassing the shape of her lover's back in jagged asymmetry. She saw beauty in the chaos of its design, but she could also see the dismay settling into Niamh's features, and Leliana couldn't stand to leave her upset. She pressed her lips to the shoulder closest to her, still bare with Niamh's distraction.

"'Ruin?'" she repeated. "How could anything you touch possibly be less than sublime?" Leliana couldn't stop her smug grin. "If anything, I would consider it a compliment to my skills..."

And Leliana supposed such evidence would make working at her desk all the more enjoyable in the future.

Of course, her humor had earned her a grumble of discontent as Niamh hid her face against her neck. Leliana could feel the heat of the woman's blush against her skin, which charmed and amused her in equal measure, but she made no comment about it.

She settled her feet apart more firmly before rising in one fluid motion. Her smirk grew somewhat at the soft noise it elicited from Niamh, who was perhaps still surprised that she could lift her so easily.

"Come along, Mon Ciel Étoilée," she said, carrying her toward the side door of the office that opened into Leliana's personal quarters. "I do believe a warm bath is calling for us."

((I did not forget about your other prompts, friend! I promise! I just decided to separate them into two other parts since they were getting rather long! 😅 I hope you like this first one though!))

[kittenixie]

the catharsis of finishing my fucking 85k~ word fic. i am crazy but i am free.

[firstfcllen]

Changes to the blog:

url: sinnerswinners -> firstfcllen ( won the poll awhile ago )

multimuse -> single muse: shifting to just playing lucifer ( i've lacked the energy to due a full multi muse for awhile unfortunately all the other babies will be leaving the blog. may still rp others in private we shall see! )

[disillusionedjudge]

Long Overdue | closed reply

@tarnishedxknight - continued from here

Gylfie glanced over at Caelen in surprise, and tilted her head as she listened to him quietly. Her gaze softening. Mayhap it was long overdue for him to try and reach out to his sister, but... how could she blame him for waiting as long as he had? It was far from an easy topic to discuss, or to explain.

She reached out and rested her hand upon his with a gentle squeeze. "I wish I could help you," she said softly, "but I am afraid I am unsure how best to approach it. Mayhap..." A faint, thoughtful hum rose from her throat as her gaze drifted away. She was far more confrontational than she ought to be, and she knew that would not go well for her love if she were to try and encourage him just to get it over with. Ashelia was hurting, she knew, and she could not fault her for that. But... she had been willing to hear Larsa out, back in their time, despite her pain. Why would she not, at the very least, hear out her own brother? It would be something, though how she would take it, Gylfie knew not.

"Tell her, when she's ready, that you wish to talk to her about it," she suggested finally. "That way she knows you will discuss it, but you give her the chance to listen when she is ready, and it will give you both time to ready yourselves for it." She tilted her head slightly as she turned her attention back to him, and offered a reassuring smile. "I know her temper, but she was willing to listen to Lord Larsa. I do not see a reason why she will not listen to you. Just give her time to process what you have to say." Gylfie squeezed his hand again. "It will be alright, my heart. I am certain of it."

[martianbugsbunny]

Idk if I'm strong enough for either canon Kalluzeb or Kalluzeb getting destroyed

[vordenburg]

The Terran Romulan. The Green-Bellied Turncoat. The Pointy-Eared Pretender. 

These were the names people called her by now, among other worse things, although those particular slurs were restricted to being slung by the other last few remaining Romulans that didn’t die en masse with the rest of their brethren upon their humiliating defeat at the second Battle of Cheron lead and won by Khan Noonien-Singh during the second Federation-Romulan war. Their arrival to the battlefield too late. The senate’s decision after the decimation of their military forces and Remus’ destruction upon Khan’s forced entry into the Neutral Zone to enact his most brazen assault yet on that of Romulus itself being the universal agreement to commit mass suicide, to die with honor instead of disagrace, to spit in the face of the Khan Imperator’s offer to be subjugated under his regime being orders that hadn’t quite reached Sera and her fellow temporal operatives, who at the time had been a secret subdivision of the Tal Shiar tasked with slowing down Human progress and making advantageous changes to the timeline in the pursuit of Romulan superiority. 

No one trusted her. Not really.

It felt silly to think it. Was laughable, really. Trust being something that, for a Romulan, was either non-existent or the most sacred of bonds. There was no in-between in her culture of deceit and concealment.

No, that’s not true. Someone did trust her. Manu Noonien-Singh trusted her and Sera had loved him for it, so much so that she had given him not just a heart filled with intensity, passion, and every other strong emotion she carried around with her, but her true name as well. Their exchanges of truths and revelation of secrets the ultimate commitment to someone like her. And then he died — the way James T. Kirk had died in a different timeline: coldly, impersonally, cruelly.  The brilliant light fading from his kind eyes as she cradled him to her chest in her arms, bright red blood soaking through her shirt. And like before there was La’an, flooded with grief, trembling with anger, blinking back tears, applying pressure to the wound torn into his chest by the Gorn with the palms of her hands, telling him to look at her and that it was going to be okay, even though it obviously wasn’t. 

And then he was gone. 

“No…” 

“La’an, I—”

She expected La’an to blame her, to explode like the supernova that, in yet another timeline, destroyed her homeworld, but instead all she did was press her forehead to Sera’s, gripping her tightly by the shoulders, like she was afraid that if she let her go she would lose her, too.

“Don’t,” La’an ordered, her voice firm but gentle. “It’s not your fault. I’ve been there. It’s not your fault. Do you hear me?”

It was a long way from where they’d started, Sera thought, all of it fraught with regret over what she’d done and the suffering her actions had caused to the woman who now called her “family”. 

The only family she has left. 

Khan didn’t count. They shared a name, and his Augmented ichor, albeit diluted to the point where La’an did not possess any of his enhanced genetic abilities, coursed through her veins, but Khan was not her family. La’an had told him as much when she finally revealed herself to be a leader of the Resistance, a coalition movement of several species, including Sera of Romulus and Spock of Vulcan, who had been opposed to his reign of tyranny from the start.

He was a killer who felt no remorse, unlike Sera, who had found herself overcome with it upon allowing herself to feel it rather than compartmentalize it, along with every other pesky emotion that interfered with the mission back when the mission was to wipe out humanity, whereas now… now it was to save them — the people who looked upon her with fear and loathing and suspicion, unable to see what La’an and Manu saw. 

