#and upon seeing me heads into the sauna

[cockmancers]

.

[surielstea]

Heated Traditions

Pairing: Bat Boys x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader joins the three males in the sauna during solstice and things get more heated than just the steam.

Warnings: smut | minors dni | 18+ only | multi orgasm | foursome (f, m, m, m) | anal sex | p in v | oral (m receiving) | breeding kink | petnames | some other filthy stuff | enjoy!

4.2k words

Winter solstice had come upon Velaris like a cold gust of wind, bringing powdery snow and the hectic holidays.

When I woke up to my mate's side of the bed being empty I knew exactly where he was, out in the cold, playing with snowballs like a child with the rest of his brothers.

I, however, hadn't been expecting the small wrapped box that was perched on his untouched pillow.

I sit up excitedly, running my hands through my nest of hair a few times before picking up the box and tearing it like a toddler on her birthday.

I come across a black velvet box, a note taped to the top of it and I smile as I recognize the neat handwriting.

I'm sorry I couldn't be with you this morning but I promise to make up for it later, here's your first gift of many, happy solstice darling.

- the most handsome High Lord

I giggle at the obnoxious title he gave himself and set the note down, then crack open the top of the jewelry box, revealing a stunning violet gem connected to a silver chain that glinted beneath the morning light. I smile, running my fingers along the chain that moves like liquid. The color of the gem reminded me so substantially of Rhysand's eyes, the familiar violet I saw every night before I went to bed and every morning when I awoke, except this morning, this morning when he gifted me the ability to feel seen by him at all times.

I can't contain my grin as I fasten the necklace around my throat, wishing he was here to help as I struggle with the clasp, but eventually, I get it, and it seems even more beautiful on.

I build my outfit around the necklace, putting on a floor-length gown of lilac silk, adorned by silver rings and a sterling bracelet to match the chain.

I do a light makeup look and fix my tangled hair into a simple style, leaving the now-tamed locks going down my back.

I exit my bedroom, toying with the jewel on my necklace as I do so, walking out into the hallway before entering the kitchen where Morrigan resided, sipping a steaming cup of cocoa. "Morning," I smile softly and she returns it, silently offering me a cup of the seasonal beverage.

"It's too early to look as good as you do," She claims after a moment of silently sipping our drinks. I shrug with a smile.

"Nonsense, I just always look good," I toss her a wink and she shakes her head with an amused grin. "When did they leave?" I ask, walking over to one of the many windows in the large house, peering out at the powdery snow and the white-capped mountains.

"Hours ago, they should be back soon," She joins me at the window, staring into the abyss of blinding white that took over the entire landscape. The two of us had been so caught up staring at the outside we hadn't even noticed the door open, and hadn't realized who walked in either.

"What are we looking at?" A familiar cold voice chimes from behind me and I jump, whirling around to face Amren who had a large bag filled with what seemed to be presents.

"Gods, you scared me," Mor presses a hand to her chest and I nod.

"Likewise," I mumble but the eldest of us just flashes a smile.

"It's my craft," She shrugs with a grin that wasn't entirely fae.

"We were just looking for the boys," Morrigan says, glancing at the window once more.

"You think you'll be able to see them?" Amren scoffs, moving past me and unlocking the sliding window before pushing it open.

We wait a moment in silence then suddenly, lo and behold, Cassian's raucous laughter from the distance cuts through it. A smile spreads over my lips at the familiar sound but it's quickly wiped away as a frigid breeze gusts in, causing the three of us to huddle closer to the fire on the other side of the room. My entire body trembles against the below-freezing weather.

The low temperature sends a shiver down my spine, resulting in an overwhelming cold sensation that overstayed its welcome. I found that even minutes after the window had been pushed shut again I had still been caught shivering.

"I think I'm going to take a hot bath, I'll see you guys for presents," I say with a soft smile, and the both of them nod, waving me off as I back away from the window and pad back to my bedroom to run the bath.

I make sure the water is steaming before I plug the drain and allow the tub to fill up, I was still cold, and taking off my clothes before I was ready to get in turned out to be a horrid idea.

"If you're so desperate for warmth you could join me in the sauna," my mate hums in the back of my mind and I startle slightly, forgetting he had the ability to see through my own eyes.

"Were you looking while I was staring in the mirror?"

"Would you think anything less of me if I was?" He hums and I roll my eyes, sending the message through the bond.

"That's not an answer, and no, it's expected of you by now," I retort, crossing my arms to provide some sort of body warmth while the tub slowly fills.

"Come join us, I won the snowball fight and I wish to celebrate," He claims and I scoff, sending my displeasure to his side of the bridge between us.

"Keep it in your pants." I toss back.

"I'm afraid we don't wear pants in the birchin." He reminds and I freeze, remembering the fact that all three of those tanned, muscular males are all sitting in that cedar-lined shed naked, but most importantly, sweaty. Gods it would feel so damned good to feel that warmth at the moment.

"Darling," He drawls, pulling me back to reality and away from my enticing daydreaming.

"I thought mates were supposed to be territorial," I state, holding my ground despite the slight waver in my voice.

"I've shared before, and you never seemed entirely opposed to my brothers either," He argues as if I was to blame for his fantasies. And perhaps I was because it would be a lie if I said I hadn't thought about all three of them at once, more than once.

"I can feel your arousal, just join us we won't bite," My mate continues. "Unless you want us to," He adds and I couldn't find it in myself to deny that kind of pleasure any longer. So I grabbed my robe and tied it tightly around myself.

"Atta girl," He muses and I slam my walls up, blocking his annoying triumph out as I make my way towards the Sauna connected to the side of the house.

I had to fight back the thoughts telling me not to do this while approaching the door, but Rhys was pacing back and forth on the edge of my mind, reminding me he was waiting with just his presence.

Before I can psych myself out, I unlatch the door to the birchin and slide it open, unleashing a gust of boiling mist. But once it clears I'm met with three tan, winged males looking up at me expectantly, entirely naked.

I attempt to avert my eyes as I step into the steaming room, looking at Rhys only as I slowly untie my robe and let it dip off my shoulders. They've all seen a female's body before, this was no different. I let my robe fall to the floor but I didn't dare bend over to pick it up, their gazes were already predatory the last thing I wanted was to tempt them. I settle onto the bench right beside Rhys, facing Cassian and Azriel.

"You still cold?" My mate hums and I look up at him, silently shaking my head. A feline smile stretches over his features. He doesn't say anything else, only tilts his head back and shuts his eyes, letting the hot steam absorb him.

I look at the log-built structure of the bathhouse, the walls compacting me in here with sweating, Illyrian warriors. I tried and keep my gaze away from the two males in front of me but the task was torture and I was weak. I hadn't realized I was staring at Azriel's rippling abdomen until he shifted his hips and my head snapped away. And I definitely didn't notice when I was staring at Cassian's arms until he cleared his throat and I opted to just look at the floor.

Rhys chuckles, and even though he was looking up at the ceiling I knew he could feel both my embarrassment and my arousal.

He slings an arm around my shoulders and the touch almost burned with how damned hot it was in this room. Or had I been imagining it? Was it me who was flushed or had it been the steam?

"You have a staring problem, darling," my mate purrs, and the smile of his two other brothers grows.

"Sorry," I frown.

"Don't be," Cassian speaks up and Azriel silently smirks.

"Is it too hot in here? We could always go back to the bedroom and cool off?" Rhys suggests, pecking up the side of my jaw. I blush at the idea of our bedroom, it was so innocent yet my mind could only morph into something inappropriate.

"No, I'm okay," I shrug him off and he pecks my cheek.

"Just let me know if you change your mind, alright?" He says, and I translate it in my head that he was giving me an escape if I needed one, between the three of them he was telling me to leave before it's too late. But gods, why would I ever take myself away from this?

I only nodded, then returned to my unsolicited staring. My eyes widen a fraction when I notice Cassian was semi-hard, his heavy cock slowly rising as his eyes run up and down my nude figure and I swallow thickly, attempting not to stare for too long at his angry tip, or the vein pulsing underneath, and perhaps it was sick of me to want to run my tongue up that very vein.

Azriel's wings ruffle and it steals my attention from Cassian straight to him. He was in the same boat as Cassian, a bead of precum pearled at the head of his cock, he was much longer than the other two males I sat with, and I wanted to know just how deep he could reach inside my throbbing cunt, wanted to feel him release in my very womb.

"Darling." Rhys's voice in my head makes me jolt, earning a few concerned glances from the others. "Do you want to tell them what you've been thinking or should I?" He hums aloud and I look up at him with concern, my brows scrunched as I shake my head in panic. "You want me to?" He suggests and again, more fervently this time, I shake my head. "Then go on, tell them," He nods encouragingly and I tear my eyes from his violet ones, looking to hazel instead.

"I," My words get stuck in my throat, I couldn't even think anymore without it being utterly lewd.

"Tell them what you want to do to them, what you want them to do to you," Rhys croons, tilting his head back and delighting in the shameful torture he was putting me through.

"I want," I'm left breathless, words come up short and I can barely conjure thoughts against their carnivorous stares.

"Spit it out sweetheart," Cassian adjusts his hips and my eyes dip down to his now fully hard member, thick between his thighs. My nails dug into the bench that I was gripping so hard I thought it might snap.

"I want to wrap my mouth around your cock," I confess and if he wasn't hard before he certainly was now, his tip angry and pulsing red.

"And, Az I want you inside me," I murmur.

"Where?" Rhys cut in.

"My cunt, please I need all three of you inside me," I beg, my body glistening with sweat as they all stare at me with equally starving expressions.

