#and a tiny apprentice for my first fellow

[vashti-lives]

Lurking among the Christmas village.

A homelyfellow and some little friends from @sleepnoises

[thetormentita]

spes ultima dea - chapter 2

Audaces fortuna iuvat — Virgil.

Pairings: Ofc x Lucius Verus

A/n: maybe I left some things unwritten between first chapter and this one, maybe i’ll post some stuff in the future 🤔

Warnings: mentions of murder, sexual abuse and slavery; angst, maybe some fluff.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

She swings her legs from the second floor of the courtyard as she braids her hair, her eyes observing the lanista and the veteran gladiators training. The sun casts warm light on their swift maneuvers, spotlighting the sweat glistening on their skin, and she thinks they glow like the heroes of the tales she was told when she was a child.

Lost in reverie, she imagines herself among them, wielding a sword with courage, though she knows the life of a gladiator is far. If the Romans would not have come to her lands, she would be a ranger, or a soldier, bow in hand, eyes observing with attention her surroundings, or even a healer, but instead of learning from Ravi she would have been apprentice to the tiny woman with grey hair and crooked spine of her memories whose name is now forgotten beneath the mossy oaks of her village.

“Where are the new ones?” The thick accent of the Dacian old slave behind her almost startles her, taking her back to reality.

“Macrinus took them. Dominus says they were to fight in a private party for the Emperors’s favourite.”

“I hope one o’ them cuts the throat of those brats” mumbles the woman, taking a stool and sitting behind her.

“Kata!” Alan turns to face her fellow slave, a woman that could almost be her grandmother with fiery red hair tinted with grayish hairs and the darkest eyes she has ever seen.

“Shut up and let me do yer hair.”

It is not her tribe, those are not her lands, but a part of her feels that the gods have given her a small tribe in replacement, full with warriors to fight back the enemies, and companions to share the burden of captivity.

“Quintus looks worried.” Mumbles Alana, almost pouting, her arms hanging from the bannister as well.

“When does he not look worried, lass? If he does not train the men good enough the ludus loses coin, ‘nd the first to be punished is ‘im.”

“The ludus never loses coin.”

It is strange to have the place that empty. With their dominus by the private event with the newest men and Ravi to help and their domina enjoying the free time far from her husband, the place almost looks like a haven, people from half of the empire gathered in a peaceful moment that might never come again.

“It did” Kata scoffs, her fingers swiftly braiding her long mane as she speaks, never pulling her hair. “The last time you were just a pup, too li’l to know anything. A general fell in disgrace and was sent ‘ere, and he was the best I have seen in many time. Ravi met ‘im too, he was fond of ‘im. A good man.”

“What happened to him?”

“Dead. All the good ones end up dead.”

Alana clenches her jaw, thoughtful as she watches the horizon. She wonders if the same fate awaits to those she holds dear.

…

“Look at me. Look at me.”

The healer hisses as he takes his face with a hand, forcing him to look at his face. A quick glance is enough for the Indian to know that, at least, the strongest of the newcomers can return to the ludus.

“He savaged my people” the gladiator grits as his hands clench in tight fists, his knuckles turning white with fury. “He took everything from me.”

Despite the defiant answer in proper Latin to the emperors, it still amazes him to hear the gladiator speak other than Punic.

“Who did it?” He muses, forcing him to sit down before him.

“The general.”

Their gazes meet, and a pang of sympathy hits the healer. He knows too well how he feels, how it is to have everything taken from you only because somebody at the other side of the world fancies it.

How much it had hurt for him. The memory still lingers, like a scar that refuses to fade, but he has grown used to that dull pain deep down in his chest. It fuels him, makes him stronger, more determined to mend the broken and save what can be saved.

“Keep your mind clear, you hear me? Your priority must be to earn your liberty.” Hanno is spirited, it shows, but in that moment Ravi has other thoughts forming in his head “Forget the general, the emperors and all those rats around. You have to win your battles and get your freedom.”

“But how—?”

Ravi takes a deep breath, his own victory sometimes still feels too recent.

“Win. Make the people like you, make the other gladiators follow you. Prove your worth, and soon the chains that bind you will break. I lived it myself.”

“Why are you here then?”

A sad smile tugs from the corners of the healer’s lips, and he casts his gaze to the ground. “I had nowhere to go. My village was razed to the ground and my people are dead or captured and slaved at the other corner of the empire. I forged my own family here, and the dominus saw it is more cheap to have me here tending at you than to make somebody else come.”

Ravi glances at Hanno, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He has been at his side, he has been furious and violent, but he kept his mind straight. No chains, no walls could hold his spirit captive.

Hanno nods slowly, his resolve hardening like tempered steel.

“I saw good men dead because they were impulsive. Don’t make the same mistake.”

The distant echo of footsteps call the men’s attention, and Ravi is the one to stand up first, placing himself between Hanno and whoever approaches them. It could be the emperors, it could be their dominus, it could be one of the ladies witnessing the fight looking for a favour, it could be Nemesis herself finally claiming their souls.

“Should we call him our favourite this season, then?”

It is their dominus, visibly satisfied with the new acquisition. If he mourns the loss of the rest of the small group, his face does not show it. He approaches them like a vulture waiting for carrion, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Did anybody show any interest in Hanno?”

Ravi knows that for the man they are just faces, only his servants having name when it suits him.

“Apparently the general’s wife, and possibly a senator or two… The season is still young, don’t you think?”

Behind him, Hanno stays stiff, his eyes observing them, and it only takes a stretched palm for Ravi to make him think twice about engaging in any hasty confrontations.

“My advice is to rotate the men as last season, dominus. They all are strong, and whenever they expect the least, they will see Hanno fighting at his best, taking every bout with technique and strength. We all know he has it, and the commoners will adore seeing him in action.”

It hurts him to ignore the Numidian in such way in front of him, but he knows how things go by the tunnels under the amphitheatre, and the least he wants is to get him or himself hurt in the process.

The dominus chuckles softly, an unsettling sound that sends a shiver down Ravi's spine.

“Of course. You see it all, don’t you? Well then, let us make sure this season is as entertaining as ever. Send our favourite to the baths, and make the lass tend to him.” Ravi bows his head, concealing the discomfort beneath his calm demeanor as the dominus throws them a crooked smile “A gift. For his worth.”

A gift.

Ravi sighs when their owner is far enough from them, his breath mingling with the cool air. He turns to Hanno, seeing the silent questions etched on the man’s face like shadows.

…

A gift.

The last time somebody talked about her as a gift things had ended quite bad for her, with bruises and pain for days, and nightmares for months. But it is the curious stranger this time, not any brute with more muscle than common sense, and she thinks she should not be afraid of him, because he has let her tend to his wounds with unexpected gentleness.

Yet uneasiness flows her senses, almost making her flinch when she hears any noise, her eyes falling to the ground of the room, only the water from the pool providing a steady, soothing rhythm to calm her racing thoughts.

Would he be gentle or prefer to split her in half? Or maybe he wants her to do all the work? What if he prefers the company of men instead of women?

She is lost in her doubts and fears when she can hear footsteps approaching, soft against the stone floor. She closes her eyes for a moment, her instincts hitting hard, and she can spot two different people—no, it is three of them. Her heart races as the footsteps draw closer. The air grows tense, heavy with uncertainty, as she braces herself for their arrival.

But only one crosses the entrance.

“Alana…”

She raises her eyes only to meet his, the purest blue she has ever seen greeting her with a gentle warmth. It feels almost like a promise that perhaps things will be different this time.

“I heard you won. The dominus wants me to take care of you.”

Her hands, clasped at her front, twitch slightly. Her instinct is to pull them away, to melt into the shadows where she feels safe but, instead, she steadies her breathing, forcing herself to remain present.

“Ravi has tended to your wounds?” He nods, and his gaze softens. “Good. Now, you have to get into the water.” As she talks, she pushes herself to approach him, to help him get undressed. “I have soap and oils to help you get rid of the dirt.”

She bites her lower lip as her fingers work deftly to unlace his tunic. Her actions are clinical, but her eyes betray a flicker of hesitation. She wants to think that he is a good man, but she knows well that good men can turn into cruel shadows in an instant. Her heart warns her as much, a constant reminder of past betrayals, moments of despair that costed her a part of her willingness and her strength.

Still, she can't avoid the hope budding in the recesses of her heart.

“What happens?” He mumbles in a perfect Latin, making her stop for just a moment, her fingers pausing in their task, her brain trying to assimilate that she was right and he is more than a Numidian soldier subdued by the pet of the emperors.

“You… You can understand me?” She raises her eyes, wide open, to meet his again as a slow smile creeps onto his lips.

“Yes,” he replies quietly, a hint of warmth in his voice.

“But how—?”

“It is a long story.” He glances to the water with a weary face. “But something troubles you.”

She hesitates, her hands still over his garments, almost like wanting the clothes to keep his nudity to himself.

“I— I am your gift. From the dominus.” She mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze still observing his face, expectant of what his reaction will be. “I—It means that you…”

“I know what it means” his rough hands upon hers stop her words. His touch is gentle, not at all like how she imagined it. “I will not force you, I swear” he reassures, his eyes seeking hers with sincerity. “I give you my word.”

She releases a breath she doesn’t realize she has been holding, a flood of relief washing over her as his thumbs trace soft circles upon the back of her hands, almost like wanting to soothe her worries. All she can do is to lower her head and mutter her thanks, a single and betraying tear rolling down her face. He notices the tear, and she flinches when he brushes it away with a finger, softly, as if afraid to break her. Her heart pounds, both from relief and the unusual tenderness he's shown.

“Come on, to the water.” She mumbles as she tilts her head to the pool, letting his clothing slip past her fingers and lay on the floor.

His expression softens, caught somewhere between curiosity and vulnerability, as he steps towards the shimmering surface. A silent groan escaping his lips as the warm water envelops his weary body, easing tension he didn’t realize he carried. She observes him as he sinks deeper into the pool, watching the water ripple around him.

It certainly is a relief for him to not have to bear with his burdens alone. He glances up at her, grateful for her company, and motions her to join him.

“Oh, no.”

“Why not?”

Her gaze flickers toward one of the corners of the room, where the dancing light of a candle casts shadows that dance upon the water.

“I am here to take care of you. Maybe some other day.”

She looks at the gladiator and she doesn’t see a man defined by blood and battle, but rather someone yearning for solace, desperately trying to find peace in a world that refuses him rest. Others are fueled by vicious rage and sorrow, and she thinks that he may be keeping his own pains deep down where no one can see them. She finds herself wishing she could offer him more than a moment of tranquility, something lasting.

Hanno sighs when he settles himself in the water, steam easing his muscles and breathing life into his weary spirit. She observes his features sculpted by the flickering light and she decides he is handsome despite the filth clinging to his body.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Do tell.”

“You were the only one who came speaking Latin. How—?”

He bites his inner cheek, thoughtful, and she approaches him meanwhile, kneeling behind him with soap, oils and cloth.

“I grew up in the port. My father was a merchant.” He turns to face her, slightly surprised to find her behind him, ready to start “Got an idea. Why don’t we play a game? For every question you want to ask me, I can ask one in return. What do you think?” A soft smile curves her lips as she dips the soap bar in the water, his eyes observing her hands, her swift and bony fingers moving with gentle precision.

“Fine by me.” She mumbles, and with care she puts one of her hands atop his head, softly making him face the front as her fingers stroke his hair with care.

“My turn then. How old are you?”

“Don’t really know. I came here before starting bleeding. I have always been at the ludus.” She dips the soap again in the water before starting to scrub it gently against his hair. “How is Numidia? Ravi only said it is past the sea.”

“Boiling hot” a soft giggle escapes his lips as he lets her do, and she smiles at the sound of it. “But you get used to it. Most of all rocks and desert if you go to the south. I lived near the sea, and you can find some more life there. What about your home?”

Her home. It sounds strange to her, because she had forced herself to adapt to a life she never wished for.

“Forests. Enormous green fields” she tries to focus on what she is doing so the memories hurt less. “You can hunt deer and rabbit, and if you are lucky even boar… I once almost shoot down a wolf, but I was small and my arrows were too little for the animal. There was a tree in my village that was up to the sky, and I liked to climb it and see the stars at night, but Mama always got angry and said I would twist a leg or break my head…” She finds herself clenching her jaw, trying her best to keep herself serene. “Dip your head, I need to take the soap from your hair.”

He does as she says and she allows herself a trembling sigh when he can’t hear her. Despite having taken her own situation and forced herself to adapt and see the bright side of it, sometimes she can’t help but feel a longing for the life she had been forced to leave behind.

To distract herself she buries her fingers in his hair again, and allows herself to pass them along his scalp, brushing it softly, only returning her hands to both sides of her lap as he sits up, wiping the excess water from his eyes. “Thank you,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I never imagined a healer could offer comfort beyond just remedying the body.” He passes a hand along his hair, and a soft smile appears upon her face “How did you became a healer?”

“Well, healing comes in many forms,” she replies, allowing warmth to fill her voice. “I started to follow Ravi around the ludus, and he showed me. By the time they realized it was cheaper to have Ravi stay in the ludus, I was already helping him.”

There is a question lingering in the air, and neither of them wish to speak it out loud, because it only brings pain.

“I like your braid. It suits you.”

A smile lingers upon Alana’s lips. Maybe it is the first compliment she gets in many time. One of her hands go to her own hair, her fingertips brushing over the elaborated work of Kata.

She could swear she is blushing with Hanno’s words.

“Do you like it?” He hums in approval, leaning against the wall of the pool to let her do better, and Alana’s quick mind starts to imagine him doing what Ravi did, earning his freedom and being remembered fondly by it.

She realizes that when Hanno looks at her, something deep down stirs, like a distant echo of hope calling her heart to soften its guard.

“You were trembling before” Hanno takes one of her hands, studying it as if the answers lay in her palm, his fingertips tracing shapeless figures on the skin, almost trying to soothe her sorrow. “How many times—?”

She frowns, clenching her jaw. “It’s hard to say,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “A few. Too many,” she adds, her eyes distant. Hanno nods, sensing the weight of what remains unspoken.

“I— I am sorry” he murmurs, guilt lacing his voice. Yet, there is an understanding in his eyes, a silent vow to share her burden. “If you want, I can help,” he offers, his grip on her hand tightening slightly, offering his strength.

“I don’t see how you can help.”

“They won’t touch you as long as I am around.” She lifts her gaze, studying him intently. There is a resolve in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before, a fierce protectiveness she finds comforting. “I mean it,” he insists, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination.

[arkham-dossiers]

Patient File: Xehanort

This patient has been studied in three different environments, each one yielding fascinating results that reflect his complex psyche.

As a human: Xehanort was found critically injured and without any memory beyond his name by Ansem the Wise, the ruler of Radiant Garden and a brilliant scientific mind. Once recovered, Xehanort was appointed one of Ansem's apprentices in his scientific research and kingdom maintenance. The natural sense of fear and aimlessness that an amnesiac has coupled with the life debt he owed him made Xehanort attach himself to Ansem quite strongly, very quickly coming to view him as a father figure. As such, he threw himself into his work more fervently than even the other apprentices who had been there longer, displaying a natural inclination toward learning and absorbing knowledge in the process...perhaps a clue to his forgotten past.

When Ansem needed a test subject for his first psychological experiment to undergo research into the darkness of the human heart, Xehanort readily volunteered, hoping it might awaken some buried memories. Unfortunately, the darkness of Xehanort's heart was the shadow that Ansem cast upon him, a shadow he feared he'd never escape...that nothing he did would be enough to live up to his "father's" great legacy. The psychological experiments, combined with the frequent needling of one of Ansem's other apprentices, Braig, made Xehanort spiral into a dissociative episode where in private he began writing his own diary under the name of "Ansem".

It's at this point that Xehanort began to showcase a deep lack of empathy, as he persuaded his fellow apprentices to help him kidnap human test subjects for more experiments on the darkness of the heart, breaking their sense of self and turning them into Heartless. The more this inhumane research progressed, the further Xehanort spiraled, as the reports he wrote under Ansem's name showcase his inferiority complex increasing as he began to feel like a tiny, insignificant part of a larger universe beyond his comprehension.

A key point transpired when, unconsciously summoning a Keyblade, Xehanort unlocked the door to Radiant Garden's heart, which sent ripple effects across the universe. After this event, Xehanort developed a sort of monomania, now completely obsessed with the universe's cosmology and how it relates to darkness and the Heartless. This led to him and the other apprentices creating a machine that mass produced Heartless, beginning a threat that spread across many worlds. When Ansem the Wise finally discovered Xehanort's writings, all done under his name, he confronted him. This confrontation was the last straw in Xehanort's deteriorating mental and moral condition. In order to truly be Ansem, the real Ansem could no longer stay in his life to contradict this. Xehanort thus banished Ansem to a pocket dimension in the Realm Between that he had discovered in his research: the Realm of Nothingness. The emotional toll this took on Xehanort sent him into a temporary state of psychosis, as he once again unconsciously summoned his Keyblade and struck down his fellow apprentices while declaring "I'm not Xehanort! My name....is Ansem!"

Upon recovering, Xehanort consciously threw away anything of his old life and continued to live as "Ansem", eventually allowing the ravaging of his own kingdom in favor of throwing away his own body to become a Heartless himself, as the ultimate conclusion he had reached in his obsessive studies was that the Heartless are the true form of every living being and that the universe must be consumed by darkness so that all hearts become Heartless...with he, "Ansem", as their supreme ruler. From a mortal man to a Heartless...to a god.

As a Heartless: Ansem, as we shall now be calling the patient, is an extension of where we left him off as a human. But unlike his human self, which we saw grow and change the more psychological burdens he developed, Ansem is rigid and unchanging. The power of his convictions is absolute. He believes that darkness is the true nature of existence and that as the only one wise enough to learn and comprehend this, he is a chosen avatar of darkness itself. Unlocking the Door to Darkness and absorbing the Heart of All Worlds to become a deity is nothing short of destiny; in his mind he is fulfilling the will of darkness and correcting all that is wrong with the universe. This peculiar form of narcissism, where he sees himself as superior to all other lifeforms but inferior to darkness yet the recognition of this inferiority only reinforcing how superior he is, drives Ansem just as much as his continued thirst for knowledge does. He doesn't simply seek the truth, he seeks his truth, a truth he unquestionably believes to be correct. When acquiring physical form through the possession of Riku, Ansem showcases his narcissism through a haughty tone of voice and body language such as crossing his arms while looking down at others as though they are but insects crawling at his feet.

In spite of this, Ansem is also a master manipulator. While without physical form, he showed no difficulty suppressing his arrogance in order to better cajole the likes of Maleficent and Riku into doing exactly what he wanted them to do. The callous lack of empathy he showcased as a human is greater than ever before, as he shows no hesitation or remorse in throwing away his pawns once they have served their purpose to him and his own advancement. The lives of people and even entire worlds mean nothing to him, as his conviction that they are all fated to return to darkness means that he feels morally justified in his actions. He doesn't view himself as a villain the way that Maleficent and her compatriots do. He thinks he's the hero.

Ansem perished when, having been critically injured by Sora, Donald and Goofy, he opened the Door to Darkness and attempted to absorb the Heart of All Worlds. Unfortunately for him, its essence was light rather than darkness...too much light for him, a Heartless, to be able to withstand. In his final moments, Ansem was struggling to grasp how he could have possibly been wrong. The arrogant words he had once spoken, "One who knows nothing can understand nothing", came back to haunt him...as in the end, they applied to him.

As a Nobody: Xehanort's soul, refusing to accept the loss of his heart, reanimated his body into the Nobody known as Xemnas. While possessing all memories of Xehanort's activities prior to making the leap into darkness to become a Heartless, the lack of any emotion when recalling these memories is what allowed Xemnas to recognize that he was not that person in his memories, but simply his discarded physical vessel. An empty shell, never meant to exist to begin with.

Xemnas has an acute self-awareness wholly lacking in Ansem. While Ansem blocked out the inferiority complex he had developed as a human that drove him to that point, Xemnas remembers it clearly and is able to look upon his human self as the sad, psychologically imbalanced weakling that he truly was. In spite of this, the soul still carries the heart's will within it, and as a Nobody the will to become an omnipotent deity ruling over all other lifeforms burns more fiercely than ever. Because then Xemnas won't just be free of the shadows that Ansem the Wise and the universe at large cast upon Xehanort, but of the shadows truly existing beings with hearts cast upon him.

Utterly lacking in emotion, Xemnas naturally is just as adept as his Heartless counterpart at callous manipulation of others, if not moreso. Everyone is a pawn to be used for his own advancement toward godhood. Despite his arrogance, Ansem was more cautious in his actions due to his general weakness prior to gaining physical form. While just as calculating, Xemnas is far more assured in his power and thus is capable of acting more directly and ruthlessly. Then there is the matter of their visions for the universe. While Ansem operated under the belief he was serving a higher cause by plunging all into eternal darkness, Xemnas is under no such delusions. He seeks to reshape and rule the universe solely for himself, intending on making it a desolate void like the Realm of Nothingness, where all other lifeforms feel as empty as Nobodies and live as but extensions of him, forever enslaved to his will. Once not truly "existing", Xemnas would now define existence for all others.

