#although some are not suitable to see the light of day

[5and3nevermind]

I’m going to clear out my drafts tomorrow, so get ready for a bunch of yoonmin!

[umemiyan]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨𝖨

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘖𝘜𝘚 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (nsfw future chapters likely) / an interpretation of "came back wrong" gojo (he's not necessarily wrong, just different) / yandere!gojo vibes / disabled-coded gojo with reader acting as caretaker; it's essentially a learning curve for everybody involved / some dubcon physical affection moments, but nothing serious / 3.4k words

well... we have made it to a second chapter!! this overall idea just really resonated with me, and after learning how it affected others as well, i just knew i had to do my best to keep it going. this is the first ever "part 2" of anything i've ever written, so i beg for just a shred of mercy! i'm trying my best, and thank you to everyone who has said kind things about this story so far. i hope you enjoy <3

The winter air is brisk and a little volatile, but you feel blessed to have it whirl past your skin—even more blessed to watch Satoru’s flesh prickle at the sensation. Alive.

You had done your best to rummage through the expanse of his closet to find a suitable coat for him to wear—one that would cut the chill of an afternoon breeze when it inevitably brushed across his body. January could be unforgiving at times—the harshest of winter moths. You wondered how cold death must’ve felt.

“Satoru, where are your shoes?” You inquired, voice muffled in his closet as you sifted through garments, multitasking in an attempt to compose an outfit for him.

He sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed on your movements as they often were, mind turning at your question for a moment. He stood then, paced towards the shoe rack that stood outside the closet door, and reached gently for one of your busied hands. Satoru points your fingers towards the collection of shoes.

You paused your movements, eyes curious as they followed his guidance before landing upon their intended target. “Oh, that’s right,” you said with a small shake of your head, bearing a self-defeating smile and feeling rather silly for your oversight. 

It was a challenge to become acquainted with someone else’s home amidst everything else, responsibilities stacking upon responsibilities. However, Satoru continued to prove that he could recall more than you initially thought, that he could act as your guiding light when called upon. A little ironic, you think. A little pathetic, too? No, you are human, after all. Just as he is.

He smiled in return. You swore there was even a hint of a familiar light-hearted, teasing glimmer in his eye, unless you were seeing things.

(You weren’t.)

For once, you are grateful for the rather serene nature of the school’s grounds as you stroll across them side-by-side with him, much like in days from a not-so-distant past. The remaining fallen leaves from the trees dressing the mountains rustle with the wind, colored by the touch of death but still beautiful all the same, just like something else you know.

“We can always go back if it gets too cold,” you say as a reminder to Satoru of his agency, his home on campus easy to circle back to should you take the notion. You fear he might choose to freeze himself into another early grave if that’s what you wished, and you can’t fathom the idea of making him suffer simply because he thinks it pleases you to do so. Your happiness is somehow his, and although this is a new quality you have yet to decipher, there’s still something about it that strikes you as indulgent and rather characteristic of a gluttonous Satoru Gojo.

He doesn’t respond, gaze flitting across his surroundings as he walks, nerve endings and six eyes absorbing a litany of information. A silent Satoru used to be a rare occurrence but is now the default, the air somehow punctured by the lack of his voice riding along it. However, his presence is still stark, his being brimming with energy as if to make up for the words he can no longer speak. 

Unbeknownst to you, he communicates with you not only with his physical body, but with his feelings, too—waves of energy that he projects outward on instinct, hoping you’ll have the means to grasp what he is trying to say even if he isn’t always sure what it is. It has been rather unsynchronized and sloppy thus far, but with each day that passes, your ability to hear him grows.

You can hear him now even with the only sounds being the breeze rushing in your ears and leaves crunching beneath the soles of shoes. There is something somber about him, more than usual, mixed with that same sense of being lost in a world that feels brand new. 

All of it is familiar to Satoru on a physical level—the paths, the buildings, the foliage—but what prickles his mind is attempting to piece together the myriad of strange feelings that arise as he is faced with more and more reminders of a past that he can’t fully recall. 

It’s as though the memories are trying to surface but can’t quite fuse into something tangible, something concrete, like when you feel a word forming just at the tip of your tongue but it never arrives. He can sense them deeply in his body, almost experience a brief image flashing like lightning through his mind before it disappears. Satoru’s frustration is palpable, and he reaches for your hand.

Icy-cold fingers nipped by winter intertwine with yours, tethering him in place as his fractured mind aches with the burden of obscurity. His physical affection is new to you, but you allow it—welcome it, even. As much as the earnest displays contrast with his previous tiptoeing around connection, it is yet another thing you can’t bear to turn down, not after everything that’s happened. 

You hope it isn’t simply guilt of all things compelling you to accommodate him, but wouldn’t it be equally bad to do it for selfish reasons? Could one misconstrue it as taking advantage, of feeding off his need to satisfy some part of you that had always wanted him?

The various implications make your head swim with conflict, so you force yourself to shut them down for the time being. Satoru is only holding your hand, nothing more, at least for the moment. There had of course been instances of his lips pecking against your own, wandering down to your neck, his hand settling on your waist as if to draw you closer… but you’d always managed to divert his attention in one way or another, severing the connection before either of you could become too engrossed in it. He never seemed overly perturbed to shift direction, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how long his patience might last, and if you’d be able to figure out what you even were to him before then.

Needless to say, nothing could have ever prepared you for something like this. What drives you forward more than anything is your contentment with the fact that he’s here walking the earth with you, as whole as he can be after having been stolen from the arms of death. And despite the abundance of challenges, part of you can’t help but feel special for being chosen to face them.

When your feet bring you near the school’s entrance, gates opening way for a path down the mountain, Satoru stops dead in his tracks, alert like an animal that’s suddenly caught a scent. His grip on your hand tightens, heart plummeting into his stomach as something takes hold of him, something he likely couldn’t put into words even if he had the ability to speak.

You turn to check over him with your gaze, concern etched upon your features at the immediate change of pace. “Satoru…?” you call softly, yearning for a chance to be able to peek into his mind. All you can do is feel the chill of his demeanor.

His name drifting upon your voice earns a split second of his attention, but he is, for once, captivated by something else.

Pierced gut. Blocked throat. Summer sun and the sounds of buzzing.

It’s a memory that lives in his body but not his conscious mind, an instinct telling him to heed the surroundings for a threat that once was. He relives it with a rapid heartbeat, knows it bears importance, but he can only recall shreds of information that don’t merge together to form a full picture. He simmers in mounting frustration.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Boiling blood—the brink of death.

Satoru turns on a dime and faces a figure in the distance, on guard and brimming with a sort of defensiveness you’d never quite seen before, at least not coming from him. Muscles rigid, he squeezes your upper arm as if to warn you, to keep you close, his extraordinary senses absorbing information quicker than you can even pivot to see what it is he’s looking at.

From around the corner of a building emerges Megumi, clad in warm clothes and a mellow disposition. His distinctly unruly hair makes it easy to identify him even from where he appears down the path, hands in his pockets as he strolls towards you upon recognition. 

Satoru’s mind runs through calculations as the young student approaches, attempting to distinguish and fill gaps and create something he can take hold of as a semblance of fact.

Black hair. Sharp eyes. Something… different? 

Megumi’s cursed energy burns in a recognizable way, striking Satoru as peculiar as he instinctively studies it with the six eyes. But it makes sense to him—it’s familiar, even if he struggles to trust it in full. This is someone he hasn’t met since his awakening, but someone his eyes have certainly seen before.

You can sense the fear radiating off Satoru’s being and into yours, the presence of someone other than you agitating his already troubled state. You must act.

“Look, it’s Megumi,” you say softly with an encouraging smile, encasing his hand with your palm and hoping that your pleasant reaction takes the edge off. Satoru is reluctant to avert his gaze, but does so anyway, blue darting in your direction to witness the happiness written in your features. You appear to trust this person, and he trusts you, so despite the pounding in his chest, the sorcerer relaxes his grip.

You guide Satoru to take a few steps forward with you to meet Megumi as he draws nearer, a tired but welcoming smile turning your lips upward to greet him. It’s nice to see the boy alive and well in the aftermath of his own debacle—or at least as well as someone could possibly be. You wish there had been something more you could’ve done to help him recover, but it was known to many that you happened to have your hands full at the moment. Hopefully he will understand.

“Hey,” Megumi utters quietly, eyes scanning over your face and then his teacher’s, trying to briefly assess your individual states.

“Hi, Megumi,” you respond, appraising him yourself. He seems to be all in one piece, which you had been informed of, but had yet to see yourself. It’s nice to have visual confirmation. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he replies quickly, flatly, minimizing himself as usual. His voice is more sincere when inquiring about your wellbeing. “And you?”

You grin, finding a way to sum up your experience without overwhelming him. “Hanging in there,” you muse with a breathy chuckle. There’s no use in worrying him with all the details of Gojo’s current condition and how it has subsequently flipped your world upside down, but Megumi is shrewd, and you’re sure he can come to some sort of conclusion, especially when briefed by the others who have eyes on the situation.

Megumi awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, skirting around vulnerability and concern as his next question arises. “Gojo-sensei… how are you doing?”

Satoru has been silent all the while, of course, but sorting through every detail while you and his former student exchange pleasantries. Neurons fire, rewiring frazzled connections, giving him a glimpse at how this boy is not the same as the one he bears a resemblance to.

Megumi isn’t sure what sort of response to expect; in fact, he feels silly for expecting one at all, posing a question that he’s fairly certain can’t be answered directly. But how else was he meant to conduct himself in such an interaction, to show that he cares? To speak as if Gojo weren’t even there would feel like even more of an insult.

You’re caught in the middle, watching Satoru’s face and seeing the gears turning in his head. “I think we’re all just… learning how to adjust to things, y’know?” you reply with a rather vacant smile, turning back to Megumi who understands your subtext with ease. Rather than speak for Satoru, you’ve made a blanket statement to provide just the slightest bit of feedback, and Megumi is well aware.

The student nods his head with a short hum of acknowledgment, doing his best to see his mentor in this new light—one he never thought would be possible, not when it came to someone who had always claimed to be so strong. But at least there is a light at all.

The wind tosses leaves around between the three of you, filling the silence with its quiet whispers. You wish there was more to be said. You wish you had a solid grasp of how well Satoru really was doing.

“I think Ieiri said she wanted to see you soon,” Megumi states, acting as a courier, trying to fill the space with words.

You nod. “Yeah, we’ve been in touch. We’re actually meant to meet up with her tomorrow.” 

Shoko, while expectedly rather removed, had been one of your primary contacts and supports thus far, apart from Ijichi who shouldered the burden of several essential tasks you hadn’t been able to complete on your own. You felt guilty for sending him out for groceries and back to your apartment for extra sets of clothes, but how else would you manage to make it by? Leaving Satoru alone or in the care of someone else wasn’t currently an option, and taking him outside the school grounds didn’t sound like an optimal idea either at the present moment. So you had to make do in the meantime, and you were truly grateful for the help, but you couldn’t help but hope that things would eventually fall into place. Maybe Shoko would have answers.

“That’s good,” Megumi replies with a sparkle of hope in his tone, then reluctantly adds, “and, uh… just let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?”

You respond to his gesture with a warm smile. “Thank you, Megumi. That’s very kind.” You don’t have immediate plans for taking the young man up on his offer, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. He deserves to rest and seek peace, not fight any more battles for the sake of others.

A twinge of pink colors the apples of Megumi’s cheeks, and he recedes into the scarf wrapped around his neck, unused to accepting grace from others without feeling inclined to quarrel about it. He is at a loss for words, somewhat eager to make his escape before the vulnerability has the chance to further consume his dignity. You take that as something of a cue.

“Well, we—” you start, preparing to make a closing statement and depart, before being interrupted by a sudden movement to your left—Satoru, breaking free from his fixed state to perform a familiar gesture.

As if finally making a connection, he grins and mimics the Ten Shadows hand configuration for summoning the Divine Dogs, clapping his palms together and examining Megumi’s reaction with ardor. The student is startled out of his mild embarrassment, somewhat baffled by the sudden communication attempt and the implication that his mentor perhaps actually remembers who he is. It’s a pleasant surprise to you both, and a moment or two is required for it to sink in.

Your face lights up with glee, heart warmed by the simple action in a way that’s difficult to express. Megumi appears to be in a similar boat—taken aback, but ultimately stricken with joy.

A modest smile creeps upon Megumi’s lips as he softly mirrors the motion with his own hands, acknowledging Gojo’s revelation. “Yeah…” he says, voice faint but pleased. “Divine Dogs.”

Every brief glimpse into Satoru’s thoughts feels like a blessing, and this is certainly no exception. It’s refreshing to watch him have a moment of sincere connection with someone other than yourself, and it leaves you glowing with hope for the future as you bid Megumi farewell and make your way back home.

“Head back, Satoru.”

Water splashes into the bathtub as Satoru cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling as per your request, a cup full of liquid streaming over his hair and carrying shampoo suds along with it.

After returning from your walk, you’d prepared something for dinner and eventually urged Satoru into the tub for a bath before bed—yet another activity that seemed to get a little easier every time you did it.

Figuring out how to get him to bathe had initially been quite the challenge, but you had managed to devise a method that had gotten the job done quite well thus far. He might’ve looked rather awkward sitting cramped in the shallow bath with a pair of swimming trunks on while you rinsed him with an old plastic cup you’d excavated from a cabinet, but it was the most effective way to get him clean and preserve both your dignities while doing it. Though you were the only one who seemed to be concerned with such things.

Satoru blinks when a few soapy droplets backslide into one of his eyes, causing him to squint, scrunch, and rub it with his fingers until the uncomfortable sensation eases. He looks at you, almost as if to say, “Hey! That burns!”

You chuckle and shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “That’s why you’re supposed to close your eyes, goober.”

He wants to submerge in a pout, but your playfulness rids him of the inclination. Satoru instead shifts his focus to the beauty of your frame perched upon the edge of the tub, a beacon of divinity as you cleanse him with care and devotion. He takes the notion to express an inkling of gratitude by leaning forward and placing a kiss against your lips, lukewarm water rippling around him as it gradually cools.

You’re somewhat stiff and unresponsive, the sudden gesture catching you by surprise as it usually does, but you don’t chastise him for it; in fact, it takes a certain level of concentration for you to avoid letting your thoughts linger on his current state: hair slicked back; flesh exposed and glistening with droplets of water; lips warm, wet, and eager for reciprocation…

Your mouth receives his but does not encourage him for more than a split second, pulling back gently from his advance until you can see Satoru shiver as the water chills his body. His eyes are glued to your face, waiting for a reaction as you prepare to make one more pass over his hair with the cup to see that he is fully rinsed, this time using your hand to shield his eyes from any backflow (and from your expression, which is surely indicative of your now rapid heartbeat).

The action is enough to distract him for the moment, but Satoru is still on edge, teeming with infatuation and need. He is unsatisfied with your response—or lack thereof—and is frustrated with his inability to express it, but your hands carefully wiping drops of water from his face act as a temporary soothing agent.

“Alright, let’s get dried off and ready for bed,” you say, standing to fetch his towel from the rack and bring it back to him before reaching down to trigger the tub to drain. “We’re going to talk to Shoko tomorrow.”

Satoru is less concerned with the meaning of your words than he is with how lovely you sound while saying them. He is once again caught in your spell, entranced by the need to be closer but settling for the scraps that you give him—for now.

You aren’t convinced of his comprehension of what you say, but nevertheless, you use the sweetened tone to deflect from the overwhelm of watching him stand and observe your every move as you help to dry his chiseled body. Satoru is tall and looming, scarred in the midriff, but compliant with your ministrations; however, his easygoing nature doesn’t keep your hands from wanting to shake against the towel that repeatedly caresses his physical beauty. You wish you could torch every thought in your mind, switch your brain off to preserve the strength and sanity that remains. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to remain steadfast and maintain this cycle of “temporaries” until something eventually changes. And what if it never does?

You suppose the only thing you can do for now is try your best and wait and see what the future holds. It certainly can’t be any worse than what you’ve already been through, especially now that Satoru is by your side once more. That is something you’ve realized you wouldn’t trade for anything.

[playfully-sadistic]

(just dabbled back into temperature play, so I thought, I'd share some quick, short wisdom for the baby doms and baby subs)

Curious about wax play? Here's some nice little pointers, if you don't know where to start.

How to choose a candle that is suitable? First off, beeswax? Nuh-uh (for beginners). It burns hot enough to leave second degree burns if you don't know what you're doing. For starters, use natural (white), non-scented wax. It has a fairly low melting temperature - afterwards, feel free to explore with colored wax, if you're looking for aesthetic values.

What to do before the scene? Obviously, negotations... always. Make sure to evaluate your sub's pain limit beforehand (are they a big masochist or not?). Arguably The most important step: Test the impact of the hot wax on your own skin. That way, you can get a feeling for the pain (how it stings and how much it stings), and feel more confident and safe afflicting it onto your sub. For easy removal after playtime, make sure to prepare your sub's skin with either vaseline or baby oil - you'll thank me later, I promise. Adding onto that, use towels to avoid spillings.