"Is that right?" Azriel finally speaks and something inside me snaps, I don't feel shame anymore, only a relentless need for all three of them.

"Mhm," I nod, biting at my lower lip anxiously at the idea of them denying me and leaving me humiliated.

"Let's give her what she wants," Rhys tips his head down to look at me.

"She's been so patient, haven't you my good girl?" He asks and I blink up at him with a nod, agreeing to whatever he wants me to.

Cassian and Azriel both stand and my head whips towards them, their hardened cocks pressed against their abdomens as they approach closer. I'm wobbly as Rhys helps me stand, before he comes behind me, trapping me in a circle of all three of them. Their frames towered over me and their dark, large wings created a shield around me so any which way I turned I was met with one of their bodies.

"Who do you want in control?" Rhys tilts his head and I look between all three of them before returning to my mate.

"You," I press a hand to his abdomen.

"Yeah?" He arches his brow a fraction and I nod.

"Then why don't you go let Az stretch you out, just how you wanted hm?" He offers and I nod. Shadows twist around my limbs as Azriel's scarred hands meet my hips, guiding me closer as he sits on the bench, his legs spread as I straddle him and the others watch.

My cunt was pulsing with need as his hands travel anywhere they can reach, spending a particular amount of time at my breasts. I look back to Rhys, spotting the two others as they simply watch, their hands fisting their own cocks. My mate nods and I align myself before slowly, so slowly, sinking down onto him.

Azriel groans, tossing his head back in ecstasy as I make my way further down his impressive length. He pinches my nipples and I mewl at the intense feeling. It was so fucking hot in this room and something told me it wasn't because of the steam. I dip further down, clenching around him as my nails dig into his shoulders.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well," He praises and I cry, he was pressing hard into that perfect bundle of nerves nestled deep inside of me.

"Hurts," I choke out and a sadistic smile spreads across Azriel's face.

"Yeah? Am I too big for your tight little pussy?" He purrs and I nod, my bottom lip pouting out. He grips my breasts in his large hands, groping them as I squirm, loving the way I forced myself further down onto him even though it was painful, all because the pleasure outweighed everything else.

I marveled at how there could still be more of him, my cunt was being stretched beyond capacity and he loved every second of it. My moans filled the room, Azriel's grunts joining in with every roll of my hips.

Eventually, he couldn't take my slow pace and thrust up into me, all of him sheathing inside me like I was a mold for him and him alone. He turned me into a cock sleeve as he began to pummel into me and I was left wailing into the side of his neck, unable to form words as he fucked me senseless.

"Fuck," He curses, tilting his head back as I swallow him in my pussy, dripping onto him.

"More," I whimper. "Want Cass," My words were so weak that it was a wonder how the others heard me over the lewd slapping sounds of skin between me and Azriel as he drove his cock deeper and deeper with every thrust.

Azriel shifts to the side as Cassian approaches, allowing me to look at the tall male, his cock directly in line with my mouth in my seated position.

"Suck him off, baby," Azriel grunts out, his words lustful as he watches my hesitant kitten licks down the length of Cassian's girth. I flitted my gaze up to his as I get to the base of him, then run the flat of my tongue up the protruding vein of his cock all the way to the tip, just like I wanted. He groaned at the feeling as I began to swirl my tongue around his slit, slowly forming my mouth around the head of his thick cock. Azriel continued to pummel into me so much that it was hard to focus on just Cass. I began to moan on his cock, forcing myself to take him deeper into my mouth, sloppily swirling my tongue around his member.

"Don't be shy, fuck her mouth," Rhys instructs. Cassian looks down at me with raised brows and I nod, whimpering on his dick as he grabs the back of my hair then pushes all of his length halfway down my throat. I fight back a gag and instead suck on him harder, hollowing my cheeks as my mate's best friends fuck me simultaneously, leaving me drooling from both holes.

My slobber is used as a lubricant for Cassian's cock, allowing him to easily take himself in and out from between my swollen lips.

"Gods, you're so pretty choking on my cock," He hums and I can't help but moan, sending vibrations up his spine. He groans at the feeling, his head tilting back, looking up at the ceiling as his heavy cock twitches against the soft walls of my throat.

"I want you too," I beg Rhys through our mental connection. "Please." My whines are met with his compliance, silently coming behind me. I arched up, originally for his entrance only but Azriel was now hitting so much deeper at the slight change of position.

"You sure about this baby?" Rhys asks from behind me, his large hands kneading the fat of my thighs in his hands and I nod.

"Mhm," I gargle against Cassian's cock, and the male hums with pleasure, while Rhys presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck, he then runs his fingers through my neglected folds, gathering my arousal before smearing it against his length, using it as a natural lubricant until he was covered in my slick from base to tip.

He prodded at my third entrance and I gasped out, unsure if I really could take all three of them at once, I've dreamed of this situation a multitude of times but this was somehow reality and I doubted I could fit all of them.

Rhys pushed into me anyway. I moan loudly around Cassian, my mouth clamping down onto his base and he grunts, tossing his head back. Rhys felt so damned big, continuing to push into me deeper and deeper. It felt euphoric the way Azriel and Rhys brushed up against each other inside of me through my gummy walls, pushing against them beyond capacity.

Azriel's hands tweaked my nipples, bringing me back to him and how good he made me feel, but it wasn't long until it was Cassian who had my attention, gripping the base of my hair and pulling at it whenever I sucked him too hard. But Rhys stole it quickly, his member finally sheathed entirely inside of me, leaving me helpless between all three of them.

Cassian twitched inside of my mouth and I knew he was close so I focused as best I could on him, hollowing my mouth around him and sucking hard. He looked down at me in a haze of lust, his hand on my hair loosening as he spurt his seed down my throat without any warning. I swallow, my throat squeezing around him as I do so. He begins to slowly pull out but before he can get away fully I suck eagerly at his tip, milking every last drop from him, reveling in how good it tasted beneath my tongue.

He smiled lazily down at me, seeing how just much I delighted in drinking him for all he's worth. I was drunk on his seed, warm and salty and so fucking delectable. I swirl my tongue around his overstimulated tip once more before pulling away fully, letting my attention fall to Azriel beneath me and allowing Cassian to clean himself up.

The shadow singer is strategic. He knew where every perfect spot inside of me was, and he tortured the areas like one of his victims. He didn't slow for a moment, he only went faster. He had me wrapped around him first and I had a feeling he'd get me last.

I panted, falling down onto his chest, my elbows giving out. Rhys gripped my hips and held me up in an impressive arch, my back forming a crescent moon as they both continued to pump into me and I laid there like an overworked doll, sandwiched between their sweaty bodies.

I don't know how many times I had came at this point, they were both so damned good it felt like the orgasm was a never-ending flow of euphoric bliss. "Gods," I mewled. "S'too much," My pleads didn't seem to reach their ears, they were too busy listening to the noises my cunt made as Azriel pressed into me.

"Shh, you're doing so well for them," Cassian kissed the top of my head, reaching down with a large hand and immediately finding my clit. I gasped, clenching tightly around both of them, to which they both twitched inside of me, the movement foreign yet so pleasurable. Cassian began rubbing my clit in tight, rough circles with his calloused fingertips, adding so much more friction.

"Cass, tell them I can't," I look up at him with teary eyes and pouted lips.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but this is what you wanted hm?" He kisses down the side of my face. "You wanted all of our come stuffed inside you, isn't that right?" He smiled. "Our perfect cum slut.”

I nod, my nails scratching down Azriel's chest as he rolls his hips up at a certain angle. None of them relent from their movements and I was overflowing with pleasure, my legs jolting as I writhed between them.

"Rhys," I moaned, throwing my head back onto his shoulder.

"I'm close, don't worry baby," He whispered and I nodded, a breath of relief escaping me. My hand reached up and cups Azriel's jaw, leaning down and placing my lips onto his.

He twitches at the action so I continue. I slip my tongue between his sensual lips, brushing it against any expanse I could reach, loving the way he met each flick of my tongue with a stroke of his cock running through my cunt. "Mph— are you close?" I lift slightly, looking at Azriel and he looks up at me in a haze, nodding his head. "Fill me up, please Azriel I've always wanted your cum inside of me," I purr into the shell of his ear.

"Me too," He sighs out, clawing at my waist. "Ever since I saw you I've wanted to put my seed inside of you," He confesses and I smile, delighting in how much harder this was all making Rhys which he pushed deeper and deeper into my ass.

"Yeah? Do you want to put a baby in me? Breed me?" I softly suggest and Rhys groans from behind me, my filthy words spurring him into an orgasm.

"Fuck, yes," Azriel grunts, shifting his hips and beginning to press his tip into my cervix. I cry out at the sudden change of pace, my eyes welling with tears again. Rhys' warm release pumps into me as I squeeze tightly around him, milking him of it as he slowly pulls out and Azriel goes utterly feral, bouncing me on his cock with his tough thrusts, eager to put a baby in me.

"You're going to look so pretty with your tits leaking milk," He hums. "Can't wait to get your belly all round," He adds and I let out a lewd moan at his words and how much truth they held.

"Please, feels so good," I sigh, rubbing up and down him.

"Yeah? Can't wait until I can fuck another one into you, give you a big family hm?" He suggests and I nod dumbly. "Maybe we'll all get a turn with you until you're left with all our kids," He grins at the idea. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He says as I kiss up his jaw, reveling in how fucking good it felt every time he pressed into my cervix.

"That's right, 'cause you're just our bunny who loves to be bred," He hums, cock twitching inside of me as my cunt twitches at his words.

"Yes, fill me, wanna be your bunny," I murmur onto his hot skin and he obliges with my request, his release spurting up into my womb.