Xemnas' ruthlessness is matched only by his intellect. Never a man to have just one iron in the fire, Xemnas constructs his plans with multiple contingencies. This also allows him to adapt quickly and casually to the unforeseen actions of others even as he continues trying (and largely succeeding) to predict such actions based on the person's psychological makeup and take full advantage of them. Because of this, he is able to gather and lead a group such as Organization XIII, full of different and often clashing personalities and agendas, to where it's him and his agenda that comes out on top.

Diagnosis: In the field of psychology, the human mind is often broken into three different sections: the ego which carries one's sense of self, the superego which is the product of nurture that feeds into the ego and safeguards the id, and the id which is the product of nature and holds all the most base instincts devoid of rationality or conscience. Xehanort was able to discard his superego, already tenuous as it was constructed by the man he felt such inferiority while standing beside, and divided himself into a pure ego, Ansem, and a pure id, Xemnas. What this reveals about the man is that he can safely be classified as a sociopath. Regardless of what his secret memories held, Xehanort was ultimately someone who valued himself and his hunger for knowledge above all else, could form attachments to other people but not maintain them, shamelessly engaged in dishonesty and manipulation, ultimately fell victim to strong emotions of jealousy and rage, and whose psychological coping mechanism for inferiority was excessive narcissism to the point of stealing the identity of the one he so admired yet envied.

This patient is extremely dangerous. Avoid at all costs.

[web-novel-polls]

Less Popular Danmei Character Tournament

CWs: animal mention, slavery, death mention, cannibalism mention, human trafficking (kinda - prisoner exchange), bullying mention, amnesia, war, murder mention

Gu Mang from Stains of Filth / Yuwu

Submission: He’s my little guy

He’s the tragic ML who betrayed the MC while also being the biggest fucking clown / the comedic relief

He truly believes he’s a fucking wolf at one point. 

Essentially, Gu Mang was a slave in Murong Lian’s household, which led him to meet the MC, Mo Xi, who is a noble of similar standing to the Murong clan. He eventually becomes the General-in-Chief of the Wangba Army (later renamed to the Northern Frontier Army bc it was a funny name) and fights for the Chonghua Empire. However, since the Wangba Army was made of slaves, not a single of his fellow soldiers were given a proper burial, which - along with other reasons - led to Gu Mang defecting to an enemy nation (that also killed Mo Xi’s father and may or may not be cannibals).  

The story begins when said enemy nation trades Gu Mang back to Chonghua as a prisoner of war with parts of his soul gone, causing him to believe he’s a majestic blue wolf. The summary is a tiny bit misleading, albeit not wrong - “they’ve slept together before” is actually more “they slept together multiple times while Mo Xi, at the very least, is incredibly in love with Gu Mang.”  

Gu Mang’s also pretty funny, even with his memories gone, albeit the inherent tragedy is overwhelming. Idc what “evils” he committed… the Lotus Pavilion thing or whatever was fucked up. The author is so brutal to him, and for what? Funsies? (<--mainly joking, but it’s a SAD story… I’ve cried so many times) 

Anyway, Gu Mang Did Not Deserve This 2023 

Yan Zhengming from Liu Yao: the Revitalization of Fuyao Sect 

Submission: Winner of the award for highest number of times I’ve called a man a “pretty princess” 

Apparently has a fantastic character development into the Sect Leader (I’m not that far), but he’s also just a pretty princess <2

He’s the eldest disciple of Han Muchun / Fuyao Sect who was born into a rich family. He ran away at age seven and became Han Muchun’s first apprentice/disciple. He’s similar to a spoiled young master character, but he doesn’t really bully anyone; he may try to bully/clash with Cheng Qian, but I don’t think he wins (been a while since I started it - he’s like 15, and Cheng Qian is ~9-10 at this point) 

“Strict with others but lenient on himself” → responsible Sect Leader pipeline, More at 10 pm

[femmefighter]

A year of Sokabine brain rot

I've been seeing a lot of posts celebrating the first year anniversary of the Ahsoka show. I was so excited since I'd first heard about it. Ahsoka. Hera. Sabine. Mon Mothma. All these strong female characters we were going to get another series of. Ahsoka is my queen, and I loved a good fanfic shipping her with other female characters like Bo-Katan or Hera, and was totally keen for the fanfics that would surely ensue from the series.

I totally wasn't expecting this:

The tension between Ahsoka and Sabine, despite being hinted at in the trailer, completely took me by surprise. I didn't just see estranged mentor and apprentice, but massive ex-lover vibes. And damn, that rot took over my brain faster and more completely than Cordyceps.

So, happy first Sokabine anniversary to my fellow tugboat companions! We may be a tiny ship, but we have a stout engine.

[dankovskaya]

Compassionately read moreing this yet unnamed twi'lek oc ramble I am using to avoid screaming in my house rn literally don't click on it unless you love words so so much

Anyway basically it's turning out way easier than I actually expected it to be to have this character I am conceptualizing and Maul manage to associate with each other frequently and closely during the clone wars and without it even being purely strategic and otherwise reluctant I mean. "They" definitely would have severe reservations with working together with a Sith especially when up to this point their philosophy in that regard has been "we need to cut their fucking heads off" but the clone wars overall is sort of an enworsening period for them and a "I don't actually give a fuck what the order says that much and they do not have the final say on what is and isn't morally acceptable" perspective shift era so like. If allying themselves with a FORMERRR Sith is what it takes to arrange for much needed aid on Ryloth they're going to be willing to go that far even if it requires having some part in his dumbass power plays and revenge fantasies in order for him to agree to it AND even if it ends up with them getting branded as 5x the traitor for being rumored or known to be working with Maul.

And Maul obviously has been shown to straight up not actually give a single shit about any of the actual resources that he has and what is done with them he's very practical about it and knows that it's necessary to maintain his position without feeling any sort of material greed over it all so he'd absolutely be willing to give their beloved Ryloth the support they are so desperate to find for it IN EXCHANGE for Become my apprentice. No. Become my apprentice. No. Become my apprentice. I said no. You will. No I won't kill yourself. All in due time...take part in my evil schemes. Fucking fine. But like really he so clearly believes if he finds someone else willing to Embrace the Dark and can train them up to his level he will be able to beat Sidious and take his place and overcome his humiliations once and for all that I feel like it really would not take much for him to entertain their demands and he is so borderline delusionally self assured that I just know he'd be certain that his male manipulator tactics will wear them down eventually (especially since it's not like they're outright trying to kill him or foil his plans otherwise.) Which they literally won't but like good luck telling him that.

Anyway I also not even necessarily intentionally gave them enough shit in common (and Maul is very clearly willing to at least broadly recount his tragic backstory) that even with their natural severe distrust and dislike for him I can also rationalize them having SOME sympathy in their too even if it doesn't materially change how they interact with him or anything lmao. Like not insignificant to their interactions would be the fact that they both come from a people that have been historically enslaved and were both I guess deprived of their own cultural identities by virtue of being taken away from their families as tiny babies and having no living relatives anymore (well savage might still be around at first but still) and I guess. Recent invasion of home planets? NOT that I think Maul would particularly care abt how that affects them or even like give a fraction of a shit about the nightsisters getting massacred Lmfao but I do definitely think he would lean into anything they happen to have in common with like. "Look how similar we are. Become evil NOW." intentions.

And also literally from the second they're caught even breathing in his direction its over for them there's no going back to "Jedihood" and they'd be essentially stuck with him (I mean look how crazy they went over Ahsoka without any real evidence) lmao BUT I feel like the inevitable appeals from any fellow Jedi they would happen to encounter asking them How They Could've Possibly Betrayed The Order And Fallen To The Dark Side (they didn't) And Become Maul's New Apprentice (ABSOLUTELY fucking didnt) would piss them off so bad that they wouldn't even care like Fuck you guys y'all have no idea what the fuck I got going on and you know what Maul actually makes sense sometimes . WHO said that.

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Clarity 21

"How do I look?" Tsunade pursed her lips and readjusted her robes one more time in an attempt to achieve perfectly symmetrical hems.

With his tightly crossed arms, Sasuke looked like he very much wanted to be anywhere else and in anything other than his sleek red kimono, but Aiko gave the Hokage an assessing look.

"That hat swallows up your face," Aiko critiqued, making a face and turning away from the dossiers she had been organizing for the office lady to put back. "The draping fabric makes your shoulders enormously boxy. Two of ten, I would not wear."

Sasuke gave her a narrow-eyed expression that implied she was plumbing new depths of stupidity.

"But you really pull it off, of course," Aiko added insincerely. "It's just anyone else that would look like a total bag in it." She gave the Hokage a simpering, dull-eyed smile.

Tsunade's red nails glinted when she curled a hand up into a fist. "Thank you." She adjusted the ceremonial headgear a centimeter and brushed off a wrinkle in the fabric.

'Before I met her, I didn't know that 'dangerously polite' was a thing,' Aiko mused absently.

"You're welcome."

The Hokage drew in a long, calming breath. "How long?"

"Two minutes," Shizune piped up from the door, as impeccably dressed as her fellow apprentice. The stressed expression that she was giving to the watch on her wrist only tarnished the effect a little. "I'll set off the lights thirty seconds til your entrance." She fidgeted with her sleeves, shaking them down over her hands. "Are you ready, Tsunade-sama?"

"Oh, yes," the woman confirmed, checking her makeup from all angles in a hand mirror. "Not that it matters. No one is going to like this."

"That's why it's important to do it perfectly," Shizune fussed.

Aiko took her eyes off the two women in time to see Sasuke start mouthing along with Shizune's words, face still impassive.

"You have to impress the importance of an alliance with Ame, despite the recent feelings of hostility engendered by Pein." Shizune's fingers tightened around her sleeves. Sasuke was still mimicking her speech. For some reason, Aiko suspected that this was not the first time she had given it to Tsunade. "Remember to be sensitive to the lower income civilians who are still in public housing. And the shinobi who were retired from service after-"

She cut herself off at quiet beeping from her wrist.

"Oh dear." Shizune rushed out to the balcony doors and bent to flip a tiny switch attached to black wires. The view through the translucent window was instantly darkened. The ambient noise from the crowd outside faded to nearly nothing in anticipation.

At a frantic gesture from Shizune, Aiko obediently stepped far to the side so she wouldn't be visible when they threw open the doors. Tsunade's back seemed to straighten and she oriented herself in position to fling open the balcony. Shizune stepped two paces behind her mentor on the right side while Sasuke visibly rocketed up three notches on the 'grumpy teenager' spectrum and mirrored her position on the left.

"Showtime," Tsunade said quietly. There was a tiny clicking that Aiko couldn't identify, and then a pure, bright light spotlighted the three from behind just as the Hokage opened the balcony and stepped out to raucous cheering.

'Show time is right,' Aiko huffed. 'What a drama queen.'

She definitely was not jealous of the Hokage's swagger. Nope. A little resentfully, she skirted the edges of visibility below and plopped down into Tsunade's seat. After a moment of thought, she propped her feet up on the desk and surveyed her domain from the position of ultimate authority.

"Citizens of Konoha!" Tsunade bellowed outside. The crowd went wild.

Aiko studiously ignored the three lonely blue folders sitting on the side table by the couch. Tsunade did have a good view of the entire office. Granted, the plant forest wasn't usually squashed against the wall, but they didn't often need the balcony.

"It is my privilege and duty to act in the interests of this great nation."

'I think I like this.'

She scraped her heel against the desk top, pushing an ugly knick-knack to the ground. She didn't expect it to shatter. Aiko shot a guilty look towards the open balcony. She couldn't see Tsunade from this angle, but she could hear her quite clearly. Aiko would be able to even without the sound system and carefully managed acoustics set up. Could Tsunade have heard that breaking?

"You are all well aware, I am sure, about the international meeting scheduled in two weeks' time for the trial and possible sentencing of Ame no Konan as a potential war criminal."

The cheers that statement roused were disconcertingly cheerful, considering that Tsunade was working her way to telling them that Konoha did not want a conviction. Aiko suppressed a snort.

'Good luck with that. I should bounce.'

She did not look at the wreckage of whatever bauble she had broken in the interests of plausible deniability.

'For purely considerate reasons, I should be gone before Tsunade finishes. She'll probably want to have a talk with her apprentices and I'll just be in the way,' Aiko convinced herself. She edged around the walls, careful to remain out of sight.

She paused at the couch that was her usual seat, guiltily noticing once again that she had dossiers left to read. Her avoidance looked even more blatant than usual, considering that she had finished the last yellow folder about half an hour ago.

She still wasn't allowed to take those dossiers out of the office. They were highly sensitive information. It would be suspicious for her to be caught reading about people she supposedly knew. And it was just plain rude to wander off with someone else's property, even if they hadn't explicitly asked you not to.

Aiko tucked the folders under her arm and pushed out of the office.

'I'll live with myself somehow. This is not the most reprehensible thing I have done.'

Actually, Tsunade should be grateful. She was going to read them. Aiko was doing the Hokage a favor, valiantly pushing through all the stupid prep work to argue her stupid cause at trial for some stupid woman who was totally guilty.

Aiko wasn't stupid. She'd read enough to see that Ame no Konan had very little legal defense for that whole kidnapping thing. Her best hope was arguing that she had been caught up in forces beyond her control.

'And fuck, it would rankle to argue that you deserve mercy because you couldn't get out from under someone's thumb. I wouldn't make that case. I might rather be executed than remembered in such a humiliating fashion.'

Perhaps Aiko shuddered at that thought precisely because she was guilty of that exact same pathetic floundering under Obito's control?

She stewed in that as she crept out of the deserted Hokage tower. It was impossible to avoid getting caught up in the outskirts of the mob listening to Tsunade go on about the spirit of international cooperation and goal of long term peace, but she kept her head down and pushed her way free as quickly as possible, eliciting only a few indignant mutters of, "Watch it! Where do you think you're going?"

Although that wasn't a half-bad question. Shizune's apartment wasn't a terribly inspired place to go to avoid Shizune. Aiko paused a few blocks away from the crush of people to contemplate her problem.

'I could go sit in a bar and read,' she reasoned. 'Just be alone around people. It's late enough that it'll get busy after Tsunade is done. That could be nice.'

Of course, this would be the first time that she'd gone out alone in Konoha. The thought made her frown a little bit and miss her usual companion for eating out.

Not that she needed Yamato to pay for her food, of course. Apparently she had a couple active bank accounts and even received a stipend while she was in training to re-join Konoha's military.

'Do I need identification to drink here?' Aiko wondered, letting her feet take her towards what her explorations had revealed as the seedier side of town. She hadn't before, but then, Konoha was a shinobi village. They tended to be much more observant of legal technicalities than backwards towns in the exact center of nowhere.

Nah. She was way past the drinking age. If it was necessary, she was certain that she could bully a bartender into serving her.

The first bar she saw…

"Covert Schnapps," Aiko read, disbelieving. "Newly Renovated: Now With Ceiling." Really?

'It's probably not actually where Konoha's black operation workers get drunk. Right?' she reasoned.

When she pushed her way in, the bar was nearly deserted. A woman with a prosthetic hand and some rather becoming facial scarring was carefully arranging a liquor display while a person with seriously impressive tattoos on their bare shoulders scrawled out a special drink menu for the night.

Aiko read over what was completed, and tried not to laugh.

'You can get something called an Ame nin served dry, and a Suna border rookie with candied beetles. How is that a thing? People eat candied beetles?'

It didn't appear that anyone was ready to take orders, so she settled into a booth to wait. It would probably be a good idea to at least start reading before she got hammered. Right?

Right.

She sucked on her lower lip and carefully spread out her three dossiers. The covers held no meaning, much as they hadn't when she'd stared at them over the last three days.

'I just need to go for it,' Aiko thought, screwing her forehead up in determination. 'Any one will do. Like ripping sutures out. It'll be much easier after I have started.'

Still she did not move.

'Oh for the love of-' mildly disgusted with her cowardice, Aiko closed her eyes and slapped a hand down on a folder. She pushed the other two off to the side and settled in to read her randomly selected dossier.

Her mouth went dry.

'Oh my fucking kami, that hair.' She had to stare at the identification photo of a young woman with the most stunning red hair she had ever seen. It was almost painfully vivid even in a photograph. And it matched her eyes.

The woman herself was wearing an unimpressed expression and a crisp white doctor's coat, hanging open down her chest. Underneath appeared to be a purple top that displayed collarbones, but nothing scandalous.

'I might be okay with my relatives. This woman appears to be on point.'

Aiko shifted back in her seat, throwing her left arm over the back of the booth and stretching her legs out under the table. She would have propped them up on the opposite seat if her legs were long enough. As it was, she pulled the folder upright and began reading with genuine interest.

Oh, this was that poisons technician whose research Shizune was so enamored with. Maybe Shizune had a crush? Uzumaki Karin was definitely worth a broken heart or two.

'She came from Grass?'

The fact that the Sandaime Hokage had blatantly stolen an allied nation's nin when he noticed her at a Chuunin examination made Aiko laugh out loud. What a fabulously shameless troll.

A moment later, she sobered to realize that Grass was now a deadzone. Holy shit. If he hadn't done that, Karin would be dead. That'd suck. She looked pretty cool.

'She must be, if I let her live in my house and vouched for her.' Aiko pressed her lips together and inhaled through her nose. 'Either that or family was just a big thing for me.'

Karin had been a training partner of sorts, though they had apparently shared no missions. Well. She had been a low-rank shinobi with a skill set that wasn't suited for the field. Until her apprenticeship with the former apprentice of the snake sannin along with another girl-

Another Uzumaki? Her eyebrows shot up. Sometimes the second girl was written with a redacted surname, and sometimes as Uzumaki Hinata. Curious, she abandoned Karin's file and peeked inside another.

The face she saw wasn't Naruto's, so she felt safe in assuming it was the right girl.

'She doesn't look much like Karin or Naruto,' Aiko thought dubiously. Something was a little odd there. 'Maybe she married in? Is she Karin's wife?' Reluctantly, she let the dossier fall shut to finish reading Karin's. Nope, there was no mention of Karin getting hitched. How else did Hinata end up with a legal name change?

"Sorry about the wait." A woman about Aiko's size with a perky smile and a series of black tattoos winding around her thin arms slid a bowl of mixed nuts onto the table. "Can I start you off with anything? We have a few new items on the menu." She pushed a lock of pin-straight brown hair behind her neck.

"Yeah, I saw." Aiko slapped her dossier shut and slid it away, scanning her memory. "I want… Was there something called a Black Clover?"

"Yepp!"

"I want that and a glass of water," she decided. It was a little morbid to name a drink after a poison, perhaps, but she was curious.

"Sounds great. I'll just need to see your identification, since you're not wearing your hitai-ite." The waitress pulled a straw out of her black apron and settled it on the table.

Ugh.

Aiko frowned. "I really don't think that's necessary." She raised an eyebrow, and milked her aggressive posture for all that it was worth. "I'm well over the drinking age." That was visibly apparent. She was a little short, sure, but what fucking thirteen year old looked like she did?

"Ah-" The waitress looked uncertainly toward the kitchen. "I'm sorry, miss, but since I don't know that you're above the age of fourteen-"

There was a snort from a nearby table. Aiko involuntarily glanced over to see a man with a senbon waggling in the corner of his mouth. "I know her." He gave Aiko a once-over that wasn't entirely friendly. The Chuunin he was sitting with gave her a confused look at well. After a moment, her eyes widened in apparent recognition.

"Shiranai-san?" The waitress prompted, glancing between the two Jounin whose postures had become just a little bit too aggressive for her comfort.

Aiko held his stare, a little confused but confident. She didn't know why this man had a beef with her, but she was more than willing to take it outside if he felt like starting something.

After a moment, Shiranai broke eye contact and leaned back in his chair. "She's nineteen," he vouched begrudgingly, and far too loudly considering how close he was. "Don't you recognize the Yondaime's first kid?"

The waitress dropped her notepad. Heads swiveled in the closest booths.

"But I heard she was dead," someone asked in a tone that she probably wasn't meant to hear. Aiko winced at the sudden attention.

'That absolute shit. He did that on purpose.'

Shiranai smiled ever-so-slightly at the disbelieving look she gave him, but no one else was paying him much attention.

"I- I'm sorry." The woman bent to pick up her lost notebook, but didn't entirely lose eye contact. "I didn't realize-"

"It's fine." Aiko reassured with all the kindness she could muster through her irritation. Admittedly, it wasn't much. "Just get me my drink, please."

The waitress gave her one last searching look, seeming to survey her features for some mysterious resemblance. "Of course. It'll be just a minute." Professionalism recovered, she pushed back to the counter. That would have been much more convincing if she hadn't immediately leaned over to confide something into her coworker's ear.