What to do during the scene? Make sure to light your playtime candle approximately 10-15 minutes before you begin your scene. That way, a puddle of wax can melt - although, anticipation and tension are your two big best friends with wax play. For extra points, you can blindfold your sub and/or tie them up. That way, they can neither see your next move nor flinch away from the heated (hehe) impact of the wax. Keep in mind that the distance between candle and your sub's body determine the wax' temperature when it is dropped onto their skin. The higher you hold the candle, the less the impact will sting - the closer the candle is, the hotter the wax will remain; additionally to the heat radiating from the candle's flame itself (but let's not dive into that now). As with all impact play, start light. Build your sub's pain tolerance slowly, take your time, so the both of you can enjoy the, again, anticipation. For added stimulation (if you're feeling more confident), try using both hot wax and ice cubes on your sub's body, switching them up in between. A great time, Lace's guarantee :D But frankly, there's endless variations of adding wax play to your scenes.

What to do after the scene? Clean-up is very easy if you applied baby oil or vaseline before the scene - just take a towel and carefully wipe everything of. Make sure to apply soothing balms or lotions on the affected skin afterwards, disinfect them beforehand if they seem very irritated. Absolutely, ab-solute-ly, check in with your sub's condition the next day or two and look for serious burns.

That's it for the beginning. Stay safe, sane and consensual, and most importantly, enjoy yourselves :)

[itsabouttimex2]

Could I ask what the brotherhood was like during Primal Moon? Interested in what Platonic Azure, YellowTusk and Peng are like with their respective or collective fixation 👀👀👀

Primal Moon:

Brotherhood

As I mentioned before, the noble Azure Lion is pretty much the standout yandere of Primal Moon. All his potential obsessions being:

Sun Wukong, Macaque, Demon Bull King, Yellowtusk, Peng, Ne Zha, MK, Red Son, Mei, and Y/N.

That is very much ten different people to obsess over.

Unusually, his obsessions aren’t exactly permanent- he tends to snatch up one or two individuals to dote on through the week, spending each day in a haze of platonic love. With younger individuals, say, MK or Mei, he’s outright doting, pampering them like a personal cub. Grooming sessions and hunting lessons, and then group naps that last half the day.

Peng will sequester their darling somewhere warm and high-up, utilizing a cozy nest (and shackles, if you prove to be troublesome) to keep their obsession safe and isolated from danger. Very likely to try and feed you by mouth if you're on the younger end. Refusal of this premastication will have you denounced as a "naughty chick" and prompt a removal of privileges until you accept the feeding.

Lots of dressing you up, most frequently by decorating your hair with ribbons. If they see the need to change your clothing, you'll be garbed in the finest silk and jewelry to be found. If you have wings, not only are you more likely to be targeted, but they'll happily spend hours preening all your feathers.

Rational as ever, Yellowtusk retains most of his composure- which only serves to make him scarier during a Primal Moon. He's not the sort to leave you be for even a moment, not even when he goes out looking for food. Although he's content with you hanging off his shoulder or clinging to his back, any attempt at escape or defiance leads to prompt restraint. With only a quiet glare and a disapproving frown nearly hidden by his trunk, Yellowtusk knots you up with a thick length of rope, ensuring the your mouth is just as restricted. He'll bundle you about in a large hiking bag, ever close to the warmth of his body and utterly trapped in darkness.

To expand, here’s some little snippets:

———————————————————————-

You angrily kick about in midair, dangling from a sharp pair of fangs- your shirt is hooked between leonine teeth, suspending you off the ground to squirm and struggle. In the lion’s arms is your friend, MK, drugged to a peaceful slumber. He’s all curled up in the Celestial’s protective embrace, utterly unaware of what’s going on. You hadn’t drank nearly as much of the laced water as the hero had, leaving you to wake up long before Azure had intended- but you were still too weak to truly fight his grip, and thus were ferried along without much trouble.

There’s a den not far ahead, newly dug from the side of a mountain and transfigured into coziness with powerful magic. Azure’s unflinching stride is unbreakable, his claws digging deep grooves into the ground- marking his territory with each neat slice of rocky earth.

The shallow cavern is just spacious enough to accommodate two little mortals and a towering Celestial.

Not that Azure wouldn’t be willing to squish in a third ‘cub’, if he found another suitable soul.

A thick blanket of foliage over the entrance blocks most light, plunging the den into darkness. It’s unsettling for you, but the cyan Celestial is a lion- his eyes are well-adjusted to the dark.

Without any trouble finding his way around, Azure kneels to a cushy burrow dug near the back wall, shifting the mass of pillows and blankets around to lay MK snugly inside.

Without stirring, the boy turns several times to seek out some degree to warmth, finding it only when Azure lies you right next to him. The lion piles the cushioning around both of you, wrapping you tightly within plush confines.

And finally, the lion himself clambers in, binding his cyan arms tightly around both of his ‘cubs’. You and MK are squished into each other and then against his chest, packed tight like sardines in a can. There’s no clear escape, enfolded by fabric, cotton, and fur, with drugs coursing all through your system.

It was going to be a long (but cozy) week.

———————————————————————-

It’s a popular theory in the fandom that Peng hates children, but I’d like to argue the exact opposite. (Mostly because it’s funnier and offers some humanization that they could use. Also, birds have some crazy mothering instincts.)

So when they find a child wandering on the streets, lost and alone and utterly unsupervised, pride and lunar instinct alike take wing.

Their first thought is- "I could do so much better than whatever awful people abandoned this poor darling!" Their second thought? "I will do better!"

After growing incensed at the sight of you staggering around in confusion, bathed in rays of cosmic viridescence- the green light illuminates your young face, fear and worry glittering in your bright eyes- Peng swoops down from their lofty perch, snatching you into their powerful talons.

They ferry your screaming form high into the air, each golden feather catching the verdant rays of primal moonlight and reflecting them back tenfold.

Higher and higher they go, rising towards cold stars and uncaring clouds. You stop screaming and start crying, clinging desperately to the talons holding you, praying that you aren't to be a tortured plaything or a quick meal.

But the Golden-Winged Peng has not a speck of cruelty for such an adorable and frightened child! They settle you firmly into a sheltered nest built high up, likely in an abandoned castle or a mountain spire surrounded by rocks. It's clearly been built up over several years, a neatly arranged and symmetrical pile of lush pillows filling a cradle of sturdy branches, all held together by vines. The ceiling is strung with glittering crystals and pilfered jewels, a glimmering replica of the constellation one would see in a pitch black sky.

The avian demon pushes you backwards until the cushion enfold you, then takes a moment to elegantly settle by your side. An aureate wing extends, coming to cover you quite easily. In spite of the gilded grace exuded by the appendage, it's actually quite heavy, admirably weighing you down.

"Rest now, my dear chick," they command. "You are under my protection as of today. Take solace under my wings, and sleep.

And given that there's nothing you can do to escape, you may as well heed their word.

You don't know how they'd react to disobedience, anyhow. And you certainly aren't eager to find out.

———————————————————————-

Most likely, Yellowtusk finds you all tucked tightly away, hiding from other demons who lurk more openly during the Primal Moon.

And pity overwhelms his better senses, already frayed from the moon’s call.

Despite the gentleness of his expression, the mighty white elephant is still terrifying, ripping away your shelter with ease. Wood, stone, steel- all crumbles under his grip. The Celestial tears away the barriers of your hidey-hole, exposing you to the world that you were so desperately trying to hide from.

And when the final plank or brick has been torn and thrown away, the gentle behemoth kneels before you, offering a massive hand- and beckons forth with it.

You can’t really deny him. Most people have trouble fighting and running from demons and Celestials. It’s why so many humans hole up inside and hunker down in closets or attics.

There are so few among you capable of denying their whims that even thinking about it seems so very pointless.

So; though reluctantly, you step onto his massive palm. Both of the elephant’s hands wrap protectively around you, cradling you in tough skin and warm flesh.

He lifts you with ease, carefully examining all visible skin for injuries- and upon finding none does the beast perch you gently on his shoulder, minding his sharp tusks.

“Stay close to me, little one. I’ll protect you.”

To drive the point home, his trunk twists around to pat your head, the dexterous appendage surprisingly gentle for how large it is.

“Now, let us find you something to eat,” he says, lumbering off with you in his grip.

At least you’re safe now.

[sokkastyles]

Zutara Month Day 20: Accidental Kissing

Upon request, a continuation of this.

Or, the Continuing Adventures of Katara and Her Embarrassing Crush on Naked Zuko.

A few moments after Katara had knocked, the huge, heavy door to the firelord's chambers opened with a loud screech of old hinges that seemed louder in the moonlight, and she was greeted by Zuko, draped in a crimson robe that was tied loosely at the waist, giving her a glimpse of his exposed collar bones and...stop that. He was barefoot, his black hair mussed and longer than she remembered it being. Or was she just used to seeing it only in its topknot now?

She wasn't here to muse on Zuko's hair, Katara reminded herself. He was looking at her expectantly, his lips slightly parted as he spoke.

"Oh. Hi, Katara."

Was he blushing, his cheeks slightly flushed perhaps from the heat? That robe looked rather heavy for this sort of weather, didn't it? For her part, she'd come clothed in what she was able to find among her things that was both breathable and suitably modest. Had there been a hint of a question she detected in the way he said her name, waiting for her to say something?

So she began. "Hi. I was just. I wanted to check on you after last night, just to make sure..." she stumbled over an explanation of how busy the day had been. She'd been helping to oversee plans for a housing project in the former colonies, and she'd thrown herself into the project with abandon. She hadn't thought about Zuko all day, nor had she thought about the night before, the image of him standing over the would-be assassin, his pale body in the moonlight...

The truth is that she had felt guilty, both for not checking in on him after he had almost been killed, and for the treacherous places her mind went when she thought of her friend.

"What I mean is, I was worried about you, being so vulnerable like this, " and that was the wrong word, Katara. "Not that I think you can't," she hurried to say, "can't handle yourself," she was not looking at his crotch. "But - "

Katara's mouth was still open, yet no words were coming out. Zuko's expression over her fumbling was unreadable as he stood unbearably patiently, although it might have been her imagination that he seemed somewhere between bewildered and amused by her ramblings. She didn't know which was worse. But that wasn't why the words weren't coming now.

Katara was looking past his shoulder at a shadow that was slowly and carefully in the process of detaching itself from a dark corner of his bedroom, near an open window.

"Zuko!"

He ducked down as her water whip flew past him and at the shadow figure. Zuko whirled around, his fists lighting as Katara pursued the fleeing assassin, who she could just make out by the light of Zuko's fire as he rushed past her, trying to shove her aside. He was still the same stubborn idiot, no matter his state of undress. And he was letting the assassin get away, because of some dumb idea that he needed to protect her. She had come here to protect him (and that was the only reason), and she would not be pushed aside like a child. As she tried to make her way between Zuko, the huge firelord's bed, and the open window, she glimpsed the assassin disappearing into the night at the same time that her legs entangled with Zuko's and he fell back against the bed.

Katara fell roughly on top of him, one knee between his legs and rubbing up against something underneath his robe, her palms flat on either side of his shoulders to catch her fall, but not before her lips pressed to his for a brief moment before she collapsed on top of him, both of them panting in a way that Katara felt was both completely unnacceptable and strangely exhilerating, like the feeling of perfecting a new bending move.

She practically flung herself off of the bed, her brain just registering a slight spicy flavor on Zuko's lips, the heat of his body beneath hers. "They got away," she gasped in between breaths. The adrenaline pumping through her now had nothing to do with Zuko sprawled on the bed, his red robe hiked up to his knees in a distinctly un-firelordly way.

"I hate it when they get away," Zuko said, adjusting his bedrobe, a finger moving to touch his lips. Katara wondered if she had hurt him, but he was looking at her with something that seemed suspiciously like curiosity.

She really needed to find that cold bath.

[kenny-the-ken]

Stoned to the Bone

Just before I start I wanted to write a little disclaimer, in this fic everyone is aged up, they are all 18 and this fic is not suitable for minors!! There are mentions of drugs, alcohol, smut, sexual content, swearing and a lot of innuendos. Also this is my first fic so please be nice ☺️

You sat in the dingy upstairs apartment that you lived in with your boyfriend Kenny. You two had been together from fourth grade and you couldn't imagine your life without your orange parka clad boyfriend with his cute fluffy blonde hair that you loved running your hands through. He'd been out for quite a while now trying to score you guys some MDMA for your house warming party. Everyone that was anyone at South Park High was invited.

Y/N: Kenny, where are you?! Xx

Kenny🧡: Omw now, plug took his sweet ass time. Pour me a drink for coming home, and make sure it's got an extra measure in it! Also, got an ounce of weed, can't wait to smoke up next to you tonight 😉 xx

Y/N: You really do know how to make a girl feel special, huh? I'll see you soon, be safe and remember, if those blue lights appear, never fear, just drop a gear and disappear xx

Kenny🧡: I'm right around the corner babe, don't worry, cops have never caught me this far, I doubt they will now xx

You knew better than to reply to him, he was a quick walker and knew plenty of shortcuts. You both still lived in the shittier part of town, the rent was cheap enough for you both to afford, even if you did both work awful, barely meeting minimum wage jobs.

You heard the door clicking open and then shut, the noise of someone walking up the stairs, and there he was, hood up, a shit eating grin on his face. "Who's ready to get fucked up~?" He sang through the house, before entering the living room and spotting you standing in the adjoining kitchen, pouring him a large glass of vodka and coke, although it may as well have just been vodka. You had one poured for yourself and two shots of tequila lined up for both of you. "Tell me Ken, in all the years we've known each other, when am I not ready to get fucked up?" You answered him, handing him his drink as he sauntered into the kitchen, taking the glass from you and giving you a quick kiss on the head.

"He said this MDMA was top notch shit, straight from Europe! The ounce is Super Silver Haze, so we are set for at least a few days darling." Kenny said, his voice muffled due to his hood still covering most of his face. You smiled at him, even when only his blue eyes were visible, he was the most beautiful guy you'd ever laid eyes on, you swore you got lost in his eyes back in fourth grade and you still haven't escaped the maze yet, not that you were complaining.

"Take your coat off, babe, we can afford heating now!" You said, taking a sip from your own glass and shuddering, vodka did not taste good, but it got you fucked up and that's all that mattered. "If you want me to strip for you babe, you gotta return the favour." Kenny laughed out, unzipping his parka and taking his gloves off. Out of his pocket he pulled a baggy, a rock of pure MDMA sitting in it as he placed it on the kitchen counter. From his larger inside pocket he pulled out the aforementioned ounce of cannabis and sat it down beside the baggy. "Fancy a quick bump to start us off?" He asked, taking out his wallet and a bank card from it, starting to crush the rock inside of the baggy. "Is that even a question?" You winked towards him, coming closer to watch his skilful hands at work. You guys have done anything and everything together, you trip sat each other and knew how most drugs affected you, because let's face it, you guys have tried most. When the rock was finally a fine, yellowish looking powder you could feel the excitement building within you, and Kenny noticed. "Babe, I know you're excited but I'm taking the first hit, if I die from it you know I'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, you on the other hand, that doesn't happen to." He stated, and you knew it was true. He always took the first hit of anything you guys scored, he just wanted you to be safe. You smiled warmly at him. "I love you." You muttered softly, giving him a small kiss on the lips. "I love you too, sugar tits." He smirked before pulling out the key to your shared apartment and placing it into the baggy. He scooped up and balanced a small amount of the powder upon it and placed it to his nose, covering his other nostril and snorting the substance in one go. He then placed the key on the counter, sniffing a few times and then made a face like he was going to be to be sick. "Kenny, what's wrong?!" You asked, hurriedly holding his face as you stared at him. "I'm fine, just that drip, man! That is nasty!" He said, gagging slightly. And he wasn't wrong, you took a quick bump yourself and found that you were soon after gulping down your vodka and coke to try and rid the taste that was emanating at the back of your throat. You noticed Kenny was staring at your tits in the low cut top you wore, your skinny black jeans hugging your figure, and boy could he not tear his eyes away from you. "Like what you see?" You teased, a small smirk on his face. "Y/N, my eyes have been glued to you since fourth grade, of course I like what I see." He joked back, and you knew it was true. You were the only two impoverished kids in school, you basically grew up together. You remembered when Kenny used to steal pads and tampons from the local pharmacy for you when you got your period, and how you used to swipe whatever food you could get away with from the grocery store, you both raised each other. You realised you were fading in and out of reality, the drug starting to take effect. Kenny's pupils were large and round, and you soon found yourself cupping his face with both hands and gazing dreamily into his eyes, a small blush dusting his cheeks. "What's wrong, babe? Love buzz getting to you already?" Kenny flirted, wrapping his long, slender arms around your waist, picking you up and setting your ass on the cold countertop. "I don't know babe, I always feel this in love with you so it's hard to tell." You said, your pupils large too. You felt Kenny bring his lips to yours, biting your bottom lip cheekily, and as a small gasped escaped from you, he quickly slid his tongue into your mouth, a small moan coming from both of you as you both passionately made out. Time stood still till you heard a car pulling up, parking and all four doors slamming.