I clenched tightly around him at the feeling of his warm seed continued to pump into me with his thrusts that began to slow until coming to a stop and pulling me off of him, leaving me with hot cum drooling out of each of my holes, just how I wanted.

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[shuenkio]

In the Sauna 🔥

Paring: Ni-ki x male!reader

Cw: mentioned of dick, naked, masturbate.

Genre: soft smau, crack, [not a smut]

Summary: He wants to teach you how to be brave.

Read at your own risk.

Lack of perfect words/Non proof read ><

You have been friends with Riki ever since kindergarten, and it's incredible how strong your bond has remained despite the challenges that come with long-term friendships. There have been moments when he has irritated you to no end, and you have had your fair share of disagreements. However, Riki always manages to swallow his pride and apologize, pleading for your forgiveness and seeking your companionship once again.

Even the classic duo of Tom and Jerry pales in comparison to the dynamic tension between you and Riki.

On an evening Sunday, you and Riki decide to visit a sauna for a relaxing steam, a plan that had been in the works

Upon arriving at the Sauna, you are instantly captivated by the surroundings, feeling the tension in your shoulders melting away. Despite having seen it in pictures online, nothing compares to the real thing, the atmosphere bustling with life and activity. Everywhere you look, people stroll by with boil eggs and head towels shaped like sheep, creating an adorable sight.

As Riki leads the way, your eyes continue to roam curiously, taking in every detail of the Sauna. Sensing your distraction, he gently grabs your hand, guiding you to the reservation room that you booked together the previous day.

*Inside the sauna*

The steam sauna room is a cozy haven for relaxation and stress relief, with its small, enclosed space filled with warm, humid air generated by a steam generator. The room is equipped with benches for comfortable seating, smooth walls, and soothing lighting, creating a tranquil atmosphere for sweating and unwinding.

As Riki settles down and taps the empty space beside him, motioning for you to join him, you take a seat, feeling a bit self-conscious about revealing your skin in this public setting.

"I can't believe we're in a place like this riki, wild free like we're in some kind of jungle," you said, as you covered your chest with your hands, still not used to exposing your skin in a crowded place like this.

Riki chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. You've always been the shy type one and never changed ever since he first met you.

"Relax, this is our private room, nobody gonna stare at you just look at me! Do like this" He swung both of his hands and leaned against the wall, as he closed his eyes enjoying the warm the man spreading sight.

Being friends with him, you've to get used to seeing him being like this, didn't give af about anyone around him, he likes to do whatever crosses his mind.

The small towel that wrapped around his waistband began to strip down a little, loosening its grip, but looking at him right now, he was already in a daydream.

"Hey hey, your towel is about to loosen!" You said, alerted him. If he let it go, he'd be naked.

No response from him.

"Yahh are you deaf—" You turn your head toward him, gesturing him to do something. Imagine someone burst in by accident, wouldn't he be embarrassed? Or not?

"Ughh you're so annoying mn, imma just" his eyes are still closed, while he pulls out his towel, and throws it beside him. Spring free his long length, all sweaty with his uncut.

Your mouth dropped open, stunned at what you have just witnessed. This dude is a definition of brave for real. The urge to fire back at him stopped, you know that no matter what you say, he won't listen to you anyway. Let him be.

You take a deep heavy sigh before minding your own business. His being naked is not the first time you've seen it, countless times on record, however, acts like he's at home in this place, giving you a second hand embarrassed, anxious that someone could break in, and misunderstood.

"Can you just not for a day? What if someone comes in?" You said, slightly mad at him for his behaviors, he acts like he is a child.

"Ijbol who cares? Maybe I'd left them impressed with my big dick here" He smirked, teasing you was one of his joy to see your priceless reaction. He then stroked slowly on his length in a playful manner, pushing you to the edge.

A flashed red blush spreads across your face, even though you get used to it, his size always turning you on, clicking your button every time. You act as if you don't care, so he'll stop giving you a hard time.

Nevertheless, as he continues to play with his crotch, you feel your member poking under the towel, begging to set them free. The aroused feels growing on you a little by a little until it's fully hard.

You don't have anything to cover it up, in this steam sauna room, your leg could be used for some help. You cross your leg hoping that, he wouldn't notice your dick although his hawk eyes are already piercing your towel.

"Did I turn you on mn? My apologies if I give you a hard dick" his cocky face after he say that, irritated you so much. This is all his fault.

"Shut up you duck" you reply, as you try your best to not let your member leak. This towel is so short, barely covers your ass up, which makes your temperature even worse mixed with horny.

The moment of silence, suddenly filled with wet noises. Riki is now holding on to his dick, jerking off, chasing for his pleasure. Biting on his towel, moving his palm in a fast pace.

A gasp escapes his mouth, as he maintains the speed on his fingertips. You stay frozen, cherish the moment, and behold the sight.

In a few more strokes, his glans are dripping with his pre-cum, showering his shift in transparent wet sticky pieces of stuff. Despite not reaching his goal yet, he increases the tempo, running his fingers rapidly.

Leaving him more breathless, heaving his chest in unstable motions. Gritting his teeth tight on his towel, bites back his moans painfully.

Soon enough, he splashed out the wet cum all over his thighs. Arching his back in ecstasy, shooting out the mess on the spot he is sitting on.

"S~ee You gotta take not from me, cumming in a steam sauna lol" He uttered in an exhausted voice, worn out from the sensation of masturbated.

You didn't realize that your dick also dripping in pre-cum.

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ small update ~

🗣️ Don't by shy, request me 😔 I still need idea for Sunoo one 🫣

[beautification-tales]

The Bunny

A caption Tale

Barbara was smiling as took photos in her bunny costume. “Do you think the kids will like these photos Luke?” She asked her friend and photographer. He looked at her through the camera lens and nodded with a grin. “They're going to love them. You're a natural with those rabbit ears!”

Barbara smiled knowing that her first grade students would get a kick from seeing their teacher dressed as a bunny for Easter. Luke continued to snap photos completely bored. He agreed so quickly when Barbara asked for his assistance with taking photos. He honestly thought Barbara was flirting with him when she said. “I bought a new costume and I need you to take pictures.”

But here he was, lying on the floor with a camera pointed at Barbara, who was frolicking around with the same enthusiasm as a kid in a candy store. He couldn’t help but feel like he was in a sitcom episode. He quickly closed his eyes and imagined her in a different kind of bunny costume.

“Alright, let’s try some action shots!” Barbara exclaimed, hopping towards him. Luke snapped away, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand. Luke aimed his camera as he felt his dreams shoot at her. The flash was like a strobe light in a disco,

capturing Barbara’s laughter and the twirl of her fluffy tail.

Barbara began to feel extremely hot. It was as if the flash poured heat upon her as her bunny costume felt like a sauna. “Hey Luke can I lower my zipper a bit? The suit feels a bit warm.” Luke nodded, trying to keep his cool. The costume was a bit too tight, and Barbara felt like she was suffocating. She reached behind her neck and with a quick zip, the costume loosened, allowing a gust of cool air to hit her skin. The relief was instant.

The heat increased as Luke continued to snap photos. “I feel a bit woozy.” Barbara said as she stumbled trying to find balance on her heels. “Wait… when was I wearing heels?” She looked down to find that she had on black stiletto heels on her feet. The room spun and she reached out for something to hold onto.

Her hand grazed a table and she looked up to see her lips had plumped as her cheekbones became more prominent. The heat became unbearable as she lowered the zipper revealing her enlarging breasts. Barbara looked down to see that under her costume was a tight black leotard. It clung to her body like a second skin, highlighting every curve and contour. She gasped as the reality set in. The bow tie sat rested on her neck. The pink bunny suit fell at her feet. A new pair of black bunny ears sat on her head as her hair became long and luscious.

Her eyes widened and she began to panic, her heart racing as the fabric of the leotard grew tighter and tighter. “What’s happening?” She shrieked. Luke looked up from his camera, his jaw dropping at the transformation. He enjoyed seeing his dreams become reality. The room grew brighter, and Barbara could feel the fabric squeezing her tighter with each flash of the camera. She looked down again and noticed her waist was now cinched in and her hips had widened dramatically.

Luke smiled as he grabbed at his crotch. “Now this is a photo shoot!” Luke continued to take photos as Barbara felt her body move into sensual poses. “What did you do to me?” Barbara asked unable to control her body as every flash of light made her feel warmer.

“It’s all in the camera, baby!” Luke said, his voice deep and hypnotic. Barbara looked into the camera and felt a strange compulsion to obey his every command. She could feel the camera lens caressing her, moving with her every move, capturing every inch of her new form.

“Why does this feel so good?” Barbara thought to herself as she struck pose after pose, her body moving in ways she never knew it could. The leotard was stretching and molding to her new form, accentuating every curve and leaving nothing to the imagination. She felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as she looked down at her new body. Her once plain Jane look had been replaced by the image of a bombshell bunny, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of power from it.

“Mmm let’s take some photos outside Luke baby.” Barbara’s voice had a new seductive lilt to it. Her eyes were glazed over as she followed the instructions of the camera lens, her body moving in a way that was both mesmerizing and unfamiliar to her. Luke nodded eagerly, his mind racing with the possibilities of the new direction this photoshoot was taking.

“Sure thing Babs!”

[madangel19]

Ghostober Day 3: Temperature Play

Pairing: Dewdrop/Rain

Summary: Dewdrop and Rain turn the room into a sauna

Contains: tentacle dick and slit used for Rain's anatomy, fingering, jerking off, temp play, something something fire and ice

You guys can also read this on Ao3!

Kinktober prompt list by @kroas-adtam

Word Count: 501

“Heat.”