Of course, the only other exception, along with the Noonien-Singh siblings, was Spock. S’chn T’Gai Spock, to be specific. A name, much to her amusement and La’an’s annoyance, only she could pronounce, the Vulcan dialect not so different from her own native Romulan tongue and its variations, some of which, they surmised one evening in the science lab, were an offshoot of the ancient ancestors who bore them both. 

With Spock’s offer to make himself available to her, Sera had learned that it was okay to walk in two worlds but to belong in neither. That she didn’t have to commit to being Terran or Romulan. She could simply just exist. It was harder for him, Spock truly being two halves of a whole with a (dead) Vulcan father and a (safe) Human mother, but on his own personal journey of growth, he had found that he was more than the sum of his parts, that self-acceptable enabling the hybrid to evolve into someone that Sera often sought out when she was struggling to strike a balance between who she had become and the strict Romulan moral code she was raised on regarding who is a friend and who is an enemy, that clarity of what is right and what is wrong no longer applying to a world that had become grey instead of black and white . The understanding he offered invaluable to her. 

In exchange, though he had insisted one wasn’t required, Sera had shared her species’ technique of balancing logic and emotion. Showed him sterility could hinder as much as help. It was something that Spock had largely forgone, leaning into his Vulcan side as per societal expectations, and to control his own anger over everything that had happened, including the complicated loss of his father, whose head Khan had struck from his shoulders on the steps of the Vulcan Science Academy in front of a crowd that contained his wife and son, Amanda and Spock. The act separating the Humans (and Human Augments) of Earth, renamed Terra Nova, and the Vulcans of Vulcan, replacing mutual peace and prosperity with an oath of fealty as the pacifistic, scientifically-minded race of astoundingly intelligent and sensitive beings were subjugated (“united,” Khan had called it) under the rule of the Khanate of Earth and the Imperial Starfleet, whose totalitarian mission was to conquer the galaxy under his iron fist..

Sera, who had found solace on Vulcan at the time by posing as one, saw right through his transparent speech. He wanted to enslave the stars, not save them. He was Death, destroyer of worlds, and anyone who dared oppose him would feel the full force of his wrath. 

That wasn’t how or where she and Spock had found each other, though. Her confession that she had been there that day and bore witness to Khan’s unending brutality came later, a lot later, after La’an had offered her a place aboard the ISS Puget Sound as her Chief of Security, the position she once held on the USS Enterprise before moving on and up (in terms of rank, anyway) to the USS Farragut to serve as first officer to James Tiberius Kirk. 

The real James Kirk. 

James Insane-Middle-Last-Name Kirk who Sera had shot dead in another life, only to gloat about it, bragging over the achievement that she had been the one to kill (a version of) Starfleet’s most famous captain. (A captain that, in this universe, had been stripped of rank and moved from prison planet to penal colony to prison ship for his opposition to Khan’s rule.) Just thinking about it makes her feel sick, her cheeks turning green as a wave of nausea flips around in her belly. That was then. This is now. With her mantra — Manu’s mantra — coming to mind, Sera forces herself to swallow the bile in her throat, grimacing as she chokes on the taste, her face abruptly turning to the side as she splutters and sobs with unimaginable grief before sagging against Manu’s chest just beneath his chin. 

“Mr. Scott, beam us out. Beam us out now!” were the last words she heard before everything went dark.

When her eyes reopen, she’s greeted by the overhead fluorescent lighting of sickbay, blindingly white, with Doctor McCoy, better known as Bones, peering over her as he applies a hypospray into the shell of her right ear. She’s about to ask what happened, but before her mouth can even form the words all of it comes back to her in violent flashes of red, yellow, and shades of green.

They had been fleeing from Khan. Trying to regroup. The Puget Sound needed time for Montgomery Christopher Jorgensen What-A-Mouthful Scott, more affectionately known by the crew simply as “Scotty”, to repair her engines and other starship necessities like weapons and shields. His attack leaving them stranded in space — Gorn space. Not that they knew it. Gorn territory was ever-expanding and though Manu, being the self-proclaimed expert on the bipedal reptilian species, had mapped out as much of their hunting grounds as he could, not even the elder Noonien-Singh could have predicted, much less warned of, the arrival of a Gorn raider ship before it was too late. 

Beaming aboard the ship was a suicide mission. Sera had told him as much, but Manu being Manu had only smiled and kissed her before stepping up onto the transporter pads, his trusty Gorn-dispatching sword strapped to his back. 

“I have to do this,” Manu had said, willing her to understand. “I’m the only one who can.” His experience outlasting them for six cycles as a boy coupled with his personal crusade against them throughout his adult life inspiring confidence in his capabilities, but Sera could see the fear behind his eyes. That never went away and after the ordeal he endured, Sera had to admire his courage to face such a terrifying enemy again and again. And it was never once about revenge. No, it was always, always, always about helping people, sparing them from sharing his fate. His unconditional compassion the very reason Sera was still alive today.

“You’re not the only one,” Sera insisted, taking her place beside him. “Where you go, I go. Remember?” Unholstering her Romulan phaser, Sera powered it up in preparation, its sole setting that of a killshot. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I’m coming, too,” La’an said, appearing before them in her own tactical uniform, and wearing a look that brooked no argument, which Manu knew better than to protest against. After all, La’an was just as protective of him as he was of her, maybe even more so, considering she had spent over half of her life convinced she’d lost him when they’d lost their parents. A team of three other security officers followed behind her. “Mr. Kyle, if you please.”

“Aye, Captain. Beaming you down in three… two…”

The memories get murkier from there, but Sera wades on through. Sees herself blasting holes through lizardlike bodies, painting the ship’s walls yellow with their blood. Manu striking off a Gorn head and having to use all his might to do it, the physical exertion leaving him breathing hard. La’an unused to the stifling atmosphere aboard the starship, wiping blood and sweat and grime from her brow as they ventured deeper into the bowels of the ship, fighting their way to command central. Sera’s ears pricking up to the sound of strangled wails and terrified cries. All three of them investigating, only to discover a cell full of captives — men, women, and children. La’an contacting the Puget Sound for immediate evacuation. The Gorn surrounding them, hissing and clicking and spewing their infectious venom. A skirmish like no other. Primal. Instinctive. Unrelenting. It’s predators versus prey and neither the Gorn or the trio of crew from the ISS Puget Sound know who is which until Manu takes a wound that was meant for Sera, and all she can do is watch as his guts are yanked out of him.