Aiko suppressed a groan and glared at her table neighbors. The Chuunin gave her a friendly nod, but her male companion seemed pleased with her irritation.

"You're welcome." His grin was slick. Then he dismissed her, turning back to his companion. "Now, what were you saying about your sister?"

Moody about being stared at and uncomfortable with being publically identified in connection with a famous father she had never known, Aiko readjusted so that both elbows were on the table and pulled out her next file. Uzumaki Hinata.

A second look didn't make her look any more like what Aiko thought an Uzumaki should be. Hinata had the smooth, moon-shaped features of a traditional beauty and long dark hair with a glossy sheen. Aiko, Karin, and Naruto had all at least shared pointed, foxy facial structure and bright coloring. Certainly none of them had that kind of healthy, pettable shine in their hair.

She leaned back, giving the picture another skeptical examination. It didn't change- a pretty young woman in a purple dress with her hitai-ite around her neck and a mark on her forehead. Aiko squinted, but couldn't quite make out the details in the little photo. It looked oddly like a seal. Something like what Tsunade and Sasuke wore on their foreheads, perhaps?

Oh. Apparently not. Aiko winced when she got to the part about her former classmate being passed over for her sister after a disastrous showing in the Chuunin exams against the Kazekage.

"Here's your drink."

Aiko blindly reached towards the light clink of glass setting on the table, grasping something cold. "Thank you."

'That seems shitty of her family. He was obviously not really a genin if he became kage so soon after that examination. He couldn't have been more than sixteen when he became Kazekage.'

Was that what had made Sasuke's Chuunin exams so disastrous? If he was Naruto's teammate, he could be close to Naruto's family.

Aiko frowned, noticing something. 'It seems odd that I've read what seems to have been the files for almost every team in that Chuunin exam. Hinata filled out the reconnaissance team with the Aburame and dog nin. If Karin was a Grass-nin, she can't have been the kunoichi filling out Naruto and Sasuke's team. I suppose I assumed it must have been Hinata by process of elimination. Pity I didn't get to read Sasuke's file. I might have found out more about his team.'

Well. Naruto's file would probably have answers there as well. She cast it an uncertain glance, longing to know mixing with trepidation. Jinchuuriki were dangerous. Then again, so was she.

She took a tentative taste of her drink –pleasingly tart- and went back to reading. She nearly dropped the folder in surprise. She'd adopted Hinata? What an odd thing to do. Then again, perhaps they had been on good terms, considering Hinata's address also changed to be the one that Aiko had apparently shared with Karin. The reading was absorbing enough that she hardly noticed finishing her first drink, or when it was replaced with another.

Like Karin and pretty much every other Konoha nin Aiko had read about, they had shared no missions. Hinata had apparently been pretty occupied with splitting her time between her original team and her training under Mitarashi Anko.

"Do you have a minute?"

It took a moment to come back to the real world enough to respond. By that time, the interloper had made himself comfortable. "Excuse you!" Aiko snapped. She slapped the dossier shut.

The man who had slid into the seat across from her gave a surprisingly sheepish expression. "Ano, sorry to intrude, but I was wondering if you would be adverse to answering a few questions?"

What.

She gave him a once-over. Ame nin, male, early twenties. He wore the same goggles as the Ame nin that had eyed her the other day- a teammate, perhaps?

"What do you want?" Aiko asked ungracefully. She didn't like being interrupted.

"My teammate mentioned that you remind him of someone we haven't seen in a while," he started carefully.

Her neck prickled.

This Ame nin was giving her hair the same creepily intense examination that his buddy had. But he was also reaching out with his chakra and-

Aiko stood abruptly, muscles tight with tension. There was a slight sway in her calves that told her she had been drinking faster than was perhaps advisable before a fight. And what the fuck else could he be angling for after probing her chakra signature? He was trying to get a read on her. That was hostile, aggressive, intrusive.

But the Ame nin threw his hands up innocently, palms out. The gesture was undermined by the creepily euphoric grin on his face and the marveling stare he was giving her eyes. It was enough that Aiko self-consciously checked to ensure that she hadn't activated the Rinnegan or Sharingan. Nope. Just black eyes.

"Don't worry," he said very quietly. "I won't say anything. We were just so-" he faltered. "Not that we actually believed you could be dead," the Ame nin backtracked, manic speed flipping his otherwise charming voice into something unnerving and nervously deferent.

Her stomach seemed to fall out of her body entirely, leaving only a swooping feeling in its absence. Her fingers were cold.

'He knows something.'

The Ame nin was far too thrilled to see her. She could think of absolutely no positive reason for Ame nin to recognize or care about her. The man fidgeted, scarred fingers shaking on the table with adrenaline. His eyes were positively manic. "It's just- seeing and believing are-"

'What kind of people was I involved with? Would Tsunade know what's going on if I asked? Or if this Obito's work? Is he coming for me?'

"Hey, leave her alone!" someone bit out.

The grin slid off the Ame nin's face when he looked up and realized that he was getting dark stares from the restaurant in general.

Aiko certainly did not need any help dealing with this man. He was a Chuunin. She could kill him. Maybe she should. But with this audience?

'Not a tactically sound choice. And now that we have an audience, I'll be a suspect for anything that happens to him. Depending on what he's talking about, getting rid of him might still be worth the risk of an interrogation later.'

Of course, that was contingent on whatever he knew ending with him. That hope was already a lost cause- his teammate had shared whatever suspicion he had. The death of one Ame nin in Konoha would be a diplomatic incident even if they never proved anything; but the death of two would probably mean war.

She chose to take a step back, a defensive movement that stressed the visual contrast between his bulky, equipment peppered outline contrast with her lithe and obviously unarmed body. If that didn't summon protective instincts from anyone who was already agitated in the crowd, nothing would.

The shinobi the waitress had called Shiranai was giving the Ame nin a black stare that seemed out of place, considering his earlier hostility. His pretty companion had been replaced by-

'Oh dear. That's the Konoha nin that I killed. Maybe that's why Shiranai is disgruntled with me?'

Aiko gave her one-time victim a mildly queasy smile. His returning expression was filled with surprisingly tolerant amusement.

'What in the actual fuck?'

She squirmed, a tingle traveling up her neck.

'If anyone is holding a grudge about that, it should probably be him.'

"I think you should go." A chair scraped. Aiko startled at the soft arm that rested on her right shoulder, soon joined by a face propped on her left. The woman's free hand danced down Aiko's hip, fingers digging in possessively- or was it protectively? "This just isn't your scene, Ame-nin." Warm breath drifted over Aiko's neck, carrying with it a scent that wasn't entirely pleasant. Something about this woman was dangerous, hard and sliding and dry as scales. Aiko itched to duck away- or worse, relax into the disconcertingly sensual hold.

'At the moment, she appears to be on my side,' Aiko told herself to excuse her inaction. It definitely wasn't that there was anything pleasurable about the chest pressed against her back- an interesting juxtaposition of softness covered in what could only be a ridged metal leaving criss-cross patterns in Aiko's shoulderblades.

Surrounded in a bar full of Konoha nin who weren't feeling particularly partial to his country, the man swallowed slowly. His dark eyes darted around. "Maybe it isn't," he agreed slowly. A hand played with his goggles- a nervous habit? "I'll leave, then."

Aiko could feel a cheek stretch against her neck when the unfamiliar woman smiled. "Lovely!" she chirped. Somehow, it sounded dangerous. "Have a good night. I hope you're enjoying Konoha's hospitality."

There was something very pointed about that statement that flew over Aiko's head with a soft whooshing sound.

The Ame nin walked out with as much dignity as he could manage. After a moment, the unfamiliar kunoichi drew back, formidable presence seeming to fade into nonchalance.

"What a terrible bore," she muttered.

Aiko nearly choked on a laugh and twisted around. "Pardon?"

The stranger wasn't much taller than Aiko- a kunoichi with a heart-shaped face, choppy purple hair, and generous assets. Wow. Wow-wow-wow.

"My face is up here."

At the snapped fingers, Aiko jerked her eyes up and looked innocent.

All she received was a snort. "Yeah, you can't fucking fool me." The one-handed shove she received nearly pushed Aiko into her seat again. "You." The other woman scowled. "You just drop off the map for a fucking year and give me that dopey ass look? I thought you were fucking dead, you ratchet skank."

'She's so grumpy,' Aiko marveled. 'Holy shit. She's amazing.'

Feeling like she had just been run over by a team of horses, Aiko opened her mouth to give some polite deflection that danced around the fact that she didn't recognize the other woman. Instead, "I think I love you," popped out.

The other woman stared for just a moment and burst out laughing. "Goddamnit." This time, she gave a moderately friendly punch to Aiko's ribcage. Which, ow? "Don't make me laugh when I'm chewing you out."

"No, go on," a male voice called. The woman scowled and instantly oriented on the offender, a blue-haired man with a scar over his face. He grinned. "Anko-chan has an admirer. It's cute."

'Anko? The Mitarashi Anko who taught Karin and Hinata, perhaps?'

That could explain how they knew each other, but their association seemed to go beyond that of acquaintances. This woman acted much more familiarly.

"I have tons of fucking admirers, shitstain!" Anko barked. "S'not novel. The only thing that's cute around here is how hard you're trying to schmooze on that poor man there. Don't you understand the concept of leagues? He's not in yours."

The man flushed, reply cut off by hoots and laughs.

He wasn't going to get a chance to respond. Anko wrapped a hand around Aiko's arm and tugged violently. "You have some 'splaining to do."

It was a phenomenally bad idea to leave a bar with a stranger, just because they were hellishly attractive and seemed to know her. Aiko couldn't possibly be that asinine.

"Just a sec-" Aiko pulled her arm away and lunged to sweep up her dossiers. It would be pretty awkward to explain losing them to Tsunade. Anko gave the folders a knowing look, but didn't comment when she bodily hauled Aiko out of the smoke into the night. They made it a good block before anyone spoke.

"So," Aiko started, injecting false confidence into her tone and forcing down a shiver at the wind. "If I said I was sorry-"

"I would tell you that you aren't sorry enough yet." Mitarashi wheeled around and hip-checked Aiko against the face of the building they had been passing. She caged Aiko in with her arms in the same movement, scowling and sharing alcohol-tinted breath.

She had just enough time to think, 'This woman is handsy,' before she was being glared down.

"What is your game?" Anko leaned her head in. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you didn't bite it. But I thought we were close enough that you'd do me the courtesy of letting me know you hadn't ended up face down in a ditch." Her face twisted- this close, Aiko thought she sensed pain behind the anger. "Or do you just show up now when we have fuckin' Ame nin infesting the village?" She paused for a second. When she spoke again, her tone was just a little raspy. "I thought you were dead," Anko repeated, eyes distant.

The vulnerability there struck Aiko dumb. "I-" She cleared her throat and glanced down. From her perspective, that meant her chin was nearly touching Anko's cleavage. Aiko hurriedly made eye contact again. "I don't know what to say," she said honestly.

Her chest was hurting with something that felt suspiciously like guilt. But that was bullshit. She couldn't possibly have been expected to make things right with this woman after Obito had spirited her away.

'She was looking for me.'

Aiko's mouth was dry.

'While I was settling in with Obito, this woman was looking for me.'

She'd known that she must have had loved ones- family and friends- but it hadn't really hit her. But this was real. Anko had hurt. She might still be hurting. Hurting like Aiko was hurting after finding out that Obito had used her.

"You don't know what to say," Anko repeated, disbelieving. She drew back in a snap, seeming to coil into herself. "I see," she said stiffly. "I overestimated your regard for me. I won't-"

"That's not it!"

The words surprised Aiko as much as they seemed to surprise Anko. The older woman raised an eyebrow, waiting.

'What am I going to tell her? The Hokage told me to lay low. We're going to lie in court. I shouldn't tell anyone that Tsunade hasn't approved.'

Then again, it was her story to tell. Not Tsunade's. Aiko straightened her back and made a decision.

"It's a long story," she said. "Or, more accurately, one that shouldn't be told in public. Your place?"

Anko's place turned out to be a traditional home in a shocking state of disrepair. Aiko pressed her lips together tight and withheld comment. Anko kicked off her shoes with enough force that one flew into the door with a thud and slid into the house proper. She didn't glance behind her as Aiko stepped out of her own shoes. There was a horrible, chest-shaking clatter when Anko swept a pile of clutter off of the kitchen counter to free up room.

"I'm going to make some fucking tea," Anko called, sounding proud.

"Thank you?" Aiko tried, running a hand over her hair. She tripped into the front room, carefully avoiding debris. Empty boxes of mixed chocolates? At least it appeared to be the good stuff.

"Yeah, you better thank me." Something scraped ominously. There were a few beats of silence. "Actually, I have some booze." Anko came out holding two clear bottles and giving the kitchen a guilty expression.

Aiko chose not to think about that and silently accepted the bottle she was offered.

"So." Anko bounced when she landed on the couch and flung her legs up. "You better have a story, bitch." She frowned, disturbed. "Last thing I remember that day was that fucker snapping my neck." She waved her bottle. "When I wake up, your skinny prude of a captain said he remembered you fucking blowing your fool ass up-" She leaned over and slapped Aiko upside the head with delicacy at odds with her fierce expression. "And then!" Anko waved her free hand jerkily. "And then you're just not there. No one says anything, even when I ask." She stopped talking and unscrewed her bottle to take a thoroughly unladylike swig.

That seemed like a good idea. Aiko imitated the motion, forcing herself not to cough at the hard liquor burning down her throat. She gasped and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

'This is nothing like a mixed drink.'

She could only put it off so long.

"I don't remember any of that," Aiko admitted. She nearly collapsed on the floor, sliding her legs under the kotatsu. "I mean that so literally. In fact, I knew that Nagato killed me somehow, but you just gave me more information than anyone else has. Some things make more sense now." She cupped her hands together and mimed an explosion by wiggling her free hand and moving the bottle out in the opposite direction. "An explosion could explain a little…" Aiko trailed off, and tapped her free hand against her head.

Anko's face was screwed up in uneasy anticipation.

It seemed like a good time to take another large drink, so she did. "Screwiness," Aiko decided wryly. She rested her drink on the table with a loud clink. "Nagato fucking sucked," she stressed. "He didn't bring me back how he meant to." She paused. "Or maybe he just didn't care," Aiko grudgingly allowed. "However it happened, all the pieces didn't get fit back together right. Body's fine," she admitted, and let the omission speak for itself.

Something like horror was dawning on Anko's face.

"So…" Anko's fingers tightened around her bottle. "Did you retire? A psych retire? A lot of people thought that," she added unnecessarily, voice speeding up so that her words bumped into each other. "That whatever happened to you made you retire and take off. You, Sandaime-sama, and the Sannin were the only ones who managed to kill any of those fuckers. You bet your ass that people were looking for you."

The darkness of her tone dissuaded any interest Aiko might have had in a follow-up question.

"Did I get a psych retire? Not… exactly," Aiko fidgeted. Maybe she should have. She took another pull, now immune to the itching in her throat from the liquor. She just felt warm. "Although I nearly retired from Konoha on accident." She pulled at her hair with her free hand, tugging out her ponytail.

"On accident?" Anko repeated slowly.

"Yepp." Aiko smiled bitterly. "I may have been slightly kidnapped by an Akatsuki out of the hospital."

Anko carefully put her drink between her knees and balanced her face in her palms.

"That about sums it up," Aiko agreed politely. "No idea how he knew to come by, but he did." She shrugged, despite the fact that the other woman wasn't looking. "I just recently got back to Konoha. Figured out that I'd been played and got in a fight with him. Hatake's team came by just in time to scrape me off the ground."

Anko's head shot up and she gave Aiko an odd expression. "Hatake?" she repeated, stressing the name strangely. She gave a low laugh, shaking her head. "Holy fucking shitcakes, I think you're telling the truth. A year ago, that would have been 'Kakashi-shishou'." She batted her eyelashes in a way that was truly sickening.

Aiko recoiled.

"It's true!" Anko nearly tipped over her bottle in her enthusiasm, which was a pretty good clue that she was well on her way to inebriation. "You had the hots for teacher for the longest fucking time, I swear on my tits."

Aiko could physically feel the blood draining out of her face as the true horror of just how embarrassing that was dawned on her. She swallowed. "Was it obvious?" she asked gingerly.

Unmerciful, Anko nodded. "Of course it fucking was." She paused, and begrudgingly added, "It was cute though. No one would hold it against you. You were just a kid." Her face shifted, gaze turning sharp. She gave Aiko a once-over. "You're not anymore," Anko said slowly. Her eyes appeared to be lingering on the curve of Aiko's exposed shoulder.

Suddenly the room was hot. She pushed her bangs off of her face just to have something to do with her hands. Then she realized they were sweating and clenched them.

"Pffft." Anko flopped back, the intensity of the previous moment gone. "That's enough feelings talk. I'm starting to feel all vulnerable and shit." The toothy grin she bestowed invited Aiko to share in the joke, but Aiko didn't feel like laughing.

Anko really was vulnerable. That was okay. Acting like she was too tough was- well, it was probably a coping mechanism. But it was still sad.

She forced out a smile, but didn't feel it.

Her companion must have sensed that, because she frowned. "Hey, knock it the fuck off." She waggled her eyebrows. "I'm done talking. Let's just get drunk and pretend the television is fascinating, alright?"

Aiko cracked a real smile. "Yeah," she agreed. She did have a lot left in her bottle.

She woke up the next morning with her right arm asleep and the fingers of her left tangled in the mesh over Anko's stomach. Her head was resting in what appeared to be the curve of Anko's armpit. The same dangerous, scaly scent that had put Aiko off last night lingered there along with faint body odor. Glamorous.

Aiko grimaced, withdrawing. Her head was pounding, but she could cope. The pain was roughly equivalent to the headaches that centered behind her eyes. She somehow managed to survey her surroundings. She was still in Anko's home, but the older woman appeared to have slumped off the couch and onto the floor sometime in the night in search of a warm body like a freaking lizard or something. The bottles were abandoned on top of the kotatsu- one empty, and one still slowly dripping sticky liquid onto the floor. The tv was displaying only static.

'At least we're both fully clothed,' Aiko told herself, and definitely did not feel let down in the slightest about that. Sheepishly, she ran a hand through her puffy bedhead. It immediately caught on a tangle. Hm. Should probably do something about that.

Anko yawned and stretched, nails scratching the floor. She did not open her eyes.

"Hey, I think I need to go." Aiko looked around for her hair tie, and then gave it up as a bad job. If anyone asked, she'd say 'messy' was the new look. The dossiers clung to her sweaty skin when she tucked them under her arm.

'I need a shower. I smell like I bathed in booze.'

"Fine," Anko grouched. "Leave me here to die." She rolled over and tucked her arms over her head.

Aiko tried not to laugh, because that would probably hurt. "Will do." She hastily pulled on her boots- and then had to try again, blinking gummily in mild surprise about mis-identifying her right shoe. Huh. She paused with a hand on the door knob. "See you later?"

If anyone asked, Aiko would forever deny the slightest hint of vulnerability in that question. She wasn't the one who needed someone to talk to. That had been Anko.

"Yeah." Anko forced herself into a seated position, rubbing at puffy, dark skin under her eyes. "Yeah, I'll track you down later. You must be going out of your fucking mind with those stiffs up in the tower. A soak would be nice, right?" She pried an eye open. "Blue Dragon Hot Springs. I'll see you there tonight?"

She nodded and left before she could embarrass herself by grinning at having made an actual appointment with an actual friend in Konoha. Someone she wanted to see, other than Yamato. That was going on the calendar.

"Where have you been?" Shizune all but bowled Aiko over as soon as she opened the door.

'I thought you would be at work by now.'

Aiko physically recoiled from the taller woman, fingers tight around the stolen dossiers hidden behind her back. "I can explain," she lied.

"What?" Shizune brushed hair back from her face, accentuating deep circles under her eyes. "I thought-" she shook her head and groaned. "Do I even want to know what you're talking about?"

Wisely, Aiko kept her mouth shut.

"Why didn't you come home last night?" Shizune finally backed off enough that Aiko could shuck her shoes and enter the apartment proper. She dithered over what to do with her hands for a moment, and then went with the standby of making tea.

It only took a moment to contemplate how Anko would feel if Aiko was honest about their conversation and her need for answers. Nuh uh, not going to sell her out.

'That does leave the question of what to tell Shizune.'

Hastily, she stashed her stolen dossiers under a magazine on the kotatsu. Aiko cautiously followed Shizune into the kitchen and decided on a selective truth.

"I met a woman at a bar and went home with her," Aiko offered. She tugged at her hair again, knowing she looked like something that crawled out of the lint compartment.

Shizune slapped her forehead and muttered something nearly inaudible.

Aiko rolled her eyes. "I'm an adult," she reminded waspishly. "I don't remember you being my mother or keeper."

The older woman sighed quietly, thin shoulders heaving. Aiko felt a twinge of guilt for worrying her hostess.