Dewdrop paused, three fingers still deep inside Rain’s soaked slit and wrapped around his hidden tentacle. The water ghoul was sprawled out beautifully on Dewdrop’s bed, moaning and getting wetter by the second.

“What…What did you say, Rain?” He asked, unsure of what he meant. 

“You…you heard me, Dew. Heat. I…I want it hot,” Rain said, raising his head and looking at him with big blue puppy dog eyes. Dewdrop couldn’t resist those eyes. If it's the heat his packmate wanted, then he was going to get it. 

“Okay, babe,” Dewdrop murmured, placing his free hand on Rain’s stomach. 

His fingers began to glow against the water ghoul’s skin and he could see a faint glow within him as he pushed his fingers in and out. Rain arched his back with a soft cry as steam rose from his stomach and out of his slit. His slick tentacle slowly slid out and Dewdrop wrapped his fingers around it, jerking it off with hot fingers. It still felt cool under his touch and the more he played with it, the wetter and slimier it got.

“That good?” Dewdrop asked, eager to give him a good fucking.

“So good,” Rain moaned, wrapping his legs around his middle and bringing him closer. He grabbed his arms, his fingers cold as ice now. Upon contact with his arms, steam hissed from both of their bodies, filling the room.

“Hotter. Make me hotter, droplet,” Rain begged. Dewdrop could only see his piercing blue eyes staring at him hungrily in the steam. It wasn’t often that they fucked like this since it made everything uncomfortably humid after they were done, but Dewdrop didn’t fucking care. It made everything feel so much better.

“Hold tight,” Dewdrop grumbled before pushing himself deep into Rain’s soaked slit. 

The water ghoul was so cold and so wonderfully wet. The more he fucked him, the more the room turned into a damn sauna. Rain let out a scream as he held him close, his webbed claws digging into his back and sending icy shockwaves down his spine. The air was thick with steam, making both Dewdrop and Rain all the more sticky and breathless and desperate for each other until they ended up tangled together in the damp and musty sheets.

“Cleaning this up is gonna be a bitch,” Dewdrop grumbled, running a warm finger along Rain’s shoulder, leaving a trail of sweat behind. 

“It is,” Rain giggled, cuddling closer to Dewdrop. The coolness of body always calmed him down after such a heated session. 

Dewdrop looked around the room and cursed softly as the steam cleared. Some of the posters on his wall had fallen and the plants that Mountain had gifted him had wilted. He wanted to be annoyed, but he could just get new posters and Mountain could easily nurse those plants back to health.

“You wanna do it again?” Rain asked, cool fingers trailing down Dewdrop’s stomach and getting ever so closer to his slick cock.

“Absolutely.”

[sayoneee]

☆ HEATWAVES

it's the middle of summer and everything's so hot, but bachira decides it's his chance to sneak into your room (1k)

contains: bachira meguru x fem! reader. possibly ooc bachira (first time writing for him). no mentions of blue lock. ambiguous relationship. not proofread

kashaf’s note: this is very very very indulgent.

“MEGURU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” you asked, swiftly sitting up from your sprawled position on your bed, your phone forgotten and abandoned on your sheets as a random tiktok audio looped in the background. propping yourself up against one of the pillows tossed haphazardly across your bed, you watched with a mixture of amusement as he stepped into your room, with a care that he usually lacked, kicking off his converse in the corner and closing your window behind him with a soft click. 

the summer heat had turned your room into an inferno, and you felt as if you were in your own personal circle of hell. the stifling heat clung to your skin, heavy and suffocating, like an unwanted embrace. beads of sweat had formed on your skin, and your hair stuck to your forehead in damp tendrils, despite the air conditioning being on full blast for the past hour. 

bachira grinned, filled with a promise of cool relief, eyes lighting up as they locked on you, a man who had stumbled upon an oasis in the desert, “i missed you?” he offered, running a hand through his hair. 

you rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest, a  mockingly reserved posture, thinly veiling your shared enthusiasm at the sight of him, “more like you missed my ac.”

stepping closer, bachira wiped at the sweat glistening to his forehead, grin still in place, “i heard through the grapevine that your room was cold.” the reference to that one south park episode you had watched the first time you had been over at his house causes a carousel of memories—of his cold hands and shy smile in the dark of his room—to float to the forefront of your mind. 

an exasperated groan escaped your lips, accompanied by a melodramatic flop backward onto your bed, “it’s literally a sauna in here, and i can’t even open the window, only hot air will come in,” you paused, “what’s your excuse for being here?”

“decided to brave the heatwave, babe,” he winked, taking a seat on the chair positioned in front of your bed. 

“how aren’t you feeling hot right now—do you ever feel hot?” you twisted onto your side, looking at him critically as he played with the old teddy bear he had won for you set on your desk. 

“only when i’m around you, baby,” bachira grins, proud of himself for drawing out a smile from you at the cringey line. 

“you’re literally impossible,” you smiled, playing with the edges of the blanket folded at the end of your bed. 

bachira’s retort is delivered with confidence, his self-assured grin never wavering, “you love me though.”

choosing not to provide him with the satisfaction of a direct answer, you grabbed a pillow from your side and sent it sailing toward him, a playful non-answer. bachira retaliated with equal enthusiasm, and before you knew it, the two of you were immersed in an intense pillow fight. laughter bubbled forth with each pillow thrown, the tension of the stifling heat momentarily forgotten.

out of nowhere, bachira launched himself at you, his weight toppling you backward onto the mattress. his breath ghosted warmly against your ear, the proximity sending shivers down your spine, "c’mon, pretty, tell me you missed me too."

amid the laughter and mock struggles, your response tumbled out, a concession laced with mirth, "maybe a little." your resistance waned as he pinned your hands above your head, your defeated state bringing an end to the wrestling, "meguru, you're actually gonna get me in trouble."

his laughter enveloped the room, a sound almost as familiar as the call of your own name, “getting into trouble can’t be that bad.”

you met his gaze, unimpressed by his nonchalance, your tone borderline childish, “i won’t be able to see you for like ever.”

“okay, nevermind, it is that bad,” bachira conceded, smiling. his eyes lit up, a tell-tale sign of when he had another bright idea; almost on a separate plane of thought entirely, he suggested, “let’s go to the roof.’

you raised your eyebrows at him, regarding his expression skeptically, “will you be quieter on the roof—so we don’t get caught?”

ignoring your question, bachira grinned, his fingers brushing away the damp strands of hair clinging to your forehead. in a quick moment, he surged to his feet, suddenly standing up and extending his hand toward you, “c’mon, last one there has to give the winner whatever they want.”

used to bachira’s antics, a competitive spark ignited within you, and a grin tugs at your lips, “you’re so on.” wasting no time, with unyielding determination, you shoved past his outstretched hand and propelled yourself out your window. 

bachira was quick to follow, overtaking you with ease, his movements marked by a fluidity only years of soccer training could develop, giving him an edge over you. his laughter followed you, and when in one moment you were in the lead, in the next, you found yourself trying futilely to catch up to him. 

upon joining him on the rooftop, bachira immediately drew you into his side, an arm encircling your shoulder as the cool night breeze danced around you. “i won,” he declared, a triumphant grin illuminating his features endearingly. it’s hard not to smile back, not when he’s looking at you like that. you burrowed closer into his side as he decided on his prize. 

you didn’t have to wait long, however, as he suddenly leaned closer, the mischievous glint dancing in his eyes reminding you of fireflies and your shared childhood, he demanded, “i want a kiss.”

bachira closed his eyes, waiting for you to make your move, and you, gathering your courage—embarrassed at his ability to make you concede so easily—swiftly pressed your lips to his cheek in a fleeting caress, the moment disappearing as quick as it had occurred. 

he opened his eyes, grin still intact, “not what i meant, pretty, but i’ll take it.”

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, translate, plagiarize or claim any of my works as your own.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 21

word count: 966

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

May 17, 1989

Dear Will,

Today started out pretty rough, since one of my tires on my bike popped when I was halfway to your house. And given how quickly Hawkins has become a fucking sauna over the past few weeks (thanks, rural midwest), it was not a blast to push my bike the rest of the way on foot. Again, I could have taken my car to begin with, but I think in some way shape or form, we crave that element of our childhoods, riding bikes through the neighborhood like old times. Plus, Lucas and I are the only ones who have cars right now, so majority rules. Anyway, I still wound up at your house about half an hour early, and we spent that time trying to figure out how to patch up and refill my tire. No dice, unfortunately. But our hands brushed a few times, so it wasn’t too inconvenient.

Jonathan ended up coming into the garage at one point to grab a few tools (he’s been helping Hop out with some home projects, like a new shelving unit for your living room and a deck out back— but you already know that, why am I going on about this?) and suggested I just share your bike with you. You laughed so loudly that I thought I was gonna puke. I forced my anxiety back down and reminded Jon of how tall I am (last time I went to the doctor they said I was 6’3”– no, I’m not kidding), and he insisted that I, “just try and sit on the handlebars, or something.” I thought the idea was insane, but you seemed to be pretty entertained by it, so I shook my head with slight embarrassment before I motioned for you to mount the bike.

You swung your leg over the bar and rested your feet on either side, a huge grin on your face. “Do your worst, Wheeler,” you told me. I was so tempted to dramatically fling myself over the handlebars like a ragdoll, but then again, I didn’t feel like throwing out my back at the ripe age of eighteen. I turned so my back faced you, reached behind me to grip the handlebars, and hoisted myself up as best as I could, while you reached a hand out to hold my side and keep me steady. I must’ve looked like a fucking praying mantis or some shit, with my knees almost hitting my chin because of how I was balancing my toes on the front fender, but I didn’t care, because your reaction was fucking priceless. You were hysterically laughing, and I couldn’t help but begin to laugh as well.