A knock could be heard at the door and you both already knew it was your friends. You could already hear Eric and Kyle bickering outside and Stan sighing. "Hey, Kenny! Get your dick in your pants and open the door!" Stan shouted through the letterbox as you both reluctantly parted your lips from one another. "You better believe I'm taking that ass straight away as soon as they're either gone, or we're in bed!" Kenny said, a small huff of annoyance at having to wait, and at having to try and conceal his already pre cum leaking cock in his tight jeans. He ran downstairs, opening the door and bowing playfully. "Welcome to my Playboy mansion." He joked, stepping aside to let the guys in.

Your apartment was nothing special, it was still decorated how the previous tenants had it, pale grey walls in the living room with black and silver wallpaper, the kitchen was red with white tiles going round it, and the bathroom was blue with a shower in the corner. Your bedroom was the only place you both could afford to decorate yet, and that was for yours and Kenny's eyes only!

"Sweet apartment guys!" Kyle said, waving to you as you added four more shot glasses to the worktop, filling them with tequila and bringing them out, along with the two you and Kenny had forgotten about. "Here's to best friends, amazing relationships, freedom and getting fucked up guys!" You exclaimed as everyone took a shot glass. "Cheers!" You all said in unison, throwing your heads back to take the shots. You all grimaced at the potent taste and the burning sensation in your throats.

Time felt like an enigma, more people arrived, Wendy, Bebe, Clyde, Craig, Tweak, Butters and more that you weren't even aware were coming. Kenny was in the kitchen chatting with Kyle and Stan about some video game while rolling a blunt. You wandered in, looking at your boyfriend with a smile. He winked at you and patted the countertop, signalling for you to sit beside him. You hopped up as Kyle and Stan took a seat at the table. You could hear Eric laughing at some poor, unfortunate girl in the living room, and you gave your boyfriend that knowing look, like a secret language between you both. He handed the half rolled blunt to you. "You're so good with your hands, think you could finish rolling that for me, baby while I rack us a line each?" He cooed, biting down on his lower lip just to tease you. "You read my mind." You said softly. Kenny hopped off the counter and to the opposite side of the kitchen, his back to you three. "What are you guys on this time?" Stan asked, he didn't particularly like weed, his dad had ruined that for him long ago, but it didn't mean he wasn't fascinated in trying other drugs. Kyle wasn't too sure how to feel, it goes completely against his religion to do any of this, but you're only young once, right? "Purest MDMA in South Park!" Kenny exclaimed. "Straight from Europe, you guys want some?" He asked, turned to face you three, bank card in hand, and two skinny, long lines already racked up for you both. "You know what, I'll do it if you do it, Kyle!" Stan declared, feeling butterflies in his stomach, his nerves always got the better of him. "Yeah, fuck it! It's been a shit week and it's Saturday! Let's make the end of this week amazing!" He said, both boys high giving each other, then turning to fist bump Kenny. He racked two more lines for Stan and Kyle and turned once again to face you all, making deep eye contact with you as you stick your tongue out to like the skin you were rolling the blunt in, sending him a flirty wink, which he gladly smirked back at. "Damn girl, you really gonna tease me like that?" He flirted back, a smile on his face.

Rolling up a bank note he placed it up his nose, snorting the line he prepared for himself. He sniffed again a few times after, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "Who's next?" He said, holding up the bank note. "I'll go!" Said Kyle, doing the same thing Kenny did and then coughing slightly afterwards. "It tastes like shit, man!" He shouted, downing whatever drink he had in front of him. "Yeah dude, that's the drip!" You said, laughing slightly before taking the bank note yourself and sniffing the powder in one swift motion. You passed the note to Stan who nervously did the same and reacted almost the same as Kyle. "Just stay away from Wendy for a few minutes dude, the drip makes you wanna throw up and you do that when you're completely sober around her!" Kenny said, laughing slightly before picking you up and spinning your round, his hands wrapped tightly around your waist, your thighs coming up to his sides. "You look so fucking hot right now." He said, kissing you gently before pulling away to stare at you once more. Your cheeks were flushed, a mixture of what Kenny had just said and done and the drugs and alcohol you had taken. He carried you into the living room, Stan and Kyle quickly following, Kenny placed you on the sofa and quickly connected to the speaker, handing you a lighter to spark up your blunt with, you inhaled the thick smoke and exhaled it with a long sigh, you hadn't felt this amazing since the last time you two did MDMA together, and that was one messy night.

The four of you sat and chatted, taking a few bumps here and there while you all smoked the blunt in rotation. It was as if the rest of the party didn't matter. Other people were taking their own drugs, people on ketamine, ecstacy, and god knows what else, it was South Park after all. And they knew you and Kenny didn't give a fuck.

Before you knew it you had finished the entire baggy between the four of you, the party heating up as the place was packed with people. Outside was dark and the street lamps shone brightly. "Hey guys, a new nightclub has opened down the street, it's supposed to be amazing! Wanna go?" Eric shouted loudly over the music. Everyone stared at him, mulling the words over in their fucked up minds. "Fuck yeah! Why not?!" Kenny shouted, turning off the music. "I could dance, let's go guys!"

The walk felt like a blur, you don't even remember how you got there, just how soft Kenny's hand felt in yours as you walked together down the street. The nightclub luckily let you all in without ID, and surprisingly didn't think any of you were on anything. When inside the place was huge, hundreds of people on the dance floor, flashing lights and loud techno music filled the air, this night was turning out to be one to remember. Stan was finally talking to Wendy with enough confidence in his fucked up, MDMA filled brain without throwing up on her, result! Kyle was chatting to some random girl in the corner of the dance floor when you and Kenny heard one of your favourite songs come on, you knew it was a sign from the gods above as the song blasted loudly through the speakers. He took your hand in his, his fluffy blonde hair reflecting the flashing lights in the club, you swore he looked like angel sent from above as he gripped your waist tightly almost scared to lose you as you both started dancing, first giggling and playing around and soon enough grinding against each other needing some sort of contact through the buzz you guys were feeling. Fuck, this felt unreal.

"Kenny." You moaned loudly enough for him to hear. "You like that baby?" He asked, pushing his hard cock against you a bit harder. "And what if I do this?" He whispered into your ear, a long stripe licking up the front of your throat, before his mouth attached to the side of your neck, licking, biting and sucking on the skin that was sensitive when sober, so this felt like you could touch the stars. The song had changed and you still both remained on the dance floor, practically eye fucking each other, hands roaming everywhere, anywhere, just to get some sort of friction.

"Fancy a bump of coke?" He whispered to you, a confused look on your face. "You really think I'd leave us with nothing?" He laughed, as you both, hand in hand made your way to the smoking area, standing at one of the tables. "I'll get us drinks, you crush that shit and I'll be back asap!" He said, pointing to the bar in the smoking area, you just nodded obediently.

You got to work, crushing it up in the baggy and smiling to yourself. You heard Eric shouting behind you with Kyle, Wendy, Stan and Butters. They approached your table, watching you carefully make two thick lines on the table as Kenny came back, two double vodkas in hand, no mixers. "Where'd you all come from?" He joked, handing you your drink and rolling up one of the notes he had received back as change. He snorted it quickly so you all wouldn't get caught and thrown out, you did as he did and giggled slightly after taking it, both of you downing your drinks. "How the fuck are you both not dead?!" Butters shouted loudly, Tweak and Clyde finding your group in the crowd, and all of you chatting among each other. Kenny handed you a cigarette and put one between his lips, lighting it and passing you the lighter, as you lit it you felt an arm snake around your shoulders, pulling you close to his body. You looked up at your boyfriend, giggling to yourself. He whispered something to Stan and Kyle as they all nodded, the music too loud for you to know what they were talking about. They began laughing as Eric too joined in the conversation. "I'm getting some more drinks!" You shouted loudly, as you walked over to the bar, everything spinning round you, boy you loved this feeling, and knowing Kenny felt the same was even better.

You turned around to see Kenny standing a few meters from you, staring at you as you came back to hand him a drink, a soft smile on his face as he stared at you. Fuck, he was the luckiest guy in this club, in South Park, fuck it, in the world to be able to call you his. You both understood each other like no one else did, not even your parents, you guys had been through everything together, and that's why he was going to make sure you were his girl for life. He had a ring back in your apartment and wasn't sure when to propose, but he was going to, just not while you were both fucked up. "I told the guys after this drink that we're gonna go home, my cock and I have some unfinished business to attend to." He said, winking and stealing a kiss from you. "Can we all dance before we go?" You pleaded, and Kenny just simply nodded. "Whatever you'd like, Princess." He said. He knew clubs like this would never end well with a pretty girl on your hip, some other douche always had to press their boundaries, and you were his girl, no one else's.

Your large group headed back to the dance floor, as a throwback banger came on. The first song you guys listened to together at the very first party you had all ever been to, it was like a movie, you all sang (shouted) along, badly. "DON'T YOU WORRY CHILD, SEE HEAVEN'S GOT A PLAN FOR YOU!" You all screaming in unison, dancing like lunatics when the beat dropped. You truly did have the best group of friends that anyone could ask for, and to top it off, the best partner in the entire universe, he little would and has died for you, just to make sure you were safe.

Your eyes became hyper fixated on your partners face as you sang to each other, tears of joy both steaming down your faces. Kenny couldn't believe how beautiful you looked as he turned to give the guys a knowing look, he let go of the grip he had on you and got on one knee, giggling to himself, not even having the ring on his possession. "WILL YOU MARRY ME, Y/N AND MAKE ME THE HAPPIEST GUY IN THE WORLD?!" He shouted and you swore your heart skipped a beat, the guy you got married to in the playground all those years ago now finally asking you for your hand in marriage, together, both of you, together, forever. "OF COURSE I WILL!" You shouted back, as he picked you up, spinning your round with him on the dance floor, all of your friends chanting and cheering loudly.

"Now if you'll all excuse us, I'm gonna go home and fuck my fiancée!" Kenny exclaimed loudly. Everyone erupted into laughter as you both made your way out of the club, not even making it home. Kenny had pinned you against a wall in a dark alleyway, two streets away from the club, one hand gripping your thigh up to his side, the other massaging your boob, his cock already buried deep within you, your moans filled the air, it wasn't long before you were both reaching orgasm together, Kenny chanted your name like a mantra, and you screamed his name loudly, your thighs pulling him as deep inside you as he could manage, his cum painting your insides, both equally as breathless as each other.

"How 'bout we go home, we smoke a fat blunt each, order some takeout and cuddle the rest of the night?" Kenny suggested, a small smile on his lips as he watched you pulling your jeans up, still breathless and legs weak. "That sounds fucking perfect." You replied, giving him a passionate kiss before taking his hand in yours. "You better be careful kissing me like that, baby, you know how high my sex drive is, I'll end up fucking you the rest of the night." He said, a smirk on his face, throwing you a quick wink. "Oh, I'm aware Mr McCormick." You flirted back. "Won't be long till you're Mrs McCormick." He replied, a large and genuine smile on his face, you could see his little tooth gap and your heart soared. You get to spend eternity with the only guy you've ever loved, and if that isn't perfection, I don't know what is.

sorry it was so long!! I really hope you enjoyed it!! I'm gonna try writing some more, so please let me know what you think and if you have any requests, hit me up!!

[stardust-swan]

Moroccan Spells for Beauty and Love ❤️🌹💋

Some of these are still practiced today, while others were practiced 100+ years ago. This post is for entertainment and educational purposes only. Although some spells are suitable for home use, most should not be attempted for both legal and health and safety reasons and are only included for historical interest. Post compiled mainly from Pratiques des Harems Marocains and Essai de Folklore Marocain.

Beauty

🌹Leave an agate stone in rosewater overnight and then pass it through incense smoke. Wear it as jewellery. This increases your natural charm and protects you from envy. To keep it charged, soak it in rosewater under the moonlight on the night of a full moon.

🌹To make your skin beautiful, light a white candle and mix 1 cup rosewater and 1 cup milk in a bowl, slowly stirring together. Add in a handful of rose petals if desired. Stand in the bath and pour over your body starting at the head and working downwards. As you pour, recite an incantation for however you want your skin to look (e.g brighter, smoother, more even, etc). Let it sit on your skin for a few minutes while visualising the skin you want, and then rinse off with warm water. You must let your skin air-dry. Repeat once a week.

🌹Soak 2-3 strands of saffron in warm water for 30 mins, letting it turn golden. Apply to your face and hands and say, "Ya Rab, bless me with beauty like the saffron's gold, radiant and glowing." Leave it to absorb and recite the Qur'an or say Bismallah. Do once a week.

🌹 To have a beautiful voice: eat a nightingale's heart

🌹 To always be beautiful in the eyes of the man you love, repeat the following incantation every morning while washing your face:

I greet you, oh washed face, Favour, charm comes to you Sent by Lalla Fatima, daughter of the Prophet May charm fall on you Like dewdrops fall on broad beans.

🌹 For your child to be born with beautiful eyes, pregnant women should look at a gazelle. Drink a glass of water above the head of the gazelle for your child to be born loveable and kind.

🌹For your child to have thick eyebrows and long eyelashes, put kohl on their eyelashes and eyebrows from their seventh day until their fortieth day. This also helps them see very clearly and never have sore eyes.

🌹To stop hair falling out and make it grow as long as branches, make offerings of candles to the carob tree of Lalla Quadfa and hang your fallen hairs in its branches (to cure headaches and neuralgia, hang amulets and charms written on paper from the tree).

🌹To prevent aging: Pound ginger, cloves, nutmeg from the Sahara, and galangal root. Add oil or honey. Take two spoonfuls every morning and every evening.

🌹 To reduce the size of the breasts (1): Get up early in the morning; rub the breasts with salt, which you then throw into the well. As the salt melts, the breasts will shrink.

🌹To reduce the size of the breasts (2): Strike your chest seven times with the slippers of a young unmarried man.

🌹To increase the size of the breasts: Rub the breasts with beans, which are then thrown into a well, saying:

O beans, when you swell,

They too will swell...

🌹 Invoke the jnun Lalla Malika and Lalla Mira to increase your beauty and charm

Singlehood

🌹A young woman, widow or divorcee who nobody wants to marry should wash her face and hands with the first water that comes out of a newly dug well. She will immediately find someone to marry.

🌹In Rabat, to help find a husband, women visit the hidden marriage well on the beach near the Udayas casbah. Mixing water from the well with rosewater helps to change a woman's luck in finding a husband. You should then light a candle for the djinn, as they can prevent people from getting married. Afterwards, leave old underwear behind for a symbolic change in sexual fortune. There is also a shrine to the local saint Sidi Abouri there, which you may also use as an intermediary through which to ask God to change your luck.

🌹In Marrakech, young girls who do not marry are taken to the tomb of Lalla Oum Biied Saad: Madam the mother of white luck. It is a small wall surrounding a square of land in the district of Assouel, near the zaouia of Sidi Bel Abbès. The young girls comb and wash themselves next to the tomb and throw into this small enclosure their comb, their fallen hair and a piece of cloth torn from their clothes; in addition, they make an offering of light to the saint on Friday. They also go on pilgrimage for the same purpose to Moulay Ibrahim, near Tahannaout. They spend three nights near his tomb and on the third night, the saint makes them see in a dream the face of their future husband.

🌹Remedy against singleness: The girl or woman who wishes to marry will cut, in her chemise, a strip of cloth to her height, from head to toe. She will cut it into seven pieces and will enclose in each a little of the powder of the seven "male spices" pounded together. At night, when no one else passes in the street, she will place the seven strands of cloth in a night light lit on the threshold of her door, and, seven times in a row, she will repeat:

O my husband! Come to my house.

So that she will not be long in being asked to marry.

🌹 Take an old mill rope and burn it on a Friday. At the hour when the muezzin sings, the single woman, in a hurry to get married, passes a little of the ashes of the rope, in the middle of her chin and forehead, saying:

Allah is the greatest!

Celibacy falls...

Someone came to the door. (The husband.)

She repeats this three times, on her terrace, remains standing there until a man of her house, - father or brother, - returns from the mosque, Then she asks him:

Have you prayed?

According to custom, he answers:

We have prayed. Allah will complete.

But, in her soul, she says quietly: It is he who comes who will complete... And she goes to wash her face.

🌹 Write a talisman wishing for a soulmate, and hide it in the foliage of an olive or argan tree.

🌹 Special ink for written love spells: Gently warm rosewater and pour it over a few saffron threads. Strain and add the liquid to existing ink or mix up your own with alcohol and gum arabica.

🌹Light a candle, mixing henna and rosewater in a bowl. Think of your lover or the person you want to attract. Using a thin stick, brush or other applicator, write their name on your body with the henna, and other symbols of love like their initials, hearts or roses. As you apply it, recite incantations for their love and loyalty to be bound to you. As it dries, think about your desires and the special someone. When it dries and begins to crack, gently wash it off, visualising your intentions being released into the universe. Do this ritual on a new moon for the effect to be strongest.