"You're right, of course," Shizune admitted wryly. She turned just enough to give Aiko a dry smile. "Normally, I wouldn't mind. Didn't you hear the riots last night? Is that why you stayed out?"

She really didn't have a response for that, except to let her mouth hang slightly open and her eyebrows crawl up.

"I will take that as a negative." At the shrill call of the teapot, Shizune turned away again to pour out hot water into the steeping pot. When she began scooping leaves, the scent of peppermint floated into the air. Shizune raised her voice to be heard. "We knew that public sentiment would be opposed to our decision, but I have to admit that I was surprised by the extent of their enthusiasm." She screwed the lid back onto the tea tin and put it up.

"Who, exactly," Aiko hesitated, struggling for diplomatic terminology. "dissented?" she settled for.

There was an unabashed snort. Shizune waived an empty teacup in the air by her shoulder. "Who didn't? That's the better question." She arranged the pot of steeping tea and two cups onto a bamboo platter and settled it on the table.

Aiko pulled out a chair nearby, listening intently.

"There are levels of malcontent, in a way," Shizune decided. She gracefully perched into her chair, waiting for the sweet-scented water to hit the perfect composition. "Most of the problem stems from-" her eyes darted to Aiko- "when Pein came to Konoha."

She nodded politely. That sounded like a reasonable thing to be upset about.

Shizune just looked tired. "Quite a few of our elite shinobi and the bulk of our Chuunin force were in Ame or on their way there at the time. We didn't know it, but the alliance had just taken control of their village. That meant that when Pein arrived, our forces were already depleted." Frown lines etched into her face. "Luckily, we had some time to prepare," Shizune admitted, seemingly in the interest of fairness. "We evacuated our civilians, genin, clan key personages, and selected chuunin as guards."

'That makes a lot of sense,' Aiko noted. 'Kept the potential cannon fodder out of harm's way and insured it would be impossible to completely collapse Konoha's infrastructure without making it to the evacuees.'

Shizune didn't need her approving nod to continue. She didn't even see it- eyes glazed with painful recollection. "His very first attacks eliminated almost everyone stationed within the village center. Chuunin," she explained distantly. "Remaining Jounin and elite Chuunin were taking shifts on patrol of the outskirts. Those tended to be the people who fought either one of Pein's incarnations or his summons beasts." The medic shuddered.

'Is she cold? Does she know that she's rubbing at her arms?' Feeling like she was intruding, Aiko averted her eyes.

When her voice came again, Shizune had collected herself. "As I was saying. Civilians and genin are largely resentful about all the property damage, having been spared from seeing anything too damaging. The reactions of our personnel can generally be divided along how Pein killed them."

Her tone was far too impersonal.

"More experienced soldiers are those who fought for longer and experienced more drawn-out deaths," Shizune explained.

'That would have been me. I was a Jounin even then. I wonder who Anko referred to as my captain. I bet he knows more about the particulars.'

Aiko curled her toes up so tightly that her calves began to cramp.

"They are the most contentious demographic. By virtue of experience, those Jounin and Chuunin are more likely to have established coping mechanisms that reduced the trauma. But they are also most likely to have experienced horrible deaths." Shizune's knuckles were white around the teapot. "It changes you. Who would trust anyone connected to the monster who did that to them?"

'Good question.'

She ran a hand over her head to suppress the shudder trickling down her neck. Her mouth was almost painfully dry at that point. It was just the hangover, of course. Aiko swallowed. "Isn't the tea oversteeped?"

Shizune blinked, outright surprised. "Oh!" she flushed, lifting the pot. "I suppose that it is." She hastily poured out two cups and fished out the wire that held the looseleaves in place.

Aiko took her cup when offered and eagerly brought the tea up to her mouth. The two women drank in silence for a moment.

"This is awful," Shizune said contemplatively, staring down into her drink.

Aiko nodded. "Yes." She took another sip.

"Would you like to go to the coffeehouse-"

"Definitely," Aiko cut her off. She dumped both of their cups and washed out the pot as quickly as possible. "Can I have a few minutes to change?"

"Of course." Shizune promised, not bothering to hide her amusement. "You look like you had a more exciting night than I did. I wasn't going to mention it, but you smell like a brewery."

Aiko finished setting out the dishes to dry and stuck her tongue out at the older woman. "You're just jealous that you didn't have any fun," she sniped back. She didn't wait for a reply, hurrying to gather up clothes and slide into the shower.

'I need to do laundry. This is getting sad.'

While she was still rifling through her closet for something that wasn't completely atrocious, Shizune's lofty response drifted back.

"As you say, Aiko-san. Don't forget those dossiers that you stole, ne? Tsunade-sama would like those back."

She startled, bumping her head on the rack.

'If she already knew, why didn't she say anything?'

Aiko scowled at her closet, snatching a skanky red top and a ruffled pink skirt that definitely did not match. Fuck it. In a record ten minutes, she was technically clean and heading out the door.

Shizune cast a dubious look backward, tucking the dossiers into her bag. "Are you entirely certain-"

"Yes," Aiko confirmed, not waiting to find out if the skepticism was about her wet hair or admittedly ugly outfit. "I don't care, I just want a drink." Her stomach growled. She didn't blink, adding, "and probably breakfast."

"It's noon."

She shrugged, shaking off Shizune's disapproving tone. "I don't tell you how to live your life."

It took forty minutes but Shizune doggedly stayed with her until Aiko had finished eating and started towards Hokage Tower.

'If I didn't know better, I'd say she doesn't trust me.'

Aiko hid a thoroughly inappropriate smile behind her hand. Fancy that, where would Shizune get such a silly idea?

"I can sense your happiness," Shizune called out darkly, holding open the door to the tower lobby.

She stopped smiling and heaved a sigh.

Tsunade gave only a cursory glance when she entered behind Shizune. "Oh, you found her. Good work." Her attention instantly went back to the man in front of her desk- an ANBU with dark, mussed hair. "Assuming the instigators have sobered up, have them all cited and released." The Hokage looked as tired as Shizune.

'Wow. It really must have been a bad night. If anything, Shizune understated it.'

Aiko shifted her weight, reaching out wordlessly for the folders.

Shizune gave her a long-suffering expression but handed them over. Then she nodded sternly at the couch.

The message was clear. 'Behave, this time. I'm watching you.'

She didn't protest, pulling a cushion onto her lap and opening dossiers to find the one she hadn't read. Uzumaki Naruto looked more serious in photo than he did in real life, and even younger somehow. Age 19? Really? That was-

Her fingers went numb. Of course he was 19. He was her twin. Her eyes had glazed over- she wasn't even looking at the paper. Naruto. NarutoNarutoNaruto. She'd raised him and helped train his team and failed miserably she'd just been separated for a few days and Sakura had ended up deadDeAdDEAD. She'd left Naruto alone for a year. A lot could happen in a year.

The folder fell to her lap.

Naruto running out of the Academy with his Hitai-ite. Naruto crying when he'd seen her kill a Mist nin. Naruto boasting about his crush. Stuffing his chipmunk cheeks with ramen chasing rabbits learning Rasengan sexy no jutsu tussling with Sasuke still in the hospital bed-

Aiko bent over and clapped her hands to her head just to make it stop.

She hadn't even recognized him. She hadn't asked him how he had been. How long had it been since she'd seen him? What had happened? Sasuke was still in Konoha and so was Kakashi who was watching Naruto? Who was watching Naruto?

"Tsunade?" Her voice was very small. She looked up. The ANBU was gone. Shizune looked concerned.

"Yes?" The Hokage frowned slightly, tapping the handle of a paintbrush against her face.

"Where is my otouto?"

Tsunade's ink laden brush hit the desk and rolled off, splattering black pigment onto the carpet. Shizune took an uncertain step towards Aiko, glancing back at her mentor.

"Where?" Aiko repeated. The sunlight was glinting off of Tsunade's blonde, blonde hair.

She'd seen him less than a month ago. But not really. She hadn't known who he was. It wasn't the same thing. The last time she remembered, he'd been in-

"Ame," Tsunade admitted slowly.

She swallowed. Pushed her feet together. Rubbed a palm against the couch.

"I see."

"Diplomatic escort," Shizune added, smoothing over her kimono. "With Hinata and Karin."

'All of them are in Ame? Were they intentionally keeping me away from Uzumaki?'

No, that was ridiculous.

Shizune hurried on, "We couldn't spare Sasuke, but Hinata works well with them. And-"

"They probably have a decent reputation," Aiko filled in. "After helping take Ame the first time. That's a hostile gesture."

The medics exchanged a glance at her dull tone. "To be honest, team seven is rather notorious for having led the invasion," Tsunade said. She pushed her chair back and stood. "They're internally perceived as likely to be hard on Ame. I thought it might smooth over some tensions with our people."

Aiko hummed from the back of her throat.

"Every country is sending an envoy to escort Konan to trial, to eliminate the probability of funny business." Tsunade was watching her intensely, amber eyes narrowed. For what, Aiko wasn't sure.

"Alright."

Tsunade walked around her desk. "Can I assume that you-"

"Just Naruto," Aiko interrupted. "I just…" she trailed off. "I just remember Naruto. Things with Naruto." She blinked, a strange swelling in her tear ducts. "In my head, he's..." She held a hand out, indicating a height comparable to her shoulder. "And now he's so big," Aiko continued. She shook her head, bereft. "And gone."

"The time frame of your memories cuts off around what, age thirteen?" Tsunade prodded, taking one of Aiko's hands and kicking a chair so that she could sit across and stare with sharp eyes.

"Uh." Aiko shook her head. "No. It's just he's mostly little. There's some." She screwed up her face, flustered. "He's older in some things."

"Do you remember school? Training?" Tsunade asked briskly, changing the topic to something a little less confusing. When she nodded yes to both, Tsunade tried again. "Kakashi?" "Sasuke?"

Aiko nodded again, and rasped out the omission. "Sakura."

Tsunade's face screwed up in mild confusion. "Sakura?" she repeated under her breath. "I don't-" She took a sharp inhalation. "Oh." She was still.

Aiko loosened the grip she had on her hair. When had she started pulling her hair? Aiko stood. "I think I need a walk."

"That's-" Tsunade cut herself off, frowning slightly. "Alright. You'll see Naruto in a little more than a week," she added gently.

Aiko was already at the door, but she nodded in acknowledgment. "I know."

Even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to remember how she ended up sprawled on the grass in training ground seven. The trip was a blur.

"Are you alright?"

Yamato squatted a few feet away, elbows resting on his knees. His brow was drawn down. He looked much the same as he had when she had met him. Perhaps his face was a little broader. He'd gone from, what, nineteen to his early twenties since she'd met him? And now she was nineteen. Was that a full circle of some sort?

She patted the grass. He made a pained face.

"It's soaked," he said carefully.

Wet grass was sticking to her legs and backside. When had that happened? "Mud never hurt anyone."

He hummed, low in the back of his throat. "That is not true. With Doton-" He cut off at the look she gave him. "Ah. I see." Yamato rubbed at his neck. "Do you need to talk about it?" he offered.

The world clarified a bit.

"You're one of my ANBU guards," Aiko said blankly. When he did not react at all, she knew it was the truth. "That's why you've been spending time with me."

Yamato plopped down on the grass without a second thought. "Can't I happen to be enjoying my work?" he asked gently.

"Work isn't pleasurable," she rejected. "Look. What do you want?"

He didn't even have the grace to look offended by her rudeness or struggle for an answer. "I want what's best for you, including your safety," Yamato answered readily. "You're one of my comrades."

Aiko looked over. He looked serious, all big brown eyes and boyish sincerity.

'If he's lying, I really can't tell.'

"That so?"

His sandal tapped against the ground. "I want to help you. What do you need?"

'I think he really means it. If I want, I bet he would talk to me. Yamato's never been a liar.'

As far as she knew, anyway. He hadn't had much time with team seven. But then, if re-gaining her friendship under false pretenses wasn't a lie, what was it?

She shifted away, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I think you should go," Aiko said quietly.

When she looked up, he was gone.

It was cold enough that she was no longer looking forward to her appointment with Anko at the hotsprings. It would be good when she was actually there, she was sure. Not so much on the walk home… It would be much more intelligent to cover up before she even went over. Still, she wasn't too enthusiastic on her jaunt back to Shizune's apartment for more clothes. She cast a dark look upward to gauge the time. It must be four- it would be dark within a few hours.

The blue jacket that she found possibly minimalized the clashing tackiness of her ensemble. She pulled it on and crawled into bed to think.

'I want to see Naruto. I want things to go back to normal.'

But what was normal?

Normal was training with Team Seven. Normal was perfecting chakra chains and letting Yamato buy her ice cream. Normal was teasing Obito about Icha Icha and absorbing whatever pearls of financial wisdom Kakuzu was willing to drop.

'I should go.'

Aiko twisted around enough to peer out the window. It was getting dark out. Anko would be waiting. It would be pretty shitty to stand her up. She ignored her shinobi-esque boots in favor of white shoes with a soft, furry lining. They were warmer.

The onsen wasn't difficult to find, though Anko wasn't there yet. Aiko was about to strip and get in the water when she felt it.

'Is this some kind of sick joke?'

Her hands paused on the zipper of her jacket.

Impossible- Well, no. Not impossible, improbable. It was so unlikely.

And yet there it was, not a hundred feet away, all but begging for her attention.

'This is just not my day, but I would know that chakra signature anywhere. He's not even hiding it.'

Then again, who other than her would know it and know to look for it?

'And if he didn't hide it, how would I know to look for him? He must have been checking in for a time when I wasn't with the Hokage or a guard. Tsunade tried to prevent something like this. Smart woman.'

Her appointment could wait a little bit. It would be ruder to bring that confrontation to poor Anko than to leave her waiting at the onsen.

Aiko flipped up her hood and set off briskly, fisting her hands into her pockets with accumulated tension. She followed him across town in the fading light, ignoring the cold whip of wind against her face. He settled in a park ten blocks from the onsen Anko favored. It didn't take her long to find him waiting under a ginko tree.

'I think I forgot how big he really is.'

"You're looking well."

Aiko clenched her jaw and pulled her hands out of her pockets. "You're not," she lied. He looked fantastic, especially for a thirty-something year old. Halfway to forty. God.

Obito huffed, the expression tugging at the warm, friendly wrinkles of his scarring. "My feelings," he said reprovingly. "Ouch."

She moved her left foot, steadying into an athletic position.

'Why is he acting like such an idiot? We both know why he's here.'

"I've been expecting you," Aiko said instead of playing into his banter. Chakra began to rise, mingling with the atmosphere, ready to coalesce into chain-linked solidity.

He'd almost killed her in a fit of temper when he found out that she wanted to leave him. There were really only so many ways this interaction could go. He could try to persuade her to return with him, or he could kill her. And she wasn't going anywhere with him.

'Pity that I didn't have time to practice with Hiraishin. That would have been helpful.'

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?" Obito looked strangely pleased. "I thought-" He huffed out a quiet laugh and scratched at the back of his head. "I thought you'd be-" his eyes darted away, "upset," Obito finished. His body language opened up hopefully, painfully obvious in his hope for forgiveness.

She faltered, honestly a little thrown-off by the deviation from the hostile script. "What?"

Obito kicked at the ground, sandals tossing up grass. "I did overstep my boundaries," he acknowledged hurriedly. "If I'd explained myself better, I'm sure you would have understood. See, with the bijuu-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Aiko interrupted in a high pitch, desperate to get the fight for her life and freedom back on track. It was starting to sound a lot like he didn't even want to fight.

He gave her an odd look, and then broke eye contact. "I probably deserve that," he admitted with a hard edge in his voice. "Although you did undermine my life's ambition by destroying the irreplaceable-" Obito cut himself off, visibly calming. "We're not talking about that," he said softly, curling a hand into a fist at his side. His tone jumped back up. "It's a minor setback," Obito bit out, clearly trying to convince himself. "I will… work around it somehow. It'll be fine. It has to be fine. I can make it fine."

"Without me," Aiko said flatly, ignoring his mental breakdown. She felt that part was important enough to repeat.

A hysterical giggle boiled out of Obito's throat. "Without anyone," he stressed. "Well. Zetsu. I thought I would have Kakuzu but-" He rolled his eyes, red flashing in the moonlight. "I haven't heard from him since that day and three of my bank accounts were emptied."

That sounded a lot like Kakuzu.

"I owe you an apology," Obito said, words sounding painfully rehearsed. His right arm disappeared. It reappeared from his private hole in space and time with a crinkle of paper.

'This can't be happening.'

Numbly, Aiko reached out to accept the glossy pink bag he offered.

'This can't be happening .'

"I considered flowers, as they're traditional. But." Obito wrinkled his nose. "You'll probably like this better," he admitted grudgingly.

She glanced inside. He hadn't bothered to put any of the thin paper that hid contents in presents like this. She could see down to the bottom of the bag.

"Replacement copies of my books?" Her voice sounded distant to her ears. Although her breathing was coming loud and fast.

"And some of your clothes," he added, pulling out a blue bag this time. "You left without anything." His face lifted sharply, as if he scented something on the changing wind. "It was nice talking to you and confirming that I didn't kill you," Obito finished hurriedly. "I wasn't certain. I apologize for what I'm going to do, but I promise that it'll work out. You'll see," he assured. "Until next time."

He was gone. Aiko was standing alone in a park, holding a bag full of hardcore pornography and a care package from a terrorist.

The wind picked up, pushing her hood down. She didn't bother to fix it.

"How is this my life?" she asked. She looked directly up, noting that the moon was just creeping into visibility on the horizon, white and sullenly swollen.

It didn't seem to have any answers for her.

"Aiko?" When the leaves cleared, she was looking at a male form- a little shorter than Obito, but comparatively as broad through the shoulders. Familiar. Safe. She blinked up at him. Yamato took a step forward, head swiveling to check the vicinity. "I thought I sensed someone else," he tried, voice too strong for there to be any doubt in his mind.

She couldn't manage indignation about the fact that he'd been alarmed enough to check up on her when she mysteriously wandered to a deserted park in the middle of the night. Of course he had. The intrusion seemed pretty small at this point.

'Maybe I shouldn't have told him off for following me around.'

Aiko nodded numbly, holding up her burdens. "Yes." She turned her face up at Yamato, not bothering to hide the pained confusion on her face. "Obito came by and gave me apology presents?" she said, the statement coming out like a question.

Yamato flash-stepped over and lifted the bags out of her hands, holding them gingerly away from his body. "Let's go see the Hokage."

She nodded, appreciating the professional tone. "There are worse plans." She let him gallantly heft the bags. Oddly, she didn't share his worry. Obito was a fucking lunatic, but if he wanted to kill her with dynamite hidden in extra blouses- well-well-

Fine. She threw her hands up, metaphorically.

"Can we stop and get hot chocolate?" Aiko curled a shaking arm around Yamato's elbow, soaking in his steady warmth. He stiffened and pulled the bag in that hand away from her in apparent hopes of keeping her out of a blast radius. The look he gave her was mildly disbelieving.

"No."

She tightened her grip and leaned into his side, affecting her best injured tone. "I'm having a bad night." And she was. She was confused and angry and she didn't want to go directly to an interrogation with Tsunade. Even if asked under pain of death, she wasn't going to admit that she was blinking down tears.

Yamato sighed. But he altered direction slightly, and didn't shake her off.

Aiko remembered something important. It was rude to keep people waiting.

"After hot chocolate, can we stop by the onsen?"

"Aiko!"

[phoenixknight777]

To Find a Familiar

This is, without a doubt, my favorite work I've ever written to date. It's my favorite setting I've created, and it's become by far the most in depth. I decided a long time ago that this world would be where I set a book if I wrote it. It's just my most well built and my favorite. I hope you enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kade stands before the entrance to a deep cave, armed with nothing but the thin length of inlaid wood that is her focus and three small orbs of glowing crystal. Beside her stand seven other apprentices, all looking at the cave, confused and worried.

As the sun touches the horizon, her master and teacher, the Archmage Orlin, walks out and stands in front of the yawning abyss.

“Greetings pupils. As you all know, all magicians have a dragon. Their Familiar. Some are big, some tiny, but all have one. However, I have withheld from you why that is. Your Familiar acts as a well of Vis, much as you wand acts as a conduit for it. The orbs on your waists store that energy, but your Familiar will provide a near limitless supply. Today, you earn your Familiar and prove you are ready to earn the title of Magician. You will venture into the vast caverns below, find a Familiar, and return. Be prepared for anything, as not all of the dragons will be friendly. Do not think too deeply. Your Familiar will come to you. Lastly, do not venture into the caves marked with red lines. You will surly die if you do. Should you run out of Vis, return to the surface immediately. I shall return at first light. Until then my children…”

And with that, the seemingly elderly man makes a dramatic leap off the edge, and is carried away by his dragon, Dominus.