Before I knew what was happening, Jonathan had disappeared and come back within record speed, and a bright flash hit my eyes as he clicked the button on his camera. I glanced back at you, and thankfully, you didn’t look fazed at all. In fact, you said to Jonathan, “please tell me I’ll get a copy of that,” while catching your breath from laughing so hard.

After that whole debacle, we actually tried riding the bike with me in front, but you couldn’t really see on account of the top of your head barely reaching my shoulders. So we eventually gave up on trying and just walked to Dustin’s to meet the rest of the Party, since his house isn’t too far away from yours, and Jon was still busy with his project and couldn’t drive us. Which I was totally fine with, because… duh, time alone with you is time well spent. We played D&D, and I kind of got a little too invested in your campaign. I think I just love seeing you so happy. I don’t think I could ever get tired of watching you in your element.

Once the session ended, Lucas gave us a ride home (I love how I just referred to your house as my home, I might’ve gotten a little emotional just now while writing it). We walked into your living room and saw Jonathan sitting on the couch with a bunch of photos spread out across the surface of the coffee table. Apparently, he’d gone and processed all of his films at Melvald’s while we were at Dustin’s; there were two copies of the photo he’d taken earlier.

He gave me one before asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. As much as I would’ve loved to, I actually did need to take care of Holly tonight, since our parents are in Ohio right now at some conference for my dad’s job. You offered to drive me back to my house, and I tried not to look too excited as I said yes.

Once we arrived in my driveway, I leaned over the center console and hugged you, telling you I had a great time with you today. You hugged me back (you hadn’t for the first few seconds and I nearly had a panic attack) and said you had a great time with me too. I went inside, holding the freshly printed photo of us in my hand.

So… I might have framed it. I know, it’s weird and frankly kind of stalker-y, but… deal with it. You’ll never actually know about this anyway. Not unless I leave the frame sitting in plain sight when you come into my room, or if I recklessly forget to hide these letters detailing where exactly my copy of the photo went, as well as the countless times I’ve talked about wanting to kiss you. For now, I’m keeping it under my pillow. 

Okay, I’m gonna stop writing now in order to stop myself from sounding like even more of a creep than I already am.

Love,

Mike

-

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[yourtypicalfangirl23]

Youth.

 and watching the three of them felt like, the cheap, corner-store shop picture frames expanded into real life. From the stale walls of his bedroom to the reds and oranges of an early autumn sunset where the screams of cicadas echoed through the gold-painted, tar highways. It was desolate, the countryside was dying, and no one except their shadows and them were present. 

In his eyes.

Two boys, one girl. Three of them. The end of summer, he recalled, always brought upon a gut-wrenching dread.

It was always two boys, one girl. Three of them. end of summer.

Always the three of them, when they were too young to be heroes, still ridding the innocence of their adolescence, learning life, finding themselves. Tugging at their uniforms, one button always abandoned, shirt untucked in some parts. Far more comfortable in band shirts and ripped jeans, a zip-up hoodie always unzipped, sweats, always the sweats. Instead of the tightly fitted armor of jujitsu high, too young to be in soldiers' uniforms.

Uncleaned chalkboards, wooden floors, and large paneled windows where the curtain slowly drifted with the summer winds. Three chairs, three desks, and space. Barracks disguised as classrooms. It was always, almost normal. Always, almost kids in high school- until they see the phantom red on their hands, on each other. Until they're afraid of death, until they question if their friends will come back.

High school kids shouldn't worry about carrying their friends' corpses back, shouldn't be worrying about the infinite space that will be left from a desk taken away, two would be an awful number.

Sometimes though, when the skies were especially clear, the sun blinding enough that the classrooms felt like saunas and they had no choice but to take their lessons outside, it truly did feel like high school. On the grass, below a mighty tree, ancient with thick roots, winding with mossy branches, and rings of bark carrying the passage of time, they would laugh, too warm to sit still, too warm to listen.

The tree still stands there, to this day, though mightier in size. It holds now, his dearest memories and a neverending ache, as his eyes linger on the the three of them.

“Your eyes remind me of the sky,” he said. 

Flat on his back, his head to the side, his eyes showed galaxies as they bore through his own. Two hands behind his head, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as if he had forgotten the blood that was smeared on his hands just yesterday.

“They aren’t though, Suguru” he had said back.

Suguru. Suguru was the boy who had constellations in the creases of his irises, eyelashes saturated with stars, and long, long hair, silky strands that looked like ink from the poems in kanji, he had read as a child. 

Suguru looked back at him. He was beautiful, so very beautiful. Suguru had called his eyes the heavens, the seven seas, the world, and at some point his home. 

His eyes were a source of power and hierarchy. His eyes brought fear, he had been born with these eyes as a man, never a boy, never a child. A soldier through-and-through, a born weapon for jujitsu society, the name of the Gojo clan. His eyes were for humanity, as a hero, as a savior, and as a god. His eyes brought him a military routine, always a house, never a home. He had no parents, he belonged to no one but humanity and jujitsu society. His eyes were treacherous storms and lashes of waves, raging tsunamis. 

But this boy with the soft voice and planetary systems as eyes had called him his. With Suguru, he would be Satarou, a boy in high school, with eyes that looked like a clear summer’s sky. They would be Suguru and Satarou doing whatever high schoolers would do.

A scoff from Satarous’ side broke the trance and Suguru looked back. 

Shoko huffs out a soft chuckle, an unsmoked cigarette hanging from her smirking lips. Her eyes had deep bags under them but they still managed to sparkle as she rolled her eyes at them. One hand under her splayed brown hair, the other fiddling in her pockets certainly reaching for a lighter. After a few moments of rustling and-

“Honestly it's sexist, we can’t wear normal fucking pants with normal fucking pockets, fucking skirts”

She lit her cigarette with one hand, her other, now removed from under her head had reached out to Suguru to offer him one, and as always he would hesitate, and then after a second, the roll would easily slip away from her slim fingers to his. Shoko had tried with Satarou but he was never as easy as Suguru, he could still remember the days when Suguru would snatch the roll away from her lips and offer her a strawberry Chup Chups instead. She had scowled at him but never complained. When days were easy, no caskets and no disappearing friends. Before, their eyes looked darker, before the eyebags, before. Before he took cigarettes so easily. 

It would be the three of them then, on the ground, splayed out on the grass until the sky turned golden, the occasional breeze, drifting leaves down on them, the smell of tobacco thick in the air, and laughter. Fits of laughter, uncontrollable and untameable, wheezing and breathless. Until all three of them would be coughing, Shoko clutching her stomach and Suguru on his side, laughter echoing through the desolate land that was Jujitsu high, and Satarou in the middle, smiling the biggest he’s ever smiled. Brimming happiness at a place that was so riddled with blood and tragedy. 

They would be messy and noisy as teenagers would be, tangled up together, talking shit about teachers, cursing and complaining. Talking about unresolved crushes as their cheeks bloomed with a rosy blush, kicking their feet and twirling their hair or whatever people in love do. Gossiping about the parties they have and haven't been to, talking about that new cafe that opened downtown or that new clothing shop, the one that's biased about their sizes, they don’t even sell the right color nail polish, black, because they had a personal style under these uniforms they were trapped in. 

When they had nothing else to talk about (finally)  and the laughter had died down to comforting silences and content sighs with heads on shoulders, fingers intertwined, legs overlapping each others’, eyes slowly beginning to close after a lazy summer's day.

“Up, you dickheads” 

Shoko would drag them up, a lazy smile on her face and two outstretched hands, the sky had passed its golden hour and a light purple welcomed dusk. Their cigarettes were finished now, on the grass, giving out the last of its smoke, the lights from the windows were just starting to flicker on, and the three of them would escape, leaving the formidable fortresses of jujitsu high. Leaving the echoes of bloodshed and death into a normal life, just for a second, where they would pretend to have calculus and The Great Gatsby as the biggest worries in life.  

The street lamps lit the sidewalk, a few moths dancing along its light, where one lamp, as they proceeded along the path, would never function, it never had. An occasional rumble from an old car or a noisy neighborhood kid with a bicycle would break the silence. Shoko and Satarou would skip, hands held together like preschoolers while Suguru trudged along them, complaining with a smile on his lips. They would take the first right and walk by the few abandoned appliance stores, local grocery stores, and the house with the odd chimney and even weirder garden gnomes. They would pass by the small store that rented all sorts of manga, which would be surely closed by now but still had a myriad of fairy lights at the entrance that looked quite like fireflies this late and into a nook, the only store open this late, at the outskirts of Tokyo, up on the mountains, a lone corner store which sold everything from cigarettes to the most outrageous sodas. Where an old man, as fragile as china, looking as if he would crumble at a mere touch sat on a dainty, rickety, wooden chair. Every single time. He would smile expectedly, never speaking a word, as Shoko brought the cheapest cans of beer to the counter and would wave goodbye every time they left, without fail.

Who knew that such an old face could muster up that bright of a smile?

The three of them would locate the too-small bench at the back of the store, where there would be a mess of weeds and moss, an unkept backyard. They would manage to squeeze together, Shoko in the middle, and put their feet on the circular, metallic, rather rusty, rather large table in front of them. It was too warm for that but they didn’t care as they passed along the cans of beer, awfully bitter and terrible to the taste but good enough for their high school taste buds, until they were all completed and only the metallic cans were left rustling on the ground. 