🌹 Write the name of the person who you want to attract on a piece of paper. Alongside it, write either the Surah Al-Fatiha or Surah Ya-sin. Fold it and place it in a glass of water, reciting the chosen Qur'anic verse seven times, thinking about your intention to draw love or strengthen your relationship. Leave the glass in a quiet, safe place overnight, and drink the water in the glass in the morning. Repeat every Thursday.

🌹To get married: take a dead white dove fledgling, wheat grains, barley and flour. Recite prayers over the ingredients and meditate. Wrap the ingredients in a small white cloth or white towel and bury the next day. You will begin to get proposals.

🌹 To split a couple: take a black powder such as charcoal dust, burned incense ashes, or sulfur, a root, and turquoise or green tourmaline broken into pieces. Place the powder and root into a fireproof bowl and light the ingredients. Read the Surah Al Fatifa in reverse. As the smoke carries through the air, imagine the couple breaking apart. After you finish burning them, bury them near their home or in a location significant to the couple or scatter them somewhere they're sure to pass, like their front door. Bury the turquoise too, crushing into powder if you want, or else put them in a small pouch and hide in their home. Repeat twice, "I am [your name]... Within this spell lies the power of [the name of the one you desire]." Do this on a Tuesday or when the moon is waning. Invoke Aisha Qandisha if you are a follower of her. Burn incense to cleanse negative energy afterwards, and perform a protective spell before. Use salt or burn rue to ward off negative energy.

Brides, weddings and marriage

🌹 To give the appearance of virginity to a bride deflorated before her wedding: Pound gallnuts, alum and the "mouth of a pomegranate". The matron sprinkles it on the bride, where appropriate. This remedy only works if she is still very young. For those who are nubile, there is no remedy.

🌹In order that the husband may always be in love, an amulet is made with seven dates, seven leaves of seven fruit trees and basil and sewn into a mattress. This will also bring abundance into the house. It is for the same reason that dates are thrown on the bride as she crosses the threshold of the wedding house. She is offered milk and her right heel is washed with it so that she may enter with wealth and abundance. Honey is put in her mouth so that she may be sweet to her husband. Yeast is put in her hand so that the good of her husband may prosper and increase.

🌹If on the first night of marriage, a taïmouma or black stone used for prayer and replacing the water of ritual ablutions is placed under the mattress of the bride and groom, their fate is linked to that of this stone, so that union will reign in the household, as long as the stone is whole.

🌹 Marriages must be consummated with the lights on, as the lights are a symbol of love and a happy life. The candles must not be extinguished; they are left to burn until the end so that the bride is always before her husband like a dazzling light.

🌹The visit of a sex worker to a young bride is a good omen; it means she will be loved. She must have her makeup, perfume and henna applied by the sex worker, for she has between her eyebrows seven magic flowers that affect love.

🌹 Autumn is the best time to get married, as due to her baraka (blessings), the bride will participate in the prosperity of the country by increasing the abundance of the harvest. The best day for consummating a marriage is Thursday; Sunday is also auspicious. The other days are all harmful and one only gets married on Thursdays and Sundays.

🌹 For the husband to remain faithful to his wife: When her husband is asleep, the wife places a lock of green silk on his lips. The next day, she has this lock buried in an old tomb of an unknown person.

🌹 Fidelity potion: Add a few drops of your urine to your lover's tea. Moroccan tea is typically made with large quantities of sugar and mint, easily disguising the few drops of urine that will ensure loyalty and docility. Just double check who gets which cup...

🌹To brink love back into a marriage, take pure musk, frankincense, mastic, sandarac, dragon's blood, myrrh of Abraham, incense, a dead hedgehog, a few bundles of feathers from a magpie or small bird of prey tied together with ribbon, and fenugreek seeds. Grind the resins and mix them together. Mix some of the fenugreek seeds into the mixture, saving some. Light the incense and wave the feathers through the smoke. Then wave the feathers over the other ingredients. Bury the hedgehog in front of the house or in the garden, as this defends the home from negative forces. Use the feathers to sprinkle the resin mixture around the home, in key areas like the doorway, near the bed, and on personal items belonging to your lover or that relate to your marriage (like wedding rings and photos). Anoint yourself with the musk (if desired you can also save some of the resin mixture to anoint yourself with too), and cook the fenugreek seeds in a meal you and your husband will eat. While you do this ritual, state your intention to remove blockages causing problems in the marriage, heal the relationship and bring love back to it. If you are a devotee of Lalla Mira you may invoke her.

🌹Moonfoam is highly prized in Moroccan witchcraft. As well as ensuring the fidelity of a husband or lover, it instills mad passion for whoever uses it, cures and prevents impotence, and repairs both male and female fertility. To make it, you must approach the cemetery gates on a new moon, strip naked, fill a basin or pitcher with water and place it under the moonlight, and mount an oleander branch, "galloping" around the cemetery seven times while chanting a special incantation (this incantation is a well kept secret, so you must either find an old wise witch to apprentice yourself to, or improvise). If you do this correctly, you will have attracted the attention of the moon's lunar guardians, and as you make your seventh circle around the cemetery, a lunar spirit will manifest and ask you to reveal your desire. You must tell her you want moonfoam. You will have to negotiate with her and make various offers, as she will be reluctant to give it to you. If you are successful, the moon will literally drop down into your water. Eventually the water will contain visible silver foam. Strain it off carefully, like oil from water or scum from soup. Take it home and reserve for future use.

🌹 To find or maintain true love, fill a small bag with earth from a three-way crossroads and wear it around your neck. This also wards off the evil eye.

🌹Love refreshing recipe, for a troubled relationship: take 6 red candles, rosemary, anise seeds, rosewater, black twine, a lump of rock salt and a nail. Place the candles in a circle in pairs in the bedroom, near the bed or a photo of the couple, with the rock salt in a bowl in the middle. Light the candles and state your intention for your love to be rekindled. Let the candles burn down as you sprinkle the herbs under the bed and near the doorway of the house. Sprinkle some rosewater on the bed linens. Use the twine to tie a knot around something that represents the couple like a photo, or to bind some objects belonging to each person together, and keep it somewhere safe like a bedside drawer. Drive the nail into the ground outside the doorway. Dissolve the rock salt in water and sprinkle it around the house to purify it.

🌹To bring back a cheating spouse, collect some of his clothes or semen and give them to a witch doctor (unfortunately there was no more information than this in my source, I would have liked to have found out what steps the witch doctor would take after receiving the artifacts)

🌹 Khamsa for love protection: Light frankincense incense and let the smell fill up the room, as this clears negative energy and wards off the evil eye. Take a small piece of paper, writing down the name of your partner or desired partner, along with a simple wish to protected, such as "bound by love, protected from harm." Fold the paper and wrap with a red ribbon. Take a khamsa charm (hand of Fatima) and pass it through the incense smoke three times, reciting an intention for love and protection. Place the paper in a hidden place somewhere close to you and your partner. Wear the khamsa or keep it in your home attached to the paper to protect your relationship. If you feel your relationship is in danger in the future, light the incense again and pass the khamsa through the smoke while reciting an incantation.

🌹To make your husband docile: Go to the cemetery at night, dig up a recently buried corpse, sit it on your knees and, taking its hands, make it knead a loaf of bread. As soon as the husband has eaten this bread, he will become, in his wife's arms, as docile as the dead.

Getting over heartbreak

🌹To forget an ex-boyfriend, wear trinkets and wear a skirt that allows smoke to flow up it (awakening sexual energy), then tap your ex on the shoulder. After you run away from him, wash with water that has been blessed or collected from a sacred site, and anoint yourself with copal resin. You will find a new man soon, which will help you forget the old one fast.

🌹Mix soil with saffron and rub it over your heart or third eye to unclog them from bad relationships.

🌹 Take wheat dust from the grinding of wheat, mix it with water and divide into two parts. Take care not to spill any; if you do you must find new wheat dust. Use one half to clean your house and dispose of it; take a bath with the other half. After the bath, bring a bouquet of fresh herbs and place in the middle of the house as an offering. This breaks curses, enchantments, and toxic relationships.

[koshkamartell]

Chapter 2

chapter warnings: soft!Joel, pervy!Joel, coarse language, slut shaming, protective!Joel, alcohol consumption.

That following Sunday Joel comes over to repair your porch swing as agreed. It is a strange, almost surreal experience for him to be standing at your cottage once again, only this time in the daylight and with the purpose of offering a service. Your cottage looks even more dilapidated in the light of day with its peeling paint work and broken window shutters. Just how long have you lived here in these conditions?

The small garden in your yard, however, is as splendid as he imagined it would be; an array of different flowers of various colours flourish in two separate plant beds, their presence a pleasing visual reprieve from the otherwise barren environment around them. Although Joel knows very little about gardening, he can see that it would take a considerable amount of love and effort to cultivate such a display of blooms. Did you do this all yourself?

Joel stands outside your front door for a minute, willing the nerves buzzing throughout his limbs to subside. His hand flexes around the handle of his tool box, the handle feeling sticky against the rough skin of his palm. He's not quite sure why, but he's nervous to see you again. It's not like you're some muckety muck figurehead of the community or something - you're just a random woman that needs help with a piece of furniture. A totally innocent scenario with a seemingly unremarkable, normal woman.

He swallows the lump in his throat and summons the courage to rap the back of his knuckles against the wood of your door. When you open it to greet him, Joel is momentarily stunned by your appearance. He is able to absorb more details of your face now, like the small scar on your bottom lip and the long one above your left eyebrow, aswell as the striking colour of your eyes. Your hair hangs over your shoulder in a loose pony tail, showcasing the elegant slope of your neck. The two top buttons of your shirt are undone, allowing him to spy the swell of your cleavage hidden behind the material.

You aren't just a random, normal woman. You are a gorgeous, sensual creature that stands before him like a kind of sultry apparitation. Joel tries his damnest not to stare at you, to instead divert his gaze to his feet, but it is near impossible to when the honeyed enunciation of his name slips out from the pout of your lips. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

Get it together. You're here for a job, that's all.

He nods and greets you good morning. There is an air of awkwardness between you, the kind of pleasant yet reserved way people interact when they are not friends yet not exactly strangers. You offer Joel a polite smile but don't try to engage him in small talk, for which he is thankful. He feels self conscious around you, as though he will say or do something that will make himself look ridiculous.

He sighs with relief when you excuse yourself and disappear inside your house and leave him alone to focus on the job. There's no way in hell he would be able to concentrate on what he came to do with you lingering about. He sets his tool box on the porch and gets straight to work on the swing. He spends the next hour or so measuring the broken slats and going to the lumber yard to retrieve suitable wood for their replacement.

When Joel returns he saws them to the correct size and hammers the pieces to the frame of the swing. He's methodical in the way he carries out each task, the pedantic need to execute things perfectly carried over from his days as a contractor. He savours the times when he's immersed in an assignment, whether it be on patrol or working on construction projects around the commune; the preoccupation dulls the ever present gnawing grief that plagues his battered heart, and helps inspire him to endure and survive.

Some time during the afternoon, when Joel is nailing one of the slats back onto the bench, you potter out to the porch and check in with him. You ask if he needs anything to eat or drink, but Joel politely refuses. Even though his stomach rumbles and his throat is dry, Joel is too bashful to accept your offer and prefers to dedicate himself to finishing the job before doing anything else.

"No, thank you, ma'am," he mutters.

You go back inside the house and Joel continues hammering. A minute later you reappear carrying a little wooden tray with two sandwiches on a plate and a tall glass of lemonade sitting ontop.

"Joel," you interrupt him gently. "Please take a break and eat."

Joel's hand pauses midway between delivering a knock to one of the nails. His eyes trail up your jean clad legs and stop at the tray in your hands. He feels his tummy flip a somersault.

You made lunch for him?

The people of Jackson are generally well mannered and convivial, but no one has ever extended their hospitality in such a way to him before. No one has never been so considerate as to serve him food him like this. He gently drops his hammer by his feet and slowly rises from his kneeling position on the floor, his joints creaking.

With a triumphant smile blossoming across your face, you slink past him with the tray and crouch to deposit it on the top ledge of your porch steps. Joel watches your movements closely, his eyes wandering over the nape of your neck and down your spine to your ass. He wonders what you would smell and taste like if he were to worship your body with sloppy kisses and gentle bites. His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip.

"Relax for a minute," you insist as you stand upright. Joel quickly swivels his head away from you and pretends to be preoccupied with scrutinising his handiwork.

"I have to go to the greenhouse to check on some seedlings." You say as you prance down the steps, your boots clunking on the wood with each tread. "But I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Joel mumbles, nodding his head but still not meeting your eye. You must work in the greenhouse, he guesses. It strikes Joel that he actually knows nothing about you aside from what Tommy had told him. You're a mystery, an enigmatic creature who he cannot quite understand why he's so drawn to. He waits a few moments before peeking back to see the back of your feminine figure sauntering down the street, the only sign of life that seems to be out and about in the ramshackle neighbourhood.

With you absent, Joel feels confident enough to finally take a break and let himself rest for a few minutes. He plops down on the step beside the lunch tray and expels a weary groan. God, he's feels so fucking old lately. He wonders how old you are. He guesses around 35, maybe a little younger. It's hard to tell, these days.

Joel all but wolfs down the lunch you made him. The sandwiches - some lettuce, cheese and a bit of turkey - are surprisingly delicious and fill the empty cavern in his stomach. He washes it down with the sweet, tangy lemonade before giving a small belch of satiation. It turns out that a bit of food and a cool drink is just what Joel needs; it revitalises him, giving him enough energy to finish off the last bit of restoring the backing of the swing.

By the time you return, an hour or so later, Joel has completed the job. You reach the cottage as he tugs on one of the chains connecting the seat to the porch roof, testing out its durability. Satisfied that it won't collapse, he packs his hammer and the remaining unused nails back into his tool box. He doesn't see you approach until you're already bounding up to the porch, a wide smile spread over your face.

"Holy shit," you exclaim. "You're already finished?"

Joel watches you make a beeline for the swing with your eyes wide and your mouth hanging open in awe. There is a smudge of dirt on one of your cheeks, he notices. You look young and girlish in this moment, like an excited kid marvelling at a new toy. You're cute. Joel has to suppress his own small smile of amusement.

Your hand trails reverently along one of the arm rests and up along the top back slat. "Wow," you whisper in wonderment. "Incredible."

"Needs a coat of paint," Joel interrupts. "Then she'll be perfect."

You shift your eyes away from the swing to lock eyes with Joel. You shake your head gently. "It's already perfect, Joel," you say earnestly. "Thank you."

Your expression is so sincere, your face so fucking beautiful, that Joel feels his stomach suddenly somersault once again. He clears his throat and glances down at his boots.

"Welcome," he mumbles.

You appraise Joel's handiwork for another minute before sitting down on the seat. You push yourself to rock back and forth a few times, giggling with delight when the swing picks up some momentum. Your pleasure is infectious, it seems; Joel huffs a quiet chuckle while he observes you.

His heart blooms with pride to witness the happiness the fruit of his labour has given you. It makes him want to do more for you, to give you more reasons to beam that sweet smile of yours. Aside from Ellie you're the only person who has evoked such an inclination from him; it is a startling realisation considering he usually didn't give a shit about anyone else's pursuit of happiness.

He needs another reason to meet with you again.

"Them shutters don't look too good," Joel motions to the deteriorated panels that hang against your windows like limp cobwebs. "Ain't gonna last the rain through next winter."

You sigh and cast a glance at the window closest to your shoulder. "I guess you're right. I did ask Tommy if I could get them fixed, but what was a while ago."

Joel's ears perk up at the mention of his brother. "You did? Why aren't they fixed then?"

"I don't know, I guess he just forgot," you dismiss with a shrug. "He's pretty busy running other things in the community, I didn't want to bother him with something like this." You lean back and reach over to lightly trace the edge of one of the shutter frames with a fingertip. "It doesn't bother me that much."

Joel puts his hands on his hips and narrows his gaze at you, his jaw ticking. He isn't completely sure if you are telling him the truth. Are you really so unbothered by how much of your property seems to be falling apart around you? There's no way he would let Ellie live in such a place. There's no way he can leave you today knowing there's more he can do for you.

"I'm comin' back next week to fix these up," Joel declares, sounding more gruff than he intends to. "Before the damn things fall off."

You grin at him and stand up from the seat. "Okay, but only if we make a deal. I gotta do something in return for you."

"You made me--"

You quickly hold up your hand. "Making you lunch isn't enough. I want to do something for you. I'm not a freeloader, I can pull my own weight. Please, Joel."

There is a cutting edge of conviction in your pointed gaze and the tone of your voice. You are determined to prove yourself. It reminds him of the night you met, when you were pissed at him during that misunderstanding. He chews on his bottom lip as he thinks. He would be glad to give you an opportunity to prove yourself, if it is that important to you, but he's just not the kind of person to insist on quid pro quo, tit for tat.

What could you possibly do for him, anyway?

The dubiety must be clear on his face because you eagerly start listing the different things you have to offer him.

"I can tidy your yard, plant some things I'm your garden. Do your dishes. Your laundry. Fuck, I don't know. Sew your clothes."