Three of the pupils immediately rush in. One by one, the others begin their decent, except for Kade. She waits outside, then slowly begins to trace arcane sigils and wards over her vibrant purple robes. Fire, then cold, followed by acid, poison, and physical blows. One to filter the air she breathes. One to lessen loud sound. She continues until satisfied that almost every possibility was covered. Looking at her belt, Kade sees that she’s used almost alll of the orbs. Only a faint dim glow is left in one, the rest all dull. Praying to the gods that she had covered everything, Kade finally enters.

Her fellow apprentices nowhere to be found, Kade ventures into the caverns, deeper and deeper. At first, the caves are blank and empty, with no creatures but tiny dragons, looking more like winged salamanders than anything else. As she decends, the caves slowly become more vibrant, with beautiful glowing mosses, and strange plants. The wildlife becomes greater, the beasts now the size of dogs and even small horses. Hundreds of different species, each dangerous in their own way. Very few actually attempt to harm her, just the occasional fireball or bubble of acidic slobber when she got too close.

Then Kade entered the wrong cavern.

In the middle of this cavern, coated in beautiful crystals and gems, stands a Blood Drake,  a deep red and black beast the size of a hippo, incredibly territorial and dangerously strong.

It clearly felt no bond, and charges her on sight, knocking her towards the ceiling. The only thing that saves her are her many wards, although several shatter under the mighty blow. Grabbing a crack in the cave wall, Kade hides and considers what to do next. Stunning the beast would be near impossible under the best of circumstances, but putting it to sleep… maybe that would work. Quickly weaving the last of her Vis into a sleeping charm, she releases a burst of magic at the brute. It immediately collapses, unconscious. 

Carefully defending from her perch, Kade hears a whisper in her mind. Not much, just a little tickle, it says faintest muttering of her name. As Kade goes further into the depths, she hears it again, louder now. 

“Yes?” she tentatively says aloud.

“Ah, good. You can hear me.” The voice is deep and ancient, like stone grinding on stone, yet somehow distinctly feminine. “You have impressed me. Come to me.”

At those final words, Kade feels a strong mental tug, pulling her to the right. She follows her unseen guide, until she comes to a line painted on the floor, bright and vibrant red in color.

Kade stops. She says aloud “I cannot come further.”

A moment's pause. “Why?”

“I was told the deep caves were deadly.”

“They are. Only the weak dwell above. But, you are under my protection.”

Kade considers, weighing the risks. If this voice lies, she will die. A Blood Drake like what she had fought could kill many mages. If that’s what the voice considers weak, she was terrified to know what lurked deeper. But then again, very few dragons could talk without speaking. Only the greatest beasts of legend were capable of such an act. If she had impressed one of them...

In the end, Kade trusts the voice, and keeps going deeper. As she descends, following the mental pull, the caverns become larger. Brighter. The plants become more vibrant, the crystals glow stronger. The dragons become larger, and she sees species she knows nothing about. Larger and more monstrous than anything she had ever seen. But, none approach her. The almost regard her with fear, or respect.

Finally, the caverns open into a massively huge space. Stalagmites the size of buildings hang from the ceiling. Forests and plains of strange plants stretch before her, rivers run wild, fed by massive waterfall. She notices the twinkling of what might be a massive lake at the other end. A huge stone spire rests in the center. And dragons dominate it all. Huge and small, bright and dull, the teem everywhere.

“What do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” replies Kade.

“You are the first human to lay eyes on it in milenium.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now come to my throne.”

With that, a massive electric blue wyvern the size of a stallion flies up.

“This is Omyt. He will provide you passage.”

The wyvern carefully picks Kade up, and begins carrying her towards the spire, which is clearly the center of activity. Hoards of dragons, tiny and huge, swarm about the tower.

Onyt carefully deposited Kade at the top of the spire. As she turns around, she nearly faints from fear. Before her is a massive, silver dragon. A true dragon. One single claw is as be as her, and it’s head is greater than the entirety of Dominus and Onyt put together.

“Calm yourself, small one. I would not have brought this far just to eat you.”

Kade swallows, then nods. 

“You have impressed me, small one. I can peer into your soul, and I have never seen such wisdom, coupled with raw magical talent and knowledge in one so young. Your enchantments are the work of masters, and your charms are the most effective I’ve seen in a thousand years. Ya’teme, the Blood Drake you encountered, was no weakling. Very few could have put him asleep with so little.”

Kade slowly looks up at the great creature.

“I am Arandara, queen of all dragons that reside in this part of the underground. I wish to bestow upon you a gift, then I want to ask of you a request.”

Kade blinked. She had impressed her?

“For my gift, I wish to bestow upon you my Dragon Brand. Do you accept?”

Kade gasped. Dragon brands were the stuff of legends.

“O-o-of c-c-course.” Kade stammers, as much from shock as from fear.

“Then so it shall be”

The beast lowers its might head, until it was level with Kade. Then, she gently breathes on her. A surge of energy rushed through her. A strange, cold burn shines on her head. When the sensation ends, she gazes into the dragon's silver scales, and sees a brilliant, shining mark upon her forehead. And intricately designed seal, there was no mistaking it. 

“You are now marked as mine. No dragon shall ever harm you, and you may always find refuge with my kind. You may now speak with them as I speak to you. Lastly, you now share the same connection to the aether that my kind has. You need no Familiar to perform your works.

“T-thank you” Kade mutters.

“As I said, you have impressed me. Now, for my request. Would you become my apprentice? You could learn much from my tutelage. While you’d have to bid farewell to any family on the surface, the magic I could teach would let you rival the gods.”

“I have no family.” whispers Kade, “Only my master.”

“Oh? Taken in by a wizard then?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Do you wish to return to them?”

“No. I accept your request and swear myself as your apprentice.”

“Very well then. You shall be as my own until I have taught you all I can pass on. I believe this will be a fine apprenticeship.”

Kade smiles.

“Yes. I think it will.”

[improbably-luminescent]

Losing it at the possibilities for how Danny even got started doing this in the first place. There are so many good options.

A) Danny met Tim at some point and was really impressed by him, and decided it was now his business to make sure a fellow sleep deprived teen vigilante stayed safe, since Tim doesn’t have Danny’s advantage of being able to just tank superhuman hits if he’s tired and having an off day.

B) Danny’s always been a fan of the bats, and decided to invisibly go watch them work, only to be concerned about the hours this one in particular was pulling. The first time he enforced nap time, he thought it was funny. The more serious Tim got about it, the funnier it gets. Once he got Alfred Approved, he started taking his job seriously.

C) Dream of the Endless himself got fed up with this behavior, but decided regular intervention was too hands-on for him to do personally, so he outsourced a little.

Dream: *appears in front of Danny in his bedroom in a swirl of sand*

Danny: *blinking* Well this isn’t the weirdest thing to happen to me this month. “You’re not a ghost. Can I help you?”

Dream: “I would like to ask your assistance. A vigilante of this world avoids the realm of dreams with a determination and frequency that brings him far closer to my eldest and youngest sisters than is good for him or this timeline.” *gives him details and a tiny, sample-sized pouch of sand*

Danny: “So you want me to… pocket sand a guy? Any time he’s awake too long?”

Danny: “You know what? Sure. Why not? But uh, why me?”

Dream: “You have the skills to go undetected even by this family, you are the apprentice of the ghost aspect of Time and a leader in the realm between dimensions. You were the correct choice.” *vanishes mysteriously*

Matthew: “It was because you guys share white hair and names, wasn’t it?”

Dream: “… maybe.”

Tim Drake keeps getting kidnapped.

No one is sure how the culprit is doing it and no one has so much as seen them, but whenever Tim stays awake for even a second over the three day mark he disappears.

He always shows up back in the manor asleep somewhere and wakes up with no memory of anything occurring. The only reason the batfam even know that he's being kidnapped instead or mind control or other alternatives is the pictures on Tim's phone of him asleep and a notebook with handwritten notes on it usually making jokes or puns and telling Tim to take better care of himself. This is usually accompanied by a picture of Tim with one of those clay facial cleansing masks complete with cucumber slices over the eyes.

No amount of staking out Tim prevents him from vanishing. He simply disappears the moment no one is looking and it happens both as Tim Drake and Red Robin. The only clue they've gotten on the kidnapper so far is a glowing white glove that appeared in one of the pictures holding the container for the face mask.

In absence of a name, Steph has dubbed him "The Sleep Fairy"

[deviltoys]

― this is my first time requesting so let's hope i don't fuck this up [lmao].

taking tobio's [who's the pastor's son] virginity and watching him ask for forgiveness for doing something so inappropriate in the church but then you proceed to degrade him. 🙇

— ‘𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘆 𝘃𝗼𝘄𝘀.’

tobio kageyama x top!male reader. (wc; ?)

#a/n: stop. this is my favorite request, ever. virginity loss ‘n blasphemy??? hello? too fuckin’ good, been cravin’ a good virgin tobio. thank you fer’ this, it was perfect!

warings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, virginity loss, sacrilege, taboo acts, incest, age gap (18-30), pastor!reader, exhibitionism, sex in a church, misusage of the bible, religious speak, little to no prep, dumbification, creampie, degrading, manipulation, corruption, belly bulge, daddy k.

juvenile ministry took up a huge chunk of the church you operated. being the father to tobio kageyama, it was only natural that he was a frequent volunteer for the group of children who'd visit you both to be taught the righteous laws of god.

your boy was so doting with kids, it lay a smile across your lips to see him so devoted as you'd help demonstrate an array of practices to the youth. he was an apprentice of some sort— you two had a closely knit relationship when it came to chruch work.

almost a little too close.

nobody would ever suspect a thing, right? their nurturing pastor and his passionate son; they wouldn't dream of commiting any corrupt acts against the lord they so dearly fawned about.

the children certainly wouldn't know, such mindless followers. that's why during youth hours the two of you would mysteriously ‘disappear’ while everyone else contributed holy related activities to do while father y/n and tobio went to assist the lord.

you had be fighting the urge to take your son aside and tear his tiny body in half right there inside the sacred haven. but poor little tobio was a virgin, nobody would dare attempt to be the one who would strip the priest’s son of his innocence. you and the younger male had only gone as far as sucking on each others lips or caressing one another in sensual ways that would surely be forbidden by the church.

it was unethical practice to do anything under sexual pretense inside the chapel; with your offspring no less. you were already commiting unforgivable acts unbeknownst to your fellow ministers— what was one more? just another sin strewn onto the pile of ones you had been collecting throughout the years.

the line between faith and abandonment finally blurred out when you caught your little kageyama with pants a size to small for his waist. the fabric rode up, perfectly rounding out and drawing scrutiny to his chubby ass. you were well aware of the scandalous gestures he would send your way while he kept his attention on the children. wiggling his ass out every so often was his main form of communicating his intentions.

he was at last ready to make his daddy proud, giving his body to him as though you were christ himself; submitting to you.

all of his coherent brain function was corrupt by you a long time past, the degenerate acts you two would shun from the eye of society had finally caught up to him. he needed the embrace of his dad, his loving, heavenly father that would fill his holes up with the holy spirit.

“tobio, follow me for a second please? i need to speak with you privately for awhile.” a forged grin took reign of your lips, softly signalling for your son as you escorted him through the barren temple halls. after he had finished passing out coloring activities for the group to engross in, he swiftly followed your lead.

“yes father, what is it that-” you barely gave kageyama a warning before slipping your forearms under his thighs, entangling the remainder of his limbs around your lower and upper body. you lifted his smaller from with ease, hot breath tickling the shell of his ear as your tone dropped to a deep whisper.

“are you ready to give your body to our savior, tobio?”

“yes father y/n, yes i am.”

that was all the confirmation you needed to proceed with blessing him. abandoning your clothes at the altar of god, you began to strip the boy attached to your body. steadily yanking down his suit pants, your cock already springing to life as his own came into view.

it was insatiably erect, you forbid your son from even being curious when it came to exploring his hormones. you knew one day keeping him fresh, unexposed to lewd activity would come in handy.

and it did, oh god it did.

his body was sensitive to the touch, you were concerned he was going to cum without you even putting a hand near his bulge. much less before the fun started. it was like caressing a rock, he was so stiff, the tip already dribbling a tiny bit of pre by the time you were able to finish your first stroke to the hilt.

after giving a few more measly flicks to the head of his cock; you guided tobio’s naked body towards the bible you had prepped specifically for this occasion. the oak pulpit stood tall amongst the various rows of seats— at the head of the stand was kageyama; exposed, ass out, and face burried deep inside the open book sprawled out for easy reading.

he could barely squeak out the first few passages as your lube coated fingers spread his cheeks and stretched his virgin hole to a worthy size; able to fit your fat cock.

it burned and ached, the agony of your fingers poking around his walls overthrew any noticable pleasure that may have slipped in unnoticed; it was torture. he thought intimacy was supposed to feel good. he should've listened when you told him it wasn't fun, how it was a crime against god and how he'd be severely punished for doing as such until he was proposed to by the right man.

but you were the right man, at least that's what you would tell him. so why was it so discomforting, so harsh? you weren't purposefully harming him were you? the paranoia was getting to him, it was so overwhelming, the thought of the man he adored so dearly causing him pain. hot, salty tears pricked his eyes, lashes catching any access fluid as they could meanwhile the clear streaks dusted his cheeks with red.

his hole was still barely twitching with anticipation, and would be for awhile; throwing your head back, you painfully fed kageyama’s rim your length. every inch that ventured just as deep as the last forced strained hiccups to seethe from behind his teeth. he was unbearably tight, his guts sucked you in while his walls showed heavy resistance— pushing you in and out of your trembling son.

“fucking hell.. dumb bitch, you’re so tight. ease up, i thought you'd serve me better- maybe i was wrong.”

no no, you were wrong, right? he was great, such an obedient little cocksleeve just for you, all for you. all he ever did was to please you; the man who he chased after for years, claiming he wasn't as nice as he predicted? panick only settle into him more, ruthlessly he began bucking his hips to match your unenthusiastic thrusts. attempting to appease you wasn't an easy feat, but he was so utterly devoted to you that the condition of his vessel meant nothing if it meant you were proud of him.

he attempted to slur out a form of quivering tongue with a few biblical quotes shoved in-between. whatever he was reciting wasn't human, infact you couldn't tell if he was fucked out or just anxious. whatever it was, your words had preformed their purpose; you were far too impatient to fully prepare him for the world of sex. forcing him to mature on the other hand seemed to run it's course— he was the one himself impelling himself onto at the end of the day.

your arms snaked around his tiny waist, hoisting his feet up and off the ground. the entirety of his lower half no longer met with the floor, steamy tears teased eyes while the remainder of his efforts worked into engulfing you whole. the stimulation of being carried off the ground just like that was unimaginable; only to have his pussy pounded mercilessly into the wooden podium.

“ack! ah.. mm. daddy, pl- please i can do better! m’promise, don't hold back- i want to feel every inch of you!” so vulgar, you weren't aware of tobio’s filthy mouth.

angling your hips to perfectly kiss his prostate with every shift in your pace, you plowed repeatedly into the spongy skin until he was no longer babbling on about anything coherent. whatever bible quote he was now listing off was lost within euphoria; his hole was loosening up more and more with each thrust you planted deep inside of his stomach.

he know knew how desperately he craved seeing your cum gush right out of his gaping ass. more than anything in the world.

“hah, what a stupid whore, letting your father fill up your belly like this? no wonder you can't do anything but flatter me.”

“m’not a stupid whore, daddy i promise!”

the way his cunt squelched around you told otherwise, you didn’t let up on the insults; constantly bombarding the male with word after word. his trembling thighs and drool stained expression prompted you to continue the vile humiliation.

“oh-ho yes you are, you're lucky i’m even taking the time to fuck you like this. the lord wouldn't dare touch you, so why should i? you're charity work kageyama, nothing but pity.”

giving his plump rear a deathly tight squeeze, you ramped up the vigor in your movements. aching breaths escape your nose as you send forth more shivers down the length of his spine— as much as he wants to keep you satisfied he can only withstand so much. this is his first time being lost within the rapturous waves of an orgasm. religious words still on the tip of his tongue as your name bounces off the empty church hull.

there's a puddle of semen beneath you at his feet, he's cum far too many times for you to count and he's just now; once again fighting for release. his limp, shaking shaft all swollen as it spurts out the umpteenth load that session.

you swiftly follow behind, using the last bit of strength in your twitching thigh muscles— you sent your hips forward, fully submerging your fat cock down his rectum. he yelps almost violently, but he adores it. the way you use up his spent hole. the amusement in his moans fizzle once he finally comes to his senses, realizing there's no cum sliding down his guts and into his tummy. the expected feeling of warm, sticky fluid staining his intestines was the big prize he was looking forward to.

“don’t you remember, your only use is to please me tobio. and you couldn't even do that, that's why you don't get daddy's cum. understand?” a disappointed glare forms on your face, once he's luckily unable to see.

he implores like you've never heard from anyone before, you've had your fair share of sexual favours under the church’s nose. but the dark haired male in particular was one of a kind, he was begging you for your seed like his life was dependant on whether or not you fufilled his lustful desires. he needed your cum, right there, right now.

even attempting to guide your entirely hard cock right back into his enormous asshole, which you allowed. your composure was iron-willed, you knew you could cum on command if need be. giving into his sinful fantasies, you pistoned yourself balls deep once more— your hands moving his hips for him as he pleaded for the sweet release of your fluids.

“please daddy, m’such a good cum dump! i promise, please just cum inside of me. i need it, i’ll do anything! anything!”

anything indeed, you had just the thing in mind. and you were sure tobio wouldn't refute, how could he? there wasn't any other choice, it was your cum or no cum. simple as that.

[bestiesenpai]

Hocus Pocus - Sukuna

Boil toil and trouble, let's make this cauldron bubble lol gender neutral reader no content warnings! This is a...I guess medieval sort of au lol Sukuna is a knight and there’s kings and queens and blah blah

“(Y/N)!” Shrill voices rang throughout​​ the empty stone walls, the pattering of little feet causing you to break your concentration from the glass vase you were holding over a smoking cauldron. Turning to the heavy wooden doors as they were thrown open, you held the vase in the air as two children scampered into the room and began to tug on your clothes.

“What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Laughing breathlessly, you looked down at the royal children that had decided to come spend time with you.

“We want to play!”

“Right now?” Taking a sweeping look over your messy workshop, you felt them begin to try and pull you from the room. “Alright, alright! Just a moment.” There was no stopping the children when they wanted something, especially from you.

Closing your spell books and setting down bubbling beakers, you pushed the kids out of the room, closing the door tightly behind you. Letting them guide you towards their playroom, you took a deep breath, pushing down the slight irritation growing from being pulled away from your work. There’s no way the King and Queen would appreciate you losing your temper or simply saying ‘no’, even if you did have studying to do to become a proper witch and not a simple apprentice.

Walking through the halls of the castle, you shared pleasant smiles with the more senior witches talking amongst themselves. Their robes were the rich and vibrant colors of the kingdom, a stark contrast to your plain black robe and a strong reminder of how far you still needed to go.

Coming upon the playroom, you winced as they threw open the door and made the metal knob bang against the stone wall and shocking the other occupant in the room.

“Sukuna! Sukuna! We got (Y/N) to play too!” They yelled, finally letting go of your robes as they ran to the intrepid knight who looked ridiculously out of place sitting on a tiny chair surrounded by stuffed animals in the light pastel room. He turned to you and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how annoyed he seemed with the whole thing. He was still in his armor, so you figured the children had pulled him away in the middle of his business as well.

“Oh how fun.” Sukuna said, clearly less than enthused about this whole thing. His pink hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions and he ran his hand through it once more, the clinking of his cold and shiny armor differing greatly with the softness that filled the room.

The children paid him no mind, rushing further into the room and grabbing toys and throwing them into the middle of the room. Talking animatedly amongst themselves, you used the opportunity to slowly walk over to Sukuna.

“So, what were you doing when they got you?” You whispered, taking a seat next to him in another tiny chair.

“Fucking training.” Nudging the sword at his side, Sukuna let out a gruff sound. “As you know, a war might be brewing in the East and-”

“There’s always a war brewing.”

“Exactly!” Throwing his hands in the air, Sukuna missed the way you chuckled softly. “I don’t have time to entertain these brats, I don’t even know why they had me join!”

“I don’t understand how your fellow knights let you get away from them.” Sukuna was one of the castle's best knights after all, having been praised countless times by the King himself and bestowed with many medals and honors.

“They thought it was a joke! Thought it was funny to see the brats pulling me away and I couldn’t say anything.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, it is a little funny to think about. The Great Sukuna defeated and captured by two eight year olds.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the small upward curve of his lips even though he tried to hide it. You were pleased to notice him relaxing a bit, willing to converse with you as the kids ran around, completely forgetting the two of you were even there. Sukuna was usually so stiff around you, talking in short sentences and barely looking in your direction; always preoccupied with the thought of battle.

“(Y/N)! Caspian won’t let me play with this thing!”