If they were drunk enough Shoko would slowly take off her hair clips and toss them on the metallic table which would land with a loud clang, normally waking Satarou from his drunken daze. Then she would lay her head on either of their shoulders and for a good old while, the three of them would lie there until Suguru would slowly coax the both of them from their slumber into the long way back. 

And the times when even alcohol couldn’t lay their minds to rest, squeezed upon the bench, Suguru would bring out his collection of nail polish or Shoko would pull out a small speaker. They would paint their nails and listen to whatever indie music Shoko was into and they would stall because they were still too sober, even after the ten or so cans of beer passed along them.

Either way, they would always end up in Satarou’s room, on his bed, or on the floor, all three of them close together, sticky with sweat and alcohol, still in their uniforms, now horribly disheveled, hair sticking out from all places, soft limbs, looking like a bunch of troubled teenagers, like they should have been.  

That would be their summer, their youth. 

At present, the area around them has grown quite a lot, changed just like they had. More appliance stores, more grocery stores, though the house had gone now, replaced with a small cozy apartment building, the lamps all functioned, no manga store, that too had been replaced with a modern tourist office. The one thing that did remain though was that lone corner shop, the old man he heard, had died a few years back. 

But the store remained where it stood, nothing had changed about it. 

Youth, he recalled .

Youth.

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 40: Ship in a Bottle

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: If she dreams of the ocean, might as well start being her own captain.

Author's Note: The song for this chapter is Ship in a Bottle by Fin Argus. This chapter has also been long anticipated by many readers in the mood for something a bit more...godly. ;)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But nothing can touch your happy thoughts anymore

With your glass ceiling, walls, and floor

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The steam of a sauna thickens and fades. Before the dead girl knows it, the clouds have swallowed up the inn...and dispersed.

The slightest bit of mist left from the strange, humid weeks is lingering on the ground, and as she looks out the window of her home, feeling distantly a throb on her healing thigh, she swears she can see it disappear before her very eyes.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Once again, like when she got the piano, rain falls and begins to clear the air, bring more distance in how far out you can look. What notes does she hear? The tune keeps changing whether it’s hopeful or sad. But no matter how conflicted, as the blue outside reflects into her eyes and shows raindrops slip down in shadows upon her face...the song is, without question, both somber and strong. That much she is sure of. Especially since that’s how she feels now.

One by one, the pairs of Akatsuki have their alone time with the girl watching through the window, waiting for the sight of the final two. She nearly wishes she had never met them before. It’d be easier, imagining whatever she wants. But she knows them. And they know her.

How much they know is the scariest thing of all.

And so she stares through rain-polished glass, even when it was made clear, beyond shadow of a doubt, that they will not arrive until she is well and truly alone.

Hidan and Kakuzu, of course, are first.

“Don’t let them intimidate you, girlie,” Hidan both encourages and pleads, taking her chin to redirect it from looking so fucking sad into the horizon past the trees. A flicker of a smile widens, and though it fades, it doesn’t completely disappear; he’s merely catching a bit of her steeled attitude. “Who’s strong?”

...A second passes and she blinks. “Me?”

And he grins to show teeth, kissing her forehead as a reward. For such a violent man, even as he crashes into her on purpose, he’s bad at pretending to be reckless; it’s as delicate as can be. He's still getting used to this.

“Keep your head,” a deeper voice rephrases, rough yet soft, right above her scalp. Hidan’s touch easens up to allow the disciple to tilt her chin straight up, looking upside down and backwards at a cautioned old man who folds his arms. “Be smart." A slight pinch of his brow, underneath the slash upon metal. "...Just like always.”

Kakuzu allows time for her to nod, a harrumph in his chest before he holds the side of her face and bends down, pressing covered lips upon the same place Hidan’s were a second ago. It makes the priest snort, narrow his eyes.

“Fuckin’ copycat. Get your own thing.”

Gemstones, green upon red, glitter with the rainfall at Hidan as Kakuzu’s cloaked head lifts up. “I quite like it this way,” he grumbles, halfway between a joke and a threat. The grim reaper makes a “tsk” sound and rolls his shoulders.

“As long as you get no one’s better at it than me.”

Her slight, small giggle is enough to tell them they both did just fine. The two men exhale, one loudly and one low, as it becomes clear they’re just lengthening the inevitable.

“You’ll be fine!” Hidan assures, perhaps more for himself than for her as he drawls out the last word. “Like what Kakuzu said! Be smart! All there is to it.”

The slightest eye roll in Kakuzu’s sockets at that, the indignant nature of something rather grim and serious, potentially. “Takara…” he murmurs, leaning down to whisper through his mask and into her ear. There’s one final piece of advice he has to give:

“They don’t know. We didn’t tell them.”

With that, the two zombies linger away, one walking backwards out the door with a lopsided smirk on his face and a sharpness in his eyes. The other, taller man turns his head and stops just before following the shorter one out. A lingering stare that feels minutes long...and he sighs one last time. Silly little nuances, relationships have.

He tugs down his mask to show her what she already knew: that he is smiling.

And they’re gone.

Unlike the first time they left, they embrace fear with a different kind of strength than before. They are not afraid to give her their joy. She will make it. It will be okay, and they will come back to her in the end.

…

But as their shadows down the hallway disappear...the corners of her mouth drop. A phrase repeats in her head, one that Kakuzu ironically said to bring her relief:

We didn’t tell them.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sailing on a ship in a bottle

Anchor all your thoughts to the bottom

Pulling ropes and pulling your head back

To see what is breaking the foremast

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She’s leaning sideways against the panel of the window, trying to hear the reverberations of the rain as it hits the siding of her haunted house, when Itachi and Kisame walk in. Just like the first time they met, she sees Kisame first, so very tall it makes the rest of the world scale down into a dollhouse, the way he has to duck under the doorway. The giant shows his teeth in what’s supposed to be a grin, but it looks more like a grimace, and somehow eyes so small can hold and display a lot more than others’ usually can. There's a glossy veneer about them, one that makes her want to pull him down into her arms. Kinder...gentler...than she could ever be. That's what the swordsman deserves for all he's been and done.

Kisame's stance laxes soon as one fish spots the other in the pond, and his arm lets go of the door’s siding, finally allowing space for a view of Uchiha Itachi just behind and beside. There’s a weariness about him, one deeper than usual, as he contemplates what he should or should not regret, what it means to use his eyes for someone besides himself. He is the bearer of her dreams, despite her bidding he keep his eyes far away mere weeks before she coaxed them right back.

“Miss Takara,” he greets, if only to break the ice, get words in the air. Somehow the way the magician sounds makes her heart ache even more, the awareness of how fickle a woman's desires are. His long, dark lashes blink, slowly as to shake off the spell of the sandman. “Are you well?”

Is she well?

A stab wound in her leg, nightmares in her head, and horsemen of the apocalypse arriving at her door, the answer is pretty obvious. “Yeah,” she says, and only someone who knows her can tell that despite saying it so soft, she is not being meek. It gives the two men relief.

“Good,” Kisame sighs, stopping an anxious grip on Samehada’s hilt that he didn’t realize he had. He’s somehow gentle even in the way he walks, though the way the floorboards creak still betray what a big monster he is. She doesn't care, of course not! ...But he does. The biggest beast of them all...slowly...trods...up...until the knight is so close that if he really wanted, he could open his cloak and swallow her up, shield from the entire world and everyone in it. He wants to.

He wants to.

But he can't. Sheepishly, his smile widens, gums peeking from the corner of his mouth. Is she ready for this? It only feels like yesterday that everything went to shit. Last time he was gone, the worst possible thing happened. And now he's being asked to leave again?

If it wasn’t the leader himself ordering it, he’d tell them to go fuck themselves.

Kisame is so lost in thought he didn't notice something shift, only grunting in surprise once he feels Itachi brush past his side. Before his very eyes, an event both terrible and marvelous happens next:

So delicately yet with no hesitation...the dark-haired man puts his arms around the woman. His fingers latch as palms rest on her shoulder, his cheek rests upon her head. He's so...loose. Like she's his bed standing up, a tree in the forest to rest his weary spine from travel, more and more of his weight pressing down and into her. Selfish, he knows. Someone such as he should never have to ask for this. And in the same gradual, dawning way as these movements...the woman eventually realizes what he’s doing.

It’s hard to be an Uchiha. It’s hard to be strong. It’s hard to ask to be held. And so she does it, no explanation necessary. Sometimes you’re just small, you’re worried, the little kid inside you opens their mouth and starts to cry in pain. No matter how nonsensical...no matter how collected you’re supposed to be…

...We all need a break from being the strong one, sometimes.

Kisame has never, not once in all their years side by side...seen Itachi ask for a hug before. Has he missed it? Was it always this subtle...? Memories flash in the days of travel where he leaned against his side, nights where as Kisame tried to sleep he'd feel a stare on him. Just tired...just pensive...that's what Kisame always thought. How can a man think so much yet so little?

With a racing heart, he swallows any words usually reserved for teasing, the parries he loves to pass to Itachi to get him to respond, react, show emotion. It isn’t needed. There it is... There it is.

Slowly, like moons raising off the ground...the woman that holds the Land of Fire's deadliest man to her chest now looks to her dutiful and obedient steward.

And something mutual is suddenly so very seen. She aches, yet she soothes; she yearns, yet she invites. He blinks, simultaneously so guilty yet so...unburdened. The explanation is simple as she releases one hand and curls her fingers towards him, tips kicking in the air like they're swimming to find his body. Just like in the cave...she takes his wrist and begs him to come close.

If she and Itachi are allowed to feel small...so does he.

That's all he needs.