“Judging from that look on your face, I’m guessin’ you don’t need me to tell you what happened,” Bones commented as he waved a dermal regenerator over her skin, absent of his customary cranky attitude as he did so.

“Where’s La’an?” Sera asked him, sitting up and swinging down off the biobed, uncaring that she’s missing half of her left ear or that her shoulder is dislocated or that her cheek is cut wide open, a trickle of bright green pouring out of it. 

“In her quarters,” Bones supplied, his eyes narrowing as he watches her. “Goddammit, Sera! Would you sit back down?” he grumbled, his tolerance for impatient patients next to none.

“I have to see her,” Sera explained as she made her exit, half-expecting Bones to chase after her, medical instruments in hand, nagging her about his duty of care as a physician, no matter how big a pain in the ass Romulans, like Vulcans, can be. But instead all he did was sigh in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“You get back here the second you’re done, got it? Don’t make me come and find you.”

Upon arriving outside La’an’s assigned quarters, Sera stiffened. The sound of agonized screaming and the breaking of furniture letting her know exactly what she’s in for as she overrides the lock on her door and slips inside, sealing it shut again behind her. The oriental vases that once decorated the shelves are shattered completely, just like the glass coffee table they used to play Mahjong together while drinking kali-fal. Plants have been upended. Lamps broken. Trinkets wrecked. And in the center of the chaos is La’an pacing back and forth like a lion in a cage, looking for something else to unleash herself upon, but all that’s left is Sera.

“I have to go back.”

“What are you talking about?” La’an asked, not understanding. Her rage morphing into confusion and concern.  “Go back where?” 

“In time.” Something that she hasn’t been able to do since Romulus found a new ruler in Joachim, Khan’s right hand man, who gifted him the planet after the Augments sacked it, stealing their technology, including their plasma weapons. “The Department of Temporal Alterations on Romulus has the device I require to do it, but…”

“Romulus is a no-go zone.”

Sera gave a shrug. “You can’t turn back the clock. But you can wind it up again.” It was one of the first lessons she learned as a time traveling assassin. “Commander Charvanek and Sub-Commander Tal can take me there. No one knows their way around the former Neutral Zone like them. We just need a big enough to distraction to draw Joachim's attention away from the drop zone. And since Krinn still owes me a favor or two... I figure he and I can work something out. Khan doesn't know about the technology and even if he did he'd never be able to access it. The security system wouldn't allow it.”

“Imperial Starfleet knows your tricks. You’ll be shot out of the stars before you can get boots on the ground, you know that,” La’an informed her, walking through the wreckage. “I’m not sanctioning this.”

“Well then,” Sera started with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your permission.”

“Sera.”

“What are we even doing?”

“Surviving.”

“And what about living? Sure, we’ve had moments of it, but this war with Khan is unwinnable, and even if it wasn’t by the time it’s over there won’t be a world to live in. Not like there was before. That is what we’re fighting for, isn’t it? The way things used to be before Admiral Pike made the wrong call, not just with the Romulans but with the Botony Bay.” 

“It was a grievous error in judgment,” La’an stated terseley, her tone indicating the words she does not say: It was stupid. He should have known better. It got him killed. “One that he paid for with his life,” she reminded Sera, referring to the reactor explosion that had killed a number of others as well, people that Pike had tried (and failed) to save while she struck a deal with Khan, agreeing to join him in exchange for him saving the lives of those who were still left to save onboard, including Spock and Samuel Kirk, both of whom now served with her on her own ship: a gift from Khan that she’d christened the Puget Sound II in honor of her fallen family, the starship Imperial Starfleet’s finest after her flagship the ISS Khan’s Wrath. But where Khan had intended for her to use it to do harm, La’an had used it to help, the vessel an essential resource to the Alien Underground and the Resistance. 

“I never thought I would say this,” Sera began, hefting out a sigh and settling her hands on her hips, “but… the galactic universe needs the Federation. It needs—”

“—hope,” La’an finished for her, fresh tears stinging at her eyes.

Sera nodded. “I used to hate Starfleet for its shining optimism. On Romulus, I was raised to believe that it made you weak and foolish, but I realize now how wrong we were. It was never a weakness. It was strength.”

The Federation sought knowledge and understanding. Khan sought power and domination. The Federation charted the unknown to explore strange new worlds. Khan charted the unknown to conquer new territory. The Federation embraced new civilisations. Khan made them bend the knee. The Federation taught that if you could find a way to empathize with an enemy then they could one day become a friend. Khan taught that if you tested him then you would feel his unbridled fury.

“If you change the timeline, you and I will be enemies again,” La’an whispered, averting her eyes at the crack in her voice. It wasn’t a reason for Sera not to go through with her plan, but it warranted pointing out all the same. “You’ll remember all of this, but I won’t.”

“Which is why I’ll use what I know to make sure it never happens again,” Sera promised. She then closed the remaining distance between them, extending the arm that she still had complete use of, and out La’an reached with her own, the two women clasping each other by the forearm, a Roman handshake. “As for you and me, I won you over once — twice, if you consider the time you thought I was just a sad conspiracy theorist believing in little green men from Mars,” Sera laughed. “I have every confidence that I’ll be able to do it again someday. Time is my speciality, after all.”

Grudgingly, La’an gave a snort. It wasn’t Sera’s finest hour, no, but it was where it had all began. And until Sera could make good on her irritatingly charming promise, it would be where it ended, at least as far as La’an was concerned. Her fakery of her death at the Noonien-Singh Institute of Cultural Advancement to cover her tracks the last time La’an would see her until years later when rumors of an all too familiar Romulan brought the ISS Puget Sound to Freecloud to chase down a lead that would eventually bring her to Sera.