“I had it first!” You turned to see them fighting over one of the vials from your room, recklessly pulling it back and forth and nudging the cork out of place. The shimmering purple liquid sloshed inside, threatening to drip out of the glass and splash all over the two of them. Jumping up, you ran over to the kids before they could open the bottle by mistake and cause a disaster.

“Caspian! Give that to me now!” You yelled after pulling them away from each other. The boy shook his head, holding it away from you. You groaned, taking a deep breath before kneeling to him, holding your hand out. “Caspain, please, it’s very important that I get that back.”

“Kid, just hand it over.” No longer having the patience to deal with this, Sukuna got up from his seat, taking long strides over to you. He grabbed the boy’s wrist as gently as he knew how, attempting to yank the vial out of his hand, but Caspain tightened his grip.

“No, it’s mine!” A small struggle ensued between the two with Caspian pushing and squirming to try and get away and Sukuna attempting to be as merciful as possible to try and get the vial.

“It’s not yours and you know it. Return it.” Sukuna was growing more annoyed by the second. He could easily overpower this kid and end this silly squabble but if he was too rough there were sure to be consequences.

“Be careful, don’t spill it!” Standing off to the side, your eyes were focused on the vial, anxiety rising every time it was yanked from one side to the other. Your cries went ignored, drowned out by them shouting at one another.

“Here!” Pulling the cork out, Caspian hurled the vial right at Sukuna’s face, coating him in the liquid. The glass clattered to the ground, quickly getting crushed into tiny shards as Sukuna stumbled in shock.

“What the-” Wiping furiously at his face, Sukuna could hardly open his eyes. The liquid evaporated on his skin, leaving behind a tingling burn.

“Caspian!” You exclaimed, glaring at the boy and running to Sukuna. The pungent odor of the potion burned your nostrils and forced tears to well in your eyes.

“What is this stuff?” Biting back the swear that desperately wanted to come out, Sukuna looked blindly around the room.

“It’s- well-”

“Out with it!” Sukuna barked, shoving you away. He felt like he was going to vomit, head swimming as he fell to his knees.

“Sukuna has kitty ears!” Caspian’s sister, Caroline, shouted in surprise.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” She pushed but it went unheard, overshadowed by the pained scream that ripped out of Sukuna’s chest. Writhing on the ground for what felt like ages, the pain slowly subsided and he was left breathing raggedly.

“Hello?” Opening his eyes, Sukuna was shrouded in darkness. Fabric covered his face and body; they were his clothes, he could smell that much, but he had no idea where he was.

“Sukuna? Are you okay?” Tiptoeing over to him, you nudged the armor now sitting on the ground in the shape of what used to be Sukuna’s body. Tiny claws tapped against the metal and a pink haired cat's head popped out of the top opening.

“(Y/N)?”

“Oh my god.” You placed a hand against your chest in shock, watching in horror as Sukuna wrestled himself out of his armor, angrily cursing his new height without really looking at himself.

“Kitty!” Caroline yelled, immediately crowding him and trying to pick him up. Keeping her at arm's length, you scooped up Sukuna’s new cat form into your arms and held him tightly to you.

“Kitty?!” Sukuna yelled, looking down at his body being cradled by you. “(Y/N), what the hell happened?!”

“Uhm, well it seems Caspian threw a metamorphosis potion at you...” Trailing off, you winced as Sukuna let out a growing hiss.

“Is that why I’m a fucking cat right now?” You nodded pitifully and he groaned. “Fucking brats.” Giving the two of them a look, Sukuna pushed himself up on shaky arms and crawled up onto your shoulder, digging his claws slightly into you as he settled around your neck. “The King and Queen will be furious to know what you’ve done.”

“(Y/N) can fix it!” Caroline shouted, trying to save them both from getting in trouble.

“Um, I guess I-”

“No, no they can’t.” Sukuna cut you off, sitting up a little straighter and letting a smug grin overtake his face. “You know (Y/N) is only an apprentice, do you really think they can fix this?” Letting a pause fall over the conversation, Sukuna tilted his head, his ears tickling your cheek. “You know how hard magic is to control, what if no one can turn me back to a human? Your parents will be enraged knowing they lost their best warrior to a pair of little brats.”

“Okay!” Slapping his hands over his ears, Caspian stomped his feet a few times. “We’ll fix it! What do we have to do?”

“There’s a list of ingredients I need to reverse this spell.” Pulling out the pen and pad of paper you were required to always have on hand, you scribbled down a few random items without thinking too hard about it. “Go get me these by the end of the day and we’ll have human Sukuna back in no time!”

“Let’s go!” Grabbing her brother's hand, Caroline ran from the room, ripping the paper from your grasp as she went. The door to the playroom banged against the wall again as they exited and left you and Sukuna alone.

“Well now that they’re occupied for a bit, go ahead and change me back, (Y/N).” Jumping onto the ground, Sukuna shook his head side to side and sat on the ground, his long tail swishing back and forth lazily.

“About that…” Wringing your hands together painfully tight, you could barely look at Sukuna.

“What?” His eyes narrowed, sensing your hesitation.

“I just, well I-”

“Out with it!” A loud hiss spurred you into speaking, along with Sukuna arching his back angrily.

“I can’t do it! That potion the kids took was a fluke to begin with, I’m surprised it even changed you into a cat and didn’t just burn your eyebrows off!” God it felt embarrassing admitting that Sukuna had essentially been right when he was calling the kids bluff. There wasn’t much more you could do on your own other than light a candle with your mind and make paperclips levitate.

“Okay, it’s not that bad. We can get one of your seniors to do it.” Starting toward the door, Sukuna let out a shriek when you scooped him up.

“No, we can’t do that! They’ll never let me live it down!” Holding him tightly, you felt his claws dig into your arms and hands. “L-let me figure it out, please!”

“You just said you couldn’t do it, why would I let you ‘figure it out’ when I can get changed back within a few minutes?”

“Please, just let me try! I have to prove myself!”

“Is this really the time for that? There’s a war-”

“Sukuna, there’s always a war! That’s all you ever talk about!” Yanking his claws out of the skin of your arm, you huffed and tried to calm the burning of your cheeks. “Just give me until the end of the day, please? I can fix you by the end of the day.”

Breathing heavily as well, Sukuna raked his eyes over you. There wasn’t much he knew about you other than you were another fledging witch scouted by the kingdom and that this was the most you’d ever spoken to each other directly and not in a group setting. It wasn’t just Sukuna who was stiff in conversations, it was you as well.

“Fine.” Worming his way out of your hold and back onto the ground, Sukuna swiped at his face a few times to fix the fur around his eyes. “If I’m not a human by nightfall, I’m going to your mentor.”

“Deal.” Nodding your head in agreement, you gestured toward the door. “Shall we go back to my study?”

“Lead the way.” Falling into step next to you, Sukuna walked down the halls to a part of the castle he never really visited. While he was marveling at some of the magic happening behind doorways, you were worrying your lip and praying with every step you took that you could actually find a way to turn him back.

“Nice little shop you got here.” Sukuna commented upon coming to your study. Truly it was nothing more than a glorified broom closet, just enough space for a bookshelf, cauldron, a few shelves and a tiny desk shoved in the corner piled high with a mountain of notes you’d scribbled down late at night.

“Thanks.” Your room looked like all the other beginner witch's rooms, but it felt nice for Sukuna to compliment it all the same. Clearing off a space on the small table beside your cauldron for Sukuna to sit on, you went to the bookshelf to try and find a spell to turn him back.

Taking sneaking glances at you, Sukuna went up to the edge of the cauldron, sniffing the vapors that rose from the bubbling liquid. Curling his lip in disgust at the pungent odor, he hopped off the table. Too engrossed in your books, you set down​​ a few on the spot he’d previously been occupying.

“(Y/N), what’re these papers on your desk?” Glancing over, Sukuna had leapt onto the furniture, gently swiping his paw at some papers and making them slide from the messy stack they were in.

“Just some notes from my lessons, I have a test coming up in a potions class and I really can’t afford to fail.” Shaking your head bitterly at the upcoming deadline, you turned your attention back to the book in your hand.

Glancing over a few, Sukuna found that you were correct, there were scribbles on pages and in the margins of textbooks cramming all possible information into them.

“What’s this…?” Catching the first few letters of his name on a paper that was crinkled up and folded several times, Sukuna felt his curiosity grow greater and greater.

Struggling to open it with his new appendages, Sukuna eventually got it open. At first, he wasn’t sure where to look, there were love hearts dotting nearly every letter and a hundred exclamation points. As he read and deciphered the words on the page, he started to laugh to himself. The person who you’d been passing notes to was gushing about another knight named Okkotsu and his kind demeanor all while teasing you for liking none other than Sukuna.

“So (Y/N), you have a crush on me?” He asked loudly, just barely catching the slightest hesitation in your body at his question.

“What’re you talking about?” Fighting to keep your face neutral, you sprinkled a blue powder into the cauldron.

“This note here says you’ve had a crush on me since you arrived at the palace and I’m pretty confident this is your handwriting.” Sukuna could practically see your heart begin to race the longer he spoke and a grin overtook his face.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nervously clearing your throat, you shook your head and closed the book in your hand. Taking a glance at him, your face fell slightly at seeing his paw holding the note open.

“Really? No clue at all? Maybe I should read it out loud and jog your memory.” If Sukuna’s smile got any bigger it would rip his cheeks apart. “Now where should I begin? How about this line, ‘Sukuna is so sexy when he does training in the evening! I love that he never wears a shirt, you can see all his tattoos!’”

“Shut up!” Throwing the remaining objects in your hand onto the table, you lunged towards him and the note. Cackling with laughter, Sukuna snatched the paper into his mouth and leaped off the desk, running circles around you in the room.

“I’m so sexy, you want me to kiss you!” He teased you mercilessly as you chased after him, reciting every embarrassing word you wrote. “You love my morning voice when I pass by you at breakfast!”

“Sukuna! Stop it!” Your entire body was on fire the longer he went and frustrated tears welled in your eyes. It was bad enough you had a crush on the most popular knight in the kingdom but to have him know about it so deeply was another blow to your ego entirely. Grabbing your wand out of a robe pocket, you let out a small shout and pointed it at him, hoping that was enough to get him to stop.

And surprisingly it was; Sukuna suddenly froze all movement, hanging in the air above the cauldron that he was trying to leap over. Stomping over to him, you ripped the note out of his mouth and tore it to shreds, letting the pieces flutter to the ground at your feet. Glaring at Sukuna with glassy eyes, you mumbled a short incantation and released him from the spell, making him plop into the cauldron below.

Sukuna let out incomprehensible screams of terror as he splashed around in the cauldron, struggling to grab any sort of footing on the side and pull himself out.

“(Y/N)! G-get me out of here!” Coughing at the liquid entering his mouth, Sukuna hooked an arm around the edge of the cauldron and tried to pull himself up only to be burned by the hot metal.

“I’ll think about it!” Crossing your arms, you kept your back turned to him. His mocking words rang in your head over and over, nearly drowning out his frantic cries. Quickly growing tired of the noise, you grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him from the cauldron, letting him fall to the ground in a sopping wet mess of fur.

“Took you long enough!” Sukuna sputtered, shaking himself violently to try and dry off. Unable to fully look at him, you slammed open the book you’d had open before and leaned over it, blocking out the world around you and forcing the words on the page into your head.

“(Y/N), do you have a towel around here?” Your head nearly turned on instinct to answer Sukunas question, a small twitch in your neck almost giving way to a full turn. “Oh c’mon, don’t ignore me.” His paw swiped the back of your leg and you shook him off.

“(Y/N), stop being a baby.” Touching you again, Sukuna grunted and rolled his eyes when you fully stepped away from him. “(Y/N)! I’m freezing down here with this wet fur, quit fucking around.”

“Find one yourself.” You snapped at him, storming over to your desk and plopping down on the chair. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sukuna weighing his options, looking between you and the door behind him. You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he debated on what to say.

“If I apologize, will that make you feel better?” He asked, earning a snort from you and making a smirk pass briefly on his face. “The Great Sukuna doesn’t apologize often, so listen closely, okay?”

“I won’t hold my breath.” Rolling your eyes, you relaxed the tight crease in your brow and let your back straighten up a little, no longer hunching over the desk. Clearing his throat dramatically, Sukuna padded over with wet paws and stopped before your chair.

“I’m sorry I teased you about having a crush on me, but in my defense who wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with me?”

“Is that really your apology?” Biting your lip to stop a burgeoning smile, you forced your eyes back on your paper.

“What do you want me to say? Oh (Y/N), please forgive me for learning about your everlasting love for me, I’ll conquer a hundred enemy fortresses if that’s what it’ll take!” Swaying side to side dramatically, Sukuna laughed as he made a chuckle force it’s way past your lips.

“Fine, I guess I’ll forgive you.” Rolling your eyes once more, you did a quick wave of your hand and a sharp gust of wind went over Sukuna, drying his fur in an instant.

“Just like new.” Walking in a few circles, Sukuna surveyed his body and without warning, jumped into your lap, making space for himself and looking over the book you were reading.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Adjusting in your chair, you had to move Sukunas bobbing head out of the way several times to continue to read. “Sukuna, do you even know how to read this?” The book was written in strange symbols only able to be read and understood by those imbued magical prowess.

“No, but it’s pretty interesting to look at.” Shrugging his shoulder, he let his chin rest on the edge of the pages. Quietly reading over the book, you had to shuffle Sukuna in your lap a few times, adjusting him over and over again until you were practically cradling him with one arm and turning pages with the other.

“I could get used to this.” Sukuna yawned loudly, a purr rumbling from his chest. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that his heavy, muscular feline form had made your arm fall asleep and become completely dead to the world.

A few minutes later and a soft snoring filtered out of Sukuna, a gentle sound to fill the room bathed in warm afternoon sun. The tiny window above your desk showed a sliver of the outside world, overgrown trees skirting the edge of the window pane and attempting to obstruct your view of distant mountain ranges.

Forcing deep breaths through your nose, you couldn’t stave off the drowsiness creeping into your body as well. Every blink made your eyelids heavier and the words on the page began to blur together until you couldn’t fight sleep anymore and let your head lean against the chair, joining Sukuna in a light afternoon nap.

It was you that woke up first, thirty minutes later and with a foggy mind. Surprisingly, Sukuna hadn’t woken up from the sound of a door slamming closed across the hall, still sleeping soundly as ever in your arms.

Looking over him, you noticed the markings across his face and body, tattoos that carried over from his human form. Tracing your finger along his face, you were enraptured by the soft fur that met your touch and continued along his body. Fully petting the length of Sukuna’s body, you prodded his soft, relaxed stomach and scratched gently with the tip of your nail.

“That feels nice.” He mumbled, barely awake and cuddling deeper into your side. Despite feeling embarrassed at being caught you kept going, expanding upwards and rubbing along his ribs and chest.

“Sukuna you’re so cute as a cat, are you sure you want to change back?”

“As much as I love being pet like this, I have a duty to my kingdom.” Stretching his legs out, Sukuna grunted like he was going to get up but gave up halfway, flopping back and letting out a soft sigh.

“You don’t seem to be in any rush to get back.” You chuckled, scratching behind his ears and smiling widely when he began to purr.

“Well…” Pushing his head against your hand, Sukuna shrugged. “They’ll be fine without me for a little bit.”

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again,  filled with his loud purring and soft breathing. “You know, I haven’t slept this well in ages. Always too busy with training or going to battle.” Blinking his eyes slowly, Sukuna peered up at you. “Maybe I should become a witch like you, (Y/N), then I could relax like this all the time.”

“You’re kidding; me, relax? I’m constantly on edge, there’s so much pressure to break my back for the kingdom and become the strongest sorcerer.” Slumping against the chair, your head lolled back and you stared at the dark stone ceiling. “I’d love to trade places with you Sukuna, I want to know what it’s like to be so strong and confident all the time.”

“It’s pretty great, I won’t lie.” He mumbled under his breath and you laughed, jostling him around as you straightened up your spine.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime, okay?” Standing up and opening your arms, you haphazardly placed Sukuna on the desk and walked over to the cauldron, cracking the bones in your back and looking over the ingredients you’d put in so far. “Now, let’s turn you back into a human.”

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name slowly, hopping from the desk to the table by the cauldron and slinking past forgotten vials to settle close at your side. “Mind if I watch?”

“Why?” It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to but unless Sukuna was suddenly granted the gift of magic the recipe you were following would be of no use to him.

“I want to know what it’s like to be the smartest in the room.” Sukuna grinned at you, bumping his nose against your arm a few times.

“Shut up.” A light flush went over your face and warmed your cheeks, and a slightly impish smile pushed your cheeks up. The compliment warmed your heart just as much, making it beat faster in your chest.

“Shut up and take notes? Got it.” Nodding curtly, Sukuna squinted his eyes and stared intensely at your hands. Laughing wholeheartedly at how serious he looked, you did a dramatic wave of your hand and picked up a spellbook.

“Alright, watch and learn.”

Whether or not Sukuna was actually learning anything or truly paying attention was lost on you, but it was certainly fun having him so focused on you and your actions. Humming and nodding like he understood when you mumbled to yourself, Sukuna was acting just like you had when you first arrived at the palace with bright eyes and an eager mind.

“Try this.” Pouring a mixture into a jar, you tilted it back for Sukuna to drink from.

“Fucking disgusting!” Wrenching himself away, Sukuna spit the bright yellow liquid onto the ground and watched it sizzle. “Are you trying to poison me now?”

“Wha- but I was so sure that was the right one!” Scrapping the jar, you returned to the book. “Maybe I need spider legs after all…”

“You need me to go out into the garden and catch you some?” Still reeling from the rancid taste in his mouth, Sukuna glanced out the window. The light in the sky was beginning to wind down, it was almost dinner time and his stomach was starting to growl.

“No, I-”

“(Y/N)!” An all too familiar voice shouted your name and you got flashbacks to just a few hours before when your door was slammed open and two children ran inside.

“Oh great, the royal brats.” Snarling at the kids, Sukuna leapt up and onto your shoulder, curling himself around your neck and burrowing into the collar of your robes. Flinching away from him, Caroline and Caspian hesitantly showed you what was clenched tightly in their small hands.

“We got all the stuff on the list!” Caroline showed hers first, a handful of daisies and a small chunk of amethyst.

“Caroline was too much of a baby to get the other stuff.” Caspian huffed, extending his palm out and showcasing the dead spiders and newt eyeballs.

“I can’t believe it, you two actually listened for once.” You marveled at the ingredients, quickly snatching them up and sorting them out on the table.

“Took you long enough.” Sukuna huffed. “Now go get my clothes from that stupid playroom!”

“Okay!” And away the two of them went, rushing down the hall with echoing footsteps. Flipping pages in a book you’d cast aside, you read it over and put in all the ingredients they had brought.

“This spell really is the one to turn you back to a human. God, I feel like an idiot, the answer was right in front of me!” Kicking yourself internally, you looked at your stash of ingredients; you had all the things the kids had brought you already at your disposal.

Right as Sukuna was about to speak, his clattering armor and underclothes made an appearance in the room, clattering to the ground as the kids struggled to carry it all inside. Laying out his clothes for him, you poured the new potion into a glass.

“Turn around children, I don’t want you to see something you shouldn’t.” With a chorus of giggles behind you, you even covered your eyes as you held the glass to Sukuna’s lips. “Try and jump onto the ground after you drink it all, I don’t want you breaking the table.”

“Got it.” Sukuna was better prepared for the transformation this time, swallowing all of the potion and gritting his teeth at the discomfort coursing through him. When you felt the glass was empty, you turned around to give him privacy.

Holding your breath and crossing your fingers, every fiber of your being was hoping and praying that Sukuna returned to normal. You heard clothing rustle and armor clanking, but you didn’t open your eyes until a heavy human hand landed on your shoulder.

“I’m back!” Sukuna cheered, flexing the muscles in his body and tightening the various straps on his clothing. He’d forgon putting his armor back on, opting to wear just the loose green tunic and pants that he had on underneath.

“We did it!” The children cheered as well, clapping and smiling.

“You two were the whole cause of this mess! You should be cheering for (Y/N) for saving you from a punishment.”

“Thanks (Y/N)!”

“Yeah, you’re the best!” Giving you brief and crushing hugs, the two youths ran from the room, probably off to find other mischief to get into. Letting out a relieved sigh, you began to clean up the table.

“Nice work, (Y/N).” Patting you on the back, Sukuna attempted to help you by gathering all the empty vials.

“It would have been better if I’d just checked that book to begin with. I thought I wrote down those ingredients for them at random, but turns out the answer was so glaringly obvious that of course I missed it.” While it felt good to turn Sukuna back into a human, the knowledge that this could have been done a lot sooner weighed heavily on your mind.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Returning his hand to your back, Sukuna let it rest a bit heavier. “You’re still learning, you’re bound to mess up here and there. But hey, you turned me back in the end!” Smiling at you, Sukuna gave you a half hug, not caring if he crushed you against his chiseled physique.

“Sukuna, that was so nice of you to say, thank you.” Hugging him back, your heart felt like it was going to burst.