Joel's eyebrow raises in piqued curiosity. "Y'know how to sew?"

"Yes, sir," you nod solemnly. "My mother taught me when I was a kid. I can stitch whatever you need."

He can't hide how impressed he is. Skills such as sewing are invaluable in these times. He hums and scratches his chin while he considers your offer, his fingernails creating a rasping sound as they pass over his whiskers.

"Well, my favourite jacket does have a hole in it," he murmers.

"Done," you grin at him. "Bring it with you next week."

Joel huffs a laugh and agrees, shaking your hand when you offer it to him. He tries to ignore the little jolt of electricity he feels when his large, rough hand clutches your smaller, much soft one.

He returns the following weekend and repairs the shutters while you sit on the swing and diligently stitch his jacket. The scene is domestic and comfortable. You chat together as you both work on your individual tasks, occasionally falling into stretches of congenial silence when either of you need to concentrate.

Around lunch time you insist Joel comes inside the cottage to eat with you. He acquiseces and follows you through the front door, unable to help look at the shape of your ass when you walk in front of him. He wonders what you'd look like underneath your clothes, how soft and supple your body would be, how hypnotising your ass would look bouncing as he pounds into you doggy style.

Fucking quit it.

You lead Joel to a humble little dining table beside your kitchen. He takes a seat and looks around, absorbing the details of your dwelling. It's a small place but suitable for a single person like yourself. A little glass vase of posies sit in the middle the kitchen bench. The walls are painted in a pale shade of lemon, the pleasant hue highlighted by the sun shining through the delicate lace curtains that frame your kitchen window.

There is a small oil painting hanging on the wall beside him. It's a still life of a bowl of fruit, and while Joel has never been a conscious admirer of art, he can appreciate the intricacy of the shading and detail within the painting. He studies it while you prepare the sandwiches and cups of tea.

At the bottom of the canvas is written: "to Honey, love J."

"Whose Honey?" Joel wonders aloud, squinting at the handwritten words.

"Me," you answer simply. He looks over to you and raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

"That some kinda nickname?"

"'S what some folks call me." You reply simply.

Joel watches you as you slice into a ripe tomato. You stare down at the chopping board as you slowly work the knife up and down, granting him a brief opportunity to drink in the sight of your face; you look particularly pretty today, he thinks, especially with the golden glow of the sun pouring over you. A lock of hair falls from behind your ear and dangles over your forehead and he fights the impulse to tuck it away.

"Why do some folks call you Honey?" Joel asks.

The corner of your mouth quirks into half a smile, but your head remains bowed as you stay focused on cutting the tomato. "Well, when I first came here I was assigned work duty in the nursery. Jan was the person I worked with. We got along well. She taught me so much. Because of her I was able to grow those flowers in my garden myself, all from seeds. Anyway, I loved the flowers, they were my favourite."

Joel watches you closely, analysing the features of your beautiful face as you speak, the way your eyes warm with affection at the memory you recollect. He loves seeing you like this.

"She used to laugh at me, the way I'd hover around the flowers, like a honey bee." You chuckle softly, shaking your head with fondness. "So she started calling me Honey, and I guess it just stuck."

It's sweet. It suits you perfectly. The bitesized insight into your private life excites Joel. It is as though he has attained the first piece of the puzzle that is your identity, the individual you truly are.

"Jan painted me that," you look up now and motion with your chin toward the canvas that hangs beside him. "About a year before she passed. I miss her everyday, but seeing that makes me happy. Like I have a little piece of her with me."

Joel listens attentively as you recount some of the escapades you and Jan got up to at the greenhouse. He laughs along with you when you tell him about the time you tripped and fell face first into a pile of horse shit. He shakes his head with feigned disapproval as you describe a prank you pulled on Jan in retaliation for her scaring you with a fake spider.

You're funny, it turns out. And a hell of a story teller. By the end of the day Joel has talked and laughed more in the one afternoon than he has in all his time living in Jackson. He goes to bed that night with a silly little grin on his face.

The exchange of services and food continues over the next few weeks. He fixes the leaking pipe in laundry next and in turn you thank him by baking him blueberry muffins, which he thinks is just about the most delicious thing he has ever eaten. He finds your gestures of gratitude touching, even though he rarely enjoys receiving praise from anyone.

There's something about your personality that makes Joel feel at ease. He senses no judgement or condescension in the way you talk and behave with him, unlike the times he's conversed with other townsfolk. There are no airs and graces with you, and while you seem a little shy at times, you certainly aren't timid. While you like discussing subjects that interest you, you aren't an incessant chatterbox. He appreciates that you don't talk for the sake of talking, that you seem to enjoy contented silence.

The friendship between you and Joel blossoms over the course of the following months. You spend a few hours together every couple of weeks, either at your cottage or at Joel's house. He enjoys finding things to fix for you, jobs that keep his hands busy and help temper his nerves. You seem to understand this about Joel, his need to provide and service, and you never deny assigning him something to do, no matter how small.

Joel isn't sure just how you feel about him, but you always look pleased to see him, always greeting him with a warm smile. Joel himself secretly relishes the time you spend together, that ever present invisible string luring him to you, making him want to spend more and more of his free time with you.

The friendship between you and Joel goes unnoticed by anyone else. You don't socialise much, it seems, as no one is ever at your cottage when Joel stops by. He occasionally spots you at the dining hall eating with one or two other women who he surmises are your work friends. You spend your days on duty at the greenhouse and planting crops. He knows you go to the Tipsy Bison for a drink, although it seems to be a rare occurance. He's come to realise that you are alot alike himself - favouring your own company to superficial friendships, not overly gregarious, preferring to keep your head down and contribute to the community with humility rather than big noting yourself. He appreciates you for that. He respects you.

In fact, Joel has come to really like you.

It's why he hasn't mentioned you to anyone but Ellie. She's met you a few times now, and Joel is pleased to see that you two get along well. But aside from Ellie, Joel is hesitant to divulge your friendship to anyone else, especially Tommy. Unfortunately for Joel, the inevitable comes one autumn afternoon when you show up on his doorstep with a plate of cookies in hand. He wasn't expecting you but welcomes the surprise, always privately thrilled to lay his eyes on your pretty face. He even forgets that Tommy is supposed to be coming over to discuss the new patrol roster.

He's standing on the threshold on his doorstep, captivated by you recounting the events of your morning baking marathon, when Tommy arrives. Joel catches sight of his brother in his peripheral vision and a rush of dread and annoyance swoop over his heart.

Fuck.

"Hello little lady," Tommy greets you as he ascends the porch steps to Joel's front door. His dark brown eyes throw a furtive glance of curiousity to Joel before settling back on you. He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "What ya got there?" He tips his head toward the plate in your hands.

"Hey Tommy," you smile. "Oh, just some muffins, a few cookies." You look back at Joel and grin. "I'm trying out that apple and oat recipe from that book I told you about. Thought it was only right that you were the first to taste test."

Ofcourse you did. You are always so goddamn kind.

"Thanks, Honey," Joel murmers as he accepts the plate you eagerly extend to him. He wishes he could be more jovial and express just how appreciative he is, but it's impossible with Tommy there. The weight of Tommy's unspoken scrutiny rests uncomfortably over Joel's head, like a storm cloud threatening to unleash a torrential downpour.

Thankfully you don't linger. You excuse yourself and bid them goodbye, flashing one last dazzling smile before leaving to go check on the greenhouse.

"Well, I'll be damned," Tommy grins smugly as the two men enter into Joel's house. "You and Honey huh?"

Ribbing and teasing from his little brother was always going to be inevitable, but for some reason, when it comes to you, Joel finds it bothers him more than he anticipated. His jaw clenches momentarily. He needs to try keep his cool.

"Me and her what?" Joel grunts. "We're just friends."

They make their way into the kitchen, where Joel sets the plate down on the counter. The sugary scent from the baked goods wafts up to his nostrils and makes his stomach grumble.

"Hey, I got friends," Tommy sniggers. "None of 'em bake cookies for me." He plucks one of the cookies from the plate and takes a bite. "Ya fuckin' her?"

"Goddamnit, Tommy," Joel snarls suddenly. "No. It ain't like that."

"So what's it like, then?" Tommy questions through a mouthful of cookie. "Why is she playin' Betty Crocker with an grumpy old asshole like you?"

"I've been helpin' repair stuff around her place. It's just how she says thanks." Joel shoots back defensively. Tommy shrugs and shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"Ya know, I got a bone to pick with you," Joel crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Tommy. Now is the perfect opportunity for him to bring up the issues he has been meaning to for weeks. "Why did she get stuck livin' in that place?"

Tommy frowns and leans his lower back against the kitchen counter. "What do you mean?"

"Her house. It's fallin' into disrepair, Tommy."

Tommy hums and smooths his moustache with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. He seems to consider it for a few moments before shrugging nonchalantly. "It ain't that bad."

"It is, as a matter of fact," Joel retorts sharply. "It's unacceptable, actually."

"What do you want me to do about it, Joel?" Tommy bites back. There is a hint of irritation lacing his tone, an inflection that seems uncharacteristic of Tommy's usually benevolent personality.

Joel throws his hands up, exasperated. "You're on the damn committee, you gotta say in this kinda stuff. She should be livin' somewhere where the drain pipes aren't busted and need fixin' every week."

"So that's what you been doin' all this time, huh?" Tommy sniggers. "Fixin' her pipes?"

Joel rolls his eyes and shoots Tommy with an unimpressed glare. "That's enough. Just move her to a better house."

Tommy's playful demeanour quickly morphs into an exasperated scowl. "You know we gotta put families first, Joel. There just ain't anythin' available right now."

Joel scoffs and shakes his head. "Just promise me you'll do what you can, Tom. As a favour to me."

Tommy nods his agreement, his jaw set square and firm. They spend the rest of the afternoon avoiding any further discussion of you.

Your visits to each other's homes become a ritual of sorts. On those quiet afternoons you keep Joel company, sipping tea as you watch him saw and hammer and tinker. You share conversation, asking each other questions and sharing titbits of information about your lives both now and before the end of the world. He learns that you were a teenager when the outbreak began and had lost all your family within the first two weeks. You spent the years travelling around the state with a few different groups of survivors, narrowly managing to avoid raiders or being rounded up into a QZ.

You had met your defacto husband, Michael, when you joined his ragtag band of men and women. After eight years of living in the harsh wilderness the group had dwindled down to just you and he. You eventually stumbled upon Jackson, both of you malnourished and suffering various ailments and injuries. It was only two weeks after arriving that your husband succumbed to the pneumonia that plagued his lungs.

You gloss over this part of your life story with few details, but Joel can recognise the glimpse of sorrow in your eyes and in the tiny hitch in your voice. He can see your pain runs deep but he still can't help wondering why you haven't found someone to shack up with in Jackson.

Joel thinks back to that night he first met you, how you left the bar in tears. He still occasionally wondered about just what happened but hadn't asked, not wanting to pry and potentially offend the fragile friendship that had become quite precious to him.

He finds the right opportunity to sate his curiousity one cool autumn evening. You had invited Joel over for dinner that night, and some time after dessert you and he sat on the porch swing side by side, each nursing a bottle of beer. You sit contentedly with a knitted blanket over your legs and watch as a light breeze dances through the quiet street and swirls the crunchy fallen leaves around the sidewalk. Joel leans back into the swing and rests a hand on his belly.

"'M gettin' fatter with all your delicious cookin'," he mutters good naturedly.

You chuckle and push your toes against the porch to give the seat a gentle sway back and forth. "Think it'll be strong enough to hold us both?"

"Told ya I'd fix it that night we met," Joel counters matter of factly. "And I don't do things half assed."

You raise your bottle slightly and tip it to him in salute. "You're right. Maybe I should be thanking that asshole from the bar. Probably would have never met if it wasn't for him - I wouldn't be sitting in this perfectly crafted swing, either."

You jest, giggling to yourself, but Joel goes quiet and pensive. You notice his change in mood immediately and give him a gently nudge with your shoulder.

"Hey, what are you thinking?"

"That night we met," he begins tentatively, turning his head to look at you. "Who was that guy? What did he say to you?"

Your brows furrow with a contemplative solemnity and you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. Joel watches you intently as he patiently waits.

"He was just some guy," you eventually reply. "I don't really know him, but I know one of his friends."

Joel nods slightly to indicate he's listening to you. You glance up at him and sigh, shaking your head.

"Kinda a long story. You really wanna hear it?"

"Got all the time in the world, Honey," Joel says earnestly. All the time in the world for you.

You smile back at him and have a sip from your bottle. "Here goes. So, a while after I first got here, I started drinking alot. I just wanted to numb the pain, you know?"

Joel hums lowly. He knows that feeling all too well. His own experience of abusing whatever alcohol and pills he could get his hands on back in the QZ, whatever destructive thing he could do to drown out the incessant agony from the loss he had endured. Although Joel was able to better manage his grief now days he still experienced times of loneliness, nights where he yearned for comforting arms wrapped around him, for someone to talk about his day with.

"I missed Michael so much. I really needed someone to just hold me and let me cry," you confess softly. "But who could I go to? I didn't really know anyone here. I wasn't ready to open up and trust anyone, anyway."

You stretch out your legs and wriggle underneath the blanket to get a little more comfortable. Joel waits for you to continue your story, trying his best to ignore the twitching urge to inch his hand closer to yours and slip his fingers inbetween yours.

"So, one night I got drunk off some god awful cocktail mix at the Bison. Some guy had been trying to chat to me but I kinda ignored him, wasn't really interested. You know Greg, Tommy's friend?"

Joel frowns. "The guy that works in the stables?"

You nod. "Yeah, well, he was the guy. Kept ordering me more drinks to get me to talk, acting all charming. Anyway, by midnight I'm pretty drunk."

Joel's hand curls into a fist and his jaw ticks. The thought of you intoxicated in a bar with some creep trying to chat you up makes him agitated. Although he doesn't really know Greg, Joel instantly decides to hate him from this point on.

"Okay," Joel murmers to indicate he is listening. He doesn't like the sound of what may come next in your story but he is eager to find out.

"When I get up to leave he's right next to me acting like a gentleman, holding me up and opening the door for me. And he walked me home."

Joel wants to punch Greg's fucking face in.

"The sex wasn't anything amazing. But I remember my mind going blank. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't thinking. No memories, no sadness. Just the weight of someone else on me."

Your voice catches slightly at the last few words, and Joel feels his heart ache with the need to comfort you, to sling his arm around you and pull you close. He's in awe of your vulnerability and rawness in this moment, how unashamedly you bare your history and emotions to him. You look down at the bottle in your hand as you speak, idly toying with the lip of its opening. Are you nervous to talk about this with him?

"I went into a downward spiral for a while. I slept with a few people. I couldn't handle a relationship. I needed to feel someone close to me. It was a way of getting that closeness, you know? Without the fear of them leaving."

"Anyway, Greg was an asshole and told his buddies about what we did. And that guy at the Bison that night, he was one of 'em. Thought I'd fuck him if he acted all smooth." You roll your eyes and scoff. "When I rejected him he started saying really mean stuff just to hurt me."

"Fuckin' prick," Joel growls, his hand flexing to grip the neck of his bottle tightly.

"I'm not denying what I did. It was my way of coping at that time and I'm not ashamed of it. We all have shit we have to live with, and I was just doing what I could to get through it." You lean your head back against the swing and sigh softly.

Joel understands precisely what you mean. He wishes he could express just how well he *does* understand. He's committed so many deplorable acts of violence throughout this nightmarish apocalypse - some in the name of survival, others without true justification. He has always been able to suppress the tormenting memories in his day to day life but they haunt his subconscious, waiting until night time to rain an onslaught of bad dreams upon him, causing him to wake suddenly with his heart pounding and his brow drenched with sweat.

You take a swig from your bottle and quietly add, "But people talk, Joel. And they can be so cruel."

Joel stares down at his lap, his jaw ticking. He isn't sure what to say in response. He knows first hand how cruel people can be, how vicious the judgemental gossiping can be. But he feels ashamed and guilty; his own brother was one of those people who talked about you, and his own first impression of you was less than virtuous. He hates himself for how dishonourable his thoughts were.

"I told you because I trust you, Joel. And because I know you won't judge me." You whisper, your voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Joel's heart skips a beat when your hand slips out from the blanket and crawls over his jean clad knee. He takes a moment to recover from the shock when you find his hand and thread your fingers through his thick digits and squeeze gently. That same extraordinary electric sensation buzzes between you once more. He exhales a deep breath through his nostrils and carefully squeezes your delicate hand back.

It's right at that moment in time that Joel makes a promise to himself to always protect you.

[twopoppies]

Hi! So I was actually at Morriña festival a few days ago and wanted to ask your opinion on the theory that Harry was there, then saw that you already posted a bit about it. So here’s my take. I’m actually still on the fence about it, but leaning towards “within the realm of possibility”.