Sera who had pretended not to know her. Sera who had her convinced that she was the prime universe counterpart of the Sera she had met in 21st century Toronto. Sera who had joined La’an because it was the only chance she would ever have of saving her people and her homeworld, if not in this life then another. Sera who had initially only gone along with her to finally get her shot at Khan. Sera who had agreed to help because she knew what La’an was capable of. Sera who pissed her off. Sera who made her smile. Sera who had come through for her and for her crew time and time again. Sera who had changed so much. Sera who had gone from being a rationalization (the enemy of my enemy is my friend) to a true ally who was loyal to her. Sera who loved her brother and became her family, too. Sera who was willing to sacrifice herself for the hope of a better tomorrow. 

“We have our work to do.”

[astral-athame]

What Kind Of "Hot" Are You?

drunk girl in the bathroom hot

you're both wasted, she just somehow does it so much better. you're crying, about something your stupid ex did or said. and suddenly she appears, looking like an angel aside from the slight sway in her step. she's helping you our of your slump on the floor when you grow pale and catastrophy strikes. you're the most disgusting you've ever been, and still, this stranger holds your hair and rubs soothing circles in your back. gives you a breath mint and sits you back against the wall, asking what happened. you tell her, and her glittery, perfectly made face turns sour. with her heels in hand, she loops your arm around her shoulders so she can help you walk to an uber she called for you. your ex says something snarky to you in passing on the way out, and for her it's the final straw. she whirls around, fire in her eyes and a set in her brow and she slaps him hard across the face. calls him a jerk or a dick or something like that, you can't remember, you were busy smiling at the stunned look on his face as she drags you both outside. before you get home, she gives you a hug and kind words in a bubbling voice and you're thankful for her. thankful there are people out there who look out for people like you, who stand up for people even when they might have trouble standing themselves.

Tagged by (stolen from): @southern-belle-outcasts Tagging: Anyone who wants to take it <3

[aidanchaser]

may I inquire about your presentation that includes loveybug? :0 🫶🏻🥰

YES!

I just posted the first four slides bc that's what i prepared tonight

but anyway it's a party my friend hosts annually for her birthday. we had to pause for covid and other friend group drama but it's back and so i've decided to present on the lovesquare (which is not actually a square!) and the lovesquare wouldn't be complete if I didn't end with the wonderful creation of loveybug!

[ducknotinarow]

Stolas - Mun talks about the Muse

| Mun talks about the muse. Send one of the following to ask the mun… (please specify muse for multis)

STOLAS!!! I feel it’s no surpise I still love and adore this character. Stolas is just such a great character I love his design, his VA is so good too his singing voice and delivery just sells it for me. Turtle a top favorite character of mine. So picking him up as a muse was a no brainer cause how could I not? Every episode he is in just makes me love him more and want to write him more and more ;3; I just ca not get enough of him ;3;

✍ Favorite thing about writing the muse?

His way of speech for one, since Stolas comes from a royal background I’m very particular in how I present his speech patterns. Stolas is very clearly a character that only knows how to speak from what he’s learned in other words Stolas dosen’t know casual conversation style of speak. He only knows a more proper way to do so. Of course, he has picked up on things over time but from the fact he still speaks this way even around the ‘lesser’ demons it’s very clear.

Stolas is altogetherjust a fun character to write and that I relate to as well on many things, I like his personality as well he’s buddy but a sassy bitch to boot as well.

👀Favorite thing about the muse’s appearance?

Everything uwu Stolas has a very pretty design. He’s got this dark blue and black coloring to his feathers and talons that fade into each other in a nice soft gradient the red eyes that glow and pop out again the blue and his usual purple pallets. I really love his tails fathers as well Stolas is just a very pretty easing and it’s very eye catching for me. I love that his top eyes sort of act like eyebrows it just makes for a unique look on his face expressions since sometimes th top set of eyes are slightly different in look from his main ones.

🌌Favorite alternate version of the muse?

I don’t really have alternate versions, I mean there are different takes based on the verse I’m writing for but even at that Stolas is still well Stolas. Even it’s the new Stolas and Dice au we have there isn’t really a difference in Stolas himself.

💕Favorite ship for the muse? 

All the ones I got with Kenzie for my Stolas uwu

As we know I’m obsessed with Stolas x Blitz I have be a loyal passages on this ship since the start! And I am never getting off this boat!! I truly see Stolas and Blitz as soul mates and star crossed lovers ;3; Blitz being this rough and tough imp so used to being alone and seen as unlovable with Stolas someone who craves to love another with all he has because he so lonely? It’s so good I love them so much they are so fucking stupid as well TOT

Stolas x Dice cause well two pathetic purple men uwu nah this cross over was truly fun to test, I don’t really know much about cup head XD I watched others play it a bit and only watched one episode of the Netflix series. Yes it was the Dice episode so I could have some idea about Kezzie’s muse XD But you know what I am a fan of? Old movies with character types like Dice that I just know Stolas would drool over. That old school charm and class it’s easy to mealt the romantic Stolas is. Besides I like that they sort of had a simallir means of trying to show off to the upper class of demons they were doing fine. Dice by being around a roya demon and Stolas by being seen on the arm of another after it got out he not only divorced Stella but his ‘imp boyfriend dumped’ him as well. Only for the pair to become real friends in the end and soon fall in love even ;3;

Stolas x Shane XD at first I too was a hater BUT Kenzie convinced me u-u Shane was just too cute to ignore ;3; and I think it’s nice for Stolas to be able to in a sense move on ;3; with someone who matches what he likes but also can match Stolas’ vibe in the same vain ;3;

💔Least favorite ship for the muse?

XD I guess any Stolas with female ships sorry buuuut even before it was cannon I already saw Stolas as a very gay man uwu

💢Something about the muse that annoys you?

That Stolas spends so much time elf reflecting he seems to forget not everyone sends the same amount of time having personal refection on their actions and emotions. Stolas is very much someone who likes to avoid conflict and internalizes everything so there’s just no way for others to even understand where he is coming from Stolas can very much be blind sided by Stolas because he has these habits. It’s annoying because I hate the miscommunication trope XD and Stolas is perfect for said trope because of these habits damn this stupid beautiful bird XDD

😈Worst thing you’ve ever done to your muse? 

Hmmm make his mother leave his life and him never really know who she is outside of her name which he used when naming his own daughter after since Stella wouldn’t care uwu

Have him constantly mix alcohol with his depression pills.

Have Bliz be his biggest heart break depending on the verse of course uwu So now he second guesses everything about himself wondering if those traits are truly turn offs for others now uwu

😂Funniest thing that’s ever happened to your muse? 