An exhale and Kisame lets go, places down his facade of control and manners overcoming barbarian strength. It is delicately set upon the ground to be picked up again later, like putting on your shoes or pulling on a coat. They’re inside, right now, and at least for a moment...they’re together. The rain against glass is enough noise to soothe his pounding heart.

He puts his arms around the biggest pieces that make the puzzle that is his life...and as they both move their fingers to hold him back...he briefly feels safe. His princess smells like daffodils, golden as honey and just as sweet. To Itachi, his dreamer carries the spirit of roses, both dead as the ones outside at the bottom of browning bushes and living as the one frozen inside her broach. To her, she's surrounded by the scent of smoky fire and a coming hurricane upon the wind. The elements surround her, protect her, and she in turn protects them...however little she can.

The woman makes sure to etch this feeling onto her heart for when she needs it most.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There are red spots under your eyes

From when you cry into the sky

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rain’s been going on for so long now that it sounds less like rain and more like talking. News...business...gossip. Every whisper of lips made in this universe keeps their secret in a raindrop. It hits the earth in a "plink" and soaks into the dirt, never to be heard again. That's why there's so many of them. People want to make sure their truth doesn't go down without a fight. Prayers...and curses...and songs.

Lady's probably going a bit nutty, thinking something as elaborate as that out of thin air, she concludes.

She’s pulled a chair up to face the window, slumping forward in a way that will surely kill her back later. But she can’t bring herself to stop, to lay down, to leave this place. Goddammit. She keeps her vigil, if only for her own sake, shoulders hunched forward with forearms dangling between stretched legs, pillowed— at least— by the fabric of her skirt.

“Such posture,” a quiet voice says, “...Ill suits you.”

Sasori on the left side. And then:

“Who are you to define such a thing?” a louder one audibly smirks. “I think there’s something quite artistic about subverting expectations.”

...Deidara on the right. The day has gotten long, and it’s a bit more orange outside, drifting sunlight sinking into blue clouds so both colors line the artist’s faces. She glances between them with eyes alone, one side to the other, and she decides something about how they look…

...But perhaps shinobi don’t like being accused of kindness, so she says it of herself first:

“I’m going to miss you both...being here. I wish you didn’t have to go. It’d be...easier if you didn’t.”

And how right her assumption is. Deidara swallows, his smile becoming firmer, and Sasori’s lids pop up like you bent backwards a baby doll. Even this may have been too much...even the mere acknowledgment that she, too, is worried. Sasori recomposes first.

“Certainly it’d be,” he returns, as always so factual and sharp with a voice both dulcet and cold. “But so long as there’s no choice in the matter...well…”

The tiniest click that she almost misses as his eyes hood again, more like his usual self, as the scorpion’s skin absorbs and reflects light in a different way than the skin on her arm or that on Deidara’s cheek.

“...It can be withstood.” The closest he can get to assure, miraculously with no backhanded insult or bitter words. She’s walking a tightrope, talking to him with her heart, and she’s doing marvelously.

“More than withstood,” Deidara adds, as always needing to one up and make the themes of the moment readable, appreciated. He shrugs, and the relaxed nature of his gaze is more seen than the makeup that attempts to obfuscate it, make it bold. “You’ll meet the leader…” the sculptor explains, allowing what is between words to give her a plan. “You’ll see what he wants...and then we return. Simple...un.” A quick, one-eyed blink of his immaculately lined blue. “And then we can see what to make of it.”

...And that’s more than what she expected, really. It makes her perk up, straighten her back and put her hands on her lap to better evaluate Deidara’s intent, his expression. Cool, cool as ever...yet he runs so hot underneath. He isn’t so far from Tobi in that he very much tries to appear a certain way, but...she glimpses it.

He wants to help her get through this...if only so they can see where this is all leading to. And it’s possible to do things for selfish reasons...and still be kind.

Before she can say— do anything in return— a huff is heard behind her turned head.

“See?�� Sasori observes, laying out the truth for his naive partner to see. “My dress falls better on her figure when the girl keeps her posture.”

“Ha! So you admit you can design something with flaws...un?”

And despite herself, despite the petty nature of these arguments...she really, really will miss this. A thumb and index finger go to the broach clasped at her neck, remembering that pink glass was once over her eyes and how everything stays, even if not in the way you expect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ocean waters rising above your neck

You feel the glass start to crack

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even when she’s not watching with her eyes, she still can’t manage to leave.

Her back to the wall, curled up underneath the window as the remnants of sunset fall in the shape of four squares at her feet. Pink toes enter her view.

And she doesn’t flinch as much as he expected her to.

“Takara,” her name is said. It’s the darker one...the black side. A blink and her gaze flickers up, meeting two yellow fireflies that glow in the dark. This is her acknowledgment; she does not speak.

No matter what is to come, she is as ready as one can be. No matter what he’s said. No matter what is planned. She can do it.

If only to keep what she has.

And Zetsu, with his white half, frowns. The lid of a complete eye hoods, such great contrast to the circle that never blinks. Here’s the thing:

He knows.

She knows he knows.

And he knows that, too.

So what next? The answer is easy, at least for her: embrace it. All of her is seen, every iota, every emotion, ever relationship and every fear. Can't change it? Okay, then! Life must go on all the same. Part of her is indignant about it, though. It’s one thing to spy on her...but on her friends? Her loved ones? Even if it’s collateral damage...well…

She’s a lot more willing to stand in the way of danger, unflinching, if it’s for someone else instead of herself. Funny thing, bravery is.

So she challenges him, eyes alone that stare so exhaustedly above the knuckles that grip her knees. The light of the window is a boundary between them, laid upon the floor: a barrier, a chess board. All that’s left to wonder...is if he’ll step into it.

Seconds pass. On the cusp of day and night, a man much the same way, one inch at a time, makes his way to a choice. Pale lips part and a gold orb stares.

“I didn’t tell them.”

The only thing that could catch her off guard.

The ghost playing pretend gasps, chin jerking up in abrupt acknowledgement. Though the white half’s mouth is open...it wasn’t him that talked. No, it was unmistakably...the other.

White Zetsu is merely ogling her, in disbelief himself.

Her brow furrows, her bracing for impact broken and leaving raw feelings— a twitch in her eye, a tremble in her hands, a shake in her tongue.

“W—... You...didn’t...?!”

He lets the silence answer that— that and the way his gaze softens even more. Confusion races, racks her brain. If he did see everything...did he change his mind? Why the hell he'd do that...?! Does he pity her? After that big show of violence? After that intense release of love...? Is she pathetic? Is he...afraid?

Zetsu has a secret of his own, but he isn’t about to say it. So with empty answers, the woman swallows fear up and asks one, clear and coherent question:

“What...do you want from me...then?”

…

…

There’s a brief flash upon his face from outside, a lightning strike with a dull, purring grumble of thunder that follows. Slowly...slowly...he smiles. He smiles so calmly...yet she sees no sense of understanding nor peace.

And as he slips out of reality, she begins to wonder if the split man doesn’t even know.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, captain, make up your mind

Before the salt burns your eyes and you run out of time

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Step.

Step.

Step.

Maybe it’s because he’s not a full-fledged member. Maybe it’s because he’s her best friend. Maybe he's just making a big mistake. Either way, a gloved hand holds hers and helps her fade away, out of the twilight and the clouds of a second-story window and into a dark hallway where she will confront her fears. He’s awfully quiet; so is she. Obito begins to realize this feels less like he’s introducing her to new friends and more that she’s being walked down the aisle to her own funeral. Perhaps he was too hasty...

The orange mask turns its black hole to her. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

He whispers it, so she knows he’s being serious, so she can tell he’s not speaking with his mask but through it, underneath. A suck in of air and a rise of her chest, she attempts to find words.

“I don’t…” How does she explain it? There’s so much involved...so much on the line, and it’s all hinging on what’s to come. Worst of all, she isn’t even sure how much she can do, how much of her fate has been predetermined, even before the Akatsuki leader and his celestial entourage packed up and started their journey over so she may kneel at their feet. “I don’t...know what to do,” she says, at first as an excuse but then finding that’s really just it. She has no idea what to do.

Tobi tilts his head. “What do you mean?” They continue to walk for a few more paces, a bite of her bottom lip as she thinks and feels, the murmurs of water more muted in these halls but not gone.

“I don’t know what they want,” she admits, eyes glued to their shoes. “I don’t know why, only now, they’re coming...and…” Her head bows even lower, expression more despondent. “I don’t know how to make them happy with me.”

So that’s it.

He nearly thinks to call her silly...but only his lady from the stars would care so much about being so good.

“Of course they’ll be happy,” the whisper continues, free of persona despite the simplicity, the lightheartedness of the sentence; the next weighs it down. “...Even if they won’t be right away.”

...That’s enough to make her look at him, intrigue and curiosity, the gray nature of life and the “what ifs”...that’s the most convincing truth of all. He never stopped holding her hand, but somehow, it seems more poignant now.

“If you are who you are…” a hurt, lonely soul says. “...Then everything will be just fine.”

She stares at him, lips parting to speak—

And just like that...he stops. Their destination has been reached. The piano waits for her, next to her propped up guitar, in the room where she’s played music for ears who listen like she’s sent from above. All she has to do, Obito knows, is manage it again. Do what she does best...and then he'll see what she’s really, truly capable of.

He has faith in that, as surely as his red eye will shine up in the sky.

A clasp, a tightening on her wrist— just enough so for her to know that Tobi doesn’t want to let her go yet as she tries to step away. Her hand moves back to her side, and black fingers slip in between hers, neither yet home to a ring.

But who needs that when you wear the crown?

The slight grit of moon-chilled ceramic presses onto her cheek, so very, very intentionally in the same movement as a kiss, though she will second guess that till the end regardless of any shivers or lost breath. Obito pulls away, and he has to be Tobi again.