My arguments in favour:

• Louis was very funny and cheeky with fans for most of the show, but for some specific lines he got significantly more serious. What stuck out to me personally was “love you cannot hide” in The Greatest, the entirety of Saturdays, the second verse of We Made It. His gaze seems to be much more focused and pointed, not moving at all, and with it being during these specific lyrics… I am ready to clown lol.

• In the beginning of We Made It (and maybe more times, this is just what I recorded) he pointed twice somewhere high - too high for fan signs, but lower than he usually points for emphatic value. And I think that he pointed in the general direction of the projector tower, which, as I’ll explain later, is the likeliest place for Harry to be if he was there.

• There was technically a place for Harry to hide at, despite the open layout of the festival. You can see the scheme at the festival’s insta page here https://www.instagram.com/p/C9zvd7ni6MF/?igsh=MWdkMWhkZDZqb2NsYQ== and the building you initially posted about was indeed just a warehouse with toilets. I was inside, although a little drunk already, but I only remember very high ceilings and windows to let in natural light, so I am 99% sure that there is no proper second floor. Other buildings on the site are too small, so instead my best bet is the projector tower in front of the stage. I saw some people say that there was someone in the side of the stage, but I couldn’t notice anything, and I had an excellent view of that side, plus Louis didn’t look that far to his left.

• After the show Louis posted a picture of himself from the back, and the tower is well within his range of aforementioned medium-high pointing.

• Harry’s most recent bike pictures - they were backdated exactly to July 26. I don’t have nearly as many experience as you, but to me such backdated pap pictures have come to mean that Harry was actually in a different place that day.

My arguments against:

• Based on what I could observe from my spot, Louis’ gaze doesn’t seem to (always) land on a plausible spot for Harry to hide in. Sometimes it goes a little too far to the left from the projector tower (even on the picture he posted he seems to be looking more to his left), and there are no other suitable buildings in that direction. Unless we consider industrial buildings beyond the festival grounds, but this seems ridiculous to me. I doubt that Harry could’ve come to a random Galician cement company and be like “Oh, my secret boyfriend is performing in front of here tonight, can I please hand around your cement mixing tower or whatnot for half the night?”

• I only notices a lot of the aforementioned things a good while after the show, when I heard that Harry was supposedly there and began rewatching my footage to prove or disprove that. So I may be cherrypicking facts to fit what I would really like to be true. Except for the Saturdays thing, though; he was genuinely so emotional during it, and his demeanour shifted so suddenly when he started it, that I noticed this even in the moment.

So here’s what I can say, what’s your opinion?

And an unrelated fact for your interest: the majority of the crowd, or at least those who camped and ended up at the barricade, were larries (I was at the barricade too btw… best night of my life). During Back To You Louis didn’t sing the “I love … “ line at all, but we all screamed “I love him” and he nodded and smiled at us.

Lots of love and best wishes :)

Hi, sweetheart. You comment about the cement mixing tower made me laugh. 🤣🤣🤣

First of all, I’m so glad you were there and got to be at the barricade, and had such a good show.

Second, I do think the photos of Harry in London were likely from any day but the day they dropped, based on his clothing (and that there was no particular reason for him to be papped in London that day)

Third, I don’t think it’s impossible that he was at the festival, and your comments about why and where, make more sense than anything I’ve seen yet. We’ll never know for sure, but I’d love to believe he was able to be there.

x

[volostogekiss]

you are always my life (1/??)

A few years after post-game. Established relationship. GN!reader. Unspecified home region, so up to you wherever you’re from! Summary: Not long after you return to your present-day world, Volo shows up, too. (Various shorts about domestic, modern-day moments with Volo. Probably will continue more of these at some point!)

clothes shopping – (day one.)

One of the first things that you decided when it had finally, totally, completely sunk in that Volo had also made it to the present day, was that he desperately needed new clothes.

He couldn’t be walking around in a kimono during winter. The weather had just started turning icy. Besides that, it was clear from the moment he’d appeared beside you that people were unfortunately intrigued by him. You had too many thoughts about why, although you tried to disregard them. It was hard to neglect just how attractive Volo was though, and that he stood quite obviously a head above most others. You’d also lent him an overcoat so that he could accompany you outdoors, but it didn’t fit him properly, and that only worsened the staring.

Then, there were the comments as well.

A group of college students passing by spent much too long gaping at Volo. You even heard one of them ask if he was some kind of cosplayer. Another was raising their phone for a photo, and that was when you tugged Volo away.

If you weren’t in such a rush to find suitable clothes so your lover wouldn’t freeze, you might’ve turned back around and snapped at them, but you had more important things on your mind. Like how you’d just been reminded that Volo would probably need a phone, too.

“Ho-oh’s tailfeathers,” you mumbled the curse under your breath.

Tightening your grip on Volo’s hand, you leaned in closer to him and ignored how he blinked back at the students in unabashed confusion.

“I will say,” Volo began as he threaded his fingers through yours, “I’m quite curious to know what a ‘cosplayer’ is.”

You were too busy watching the crosswalk light to humor him, however. “See? This is a crosswalk light. When it’s red, that means we can’t cross, but when it turns green, it means we can go. The flashing numbers mean how long we have before we can’t cross again.”

Volo nodded, keeping pace with you as you hurried down the street. There were plenty of things he didn’t yet understand about your modern world, but he was doing his best to remember all of them, at least.

“Oh, and,” you said with a start, when you made it to the other side, “I’ll explain what a cosplayer is some other time.”

“Perhaps it’s not something you need to worry about at all,” answered Volo immediately, his brows furrowing. He’d noticed that you were on-edge. It was obvious that his presence was concerning you to the point where you were stressing yourself out.

You shook your head. A knowing smile flitted onto your lips, despite how anxious you seemed. “Everything about you—whatever’s on your mind, whatever you want—that’s all I think about. You’re bound to have more questions anyway, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“We all know what happens when you have unanswered questions,” you laughed shortly, some amount of your anxiety melting away when you saw him huff and roll his eye at you.

“You’re quite unfair, my love.”

“And you’re not?”

However, you were unprepared for the smirk he gave you then, followed by the swift peck to your forehead.

Volo chuckled at your startled reaction. “Hm, I suppose I am.”

“I’ll get you for that one,” you promised him as you harrumphed. “But later.”

Without waiting for him to reply (you did hear him laugh), you headed into the department store. There was still plenty for you to do, after all.

The doors whirred shut behind the both of you. The warmth of the heater at the entrance was certainly welcome, and instinctively, you gathered Volo’s cold hand between yours, rubbing it slowly. He’d been preoccupied with the splendor of the building, but noticing what you were doing, he turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. Looking at him with a similar, tender expression, you left a kiss upon his fingertips, then dropped your linked hands back to your side.

Volo squeezed your hand. You squeezed his in reply.

Then, squaring your shoulders as if you’d just received a much needed burst of energy, you announced, “Okay. Let’s get you some new clothes.”

While you rode the escalator up a few floors, you explained what the machine was, what to expect when buying clothes, and that you were lucky you were visiting during early afternoon on a weekday. Fewer people were about, and you didn’t have to deal with fighting crowds of shoppers like on weekends.

Volo seemed amused by your final point, especially after you’d likened it to the days when Anthe released a new line of clothes. It was a bit nostalgic though, to think of the time now past you both, but Volo was just glad that you were with him now.

He was pondering the memory, nearly lost in his own musings, until you told him that you’d reached the boutique floor.

With another word of encouragement, you smiled at him again—really, all Volo needed was you, and oh, your smile, how that made him practically forget where he was—and walked toward the storefront.

An employee, dressed in a trimmed suit, bowed and greeted you both as you approached. However, when he straightened upright again, you saw his eyes widen, and one of his hands nearly lifted to cover his face.

“Oh my goodness,” he said, shocked, whether by Volo’s mismatched clothes or the fact that he was alarmingly handsome, you didn’t know.

Hesitantly, you waved at him before urging Volo inside the boutique. You wanted to pretend as if you hadn’t really been there at all.

After sequestering yourselves at the back of the store, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the staff had deduced you could manage without any of their help, as they left you alone where you were. It was better if you avoided any questions, even those unspoken, and simply focused on Volo.

He was still holding your hand. He was also regarding you with a mixture of worry and kindness, so much so that your heart trembled.

You looked away, feeling an inexplicable nervousness, as if you were once again surreptitiously harboring a crush on the man.

“If you see something you like, just let me know. We’re looking for warmer clothes for now, but it would be nice to get something you want to wear,” you rattled off, trying to settle your heart again.

The look on his face changed as he dipped in close to you and whispered, “I would much rather trust your judgment about what looks best on me.”

“That may be a bit difficult…”

“Why? Is it because you prefer nothing on—”

“Volo!”

He just laughed at you. But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to take your mind off your troubles.

“I jest, my love.”

Sighing with a smile, you swung your intertwined hands forward, a sign you’d like him to walk with you as you inspected the displays. Although you’d been worried about Volo since he’d quite literally been dropped into your world only a few hours prior, you had to admit that you enjoyed this moment with him. Shopping together wasn’t really something you had often done in Hisui. It was different then, much different, despite how you’d already lived with one another for years, in your little home.

Briefly, you wondered what had happened to it.

“What about this?”

You were glad that Volo had brought you out of your reminiscing. He was here with you. That was what was important.

“Oh!” Your attention was now fully on the sweater Volo was holding. “That’s exactly what I was thinking we should look for first!”

Volo tilted his head meaningfully. “We think quite alike.”

You eyes softened.

“Of course we do.”

Reaching out, you took the sweater from him and examined it carefully. It was a pale cream color, with light blue buttons that reminded you of the markings on Togekiss. Your lips twitched upward. Of course, you probably weren’t the only one thinking of the resemblance.

You peered at the tag on inside its collar and at the rack it’d been on. “It’s a good brand, Altaria and Blu.”

“And what does its name mean?”

“They’re a family of Pokémon—Swablu and Altaria. They kind of look like clouds, but they’re actually birds.”

“Hm. I would like to see a Pokémon like that one day.”

Draping the long sweater over your arm, you returned to perusing the other options while chatting idly. It was peaceful—more than you’d thought it’d be. Maybe it was because your nerves had eased themselves a little. It also helped you overlook how much this all might cost you. You could manage. Anything, for him.

For the most part, however, Volo defaulted to letting you choose his clothing for him, despite how often you tried to get his input. It was nice that he trusted you to do so—even if he was right beside you, observing what you selected for him. Once more, you couldn’t help thinking of how regular something like this could be for the two of you.

A normal life. Maybe not like the one you’d had in Hisui, but one where you’d be together, forever. You smiled at the thought.

Volo seemed pleased, too. Maybe it was because he liked what the two of you had picked. Similar sweaters, warm cargo pants, a variety of button-downs, and some comfortable, stay-at-home clothes, among the other clothing necessities like undergarments and shoes. (The sandals he was wearing had to go.)

…Or maybe it wasn’t really the clothes, but the principle of it all. That he was just as happy to be with you as you were with him. You caught him staring at you fondly—once when you were deeply scrutinizing a trendy pair of track pants and then when you were describing the different fabrics often used for modern-day clothing. He only smiled at you when you’d asked if something was wrong, before saying that he simply loved hearing your voice.

You had to wait a moment before you could actually make your way to the register to pay.

The exchange with the cashier went about as you’d expected though. They seemed curious about Volo, but you appreciated that they didn’t say anything. They did grin when you mentioned that Volo would be wearing some of the clothes you’d purchased out.

You sighed as the two of you left the boutique. You were glad that everything had gone smoothly, even if you’d been particularly worried on the way here.

Taking Volo’s hand again, you checked the time, then said, “We’ll go shopping for more clothes on another day, but for now, this should hopefully work.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Huh?” You looked up at him, surprised by the unexpectedness of his remark.

Volo plucked the bag of clothes you’d been carrying and hooked it over his elbow. He glanced at you softly. “You were worried about me throughout the entire afternoon. I was unsure of what I could do to help.”

“Volo…”

He smiled at you, and then he was the one guiding you down the sidewalk.

“But there’s no need to worry about me. As long as I am with you, I will always be all right.”

Your heart fluttered. How could he always say such things like this…?

“More than all right, surely,” he continued, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “No amount of words describe how fortunate I am to have you with me.”

Volo leaned in and laid a kiss upon your cheek.

“I’m just happy to be here with you, my love.”

grocery shopping – (a few days.)

“What’s that?”

Stopping your shopping cart, you turned back to Volo. He was slightly bent over the open-top freezer stretching alongside you and pointing at something within one of the containers.

You poked your head over the edge of the freezer. When you saw what he was pointing at, you couldn’t help smiling.

“They’re frozen pancakes.”

Volo scrunched his nose. He seemed unsure of why they were the way they were.

“The amount of frozen food that is here is… astounding.”

You held back your laugh. It was cute to see Volo like this.

“Of course, you can make pancakes without having them frozen. Maybe we should make some tomorrow morning.”

Volo nodded, moving to you again. He laid his arms over yours as you turned to steer the cart, his chest pressed against your back.

“Lovely.” You felt his voice rumble up your spine, and his warmth was almost instantly overwhelming.

Why did it always feel like you were falling in love with him all over again?

“…You’re lovely,” you told him, tilting your head back to look at him with a grin.

Volo laughed, and before you had a chance to react, he stole a kiss from you.

cooking – (two weeks.)

You were exhausted.

Work, to put it plainly, had sucked.

What you needed now was a chance to relax, to forget about everything that had happened, and ready yourself to repeat it all tomorrow.       

What you didn’t know you needed, however, was waiting for you when you opened the door to your apartment.

“I’m home,” you called out tiredly. You kicked off your shoes, unbothered by how they’d flown somewhere across the front entrance, and barely remembered to slide on your slippers before ambling farther inside.

Something smelled nice—a savory, light scent. Maybe Volo was cooking?

“Welcome back!” came the sing-song voice from the kitchen.

Immediately, a smile flickered onto your lips. Oh, this man…

Poking his head out from down the hall, Volo waved at you. He rounded the corner, and you noticed he was also wearing an apron, confirming what you’d thought earlier. You wanted to run to him, to laugh, to scream about how glad you were to see him, but instead, you could only offer him the weak smile that was already on your face.

Volo covered all the ground to you, then embraced you gently. It was wonderful to feel him so close to you, with his fingers tracing soothing circles into your back.          

“Another rough day?”

“Mhm.”

“Hm. Perhaps I should ask Giratina to… pay a friendly visit to a select few.”

You laughed. That sounded nice. Giratina, scaring your terrible boss and awful coworker.

“Maybe. Maybe, Volo.”

…

Volo smiled. The two of you wandered back to the living room, where you finally saw what Volo had been up to. An array of dishes decorated the dining table, with a hot stew at the center of it all.

“It’s just something simple,” began Volo as he cradled your hands in his own, “but I thought it might be a nice to have a fuller meal.”

Warmth flooded your heart.

“I love you,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

He was more than glad to accept your kiss, and then he answered, an echo of your words,

“I love you, too.”

[tightjeansjavi]

4 is perfect for horse dad joel!!! you could do a blurb of one of their morning phone conversations 🥰

Somethin’ Stupid

horse dad! joel x f! horseback riding instructor reader

A/N: thank you for sending in this request my love 🫶🏻 #4 things you said over the phone. 𓃗

~word count: 565~

Summary: one of horse dad! Joel’s and reader’s many cute ass morning phone calls ♡

Warnings: none, just a whole lotta tooth aching fluff and flirting of course ;) +18 only because my entire blog is not suitable for minors so dni!

“I’m sorry, who the hell actually enjoys putting ketchup on their eggs? I feel like that’s a fucking crime. Ketchup on eggs? That’s blasphemy right there!” You said with a light heartfelt laugh.

“Well, ouch. That hurts my feelings darlin.’ I am one of those people who likes ketchup on their eggs. You’ve gone and broken my heart into a bunch of lil’ pieces!” Joel deeply chuckled through the receiver.

“Gasp. So you actually are not flawless after all? Gotta say, Joel. I think this is gonna make or break it for me.” You let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Oh c’mon now sugar. Don’t go and sayin’ that! Bein’ all dramatic on me. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” He grumbled.

“I knew this day would come. Whatever will I do? Oh, Joel! You have wounded me so!” Your tone was playfully dramatic and you could picture his little eye roll already.

Joel was in fact rolling his eyes as he took a large sip of his coffee. “Alright, Shakespeare. You’ve had your fun sweetheart. Now tell me I’m handsome.” He was grinning over the rim of his mug.

“Handsome? Now who the hell told you that you were handsome Hm? I don’t remember ever letting those words leave my mouth.”

“Believe you did last night. Or maybe it was some other pretty girl at the bar? Hmm.” He teased.

“Okay, okay. You’re handsome. Very handsome. Ezra’s got you beat though I’m afraid. He’ll always been the #1 man in my life cowboy.”

“Oh geez, now you got me out here competin’ with a damn horse? He’s gorgeous, I’ll give him that.”

“I’m just messing with you Joel! C’mon now. You’re a real cutie. There’s no competition, trust me babe.”

“A real cutie, huh? That’s sweet of ya t’say darlin.’ Now, where were we? Oh, right! What’re you wearin’ sweet cheeks?” He could picture your face, the little glare you would give him before swatting at his shoulder playfully.