Mmmm I would say when Stolas and Dice had a fight over who the better love interest is for Gabrielle he told Dice to sleep on the couch only to come back and grab their head because well it’s funny since he took te half that can still basically talk when he grew tried of Dice being so clearly wrong XD

The second thing I can think of that would be funny event to happen to Stolas would ofc be when Dice confessed his feelings because Stolas had no idea what Dizzy meant, just Dice had this whole heart felt speech and set up this very romantic moment with Stolas in the was favorite place in the garden. Only for Stolas to be all “wut ._.”

Super old ask but when Blitz found the dead mice in Stolas’ freezer XD just cause I dunno it was dumb that Stolas even showed blitz how he eats them whole XD I dunno it’s just the expression describe from Blitz was so like confused yet like answered so well why Stolas can take his dick so easy.

💡 What inspires you to write the muse? 

Mostly just my general love and intrest for his charter. But also his songs from the show cause I listen to them on repeat Spindel please get the show versions of the songs on Spotify PLEASE TOT I need to hear Bryce sign more often than I already do XD also anytime a new episode drops? My muse for Stolas tends to sky rocket a lot XD Cause I wanna like play with what had been shown of him. Depending on the verse s well it can help me add ideas on to on goings.

I gotta admit I don’t fully know where Stolas and Blitz stand when we started to write them I believe only up to Ozzy’s had come out? And we had this whole thing with Stolas trying to give Blitz the book with out the deal. But Blitz took it much like a break up and demanded to see Stolas ;3; ((Also dang we were very close to cannon there XD))

With Dice it’ all the more hell’s lore and such that’s gets applied since Stolas stays n his position in that verse.

With Shane now Stolas has been stripped of his power and position. And basically starting his life over ;3;

📷 Favorite picture/screencap of your muse?

📑 Favorite part of your muse’s backstory? 

That the butler Stolas had with him as a child is the closest thing he has ever had to a real family in a sense. It’s the same imp I have having beef with Shane for like no reason other than he just is waiting for the incubus to hurt Stolas both because of Shanes demon type and cause of what happened between Stolas and Blitz.

that all of stolas’ life has been planned out for him and for a long time Stolas was generally excited about that and wanted nothing more than to live up to the exceptions that were set on him to the point he was trying his best to even make the life him Stella and Octavia in the least a comfortable one even if it wasn’t the life he wanted for himself it was the one given to him and he tried to live it. XD because it gives a lot of angst potential

📝 Favorite headcanon for your muse? 

- Stolas talks and names all his planets and personally cares for them all himself. Stolas love for his plants is so large he spends time talking to them like holding real conversations with his plants. He also has named every single plant.

- Stolas knows multiple languages because well this man has nothing but time to read and learn so he has learned all of earth’ languages seeing how rituals to summon him are possable makes sense he would know other ones so he can speak with the humans who end up summoning him.

- Stolas can not cook, the only thing he can handle making up for himself is cereal and that’s his like favorite depression meal to enjoy since well it’s easy to put together uwu

- Stolas is such a lover of romance he reads and watches it he even has his own secret romance novel in the works that’s he keeps to himself of course uwu depending on the verse his romance story is based off whoever he is dating uwu

-Stolas hates tea bags, he only dose loose leaf tea uwu

😒 Is there anything canon about your muse that you ignore? 

Uhhhhh I guess the rocky relationship he has with his daughter outside that I don’t think I ignore much?

🔮 What do you see in your muse’s future? 

This varies of course depending on the verse, with Blitz and Stolas I like to think it will be them learning to make thier relationship work and uncaring for the outside factors. Stolas the rules he grew to follow and for Blitz the social norms and his own hang ups holding him back, They wont change anything mind you but they will at least be able to enjoy thier own life together ;3; uncaring what others think o the relationship ;3; I like to think Stolas will get his powers and position back and that will even help protect Blitz’s businesses. Stolas likely coming up with good reason for why it should be allowed and him. Sense being like an over seer of it s Blitz would get a new stone more related to Stolas uwu

Dice: Wth Dice of course I feel Stolas will avoid having his powers take from him, having Dice as his right hand maybe he is able to hide evidence from Stolas transaction with Blitz, because eventually Blitz is hired by the devil so maybe that whole deal I what protects Stolas unlike the real trail. So Stolas is able to keep his status and power making it so I can’t be taken allowing him and Dice to live out thier lives in comfort uwu

Shane we discussed they are in a time where Stolas is stripped of power and status after a run in with Blitz who Stolas is with at the time cause he is in just such a state of shock. Of course he will eventually go back with Shane and soon Stolas will get a job at the flower shop that Jas works at and sort of just learn how to live a normal life. Because well now he has to learn how to do simple tasks that he never had to before. So not only is Shane there to help Stolas through this big change in his life but he’s there to help Stolas adjust to a whole new life.

🔥 Unpopular opinion about your muse? 

We’ll be here all day if I answered this i will say this. That well Stolas is in fact a privilege Richy demon in hell’s society he isn’t like Stella or her bother who uses that as an excuse to act how he wishes. Yes he has bad habits that he isn’t even aware of himself but in part that is because of how he grew up and guess what? Sometimes you are not aware of your own habits.

💭 Favorite memory of the muse? 

Hmmm when Blitz got Stolas a bush and set it out on his door step for Stolas to find well the imp hid and watched Stolas get it because he was too nervous about how Stolas might react ;3; Blitz is so guarded and plays to the tough guy act that the fact he second guessed himself so much about if a gift Stolas would clearly love would be accepted by him at all? ;3; nah I love it it’s so sweet

😩 Hardest thing about writing the muse? 

Honestly? I don’t find Stolas hard to write at all.

⌨ What’s a situation you’ve always wanted to RP with the muse? 

Stolas working at imp with Blitz uwu maybe he even is able to ‘disguise’ himself as an imp for a time to help keep things lowkey. Basically imp stolas uwu just him and Blitz going about the change in everything together now since well Stolas is in this situation because of Blitz yet he still picking to stay with them even if he has to live in hiding. Only really able to be his full self in the office when no clients are around or when at Blitz apartment

As you know I’m here for Stolas flower shop and Shane tattoo artist au uwu XD just need to start things up for all of that

🎭 How similar are you and the muse?