“You think so? I’ve been practicing ever since my commanders told me to be softer to the new recruits and give them words of encouragement.”

“Well it’s certainly paid off.” The heat from his body transferred onto yours, making it obvious when you pulled away from each other that your whole body was slowly being set on fire from the sweet words melting your brain.

Cleaning up was quick with Sukuna’s help and before you knew it your workspace was just as messy as before all of this had happened and there was the familiar chatter of other witches walking down the halls towards dinner.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” It was bittersweet knowing Sukuna was leaving to the same place you were but going to sit at completely different places, on opposite sides of the dining hall. You desperately wanted to ask to eat with him, to extend the moment you two were having, but your social rank prevented you from being the one to make the first move.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to eat dinner?” Grabbing the door, Sukuna slowly pulled it open, ignoring the shocked looks from passersby as he started to make his exit.

“I am but-”

“Then c’mon, let's go.” With half his body already out the door, Sukuna paused when he saw you weren’t making any move. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, go on without me.”

“I want to go with you.” Quirking a brow, Sukuna swayed on his feet for another moment before getting fed up with waiting and grabbing onto your sleeve, yanking you from your room and into the hall.

All eyes were on you and you knew there would be a lot of questions hurled your way sooner or later about what was going on with the two of you. Someone as high ranking as Sukuna wasn’t seen with new recruits, especially not coming out of their workspaces.

“Now let’s go, I’m fucking starving.” Sliding a hand up to the collar of your robes, Sukuna held a fistful in his hand and made you walk with him down the hall.

“Sukuna, you don’t have to be friendly with me anymore, I already held my end of the deal.”

“Why should I stop? I liked hanging out with you, (Y/N). Unless you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.” His grip softened a little and you grasped his wrist.

“No, I do! I-I really do! It’s just, you’re such a high rank and-”

“So what?”

“So, it’s not really heard of for us to mingle!”

“What’re you talking about, I mingle with witches all the time!”

“Yeah but they’re more senior than I am.” Letting out a sharp grunt, Sukuna stopped abruptly and turned you to face him.

“Fine. (Y/N), as your superior I order you to have dinner with me. Happy now?” Without waiting for an answer, Sukuna began to walk again. “And if you give me any more shit, I’ll make you run up a hundred mountains when I train you.”

“You want to train me?” Sure, witches received some physical training but a majority of your learning was focused on magic.

“I think it’s only fair since I learned a bit of magic today.” Getting into the line to enter the dining hall, Sukuna finally released your collar.

“I’d like to learn from you.” Giving him a bashful smile, you were mentally clearing your schedule in preparation for the day.

“You might fall even more in love with me, I can’t wait to read the notes you pass around about me afterwards.”

“God, you’ll never let me live that down will you?” Slapping your hands over your face, you felt the urge to bang your head against the wall.

“Never.” Laughing at your misfortune, Sukuna nudged you forward and into the dining hall. “Now go get some food, I’ll save my biggest fan a seat next to me at my usual table.” Leaving you all alone and dying of embarrassment, Sukuna walked to a group of other knights, his loud and boisterous voice easily carrying over the others in the room.

Gathering all the pieces of your dinner, you looked out at the massive dining hall, crammed with knights, witches and other civil servants just trying to make it. Scanning over the tables, you could see gaggles of knights but not the one you wanted to see.

“(Y/N)!” Just as you’d given up searching and turned away, Sukuna yelled your name, somehow cutting through all the noise. Looking over your shoulder you saw Sukuna standing on a table and waving at you once you made eye contact. The seat next to him was completely empty, a space big enough for you to sit and eat at.

“C-coming!” You yelled back, unsure if he even heard you until you received a big thumbs up and Sukuna jumped off the table. With scalding cheeks, you gripped your plate tighter and rushed over to the table, eager to spend more time with your new friend.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Howl

 Werewolf/Reader, lemon, heat cycles, consensual aphrodisiacs

Every six months I release a short from my $5 patreon tier to the general public, and someone’s favorite word was coincidently the title of this piece. Please enjoy this little slice of madness beneath a full moon.   

The moon hangs heavy overhead, a pale, watchful face gazing down at the ritual laid out at her feet. You kneel, washed in her gentle light, your eyes on the fire as a clan elder carefully places an ingredient within a kettle. Crickets scream and wail in the surrounding woods, but you barely pay them any mind as your lover places a pale hand on your knee, rubbing a circle with his thumb as he bites at his lip. You try not to acknowledge his worrying much, if he hadn’t paid any attention to your reassurances earlier, he won’t now.

The potion that the elder boils down smells sickly sweet, like a peppermint cough syrup, but with a stinging bite that sends bright little pricks through your nostrils as you breathe it in. Already without drinking it, you can feel a vibrant thrumming begin to pulse in your blood, a spark of warmth filling your veins. It doesn’t take much longer for her to finish the spell, a soft humming emanating from your lover’s fellow clansman resounding as the elder pours it into a carved wooden chalice.

Then, with one last kiss, your lover stands, moving to the opposite side of the fire where the elder is and spits into the cup. The elder gives you the benefit of mixing the concoction further, singing in a familiar but incomprehensible language. Shivers run down your spine as she and her apprentice approach, their full ceremonial clothing jingling with their steps as they come to stand before you. In a sort of perversion of Catholic communion, the elder holds the chalice in your direction, and you gingerly grasp it as though it were made from impossibly thin glass.

You carefully ignore any sort of inhibitions you might have about the potion itself, drinking it down fast enough to not taste anything that might cause you to vomit it back up. With little respect, you carefully swallow the last gulp, trying to seal up your throat, so you’re not even tempted to give in to any sort of acid reflux, then allow yourself to breathe. At first, you don’t seem any different, but there’s a hard, boiling heat that suddenly wisps out from your stomach and right to your heart, and you think- you feel-

Your lover takes a step back into the forest, the shadows working to obscure him from your vision. Where- where is he going? Why was he leaving? You need him. With a flailing step, chalice dropping from your fingers and completely forgotten, you try to follow, but something fucking drags you back down to the ground. Pissed, you puff out hot, angry breathes, trying to wriggle your way out from the many people working to keep you from your lover, your mate, but it’s many against one, and they don’t let up.

Warm and soft soil cushions your shoulder and face as you fall violently forward, suddenly released, but you can’t fucking see him anymore and it’s killing you. Your heels dig into the earth as you wrench yourself up, choking back panicking tears as you bolt in the direction you saw him leave. The night sharpens as the world breathes in a deep inhale, the sky itself holding still in order to witness the carnal desperation you scream with.

You can smell him, his scent so much like the forest itself, of woodsmoke, of evergreen, a musky kind of fragrance that stands out in the acidic night air. And so you run towards it, faster than you’ve ever moved before in your life, ignoring the way the branches of the brush and trees scratch at your bare arms and the awkward sharpness of the ground as you ignore what your bare feet might be running over. An owl screams in the distance, but you are so keen on your prey that you ignore the call.

Instinct demands that you stop, so you do, skidding on the fallen leaves so sharply that your feet fly out from under you, landing on your hip hard enough to bruise. You feel no pain, only rancid frustration at the inconvenience gravity hinders you with, and you scramble back to a stand, growling with every breath. Where is he? Desperately trying to cling to your last strand of lucid sanity, you try to think, smelling the air once more, trying to find that same taste of male hormones that he had emanated so thickly before he fucking abandoned you.

You hear the water before you even realize you started moving again, a rush of wind caressing your face like the earth herself is aiding your hunt, as though she approves of this union. There, you can just make out the fading scent of your lover, though it grows fainter with every second wasted on thought. A brook runs its course, water slowly wearing millions of oddly shaped rocks down, several making for good stepping stones as you hop across, the splash of cold water managing to draw a bit of the feverish heat down.

Abruptly, you slow down, closing your eyes to smell and to listen. You think you have his direction, but the idea to ambush him as punishment for abandonment fills your body with the simmering ghost of pleasure. You go low immediately, staying close to the trunks of the trees as you quietly circle around the edge of a clearing. And you see him.

Everything inside your body goes full alert, sirens screaming in your head, heat filling your core, muscles tense. You bolt forward, so fast he doesn’t even have a moment to react before you’re on him, the force of your body ramming against him not only sufficient enough to knock him off his feet, but also enough to tip him over the edge of the hill he must have been thinking about going down.

The entire universe spins as you roll against him, grass, leaves, and twigs catching in your beaded embroidered dress, hair, even managing to knick at your skin. You don’t care, gods below you don’t, because as you slow to a stop at the bottom of the clearing, you have him beneath you, gasping for air, his dewy blue eyes glimmering beneath the stars as he regards you with a kind of emotion you don’t bother to process.

You kiss him so hard that your mouth hurts, teeth clacking together, and you’re thriving. Enraged growls snarl from your throat, and you would have ripped his clothes away if he didn’t painstakingly strip then and there. Touching his skin just barely aides in your desperately heated core from exploding, but there is so, so much more you want from him. You need to melt into him, to seep into every pore of his body, to claw his chest open and crawl inside, and he seems to take your furious affection in stride.

His skin is salty as you bite down in the crook of his shoulder, and by the way he keens at the pain, he seems to enjoy it. You press your teeth down closer to his neck if only to show him that he’s yours, and he won’t be running from you again. His hand rises to pet your hair back from your face when you finally deem him worthy of release. Even though you still see red after he tried to fucking abandon you, you’re not so angry that you don’t give those bite marks peppering kisses to make them better.

“I know,” he rasps, stroking the nape of your neck as you whine, “I know it hurts, I’m sorry I ran.”

You forgive him instantly, pressing your mouth and tongue against his in a desperate, heated kiss. Your lover knows immediately what to do, fingers reaching for the strings holding your ceremonial dress in place. It’s an easy thing to strip away, its sole purpose of being beautiful and easy to remove from heated bodies, and you are suddenly delightfully bare underneath the moon and stars. As you bend back down to ravage his chest and collarbone in a myriad of bites and kisses, you find with no small amount of delight that an erection begins to rise up against your thigh.

His hands press up gently to your breast, feeling you out as he has many times before, but you both would agree that this is… different. Better, even, despite the misery you feel because he’s not inside you yet. You kiss him again, gasping for breath on his mouth, as a hot, pinching need flitters through your body like the touch of a red-hot brand. That desire, that instinct swirling in your chest demands he must feel pleasure before you ride him like a goddamn stallion, so you are quick to get to work.

You begin to make a trail of purple and red hickies all along his stomach, sometimes biting hard enough for him to bruise just for the sensation of his flesh between your teeth. After a few moments of teasing him, you barely had the mind to do much more, you finally fall back to the pulsing member you crave so terribly. It takes you a few seconds to take it in, the contours and highlights curving along in the moonlight, long, thick, yours. After briefly contemplating where to start, you begin at the very tip.

He breathes out a shuddering gasp when you roll your tongue over the top of his cock, his fingers tangling in your hair. You feel a shuddering sense of satisfaction at his body’s response, then move down to the base. Up and down, you try to lick and kiss and give tiny sucks all across it as rhythmically and as pleasurably as you can, going deep and low just for the sake of watching him squirm pathetically. It doesn’t take him too long to be drawn to the edge, or perhaps it’s been an eternity, you don’t know, but he rides out his first orgasm in your mouth.

You come back up, mouth still lingering with the taste of his pleasure, and press your mouth against his in a lazier kiss. There’s a kind of mingling desperation boiling in your stomach, but the beast within you is satiated for a few moments at the sight of him becoming undone by your tongue. Your hand snakes back down to check on his steadily stiffening cock, just to see if he’s ready to take you yet. He still needs some more gentle teasing, so you settle down and offer up as many leisurely kisses as he needs to warm back up, while you’re just barely getting started.

He slides into you so effortlessly, your pussy is so wet that it engulfs him like a sheath specially made for him. And oh, god, or fuck, he feels so goddamn good that you start crying. Tears spring into your eyes, and he sits up to cradle you, whispering in your ear that you’re doing such a good job, that he’s so proud you’ve made it this far without cracking. That seasoned warriors do so much less, and you’re so fucking beautiful, wild, and unstoppable.

You suck in your breath, trying not to feel like you’re disappointing your lover, your mate at the show of such soft and fragile emotion, and you begin to grind. The feral need to be fucked slowly begins to disintegrate your sanity, what’s left of your lucidness drip, drip, dripping down into your core and burning into ash by the heat. You roll your neck around, gasping, whimpering, begging, screaming praises to him because he’s perfect, you’re mate is so fucking perfect, you want him inside you forever so you can spend eternity knowing this bliss.

And when your orgasm finally reaches its peak?

It feels like the sky itself shatters into a thousand pieces, raining down the stars, moon, and planets, your body almost evaporating into light as you cry out. Waves and rolls of fiercely bright pleasure curl through your body; you have to wrap yourself around your mate, or else you’re afraid you might break apart. He holds you, he whispers such sweet, soft things in your ears, coaching you through the orgasm to end all others, like he knows how perfect and majestic this one is.

You don’t even feel it when he cums, because the aftershocks are still clenching through your body as you try desperately to recover. He still remains strong, though, anchoring you to the earth as you almost sob with relief, even though he must be feeling that same kind of high you’re on. When it’s all over, he lays beside you, on the dewy grass that glitters in the moonlight, stroking your face until your fever finally breaks.

The next round of kisses are far more gentle and lovely than before, the unbearable hotness inside your core slowly evaporating away now that the spell ran its course. He holds you in his arms so tightly that you don’t think any force the earth mother can throw in your direction will break his grip.

“I love you,” he whispers, “so much. Thank you for experiencing this.”

“Is- is that what it’s like for you? Such madness, every time?” You ask, almost scared of the answer.

“Yes,” he confesses, “with you being the only thing on my mind.”

“That’s terrifying,” you whisper, stroking some of the pale hair from his eyes, “how do you manage?”

He gives you another kiss. “I have you.”

[aces-to-apples]

How about Maulrex + “Being stuck with you is my worst nightmare coming true.”?

The clone says it as Maul stalks from one end of their shared cell to the other.

Toneless, idle, eyes closed and head tilted back against the duracrete wall. His very first words since they were captured separately and tossed into a featureless cell together. "Wow. Being stuck with someone like you is literally my worst nightmare coming true."

He doesn't look at Maul and he doesn't react when Maul slinks closer, coming to a stop just inches from his bare knees.

"I very much doubt you've met anyone 'like me', clone," he says, silky, friendly.

The clone snorts. His eyes remain close but a loose hand comes up to hover by his head, ticking off fingers as he elaborates. "I'm injured, I've been captured, I'm concussed, I'm naked." He stresses this point, over-enunciating as if it is the most galling of all his enumerated indignities. "And to top it off, I'm stuck in a tiny room with an unstable Darksider." The fingers change position so that only his first two remain up before curling them up and down, twice, in time with the last word. "This is literally the premise of a horror-holo. I'm going to die and get eaten by a weird demon-worm or something. I'm furious."

Maul stares flatly at the clone. "Your fury is unimpressive."

"I am also—very dizzy. From the concussion. From getting pistol-whipped and strip—oh my god, I got mugged. I got karking mugged."

Maul continues to stare in growing fascination as the clone proceeds to mumble his many displeasures. To his own displeasure, the corners of his lips turn upward without his direction. They refuse to flatten as the clone attempts to scrub a hand through the golden fuzz atop his head only to remember his injury and curse their captors anew.

He curses them so vociferously that Maul learns several new combinations of vulgarity that would never have occurred to him. Reluctantly entertained, Maul allows himself to rest against the wall next to the door of their cell and quietly observe the clone.

His apprentice will no doubt arrive shortly to free Maul and wreak havoc upon their enemies.

Maul considers the likelihood that Savage will be carrying the means to treat a concussion. He also considers how ardently Savage will oppose taking the entertaining clone with them when they leave. Maul does not believe he will object as fiercely as he would if the clone had the darker hair of his fellows. He has noticed that Savage's gaze lingers upon yellow-haired individuals more than any others.

Perhaps he will be able to use this to convince Savage that keeping the clone would be the best course of action...

[hatterstan-shameblog]

For the fic Ask! Do the "Hatter takes Arisu as his apprentice at the hat shop" AU we've been gushing about?

@yui-kuromori so many ideas for this one BUT we're going with:

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Three Guys Walk Into A Ramen Shop...

Rating: PG

Relationships: Implied Hatter/Aguni who have decided they are now Arisu's dads and there's nothing he can do about it

Warnings: None

Summary: Arisu gets a job at Hatter's shop and he gets taken out after his first day for a celebratory dinner. Told from the perspective of Keicho the Ramen Chef, who does not exist and I totally made up.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Keicho owns a ramen shop.

It's tiny place. Unassuming, smushed between a tailor's shop and a florist, two alleyways back from the main shopping street. It's the kind of neighborhood joint that only local know about.

And that's exactly how Keicho likes it.

He likes the low ceilings and scuffed tile floors. He likes that the space between the stools at the counter and the walls is exactly the width of his mop. He likes that he hasn't changed the menu since the day he opened his shop fifteen years ago, and that nobody has said a word about it.

It's hard work. Work that makes his back ache and his brow sweat. The hours are long and the money isn't so great, but to do anything else would be unthinkable. Keicho is a ramen chef and that's that.

And his favorite part of the job is working the nighttime hours—sure, that's when the customers are fewer, but they're always the most interesting. Drunks staggering into his shop for a quick meal before crashing at home, shift workers popping in to rest their weary bones and have a hot dish to soothe their aches and their souls.

He even has a few regulars: one of which is the rather eccentric hat shop owner who lives down the street. Danma Takeru is rarely sober when he shows up for a late-night meal, and he is rarely alone. The man Keicho knows only as "Mori" is almost always tagging along, his outwardly-stoic demeanor serving as a humorous to the hatter's flamboyance.

He often wonders if there is any notion of romance between the two, but then swiftly decides that it's none of his business. Even if it does seem likely, given the way they steal glances at each other when they think no one's looking, eyes full of something only lovers know.

And, like always, he hears the men approaching his shop before he sees them; Danma rambling in his exuberant tone while his companion hisses at him to lower his voice.

"Keicho!" He sing-song shouts, "my man! Get out the good disposable chopsticks, because we've got company tonight!"

Danma swans in as he always does, taking a seat on the stool right in the center of the counter. Behind him is a nervous-looking young man, eyes half-hidden by a mop of dark hair and fingertips fidgeting with the hem of his untucked shirt.

"New friend?" Keicho asks. The stoic Mori fellow gives him a polite nod in greeting, which he returns graciously.

Danma grabs the young man by the shoulders the second he sits down, giving him an excited shake which has the poor thing looking even more nervous than before.

"You, my dear friend," Danma announches to Meicho, "are looking at Hat Danma's newest employee!"

The young man flashes an uncomfortable smile.

"Is that so?" Keicho grabs three bowls from the shelf above him. He lines them up on the counter, ready to be filled with noodles and broth, "Then, I believe congratulations are in order."

"Oh. Uh. Thank you."

The young man has a way of avoiding eye contact—while some try to fake it by looking at, say, someone's cheekbone or perhaps a spot on the wall just to the left of a person's face, he doesn't so much as turn his head in Keicho's direction. Odd, but also a little charming.

"Order whatever you want," Mori tells Arisu, "it's our treat."

"I'll just have the regular," Arisu says, "if you don't mind—"

"Give him the deluxe," Mori interrupts, "with extra pork. And an extra egg."

"And corn! The man needs a vegetable!" Danma adds.

"Corn isn't a vegetable, it's a grain," Mori sighs, "but that doesn't mean he shouldn't have it. You gonna do the slab of butter on top, too?"

"You got it," Keicho answers, "And I'm assuming you two want your usual?"

"Mhmm," Danma confirms. He reaches into the canvas bag that had been lazily dropped onto the floor by his feet, "got a real prize-winner for you today."

Keicho smirks when he sees Danma pull a perfectly ripe tomato from the bag—Mori has outdone himself with this season's crop, the red fruit eclipsing the majority of the other man's palm as he holds it out for Keicho to take.

"That's a beauty," Keicho says, taking the tomato and admiring it in the light, "almost feel bad for cutting it up."

"Wait, are you—"

Arisu looks dumbfounded. Although it's not unheard of, ramen doesn't often come with tomato as a garnish.

"Your boss," Keicho explains, "used to come in here every week with a new ingredient for me to put in his ramen. Watercress, pineapple..."

"Pineapple was okay."

"Pineapple was an abomination," Keicho says, causing Arisu and Mori to share an amused look, "but, credit where credit is due. Tomato actually works."

"And I simply must have it every time," Danma chirps with a smile, "Even Mori agrees it's good."

"I said it wasn't terrible—"

Keicho turns his attention to the food while the men playfully squabble; the tomato gets a quick dice, juice bursting cool and refreshing across his fingers as he makes quick strokes with his knife. He decides to portion a bit of the extra fruit into a little dish to the side in case Arisu's curiosity gets the better of him. A shy kid, sure, but he seems bright. And willing to try new and exotic things, if his choice of employment is anything to go by.