“J O E L.”

“That would be me.”

You let out a light sigh, an apparent grin on your face from your Texas tall glass of water being his cheeky self. You pulled the phone away from your ear just so you could talk to your boys, who were all happily eating their morning grain. “Can you believe this guy? He’s such a flirt. Absolutely ridiculous.” You brought the phone back to your ear.

“Riding pants and a Star Wars Tee.” You finally told him.

Joel let out a low wolf whistle through the receiver as he leaned against the countertop in his kitchen. “Goddamn, that’s hot.”

“You sound like a horny teenager right now cowboy.” You giggled.

“You take that back right now.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You grinned.

“What’re your plans later?” He asked.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Oh? Well it’s me. I’m asking.”

“Well, in that case, I’m definitely free.” You didn’t even hesitate to respond.

“‘Atta girl. That’s what I like to hear.” He grinned.

“Uh huh. You’re lucky I think you’re cute. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be there at 6:30.”

“More time for us to makeout.” You felt like a little school girl with a crush.

“Exactly what I was thinkin’ sweetheart. I’ll try and not say somethin’ stupid when I see ya. Although, you make it difficult cus’ my brain goes all fuzzy when I’m near ya.”

“You could never say something stupid Joel.”

“You’d be surprised. I say a lot of stupid shit darlin.’”

“Stupid cute shit you mean.” You corrected him.

“There you go again bein’ a real peach.”

“It’s my specialty.”

“Yeah? Think your other speciality is kissin’ me silly.” He chuckled.

“You’re so cute. Please stop it before the horses start making fun of me.”

“Never. See ya tonight, toots.”

“Catch ya on the flip side, cowboy.”

Tagging people I think would enjoy: @peterhollandkait @chaotic-mystery @korynnekorynne @lovers-liability @dinsdjrn @last-girl @wonder-harley @loquaciousferret @yazsos @death-wife

[artificial-transmutations]

Max' Journey - End times (Part 2)

Although both men didn't get too much sleep last night, Max felt way more fit and energetic than Antorn. His new cyborg body gave him a near limitless supply of energy. It was a bit hard for him to concentrate on the discussion, since his cock was still half-stiff and leaking precum into his metal "underwear" armor, but the worst waves of hornyness had passed. Now, that he was in fighting shape, the three scientists and him discussed their strategy.

Luckily, the complete lack of fighting spirit that led to the alien's problem free conquest of the earth also meant they wouldn't be expecting any resistance. However, from the moment on that Max attacked, he would need to move fast, to reach the alien leader before they could assemble a force capable of stopping him. If that happened, not only would the only hope of humanity have failed, but also the small cell of free humans Max was currently hidden with would be detected before long.

So, the plan they came up with was that Max moved quickly and ruthlessly through the aliens he encountered before he met their leader. He would kill him while recording the whole scene with his internal cameras and Edan and the other two scientists would use that recording to create the myth of Max being an absolutely unstoppable force, capable of wiping out every living alien on the planet. That way, hopefully, the aliens would release humanity and flee.

It was a bluff, but it was their only chance. Even though Max felt like he could take on the world, objectively he knew he couldn't fight every alien on the planet. So, they had to make them think he could, painting Max even bigger than he already was.

The central command complex was nearby. It was one of the spherical ships that one day just appeared out of thin air on the planet’s surface. Pitifully little was known about the aliens themselves. They hid their faces and bodies in exosuits with a singular headlight on their foreheads. From what information they had gathered, the suits were suitable for protection against harsh environments, leading to speculations about the aliens home world having a different atmosphere.

That however did nothing to explain why there were so many aliens here or where they came from in the first place. The spherical ships they appeared in did not appear to be capable of space travel at all, which meant that the aliens used some kind of teleportation technology.

It was a risky endeavor, even more so as they knew so little about the enemy. But being the only choice, they had, it was easy to make.

So, with the first light of the next day, they travelled to the central command ship in a sleek floating vehicle. Max could see some enslaved humans with alien overseers on their way, but nobody paid too much attention to their vehicle. They landed only a few hundred meters away from the big sphere of the central command ship. It was made out of a similar material as the buildings and the vehicle Max was sitting in. The entrance, however, was open and a ramp was leading up into the ship. Left and right of the ramp, there were guarding aliens, equipped with some kind of rifle each.

This was it. When he stepped out of their vehicle, Max would immediately need to start running and fighting, only stopping when he had killed their leader. Even though his cyborg body was big and impressive, Max felt his knees get weak.

"Are you ready?" asked Sirah.

"As I'll ever be", said Max.

"Good luck", said Edan. "And don't forget to start the recording."

Max nodded and did so immediately. Then, without losing any more time, he opened the door and began to sprint towards the ramp. He saw both guards turn around to face him, but none of them fired at him yet. Instead, they aimed their weapons straight at his chest, probably too surprised by his sudden appearance to act immediately.

He reached the ramp and started to run up it. Now, one of the aliens hit the trigger and a bolt of energy hit Max' energy shield with a fizzing sound. He didn't even stop but instead jumped a gigantic leap powered by his leg servos, tackling away the first alien and grabbing his weapon in the process. In the same movement, he turned around and shot an energy bolt at the other one, who had not been so lucky to have an energy shield.

The alien screamed and fell down the ramp, hurt or killed. Max didn't care and sprinted towards the entrance of the ship now, astonished by his own speed and agility. He was moving faster than anything he had seen before. The ramp itself was wide enough for three people side-by-side to walk up comfortably, but he easily cleared it in a single jump.

Now inside the ship, he found himself in a maze of corridors and rooms. Most of the ones he encountered first were empty and only a few aliens stood guard here and there. Max had no trouble overwhelming them, but he knew well that time was working against him. By now, there would surely be an alarm already, and a larger force would be forming to stop the intruder. It was crucial that he reached the alien leader before they found him, but he had no idea where to go. The ship was huge! He needed some means of orientation.

He noticed several doors leading into small rooms and decided to check if there was something interesting behind them. One room contained only a computer terminal with a strange symbol on it, another was completely empty. In the third room, however, he found what he was looking for: A large map showing the whole ship. He only took a quick look at it and trusted in his remnant cave man instincts to find the best path to the command bridge.

As he came nearer, the number of aliens on his way increased and they became more organized. He still was able to take out the small groups of them without getting hurt, but it cost him more time. Finally, he found himself against a whole dozen of the exosuit-clad people in front of a large reinforced door. This must be where he needed to go.

He charged through them, firing energy bolts left and right. Two of them went down quickly, but two others blocked his way. The next moment, Max realized he wouldn't be able to reach the door without going past them. Like in Waterloo, he threw his rifle at one of them with full force and switched to hand-to-hand combat. His shield emitters burnt hot on his chest, as the energy shield absorbed more and more shots directed at him. He needed more! His insides came alive with blasting heat again, as the nanobots inside his body mobilized every bit of energy available to him, possibly even burning parts of his own body for it. With a fizzing sound, his shield emitter broke down, a thin bit of smoke coming from it. The next energy bolt would hit him instead!

Max ducked under the arm of one of his opponents, grabbed him by the neck and headbutted him with all his might. The alien's helmet dented he fell to the ground, but Max was already in front of the next opponent. As he broke his neck, Max felt a hot bit of pain on his left arm, as an energy bolt had melted a piece of his body armor. The molten metal burnt into his flesh, but Max couldn't stop now. He took the body of the alien he just killed and threw it towards the one that just shot at him. It smashed into the enemy's chest plate, breaking it and sending the alien flying back. Max followed him up and landed a knee strike on his groin. The alien flew backwards and crashed into a wall, leaving a dent in it.

A few more brutal seconds later, there were no more aliens around him that posed any danger. Some were still alive and groaning, crawling away, but Max didn't have time to deal with them. Instead, he gathered all his strength and, by overloading his leg augmentations, launched himself against the reinforced door.

It didn't break open and hurt like hell, but its hinges gave out and the door swung half-open. Max kicked it fully open and rushed inside, ready to face whatever awaited him.

He expected a whole lot of aliens inside this room but was surprised to find it almost completely empty. In the middle of the large room, there was a desk and behind that desk, there was one single alien in his exosuit looking at Max. Since he couldn't see the alien's face, Max wasn't sure if the alien was surprised or even fearful. It didn't matter. This whole thing would soon be over.

As Max stepped closer, unstoppable like a freight train, the alien raised a hand. He was not armed, Max noticed.

"Wait!" said the alien. "Don't kill me."

The voice sounded afraid and spoke the language perfectly.

"I will remove my helmet, I just want to talk." said the voice. Was this some kind of trick to stall him? But there were no sounds of more forces from behind, so Max stopped in front of the desk, carefully watching for any weapons. However, the alien just continued as announced and removed the helmet with a hissing sound. Max was surprised to see the entirely human face of a tired looking woman beneath it. She looked older than Max' mother and her eyes looked sad and tired.

"You are very fast", she said. "I never saw anyone move that quickly before."

"Who are you?", asked Max.

"My name is Galya Fell. I am the leader of the exodus expedition."

"Exodus?"

"Yes. We are here to save humanity from extinction. If you let me, I will explain everything to you. You have any right to kill me afterwards, I guess. You have nothing to fear. I told my men to stand down already."

Max nodded. He didn't know what else to do. He was confused by this turn of events but his experiences navigating the 1920s society told him, that there was a whole new layer of complexity to unfold. "Make it quick!" commanded Max and kept vigilant.

Galya gulped and started speaking.

"We are humans, just as you, and we come from earth as well, just a... another earth. From a parallel reality where things went a bit differently. You see, humanity is on the brink of extinction there. Our continuous exploitation of natural resources and unstopped natural disasters caused by uncontrollable atmospheric heating made most of the planet uninhabitable over the last centuries. Wars broke out over the last resources and inhabitable lands, and now, all that is left are a few hundred thousand people. Luckily, our scientists came up with a solution. They discovered a technology that would allow us to travel to other realities. We were hoping of finding an uninhabited version of earth to settle down there. But every single version we scouted had humans on them and our time was running out. So, in order to survive, we found that we had no other choice but to invade one of our neighbor worlds. Naturally, we chose the most peaceful one. That was this world. "

Galya looked defeated. "I had my doubts in the beginning, but when the continued existence of our human civilization is at stake, a lot of difficult decisions begin to become really easy. At the end, we could live on by coming here, but we had no right to do the things we did. I see that now. So, today is the day that I knew was coming since four years ago, the day the consequences of our actions are catching up to us. I... we are at your mercy here. You cannot escape fate, so much is clear to me now."

Max felt sickened by what he heard. The actions of those other humans were despicable to the bone, that was clear. But they saw no other way to survive than to take away someone else's home and life. And yet, he still felt guilty about killing these people who had done nothing wrong themselves. He wanted to ask Galya how she could have allowed herself to commit such atrocities, but he also understood why she did it on the same time. It must have been hard for her to make that decision and knowing that she would probably die anyway made it easier to give up on her own morals.

"I'm sorry", said Max simply.

He was stunned silent for a good minute before asking: "Is everyone thinking like you do? Will they stand down and let themselves be brought to justice like you?"

"No." answered Galya sadly. "Most of them are desperate for survival and will do everything. If you kill me now, there might be a chance they flee to another world, but I don't think there is anything to gain by reasoning with them."

This wasn't fair! Why did Max have to decide for a whole world of people here and now? This wasn't even his time! Perhaps he could reach the scientists that brought him here, but they, too didn't appear to be the right people for making such a decision. They weren't big on morals, they were only good at problem solving.

Or perhaps...

Suddenly, Max got an idea.

"I think, there might be another way of resolving that. We need to bring in some friends of me."

***

"I suppose it *is* possible" said Sirah, skeptically. "But why do we need to involve ourselves in this mess?"

"Because if we don't," explained Max, "There will be more bloodshed. The invaders from the other world won't step down as easily as Galya did and you guys don't fight."

"Well, even if we do, it is dangerous for the fabric of reality itself. Or perhaps it isn't. We could not find out and there is literally no practical research." Edan stated.

"But only for *their* reality", said Antorn, who was already convinced. "I think that is a fair punishment for what they did to us. Besides, I'm fairly confident it won't be so bad. Max here has left his footsteps in history, and it didn't change much as far as we know. Perhaps it won't even work, but I don't think there is harm in trying."

"So, you are suggesting that we use your time travel technology to prevent us from ruining our planet centuries ago? Won't that lead to paradoxes?"

Sirah shook her head violently and rolled her eyes. "No, since you're not in the same frame of reference. It's a clever combination of our technologies, really. You go back to your reality, travel back in time and make stuff right. Of course, you are locked to your original timeline by the matrices, so if you were to return to your relative present, it would not have changed anything. That doesn't hold true for the rest of your people, though, since they are not in the same reality that you are altering. If they switch back after you have departed, they should arrive in the new version created by your actions."

Max' head was swimming, but apparently Sirah had already seen through the concept. She was really exceptionally bright.

"That... might work" said Galya slowly. "If we can promise them the return to a healed home world, everyone would be glad to leave you alone. Let's do this."

***

It took some months to create another time travel device and calibrate it to key events in the other realities history. As Galya promised, the solution appeared like the best option to all exodus people, and they stood down after a touching speech from Galya.

Max was celebrated as a hero during all that time and experienced the wonders of the future and all the comforts and amenities an advanced society could give him. During all that time he still had his hyper-masculine cyborg body and put it to good use.

However, the day after Galya, and shortly after, her people left this world, the three scientists who welcomed him to this time spoke to Max again.

"Well, the time to say goodbye comes closer." Said Edan in his usual complicated pattern of speech.

"You may of course stay here with us, but I think after all these adventures, you want to return to your own time and body once and for all." Said Sirah, smilingly. "I have built another time travel device, with just a single use. No more time travel after that - it makes things way too complicated."

"And we have come to the conclusion that this course of history is next to ideal", Edan added. "Changing something in our history could have unwanted results. "

"So, are you ready to go home", asked Antorn warmly.

Max was silent for a moment. Of course, he had thought a lot about going home in the previous months. But...

"Can I... go somewhere else instead?", Max asked, slowly.

"Ohh, I so knew it!" cheered Antorn.

"In short, yes." stated Sirah. "However, this will be a one-way-trip. Wherever you decide to go, you are going to be stuck there. If you want to return to your Viking lover, you can do so, but that's it. No more wonders of technology for you, no more Sweden or Canada or whatever."

"Actually, that's not entirely true.", Antorn said, now with a serious face again. "Do you remember, what I said about administering body-enhancing nanobots to someone and the difficult ethical situation around it?"

Max nodded.

"Well, part of it, the important part really, is, that the bots won't let you age properly. They always restore the cells back to a youthful state. Of course, at some point, the bots cease to function and can't keep up anymore, but... that takes some time."

"How long?"

"Well, that's a bit difficult to predict, since it hasn't happened yet since the invention of that stuff. But I guess... One, maximum two thousand years?"

Max looked at him stunned. "I'm not going to die for two thousand years?"

"Not from old age at least. I mean, you probably can you know, but you won't age for that time."

"Oh okay." Max said. He didn't expect that.

"My point being: With a bit of patience, you can go to Thjodolf’s time and still live to see your own time again. It might be a rather long stay, though." Antorn ended.

All three of them looked at Max expectantly. He took a moment and then made a decision.

"Alright. I need two favors of you.", he said.

It only took Sirah another day to reconfigure her matrices to Max' new destination and to tell the algorithm his request.

"You know guys", Max said, as he stood in front of the sleek device, "I'm going to miss you. I mean, you completely changed my life, but, in the end, I'm very happy about it. Perhaps it was fate that we met", he said with a wink.

"Oooh, that's a good name for the time travel algorithm. Fate. I like it.", mumbled Sirah absentmindedly.

"Now, remember. No big changes." Edan had a stern face. "I trust in your judgement here!".

Max nodded and grabbed the small metal vial from the table. "I promise. Well. I guess, this is farewell."

He pressed the single green button on the device and another portal appeared in the room, stable and swirling slowly. Max turned around again and waved goodbye, which was mirrored by the three scientists. Then, he took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.

Max arrived in the Viking age exactly one second after his previous self had stepped through the portal. He didn't use any time. His first request had been to keep his cyborg for a few minutes after he arrived. These minutes were more than enough to drive away the 'evil ones', the raiders attacking Thjodolf's village, for good. He made such an entrance that nobody ever dared to lay hand on these lands ever again.

His body was already changing back into that of the Viking warrior he left as, as he ran towards his lover. He couldn't believe his eyes, as Max had already returned, merely a second after he had gone. Still, it felt like so much time has passed between those two moments that Thjodolf was just happy to see him again.

Max stayed in the Viking village and with his lover forever. Well, forever is an awfully big word, but here, it might be nearer to the truth than at other times. Max had brought one more dose of the body-enhancing nanobots and, after explaining everything to Thjodolf, they decided to stay together for a really long, long time. Max was just so happy. After all his journey, he had finally found his fate.

I'm so happy for Thjodolf and Max! If you're with someone you love, every moment can feel like a thousand years of bliss.