Very. I deal with depression and anxiety and Stolas handles his own in ways that I myself to, I stick to a image of sorts and live by it like yes this is who I am focus on this part of me only. But deep down I’m going through it all the time. I’m very good about making it appear all is fine and ima all good and there isn’t anything going on.

I very much a self refection person like Stolas, i spend a lot of time with my emotions and my thoughts and i often kind of forget others don’t do this either. I only recently started taking pills for my mental health and am still getting used to that being part of my life, but I did take it into consideration to reach out about maybe doing so after seeing Stolas takes them.

Stolas frantic behaviors are very much in tune with myself as well XD The way I can spiral out of control how I will do a sort of laugh but its me just still trying to keep it all together XD

Of course a love for space as well I’ve always been a space ace after all my shoes even say so uwu Stolas being a big reader as well I love to read and i like books that I can escape into as well because well sometimes that’s all you need a few hours in a different life uwu.

[disillusionedjudge]

@tarnishedxknight

Just say this isn't goodbye for good. That there are more good nights to come. That you will, in whatever form... think of me.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

thank you guys so much for all the support last night. today was a much better day, and all the kind words and virtual hugs helped a lot!

I'm also supposed to be getting some sugar free treats and shower steamers in a package tomorrow so I'm looking forward to a nice self care night after work haha

bout to try a new scent/flavor pod on my water bottle, to stay hydrated while I pump some more things into the queue! once I get down below 100 requests, my brain gives me permission to recopy my list down... requests are currently at 118, so, we're getting there!

I can't WAIT to reopen the askbox and get some new things... uwaaaah <3 <3 <3

[pseudowho]

The Silent Stars Go By

On the night of October 31st, Nanami Kento feels his death approaching. Knowing you are on the battlefield with him, and knowing he cannot die without showing you how he feels, he seeks you out...and subverts destiny.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, "last night on Earth" smut, truly desperate, frantic, semi-public, Shibuya ending rewrite

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento knew he was to die, on October 31st.

He was no arithmancer. A pragmatist at heart with a mathematical streak, he had, however, carried his barely living friend to safety, found the bodies of many others, punched a young man to death, and lived to tell the tale. The numbers divined great danger ahead, and, by the time a pink-feathered songbird had sung the perish song of Satoru Gojo, Kento could not deny the maths.

Kento could suddenly see no distant future for himself, as he once could. And yet between then, and now, there was one stark similarity; what future Nanami Kento did see, contained only you.

Behind his eyes flashed a montage of memory-- of midnight laughter-filled dinners at the Konbi. Of shielding you in battle, and you shielding him in return. Of you sitting on his lap, stitching his wounds with utmost care, before your reverse-cursed technique had fully developed. Of falling in love with you, and denying himself joy for believing he may give you none.

Being around you was agony. Being away from you was worse.

"I'll be heading underground," he had intoned to Nitta and Nobara, taking in their girlish features for the last time with a stab through his belly, "after I catch up with someone. Stay safe. Don't sacrifice yourself."

He was a hypocrite. He knew this. He would walk to the gallows, proud, if only he could take you in his arms and cry his love for you, first.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Looking out over the city, having heard Yuuji's cries for 'Nanamin' only a few minutes earlier, you did not know you were being desperately searched for by Kento. You had determined yourself to find and follow Yuuji, the boy without protection.

The night breeze whipped at you, unhindered by walls and trees, on the roof of one of Shibuya's tallest buildings. Turning to leave, you felt a familiar warmth approaching. The man you loved opened the stairwell door, squeaking on its pivot.

Missing his suit jacket and tie, with his sleeves rolled up, he thrummed with raw, uncontained power. Something feverish stormed within his eyes as he looked to you. His steps were slow, and considered. The quiet calm of his voice was deliberate, soft.

"Kento, what...what are you doing here? Is that blood? Oh god, you're bleeding-- let me heal you--"

"Stop. It isn't mine. Just listen for a moment."

"Isn't yours? Then one of the others? We should get them to Shoko--"

"--I need you to listen, now--"

"--we haven't got any time--"

"I love you." The air fell still; a puff of blossom in suspended animation. You had not realised you were holding your breath until Kento's steps caught up to you, and his hands grasped yours. A melancholic certainty rolled off him. Flicks of blond fell over his forehead, that fervour still gripping him; gripping you.

"I love you. You are the purest truth I know. The warmest light. Anything I am, and anything I could have been, is at your mercy, and always has been."

The gut-churning adrenaline you had felt for the fever-pitch of battle was suppressible, before Kento's impassioned promise. That dam broke inside you, and the terror and adoration and injustice heaved out of you in one great sob. You needed his body flush to yours. Public decency took a back seat. So many years of restraint and doubt slid away.

You looped your arms around Kento's neck, one hand grasping his shoulders, and the other sinking into the back of his hair. Kento almost broke, himself, but couldn't; not yet. He had to show you. Needed to show you.

You felt him pull your head away from his shoulder, and you resisted, until his fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head. You were nose to nose. You could feel his heart booming in his chest, fresh from a fight you had not witnessed.

"If this is my last chance," Kento whispered, his nose stroking yours, "will you let me take it?"

"...what...what do you know...that I don't? Kento--"

"Please." Kento growled, his teeth gritted. You felt the twitching contractions of his belly, his hardening cock pressing against you. You couldn't resist his need to control this, and take what he needed, even if you wanted to. Your breaths ached in your chest. Silent, glossy-eyed, you nodded.

Kento broke, possessing your lips in one shuddering kiss. His hands and body squeezed at your softly yielding hips, all-consuming, trying to overfill himself with any scrap of you he could take. He dominated the kiss completely, selflessly, as thoughtlessly altruistic as he had always been. He groaned, panting through the taste of you, his tongue sliding against yours. His cock wept inside his boxers-- it was all too much too much but not enough--

You mewled, little hands gripping onto his collar, sending thunder to Kento's core. Kento pulled away, cursing, feeling the need to know the scars that pleasure etched upon your skin. You were scorched by his touch, too pliable now to do anything but bend to his insistence.

In blood and brutality you sought each other, beacons in the night with stars as your witness. They looked on, disinterested, as if fate held any regard for the lives of mortals, over gods.