"...Keicho, this boy is a genius," Danma gushes as Keicho drops three servings of noodles into boiling water, "Never in my life have I seen someone take to pinning so quickly. Like a duck to water!"

Keicho glances over his shoulder—Arisu is blushing, lips twisting as he tries not to smile.

"He's good with inventory, too," Mori adds, "Very efficient. Saved me the trouble of being yelled at over the way i do the ribbons."

"That's because you do it wrong," Danma snaps, "Arisu knows that you organize first by color, then by size—not the other way around!"

"I was just trying to do it how you told me," Arisu interjects, "I, uh, I see how the other way could make sense, though. I sort my games by genre, then alphabetically. My friend Chota does it by console, then color. Different methods work for different people, I guess."

Danma slaps the counter.

"That's it," he says, "you're getting a raise. And you can have the day off tomorrow."

Mori claps Arisu on the back.

"Keicho, give him extra scallions, too."

"No—no, it's okay," Arisu says, "You don't have to give me more money. And I'm coming in to work tomorrow. I, uh, you said you were gonna teach me how to iron. I wanna learn."

Keicho doesn't have to look up from where he's assembling the mens' meals to know that Danma is mere seconds away from getting tears in his eyes.

"You're a good, hard worker," Keicho says, "Your boss is lucky to have you."

It only takes a few moments for Keicho to finish assembling three very different bowls of his ramen—Danma's special version with tomato, Arisu's noticeably larger serving piled high with the extra ingredients his companions insisted upon (and the dish of tomato Keicho had offered on the side, from which Arisu politely adds a small amount onto his dish), and Mori's standard with a concerningly generous swirl of chili oil on top.

Three peculiar dishes for three peculiar men.

"You want anything else?" Mori asks as Arisu's eyes grow wide at the mountain of food in front of him, "Because we can get you more if you want."

"If it's too hot, we can put an ice cube in it," Danma adds, "Can't have my star employee getting burns on his first day, after all!"

"I'm fine, really," Arisu placates. He takes up his chopsticks and quickly shovels some noodles into his mouth as if to prove his point. He nods his approval, and that appears to satisfy his companions enough so that they start digging into their own meals.

How very odd.

How very sweet.

Keicho watches and listens as the men eat, chatting between mouthfuls of food like some kind of weird little family. Maybe they are a family—blood of the covenant being thicker than the water of the womb and all that. Not that it's Keicho's place to make assertions, but they seem to all compliment each others' idiosyncrasies.

At any rate, Keicho suspects this won't be the last time Danma and Mori bring Arisu to his shop.

In fact, he's almost certain of it.

[web-novel-polls]

Less Popular Danmei Character Tournament

CWs: genitalia mention, death, animal mention, slavery, murder, cannibalism mention, prisoner exchange, sex, misgendering as a joke ("princess")

Shen Zechuan from Qiang Jin Jiu

Submission: he just serves absolute cunt and is absolutely insane. like we joke about characters being crazy but shen zechuan is the 1st one where ive paused reading and said outloud oh bitch you are absolutely out of your mind. Give it up for ruthless chronically ill schemers with a sense of loyalty so strong it becomes a fatal flaw and who are also at all times 100% devoted to the ppl they care about

The son of the Prince of Jianxing, who betrays the empire out of cowardice, that must survive when his entire family is to be killed for treason. There’s actually a scene at the beginning of him losing his brother in a battle and (I believe) returning to realize his father has run away

Another of the “chronically ill schemers” type and incredibly ruthless when necessary

Refuses to die or despair; he WILL survive and will turn things around - fate can be damned

Gu Mang from Stains of Filth / Yuwu

Submission: He’s my little guy

He’s the tragic ML who betrayed the MC while also being the biggest fucking clown / the comedic relief

He truly believes he’s a fucking wolf at one point. 

Essentially, Gu Mang was a slave in Murong Lian’s household, which led him to meet the MC, Mo Xi, who is a noble of similar standing to the Murong clan. He eventually becomes the General-in-Chief of the Wangba Army (later renamed to the Northern Frontier Army bc it was a funny name) and fights for the Chonghua Empire. However, since the Wangba Army was made of slaves, not a single of his fellow soldiers were given a proper burial, which - along with other reasons - led to Gu Mang defecting to an enemy nation (that also killed Mo Xi’s father and may or may not be cannibals).  

The story begins when said enemy nation trades Gu Mang back to Chonghua as a prisoner of war with parts of his soul gone, causing him to believe he’s a majestic blue wolf. The summary is a tiny bit misleading, albeit not wrong - “they’ve slept together before” is actually more “they slept together multiple times while Mo Xi, at the very least, is incredibly in love with Gu Mang.”  

Gu Mang’s also pretty funny, even with his memories gone, albeit the inherent tragedy is overwhelming. Idc what “evils” he committed… the Lotus Pavilion thing or whatever was fucked up. The author is so brutal to him, and for what? Funsies? (<--mainly joking, but it’s a SAD story… I’ve cried so many times) 

Anyway, Gu Mang Did Not Deserve This 2023 

Yan Zhengming from Liu Yao: the Revitalization of Fuyao Sect 

Submission: Winner of the award for highest number of times I’ve called a man a “pretty princess” 

Apparently has a fantastic character development into the Sect Leader (I’m not that far), but he’s also just a pretty princess <2

He’s the eldest disciple of Han Muchun / Fuyao Sect who was born into a rich family. He ran away at age seven and became Han Muchun’s first apprentice/disciple. He’s similar to a spoiled young master character, but he doesn’t really bully anyone; he may try to bully/clash with Cheng Qian, but I don’t think he wins (been a while since I started it - he’s like 15, and Cheng Qian is ~9-10 at this point) 

“Strict with others but lenient on himself” → responsible Sect Leader pipeline, More at 10 pm

[doorsclosingslowly]

There’s someone waiting out there with a mouthful of surprises

The Jedi recovered the bisected Sith apprentice from Naboo and imprisoned him underneath the Jedi Temple. A young Anakin finds the way down to his cell.

Anakin is twelve when he declines one of Chancellor Palpatine’s invitations for the first time. The resulting devastation looks wrong on his kindly old face, and Anakin wants to take it back—besides, it’s just an opera and a glass of bubbly, where could be the harm?—but he remembers golden eyes pleading up at him and then a skull-patterned face scrunched up into a splotch with how hard it’s trying to hide utter desperation, and he repeats his invented excuse.

It doesn’t matter that this one-sided rivalry for Anakin’s attention that has developed between the mutilated imprisoned murderer Sith (slave) he has befriended and the Chancellor of the Republic is honestly deeply stupid, from Anakin’s point of view. It’s not like he couldn’t spent time with them both: his missions with Master Obi-Wan have increased in number recently, but still, he’s been talking to Palpatine once a month and he’s also managed to fit in the regular trips down below to the high security carcer. It’s ridiculous.

But Anakin understands loneliness—and fear and attachment and jealousy and all the other disturbances of the peace he shouldn’t feel—he didn’t have friends for years in the Temple, after all, and it makes sense, at least a little, that Maul is scared he’ll be forgotten down there when Anakin has any other option. Not a lot of sense, because really what he’s saying is that he thinks Anakin so disloyal he’ll just ditch the only real friend he made on Coruscant, and Anakin would get back at him for the insult if it wasn’t for an energy gate perpetually between them and the fact that it’s a just a little bit unfair to tussle with a guy crawling on the floor because he doesn’t have legs… The jealousy is still kriffing stupid, but if anyone knows stupid fears it’s Anakin.

So he declines, and he keeps declining, and two years later the invitations stop.

.

Anakin is eleven when he starts smuggling droid parts down into the top security oubliette underneath the oldest parts of the Jedi Temple. The first time is, in retrospect, a terrifying accident. He’s built a tiny moving starfighter that Master Obi-Wan just glanced at and said, “Well done,” nothing more, like Anakin didn’t need to use pincers to weld the tiniest engine parts together, like he didn’t cast the alloy all by himself. He sulks in his room, the ship buzzing at his head, and then remembers that there’s at least two more people who might like to see. Palpatine is probably busy, and that leaves…

The Sith prisoner is a far more appreciative audience than Anakin’s Master. His eyes glint and widen when he sees the presence next to Anakin’s head, and he even pulls himself off his berth: pulls himself off the edge and tumbles down head-first, and then panting and with his nails dug into the duracrete he drags his torso over to the energy trellis that separates him from Anakin.

He looks up at the droid in childlike wonder.

There’s a tenderness to his questions that he hasn’t shown Anakin up until now, and it’s not just the hoarse panting of exertion that takes away the last dregs of his usual intimidating mien. He wants to know everything, from the full-size model of the ship it was based on to the assembly process to details of every single one of Anakin’s new projects.

“I can—I could feel the movement of the droids I built, in the force,” the prisoner whispers reverently. “They were a constant presence when I was young.”

“Right? Right?” Anakin is excited. The Jedi have been trying to tell him that droids don’t have force presences, and he’s almost believed them by now, but if he’s not alone in feeling it then he was right. Master Obi-Wan was wrong. He knew it.

He brings down the next droid he builds—yes, two days after the first trip he did realize he brought something easily used as a weapon to the dangerous Sith prisoner, but all he did was talk mechanics with Anakin so clearly it’s harmless—and the next and next. He watches the prisoner drag himself across the floor. He sees the abrasions covering the prisoner head to abdomen—covering him on every inch of the body he still possesses—the injuries that he must be sustaining from his only mode of movement. He feels the shame radiate out from the prisoner down on the floor, painful, cloying. He watches him try to play it all down.

One day, Anakin brings down a ship that he designed himself to meet the exact dimensions and functionality of a short humanoid’s prosthetic thigh. He pushes it against the barrier. It moves through.

.

Anakin is almost ten years old, and he knows that down in the bowels of the Jedi Temple there lives a monster. The Sith is caged so deep below that no-one can hear his growls and mutters, his whimpers, his pleas, or so Master Obi-Wan promised Anakin yesterday when he’d worked up the courage to ask about the sounds he keeps hearing whenever he closes his eyes. He’s locked down so deep that the shivering of his despair and the gall of his hatred must be a hallucination. He’s been caged for months, first interrogated daily, then found useless and forgotten. But not by Anakin.

(He saw the monstrous enemy of the Jedi for the first time when he’d just turned nine. It pulled its black hood off its bright head and panicked Master Qui-Gon and Master Obi-Wan, and Anakin was sent away for safety that quickly turned into cosmic warfare. Before that moment, he knows, on Tatooine it tried to run Anakin over with its bike. After that moment, he’d seen the monster—or what remained of it—being carried out of the Naboo palace on Master Obi-Wan’s back, moaning and delirious with pain, but dangerous nonetheless. It had bitten Obi-Wan so hard he’d flung it reflexively to the ground.

Down there, it had begged. “Honor,” it had rasped. “Give me honor. Give me death.”

Master Obi-Wan had picked it up by its arm, and it had whimpered in protest, “I fought with honor!”

Obi-Wan had ignored it. Anakin would have, too; this thing had killed Master Qui-Gon, and whether it had done so with honor or not didn’t matter when Master Qui-Gon was dead. It had killed the Jedi who’d won him, who chose to train Anakin, who was the only guarantor of his future safety, and he didn’t know what would happen now, and he hated it.

It had grown more frantic then, terrified. “Kill me, Jedi, please, when my Master—”

And Anakin had swallowed a cry of shocked recognition.)

Anakin will be ten in two months, and today he’s gonna see the monster again. It’s not the force that calls him down staircase after staircase to the oubliette below the oldest parts of the Jedi Temple. He’d be able to explain if it was the force, if he got caught, he thinks, but that’s not what’s going on. It’s just homesickness, and loneliness, and it is that word.

The way he said it.

Anakin has met more Masters in the last year of his life than ever before, has uttered the word more often than on Tatooine, and he’s doing pretty well, he thinks. He doesn’t flinch with his body when he says it and not with his face either, and even the highest Masters—there it is again—they can’t feel the acid in his force presence anymore.

He greets Master Obi-Wan in the morning and he bows to Grandmaster Yoda whenever they meet.

He doesn’t talk about his childhood. He doesn’t talk much, nowadays, to anyone but Master Obi-Wan or his teachers. He knows he’s weird. He wasn’t on Tatooine, but here… He doesn’t know the things the other padawans do, and his reflexive associations, his interests, his memories shock them. There’s no point, Anakin has learned, in expecting people who can say Master without galling—who don’t need to pretend enjoy it—to listen to him. They’ll never wake up in cold sweat and feel for the bomb that was cut out of their neck, that was injected into it while they were awake and their mother cried, that had so often almost gone off. They don’t cry for their Mom. They’ll only shush him when he talks of his past.

When he talks of his fears.

Of himself.

They’ll never understand him. No-one will. No-one will let him be the Anakin he really is, without fussing over him and muttering and looking like he should know better by now. No-one wants anything beyond the parts of himself he can salvage that are untainted by his past. The parts that don’t remember his mother.

The only person who listens to all of him is Palpatine, and even he often doesn’t know what to say.

No-one will understand, possibly, but…

The monster that lives down below the Jedi Temple had forced out Master like the word tastes of fire and dread.

Like it heralds pain.

The monster is a fellow slave, Anakin is sure. He’s the only being on Coruscant who might understand; the only person who will let him be whole. He’s killed Master Qui-Gon, yes, but he didn’t have a choice, just like Anakin wasn’t allowed to disobey his Master and neither was Mom or Kitster or Beru or anybody else back home.

It was so obvious, the moment he said it.

The monster’s a slave.

Point: Anakin is so tired of having to pretend he never was a slave.

Point also: He just found a map of all the layers of the temple in a garbage chute, wedged in a decommissioned droid’s dataslit. A map that shows the oubliette for ancient evils.

Point also also: Master Obi-Wan’s fast asleep, and Anakin can’t get his thoughts to stop racing.

The monster’s a fellow slave.

Ergo: it’s time to sneak down and make a friend.

What must be hundreds of meters below the current Jedi Temple, at the bottom of the bottom-most staircase, smells faintly of sweat and boredom and despair. The only illumination Anakin can make out is a set of force trellises, and if the schematics he found were right then that’s exactly the spot that he’s looking for.

Pulling his hood down deeper just because it’s chilly and definitely not because he’s nervous and needs something to fidget, he sneaks closer.

Victory!

The Sith’s inside the cell. He looks just like the attacker Anakin remembers, with a red-and-black face and some horns and a scowl. He looks completely different, too: he’s naked, or at least his torso is. The lower half of his body is just missing. Did the Jedi—but no, Anakin can dimly remember Master Obi-Wan mention the way he beat him. That he’s still without prosthetics, even though his scars are well-healed… Anakin knew a woman who’d survived a bomb blowing off her leg, on Tatooine. She lived off of fellow slaves’ charity, for a few months. Her head wasn’t all there anymore from the pain, Mom told Anakin, and her Master had just let her leave. Why invest in a prosthetic when you’re not getting any use from its recipient?

The Sith is doing better than her, at least, even if he’s missing way more flesh. He’s doing pull-ups off the head piece of his callow berth. His yellow eyes gleam in the soft light of the force trellis when he looks over. When he notices Anakin. For a long moment, he looks stunned, and only then he remembers to snarl.

“Hi,” Anakin says.

The prisoner puffs up his defined arm muscles, as well as he can when he’s still hanging off the frame of his bed. He must have decided that dropping down onto his torso—and probably his face—would be even less dignified, though, because he stays put, sweaty and glowering out at Anakin from under his armpit, like he’s desperately trying to look threatening and tough in an unfamiliar situation where the other person has all the power.

It’s a scene Anakin has known intimately for most of his life.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Anakin says.

A beat.

Right.

“The Jedi didn’t send me,” because in his situation that’s what Anakin would most like to know. The Jedi are not this guy’s slave masters, but they do have all the power over him right now.

“I was a slave too, before they took me here. You can trust me,” and at least that gets a reaction: the prisoner looks absolutely apoplectic and even opens his mouth. Finally! He’s angry, which isn’t ideal—Anakin should have remembered that some slaves don’t want to admit they are—but they’re talking!

But the Sith just closes his mouth again.

He keeps his sullen silence for what feels like hours while Anakin tries one conversational gambit after the other. He just can’t have blown his one chance at talking to someone whose mouth makes the right shape for Master. Anakin refuses to accept that.

But it grows later and later, and Master Obi-Wan will wake up at some point, and he doesn’t have to concede defeat for forever, after all, but maybe for today…

“Fine.” Anakin puffs out his chest. He should say something soothing that’ll buy him a foot in the door next time, but he’s been pleading and pleading, and it hurts. “I don’t even care if you don’t want to talk. I’ve got plenty of friends. Chancellor Palpatine asked me to come over for tea just yesterday!”

The voice is so threadbare that he almost misses it, but it’s there. The Sith clears his throat. He sounds more sure and velvety when he repeats his plea to Anakin. His golden eyes are so wide it looks painful.

“Wait! Repeat what you just said!”

.

Anakin is nineteen when he climbs down into the bowels of the Temple for the last time. He hasn’t slept for two days, barely even closed his eyes, because on the insides of his lids is his mother, writhing, pleading.

No-one up in the Temple can give him any help. All they have to offer is platitudes about Uncertain the future is and Let go of attachment you must, but it’s his Mom, and she’s being tortured! She’s dying! She can’t be dying! She’s Anakin’s Mom!

He’s pleaded to be sent to Tatooine on a mission, but Senator Amidala’s protection detail is more important Master Obi-Wan said, and he can’t just go against the will of his… He can’t go. His Mom’s dying every moment he closes his eyes and he can’t go.

Maul is his last hope.

No-one will even notice that Maul’s gone. He’s been locked up for a decade now, and only the meal droids and Anakin still climb down to his level. Anakin’s friends with the meal droids, too, and he can definitely talk them into keeping silent about the Sith prisoner’s disappearance.

Maul’s a fighter, and he was able to find them on Tatooine and follow them to Naboo so he must be able to find Anakin’s Mom, too, wherever she’s been dragged off to. He’ll be able to save her.

He’ll—

Anakin has already sliced the force trellis control panel and turned it off when the fear grabs him. He’s spilled all his nightmares of his mother’s death, has shared the only plan for her survival. He’s received the assent he was sure to get. Now, he’s helping Maul put on the smuggled prosthetics that have been hidden in the stuffing of Maul’s prison berth, kneeling down before him.

And suddenly, all he tastes in the air is raw hatred.

He flinches. The trellis must have functioned as a shield from Maul’s presence before, keeping Anakin from realizing the true depth of Maul’s anger, the extent of his strength.

He could kill Anakin right now. He could attack the temple, and it would all be Anakin’s fault.

The frailty and humiliations of the prisoner’s mutilated body have lulled Anakin into reacting with kindness. He’s seen a man who is weak, helpless, and of course he offered help.

The cadence of Maul’s voice has made him sound like a friend.

But he’s the Sith who slaughtered Master Qui-Gon.

He’s filled to the brim with hatred and jealousy and pain, the force around them screams, will never release them to meditation like Anakin has tried and tried to do; he’s everything the Jedi Council saw in Anakin that day a decade ago and that he’s tried so hard to bury. He’s a Sith.

He’s warm.

It’s not just the hand he rests on Anakin’s shoulder but the very air he expels. Anakin expected the dark side of the force to be frigid, the way his own loathing and terror have kept him shivering and cold, but this is a hearth: protection, purification, an almost magnetic pull. It wraps around them. He shudders again.

“Do not be afraid,” Maul says, and from the soft look in his eyes he has misunderstood completely. “I shall find your mother, apprentice. You will do admirably while I’m gone. Just remember everything I taught you.”

And then, the darkness curls around Anakin again, hot and possessive. “While I’m gone, don’t talk to Palpatine.”

.

Anakin is twenty-three when he decides to brutally murder the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. His wife is laying in the delivery room, holding the boy twin—holding their baby boy!—while he strokes her hair reverently, and there is his Mom beside him, holding the girl twin—holding their baby girl!—and next to the door, scowling, stands Maul.

“Do you want to hold her?” Mom asks Maul gently. She knows him best now, and if she decides Maul’s standoffishness towards the twins—his twins!—is shyness rather than dislike, then Anakin will forgive him for not cooing over the babies—his kids! His and Padmé’s kids!—like any rational person would.

“Even His patience runs out one day,” Maul whispers.

Anakin’s hairs curl in shocked recognition, and he doesn’t even need to hear the word, but—

“I told you, Shmi, he started talking to Anakin as soon as he arrived. Somehow I managed to keep them apart, to interfere with the attempts at molding him, but the very fact He showed interest must warn us… As soon as he learns of this birth, and His spies are everywhere…” Maul turns back towards the door, palms laid across it as if he could keep the gate shut. The force burns with shielding hatred. “My Master will come for your children. Soon. Palpatine likes them young.”