If you want to read the whole story from the beginning, go here. The first part of the finale can be found here.

[cromulentreader]

Theories for The Prisoner’s Throne - Part I

As we approach 100 days to go to TPT, I have some theories on what is happening in the Islands.  I only read The Stolen Heir once, so I have low expectations on these.

1. The land might be crumbling - at least the islands raised by Mab.

What if the power that kept the bones from transforming also kept the Islands she created afloat/alive, as a battery of sorts? 

Another aspect is that Mab obtained Land powers by bargaining and not delivering on her promise. Her powers weren’t freely given by the Land and it's not clear to me how Bogdana got the power to bestow upon Mab in the first place. I suspect the power only trickled to Mab's descendants because it was never meant for her, let alone her heirs (blood or not) and therefore meant to be reabsorbed by Nature.

(TFOTA theory: I also suspect that Lady Nore knew it was a good time to attack the Court of Shadows from Locke. I don’t think Madoc was in the kidnapping Jude diversion.)

2.  Symbolism of the bud on Mab’s bones

This is probably one of the most cryptic hints in TSH. I read it as a reference to Jude’s entering the Greenbriar line through marriage. Tendrils support climbing plants allowing plants with weak stems to climb and find light without getting blown away.  

A more grim interpretation would be that the one blooming bud is a foreshadowing of only 1 person remaining in the Greenbriar line. Since this will be told from Oak's perspective that means Cardan would either die, die, or somehow get fully disconnected from the Greenbriar power line. I'm not ready to be stabbed through the heart like this, so hoping this is not it.

There’s the theory that this is a reference to pregnancy. Although not impossible, it would put much weight on a pregnancy during the conflict resolution and I don’t see Holly writing it. I might be wrong, and I would even be happy to be wrong, I just don’t see it happening.

3. Jude’s getting over wanting Oak to be High King

I don't know if this is a theory or a wish list item of mine. It comes across as out of stubbornness and a bit nonsensical at this stage. As if to not admit Jude wanted to take over a throne for herself. After Jude and Cardan rose from his blood in QoN, one or both are meant to be great rulers, which means they should rule until they do so.   No event in TSH points to Oak wanting this role and I'm not sure if he would be suitable. We might see some parallel with Nicasia being raised in Land. Yes, they were more likely to survive in a less hostile environment but it also means they are too unaclimitized to rule. I hope Queen Annet is taking notes.

[pandoa]

Okay but Jade with the Primrose prompt! Please, I just wanna see his reaction to the mushroom one. 💀 How about having the scenario play out in the comfort of home while we're at it?

Primroses ~ “i loaf you very much” “oh my god” “you’re a berry kind person” “no, stop” “there’s so mushroom in my heart for you” “ENOUGH WITH THE PUNS—“

~jade leech x gender neutral reader~

HELLO YOU ARE A LEGEND OMG THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD WHEN I WROTE DOWN THIS PROMPT- i had jade in mind when i first came up with this prompt so i was so so excited when i saw your rq <3 i hope you like it!

♡eel-egally punny♡

“Okay, okay, how about this one?” you said as you lifted your legs onto the white and raven fabric of Ramshackle’s velvet-like couch. It was an oddly uneventful day at Night Raven; one that you thought would never come true at the energetic campus. And so, without a doubt in your mind, you decided to invite your dear boyfriend over to pass the time on your unusual day off from playing therapist for Crowley’s endless needs. It was the only time you could truly relax, you see, and you were determined to make the most out of it.

Even if it cost you your boyfriend’s sanity in return. 

“How do you make an octopus laugh?” a giddy smirk filled with anticipation shone on your face as you turned to the Octavinelle vice housewarden who was conveniently seated just a couple feet away from you, “With TEN-tickles.” Silent, the second year then returned your comedic advances with an empty stare.

“Okay… not amused. Got it,” you dejectedly shook your head at Jade’s solemn disposition. He could at least show some interest in your entertainment, yes? A lifeless sigh proceeded to escape your lips as you gazed back to the colorful book placed before you, searching for a suitable joke to finally impress your uncomic partner. Suddenly, however, a light twinkle in your eyes appeared as you spotted the most flawless jest ever written, “Oh! This one’s perfect, for sure!”

Jade, curious as to why you seemed to be interested in the world of comedy, then glanced your way as he stared at the strange book you were currently holding, “What are you even reading?”

“It’s Twisted Wonderland’s newest joke book, Punny Puns for Punny People! I saw it in Mr. S’s shop a few days ago and thought why not? Anyway,” you brought your attention back to your book in search of the joke you had found moments ago, “Here’s another one!”

“Why did the eel blush?” you said, giggling into your own hands with a failed attempt at a poker face.

“Why?”

“Because it saw the ocean’s bottom.”

“...”

“Prefect, I am giving you ten seconds before I disintegrate that book out of your hands and tackle you to the ground. With love, of course,” Jade calmly said with a smile gracing his face—although, his grin was more of a twisted grimace as he winced at your rather displeasing try at telling jokes. But because you were far too preoccupied with your own small world, you failed to notice the chilling voice of the merman beside you booming with a certain coldness to his tone, one that could rival the deepest, darkest areas in the open ocean.

“Wait! There’s a section filled with only puns!” a cheery applause sang from your happiness at your new discovery as you then recited off of the joke book like a royal decree being announced to influential kingdoms, “I loaf you very much.”

“Oh my Seven…”

“You’re a berry kind person.”

“No, stop—”

“There’s so mushroom in my heart for you—ACK!”

A resounding slam then echoed throughout Ramshackle’s lounge as you felt your body’s weight being knocked down and sprawled over your dorm’s couch. Your precious book had flown out of the grasps of your hands as every thought in your mind dissipated along with your book. With the sudden movement leaving you lost and disoriented, you peered up dizzy from the collision only to meet your boyfriend's tall figure pinned on top of you with gold and yellow eyes gently glaring downwards to your quickly flustered form. 

“Alright, I think that’s enough with the puns for today, don’t you think, (Y/n)?”

a/n: i fr searched for eel puns on google just to write this lmao

[r0ug3pri5m]

The Apocalypse au

🔲 General background:

The story takes place in a chain store built by Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in a city in country A. The usual activities are daytime and nighttime stage performances. In fact, each play only has three characters, because in this AU, like the original work, the sun and moon share the same body, which can be converted according to natural light. Bloodmoon is an individual, and Eclipse have his own entities.At first, the daycare center did not have Bloodmoon, Eclipse played the villain before Blood Moon arrived. He was originally quite versatile, proficient in physical exercises and using swords and spears, but after Blood Moon arrived, playing a new script reduced his fighting role, so his abilities became increasingly rusty. As the commuting time on weekdays decreased during solar eclipses, he used his free time to self-study divination (he loved all mysterious and supernatural factors). In order to cater to the children's preferences (which may be a more reasonable excuse from someone), Blood Moon was invited to replace the villain position of Eclipse. In the script, he played the cruel and unruly king, with Sun and Moon being soldiers and archers who were ordered to assassinate the tyrant. They were very popular among children and even nicknamed (Smiley Knight/Frost Moon Archer). Of course, there are also some children who like Bloodmoon, which is why after Blood Moon began his tyranny in the later stage, he would prefer the term 'Sir Bloodmoon' instead of 'king'. This is the honorific title given to him by his children who like him. He wants to make his subjects feel close to the people while exercising his tyranny, in order to further utilize it. He does not have much hostility towards the children, Perhaps he thinks this group poses little threat to his plan, and he likes to scare them for fun.On the evening of Bloodmoon's seventh performance, Moon first realized something was wrong with Blood Moon (or perhaps he had been pretending to be too perfect). Out of long-term interests and a bit of his own quirk, Blood Moon left a mark on Moon's face (which is also the origin of the scars on Sun/Moon's face)

🔲 Timeline:

prophase

↓ (Blood Moon Arrives)

mid-term

↓ (Rebellion and Change)

later stage

↓ (Destruction and Conquest)

Genesis

↓ (Prosperity)

The Apocalypse

🔲 Main Role:

🗡 Sun/ 🏹 Moon/ 🍷 Bloodmoon is a new batch of electronic toys designed with paint color changes based on the original Sun/Moon model. In this AU, 🔮 Eclipse has entities.

🗡 Sun:

Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly red, orange, yellow, and blue (there are too many colors on his pants, giving a rainbow like feeling).

•He has good swordsmanship. Whenever he performs, you will see him carrying his Western sword and shield with him. The sword is a performance tool, so it cannot cause substantial damage.

•He always squints and smiles, even when facing enemies. He wants to leave an impression of a brave and confident sunny boy.

•The scar Bloodmoon left on his left eye made him feel more like a tough guy. He secretly liked it, but it couldn't stop him from disgusting Bloodmoon.

•Character: lively, optimistic, brave, humorous, competitive, outgoing, and talkative.

• Hobbies: Interacting with children, practicing swordsmanship, covering Moon like a brother (but in fact Moon has a more mature mind), sharing daily updates with Moon, beer (not good but fond of drinking), keep himself clean and handsome.

🏹 Moon:

Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly in blue, purple, and beige.

•He is skilled in archery, with a shooting rate of not 100%, but close to it. Although he knows he is an actor and has low expectations, his perfectionism drives him to do his best, and he also has a vague premonition that he will come in handy one day.

•He has good accuracy and using a good gun is not a problem for him, although he has not had any contact before in the later stage.

•He is not suitable for close combat, and if he is discovered by the enemy and is very close, he has little ability to fight back.

•Character: Brave, cautious, astute, introverted, and steady.

• Hobbies: keep a diary , watch the children play and fight at a high place, watch the outside world through the glass, snow, Gingerbread man, Eggnog, and tell the children about the legend of Christmas.

🍷 Bloodmoon:

•Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly red, white, black, and gray, seemingly symbolizing something.

• He is skilled in using all kinds of firearms and has a good sabre technique.

•He likes to look at others with a smile on his face, full of malice. Sometimes his ferocious smile combined with his blood red eyes can make people feel creepy.

•His performance prop is a royal scepter, although it is simulated, he does not dislike it, just look good. Before the later stage, the small bag around his waist had always been a place to hold knives. Before the later stage, he often carried two knives, one was a simulated dagger used for perfunctory performances, and the other was a Malay sword.

•In an inconspicuous corner of his room, the wall was filled with traces he had carved to calculate the date. He calculated everything so meticulously that he had already properly reserved the rest place the first time.

•When he first arrived, the solar eclipse had a partnership with him,He is calm and skilled in disguise, always carefully observing everything around him. He is very concerned about Sun and Moon, and also closely monitoring their every move.

•Character: arrogant, ruthless, hypocritical, stubborn, suspicious, trustworthy, cunning, and rebellious.

• Preferences: Tequila, billiards, gambling, pranks, tasting the expression of the enemy's pain and despair, torturing/playing/challenging the enemy, wandering around for fun.

🔮 Eclipse:

• Body color (including performance clothing): Mainly red, yellow, and black

•He played the only villain role before the arrival of Blood Moon, and even if he had some malice towards Sun/Moon off stage, he would not take the initiative to trouble them unless they met on a narrow path. Compared to this, he is more focused on his own affairs.

•He doesn't like the vast majority of children, feeling that they are too noisy and difficult to discipline. Most children run away when they see him, and there is no opportunity for communication. He won't do anything to children, and he is very gentle towards those quiet and obedient children.

•The tobacco he smokes has a refreshing fragrance that is harmless to the human body but can create some illusions.

•Character: pragmatic, independent, shrewd, withdrawn, and gentle.

• Hobbies: Alone, quiet and enclosed small space, smoking a special type of tobacco, studying theology and metaphysics, meeting his guardian every day and chatting, playing chess, decorating his own room.

[aromaticpetals]

I was gonna send this without being an anon but then i thought about it and realized there is absolutely no way im letting anybody see my depravity when i dont even have a side account lmao

How are you doing on this fine day? I hope you are well. I saw the request thing and decided to submit a little something.

If you do afab!reader×male character, may I reuqest a size difference+wedding night/breeding kink hc with itto, ayato and thoma (seperately)? I tried to write it myself before but it ended horribly 💅

- 💫 anon

AHHHHHH TYSM FOR BEING MY 1ST REQUEST 💫 ANON!!!!

To answer your question, I'm doing okay! My cat has been a bit chaotic tho..

I'll be honest, I've never considered doing reader x male char. cause Idk what I'm doing half the time if it has nothing to do with women😭 But I can at least try! (I did get the headers done so I might as well at this point and Idek if it can be considered a hc..) Btw, I was laughing my ass off while making this cause it don't rlly make sense

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎! Size diff and breeding 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀.. 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 too! IT'S JS 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒😭 (Possibly not suitable for those under the legal age!)

𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙊 was proud to have caught such a beaut' like you, let alone marry ya! Of course, Shinobu gave you an entire book on how to care for Itto, she called it the "Boss's baby rules" since, well.. He did act like a man-child from time to time... But let's put that fact aside! The whole gang was happy that their boss got married to someone like you! (Without you by Itto's side, he probably would have gotten into 𝘸𝘢𝘺 more trouble with Kujou Sara..)

It was the night of y'all getting married and you couldn't lie, you were as happy as the Archons would let you be, although Itto had been acting a little.. Off? Fortunately, your now husband had managed to snap you out of your thoughts by bringing you his signature dish and announcing it with his loud vocals. "𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙖 𝙜𝙤, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙚! 𝘼𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙉𝙪𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤 𝙐𝙣𝙤 𝙄𝙩𝙩𝙤'𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝, 𝙒𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜!" he proudly stated, handing you the plate before taking a seat next to you on your shared futon. You immediately pushed all second thoughts away as the savory scent of the dish filled your nostrils, trying to decide whether you should've scarfed it down or not. As he watched you eat, you could've sworn you saw a certain glint in his eyes! Unfortunately for you, you should've known that on the night of getting married to him, he'd want to do some rather.. Energy draining activities!

Just a few moments later: you laid there on the futon, stripped of both your dignity and clothing, he stared down at your small form with a.. lustful glint in his eyes. Before you knew it, you were seated in his naked lap, feeling his hardened member press against your rear as he whispered sweet words into your ear, his large hands almost touching when he wrapped them around your waist! You couldn't help the feeling that darted downwards to the area between your legs as he continued with his sweet words and light touches, making it seem as though he was afraid you'd break if he were to tighten his grip.. You could feel yourself getting wetter bit by bit, his words making you feel as though you were going to turn into a flustered and worked-up mess! Just as you were about to shift to get comfy, he quietly growled in your ear, saying "Don't move, babe, let me do all the work..". Of course, you hadn't expected him to lift you up and hover you over his member after he had said that, making you realize that it had spikes on it.. (You had completely forgotten that you were dating an Oni, not some douchebag that paid you to sleep with him-) Now, of course, in public he was the coolest dude you had ever dated! But behind closed doors, he was actually such a pure sweetheart.. As you got stuck in your thoughts, you were unaware that he forced you onto the tip of his member, the stretch tossing your thoughts into the gutter once more as you let out a small squeak, shifting in his lap to try and adjust. Your welcoming walls and small size didn't help, encouraging him to push you down until you took in half of his girth, all while staring at you with a predatorial look in his eyes. Said look reminded you of something, he was capable of feeling like he had to breed his lovers- Of course, you didn't mind having a child or two with him despite the fact that they would've been influenced by his pranks. You heard him growl again, this time a bit louder as he pushed you down until your walls reached their stretching limit, the soft spikes on his member giving friction with each little move you made! It made you think of how you somehow took the entire thing on several occasions without bursting into tears at the painful stretch.. He immediately flipped you onto your back and started slowly moving his hips back and fourth once he felt that you had adjusted enough for him to move, the spikes on his member dragging along your walls with each agonizingly slow thrust. "Itto, go faster.." you managed to speak out with a quiet tone. "Just a moment, babe, gotta make sure you're well prepared for the night of a lifetime I'm about to give ya.." he replied, quietly grunting as your walls clamped down on his member over and over again, causing him to speed up a bit. As he dug his freshly manicured nails into your waist (YES I GAVE HIM BLACK MANICURED NAILS SHHH) while thrusting into you at a steady pace, you whined and moved yours hips to meet his halfway, tired of him not getting rough like he would on any other occasion. As if he read your mind, he went a whole lot faster, making your brain spin and soft moans spill out of your mouth with each thrust. You couldn't help that it felt so good you kept clamping down on him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge as his grunts and growls got louder and louder, prompting you to stare at him with wide eyes and a lip wedged between your teeth. (You had no clue he could get that loud and not be ashamed of it, y'all were lucky that y'all didn't live near other people otherwise they would've had to suffer through the noise-) When you noticed the twitching within you and the small "gonna cum.."s that slipped from his lips, he moved your limbs so he could have you in a mating press before he came in you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. After, he slowly pulled out, flopping onto the futon next to you and immediately falling asleep. You were happy, but Archons did you not know that this would happen every night from that point on. (I HAVE TO FINISH THE REST OF IT IN A DIFF POST, IM SO SRRY 💫 ANON 😭)