With time as his final remaining enemy, Kento pulled you to his lap, sitting with his back against the low wall overlooking the city. He knew for whom the bell tolled. He would see his duty done before the final chime, and he stared into you in your entirety. Though neither a painting nor an ivory box, he handled you with kid gloves.

You straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt, and he whispered, groaning and bucking up against your clothed sex as he watched your nimble fingers press his opened shirt apart. Running your hands in reverence down his bared chest and belly, he could not have loved you more than when he saw his own desperation reflected back at him.

In another life-- in any other world-- I--

He lifted you, enough for you to kick your jeans and underwear off, his teeth bared to feel your core press against his aching cock. He spoke through your kisses, a fractured sentence punctuated by his apologies.

"I didn't-- didn't prepare-- no protection-- I can't-- can't stop-- please don't make me stop." He begged, reaching down to hook his cock out. You silenced him with one hand wrapped around his rigid length, and Kento stilled with a hiss.

--take you to dinner first, I'd show you the world-- fill you with its beauty before I fill you with mine--

"Don't care--" You insisted against his neck, "--don't care...need to feel you." Kento almost sobbed with relief to feel you hold him, stroking the head of his cock between your glistening folds. You let his cockhead and slit catch over your clit, shivering, intoxicated by the way he watched you with one hand splayed across your belly, the other on your hip, and blown pupils. He bucked his hips, needy, full of baleful possession.

--and we'd have a Victorian glasshouse with a garden you'd love-- and you'd plant wildflowers while I do the laundry--

Grasping your hips with a snarl as you stroked his cockhead down, Kento impaled you downwards onto him, the moment his cock notched at your entrance. You squeaked, pussy clenching with the sudden blissful invasion, your squirming making you sink lower. Kento felt a telltale throb of impending orgasm in his belly, and he was certain if you clenched one more time--

Your pussy full to the brim, you instinctively bucked downwards. Feeling Kento belly-deep, his trembling fingers dropped to your clit, and you felt Kento's abs twitching beneath your splayed hands. Feeling two clever fingers bracketing your clit and rolling from side to side, you squeezed him, milking his cock and locking him inside you.

--all the late nights and early mornings and train rides and arguments in sickness and health for richer for poorer--

"--love you-- I love you too." You sobbed into his chest, loose and warm against him. Kento saw stars, coming with a shout, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. Looking up at the euphoric agony on his face, and his fingertips bruising your ass as they pinned you down around him, satisfied you spiritually, in a way so alien to you.

You rolled your hips, drinking down every part of him. The long, powerful contractions of his cock inside you, his stilted low moans, his gasps of pleasure as your tight gloved heat continued to stroke him. Starved for him, desperate for more, you rode Kento to frantic overstimulation.

--so unfair this is so unfair, die for you like you'd die for me like I'd die for you like you'd die for me--

You realised with a happy squirm that he hadn't yet removed his glasses or harness. With his shirt trapped against his shoulders, and his lens steamed, fucking upwards and thrashing his head from side to side beneath you, you couldn't stop yourself. You felt the fullness of his creamy load still plugged deeply inside you, and pushed hard against him. Kento cursed, paralyzing you with a hushed roar of agony, and a hand grasping your throat.

"--asked you to make love to me-- not kill me-- but shit, if this is how we go, just take me with you-- take me with you--"

His fingers had never left your clit, now rolling it insistently, until you were the one wriggling and desperate. Still being stuffed with his cock and cum made your pleasure three-dimensional, and Kento's half-hard length began to stir to life again, still high off the adrenaline of punching a man to death. He growled at you with gritted teeth.

"--beautiful...good girl...not done with you yet...shit, keep it in, keep it all in...take me with you...please--"

With half lidded eyes, you grasped Kento's forearm. His hand still braced you with exquisite tenderness around the throat, a necklace instead of a noose. His second hand worked frantically against your clit while you moaned and begged above him, still speared on his cock, feeling him lengthen and thicken again inside you. You whimpered and keened, and Kento committed you to memory, just like this. He would close his eyes in his final moment, and see you, breaking like spun sugar above him, no sweeter sound than his name on your lips.

--bake for you on Sundays, and the bread would always burn, because we'll be too busy--

Kento continued stroking you, pressing kisses onto your forehead as he guided you down from your high. Cautiously starting to roll his hips up again, he moaned at the slick sucks of his cock sliding through his cum and yours. Unthreading his shirt through his harness, Kento threw it to the ground, before lying you down on top of it.

Otherwise fully dressed, with dried stains of blood rusted over his chest and back, Kento bore over you like a vengeful god. Here to take his spoils, he still handled you like glass, resting your head on one of his planted forearms, with a hand under the small of your back to protect you from the floor.

"...I've wanted you for so long-- you don't even know--"

"I knew." Kento faltered. His anguish at leaving you for certain death sharpened, with the sudden knowledge of past chances untaken. His heart clenched, aching down his arms, steeling himself. He couldn't help but lean into your hand, cupping his jaw.

Nuzzling his nose to yours, Kento melted at your smile twinkling up at him. He smiled back, suddenly bashful, lopsided with crinkling eyes, before biting down on one lip and slamming his cock down into you. Your gasp shook through you, clawing into the harness across his chest and shoulders, hearing Kento swear with pleasure at the intensity of a second round.

Kento barely pulled out, wrapped in your arms and tight cunt. He almost spat with anger at the simultaneous need to savour you, and the need to leave, knowing he could not have both. Duty to you held the greater weight and, feeling another orgasm creep through his back and balls far too quickly, he slowed.

Completely engulfed by the enormity of him, you stared up at Kento, made submissive under his emotional insistence, the thick aching stretch of him sheathed inside you. Your back arched off the ground with a guttural moan when Kento slowed, dragging himself through your core from ball to tip in long, languid thrusts, the whole length of his cock glistening with gluey white seed.

He swore he could feel every ridge of you, the mind-altering bend of his cock as it moulded to the curve inside you. He needed you to carry the shape of him forever, an unremovable flesh-memory. Something had changed in him as you carded your fingers through his hair, whispering praises to him, to try to hold him together.

Kento looked drunk. His eyes were distant and hyperfocused all at once, his breaths and groans gruff, his voice gravelly with emotion as his mouth muffled against your shirt.

"--sorry, I...can't move my hands...hurt you, I--" Kento grasped your shirt between his teeth, ragging his head from side to side with a growl to lift it up over your breasts. He did the same to your bra, gripping the cups to yank your breasts free. They bounced out, full and peaked under his hot, frantic breaths.

Kento nosed at them, pulling his cock from you slowly, only to slam back into you with enough force to leave you writhing and whimpering. His mouth and nose played with your breasts, nudging, sucking and biting, hungry and obsessive. Something primal glimmered in his green glass-concealed eyes, as your mounds jiggled every time he fucked into you. The visual stimulus of you spread beneath him, your tight pussy slick with his cum, doe-eyed and completely willing, sent him spiralling towards his high.

"God I wish I--wish I could stay-- more than anything...cum with me, please please please--"

His thrusts became frantic, rough and sloppy with no warning. Kento's eyes darted from your face, to your breasts and pussy, and back again, drinking in the shock and ecstasy plastered over your face. You were trapped within the humid embrace of him, erotically overstimulated by his smell, his desperation, the constant stroke of his weeping cockhead against your spongy soft spot.

You didn't realise how close you were to orgasm until his position shifted, his trimmed honey-gold trail now rubbing against your clit. Clinging onto him, and rubbing upwards to meet his thrusts, you begged for Kento to help you. Your begging was Kento's last straw, and he gasped, his seed slugging out in lazy, creamy trickles against your overstuffed cervix and pussy.

Barely able to see straight, Kento kept rubbing his rigid pelvis against you, gruff and messy while you felt the drag of pleasure through you, softer than bare feet through hot sand. Kento whispered to you, sweat mingling on your foreheads pressed together; "...don't regret a thing...won't regret a minute-- wish this was different...deserve more..."

Panting in each others embrace, the dreadful horror of reality seeped back into you both. You could hear cries in the distance, the rumble of battles. You fought an unwinnable fight. Silent, and pensive, you jolted out of your reverie to hear Kento groan above you, reluctantly pulling his softening cock free. He knelt, dewy-eyed, watching the gluey drip of his cum from you, moaning and shivering as he held his half-hard cock, nudging the cum back inside with his tip.

The sudden emptiness almost made you weep. You felt the same terrible foreboding emanating from him as you had when he arrived on the rooftop. Kento smiled down at you, heartfelt and reassuring, pressing a folded pocket handkerchief to you before pulling your underwear back on over it. He kissed you delicately, from toe to knee while you giggled, before planting one lazy kiss and nuzzle onto your belly. You grasped his head there, scratching gently at his scalp with your fingernails.

"Stay with me, Kento. Just stay." You pressed, knowing in your gut that his decision was already made. His sigh creaked the leather of his harness with broad, corded tugs of his shoulders.

"They need help, underground. I'm one of the few First Grades available. It's only right that I go down there."

Kento's words, as always, rang with decisive finality. Before you could begin to talk again, he interrupted you smoothly.

"You will not come with me."

"You can't stop me."

"Shoko needs you. Your reverse cursed technique is second only to hers, and she's in need of support. It's the proper thing to do."

You squirmed with guilt, knowing you would choose to let Shoko suffer over Kento. Kento glowered down at you, stern, as if he hadn't just fallen apart inside you. You swallowed, a coil of doubt inside your belly.

"...don't be a hero, Kento." Kento frowned as if he didn't understand, and you insisted. "Don't be a hero. Get yourself out first. I mean it." Kento hesitated, looking out over the city lights, the breeze ruffling his mussed hair. He pulled his shirt back on, threading it under his harness.

"...alright." He lied. He paused. You both stood, sticky with each others' cum cooling between your legs. Nuzzling nose to nose, it felt so surreal to have to toss aside post-coital softness, in exchange for the cold embrace of battle.

"Go to Shoko," Kento whispered against your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "and help her. Please. Do as I say."

"Promise you'll come back to me." You hushed into his kiss, beseeching him. He softened, deceptively reassuring, while hearing his clocktower chime.

"Always. I'm all yours. Always." Planting one lingering kiss to your forehead, you watched Kento's retreating back, his figure disappearing down the stairwell.

You wondered if you'd ever trust anyone other than Kento, over your own instincts.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Shoko was surprised to see you, her cigarette drooping as she raised her thick, dark eyebrows.

"Kento told me you wanted me." You insisted. Shoko shot Yaga one questioning look. Yaga shrugged, arms folded.

"We haven't spoken to Kento all evening." Shoko assured. You felt a flash of panicked rage in your gut, knowing he'd lied to you. Knowing he was taking himself to an unwinnable battle. You grabbed Shoko by the arm.

"Where are they? His team? Where is he?"

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Kento was bloodied, missing an arm of his shirt, his vision obscured by the incessant bleed of a head wound. Pushing out of Dagon's domain, he knew he was exhausted, already skirting his limit. He felt a monstrous wave of Cursed energy, so much deadlier than his own.

A volcano-headed Curse approached him, its hand outstretched and hovering over Kento's abdomen. Naobito and Maki already smouldered in agony, and Kento felt the sickening weight of failure in his chest He had only a moment to protect himself, and he may have coated his body in Cursed-energy in its entirety, had he not filled his death-sentenced mind with thoughts of you.

He expected fire and flames...and felt you. When he protected his right half, you had arrived at the edge of a knife blade, and protected his left. The volcano-headed Curse faltered, stepping back with a scowl.

Kento looked down at you, knelt at his side in a braced position. His clock stopped chiming, in a moment of twisted fates reserved previously for the gods alone. He considered that you were, perhaps, a goddess, and he may be your vassal. You looked up at him, bristling with rage, and Kento's heart swelled.

"I'll tell you off later. For now...we have a fight to finish."

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By the end of the night, Itadori Yuuji had gained a brother and retained a beloved father figure. Nanami Kento cast his eyes over Choso with a hum of resignation, considering he may have another boy to look after, too. The patch-faced curse who may have been his executioner in another life, met its end. He witnessed an old friend who was not an old friend, cast a battle royale over the length of Japan.

Gazing in mute horror over the devastation left behind, Kento felt a hand slip into his own. His ears flushed red. He cleared his throat.

"I'm-- I'm so sorry--"

You laughed, your hands over your face. Kento's eyes glimmered with mirth. He plaited his fingers in yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling against them.

"My hero."