“You’ll be great!”

A cheery voice to hide, to help her forget what just happened. By all appearances...it works. She smiles so nicely...and he finally lets go. The woman steps into her chamber and waits for the challengers of her next hard-fought battle.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

'Cause you're popping the cork, you get lost in your brain

And you lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rain always seems to miss touching them, Tobi notes, as he opens the door to the two he’s been waiting for. Not a single slick of water trailing down those red clouds, though perhaps considering the source of this rain, it makes sense. One bag each, Pain and Konan step through the threshold of their strange new base. Neither say a word, the darkness of an unlit house being peered at for details by keen eyes. Tobi allows them to enter...and then he slips away.

The rest is up to her.

The musician exhales, doing her best to release the tension in her shoulders as the sound of walking grows in volume over the coming seconds, moments, minutes. She sits at the bench of the piano, though her back is to it. She’s picked her song, and she tunes her guitar.

The pitter-patter of raindrops, of all the tears she’s cried...of every note she’s ever played. She funnels it all into the plucks of her copper strings...and she begs, so earnestly:

See me as your equal.

Be honest with me.

And I’ll try to be honest with you.

The rain falls outside and she steadies herself as once again, perhaps for the last time, the boat that is her life is rocked by the arrival of someone scary and new. It’s a lyrical melody so intensely desperate as you face the eye of the storm and try to plead to it...in order to bargain with your very self.

Konan feels lost breath in her chest as the song echoes from the belly of this strange house.

You can fit everything you know

In a bottle for you to show

As she stops, so does her god, because even he too needs to contemplate and listen.

Pick your brain apart and put it in

And like a ghost, the line echos, like you’re speaking into a cave. The next words swallow it up.

And build it again with needles and pins

Be smart, be vulnerable, be poised, be...you. The lessons her friends had to give before they left trace the goosebumps on her skin and soak in like she's being left outside with no umbrella. She hears the swishing of the ocean, like she's in the mouth of a whale that's cracked its lips open to eat...

In.

Out.

All the remembered from that day, at that time...was waiting. The water encroaching little by little, lap by lap, like breathing in and out as she waited on the beach to be taken away. Imagined or not...she swears now, only now...that she can hear what it was like when it finally embraced.

The stranger closes her eyes and just like that...three stories of a home are drowned underwater. She has rinsed her hands clean until she has flooded this house, and there is nothing to show for it except a waterlogged boat and its locked chest of treasures. It's hers. It's all she has...but it is hers.

Everything you have earned is a ship

With blue waves crashing into it

The other woman raises her orange-amber stare, bright in the gloomy dark. A glance to Pain and it is clear... He’s deciphering it, too. A long, long look at a ghost of her own...

Oh, Nagato, she wonders...what do you mean to find?

Perhaps he knows. Perhaps he doesn’t. That’s not her position to judge. Loyal till death, as soon as he walks again, she follows, nearly by his side but not quite. As they draw closer to the source, it gets louder. There are no drums— the performer only has two hands— but the intent is clear: the clamoring, the strength, the holding on for dear life. Crash, crash, crash. Shout orders to the mirrors in your psyche and hope they listen, lest you don't make it out alive.

The pierced man with the whole universe in his eyes will, he promises. He will hold on. He will discover. He will know.

So deeply that it’ll be like sinking to the bottom of the sea.

You set sail alone, there is no crew

No one on the deck who can help you

This is all your own battle to win

This is your ship and you are the captain

Her voice isn’t perfect. It quivers in her throat and words fumble into each other upon a tongue heavy with bravery. But that’s fine. It has to be fine.

Surely it is better if she drops the facade of being fine in any other way.

Please, she hopes...please…! All she wants from you, holy leader, is to be on even ground. But that's a tall order; she’s asking this from the worst person you can. He is, after all, no mere man.

But even his angel can see something tremble in the rings that make his eyes, an alteration in the orbit his existence takes, their path of pain. They’ve talked so much...thought so much, both said and unsaid. And even now, she isn’t sure...

...As she looks at the pale face of her possessed, dead friend...

...What he really is thinking when Pain hears the traveler's voice?

She focuses on this so much that it makes it easier to stop thinking for herself, if even for a moment. That is, after all, what she always intends to do.

Oh, captain, let's make a deal

Where we both say the things that we both really feel

I feel scared and I'm starting to sink

And I only sink deeper the deeper I think

The building, halls and walls and floors and all, drowned in blue and starlight guides them to their destination, to the source of all this mystery, into the otherwordly and unknowable and incomprehensible. Oh captain, the woman begs, deal. Shake my hand, tell me your secret, and maybe then I'll finally know why I'm still here. Have mercy— have mercy on a poor sinner such as she.

Oh, captain, deal

And her battle to fight alone begins, a few more, harsh strums of the guitar’s strings and it’s over. Standing in the doorway, dry as bones in the heart of a ship in a bottle, are Poseidon and Thalassa. If they want to find out about her world— her discovers theirs—...then here it goes. Draw swords and hear the blades sharpening as they strike together, and maybe in between will be something worthwhile.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, captain, deal

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[buffster]

Judgement (ATS 2.01)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

Host: You know what I'm talking about: in this city, you better learn to get along -- 'cause L.A.'s got it all, the glamour and the grit, the big breaks and the heartaches, the sweet young lovers and the nasty ugly hairy fiends that suck out your brain through your face -it's all part of the big wacky variety show we call Los Angeles. You never know what's coming next. And let's admit it, folks - isn't that why we love it?

I get the feeling I'm missing something in my Angel analysis by never having lived in or visited L.A. It seems like a show informed by and designed around the city in a way that's just going right over my head.

Our trio has grown confident in our absence. They're like a well-oiled machine, intent on their mission and refusing to be distracted. They even have an organized white board to track the progress of cases. But then we learn the reason for this intensity: Angel has been thinking about making it to the finish line. He's ready to be human.

Very on brand that part of his consideration is that he'll soon need a workout regimen.

Angel: You got your steam, your sauna, fresh towel . . . where's the down side?

Cordelia: You shower with a lot of men.

Angel: I'll always be a loner.

We then check in on Lindsey, who is becoming somewhat of a Faith figure to Angel's Buffy: does he want to be him, kill him, or fuck him? He's becoming obsessed with Darla because of her connection to Angel as well. It's clear they plan to use her to get to Angel, but this seems like a very similar scenario to when they sent Faith: there's just too much history and variables here for them to be sure of the outcome.

I'm enjoying Wesley's methodical, practical approach to his job. He really treats it like a vocation he wants to be successful at. He's been working on creating contacts in the demon world for them. And while I appreciate the broadening of the Buffyverse as we learn not all vampires/demons are bad, it does take away some of Angel's tortured soul alure when we learn of people like the Host. If there are creatures like Angel out there, why the lonely, cursed existence? Why didn't he stumble upon this community years ago? The implication is that he's dark and tortured because it's his nature, not his curse.

We're introduced to Caritas and The Host, who attempts to warn Angel he might be headed for a fall and offers to give him a read. Angel declines. He goes to find his demon.

I didn't love the scene where Angel accidentally kills Jo's protector. I just felt it could have been executed better. It felt a little unbelievable that she didn't shout, "Hey! Don't kill him. He's protecting me!" during the whole scuffle. Alas, she did not, and Angel is wracked with guilt over killing an ally in the fight against evil. It turns out the trio's intense focus on knocking out their list of demons so they can reach the finish line is having some unpleasant consequences. They didn't stop to focus on Cordy's vision and what it meant...they just attacked.

I'm happy to see Gunn again, although I could use a little less of this "he's a black man from the streets" being his whole personality. Feels racist. He finally formally meets Cordelia and Wesley.

Angel: I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, that someday I might become human . . . that light was so bright, I thought I was already out.

Cordelia: Yeah, we all got a little cocky, didn't we? It's gonna be a long while till you work your way out. But I know you well enough to know you will. And I'll be with you till you do.

I've watched Angel through all of once before now...we don't get to see what this child grows up to become, do we? Kind of a shame. I'm intrigued.

Angel is forced to sing 'Mandy' so he can save Jo. He admits he finds it kind of pretty.

Cordelia: That man will do anything to save a life.

Angel finds Jo (with the help of The Host) and has a fight to the death before The Tribunal to save her life. Interesting we're not going with the "animals don't like vampires" tradition here and Angel does just fine on the horse. Jo now has protection until the child comes of age.

Angel decides no more keeping score. They're focusing on one job at a time.

Faith: The road to redemption's a rocky path.

We check in on Faith at the very end as Angel visits her in prison. It's cool to see he's continuing to mentor her, and it appears she gets tested pretty often there. She's learning some self-control. I wish she'd gotten more of a role and less of the occasional cameo.

Character Notes:

Cordelia Chase: Alright, I'm too lazy to check. Didn't she draw incredible sketches for the Scooby gang? Why is Angel drawing the demon she saw for her? She's been watching a Noir festival on Bravo.

Faith Lehane: Prison food isn't that different from what she grew up on. She's finding comfort in the routine (possibly becoming institutionalized)

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Absolutely loving his sass with Dennis.

The Host: His bar is called Caritas, latin for 'Mercy'. No weapons or violence allowed.

[minisquachi3]

hot take (pls be nice to me) I’ve become very neutral on marcille/falin. I used to like it more, but fans of the ship have gotten so aggressive about it being ‘canon’ and ‘the driving force of the whole story’ to the point that people who get into the manga expect it to be canon and get disappointed when it isn’t. Yes Marcille cares deeply for Falin, but as a bi girl (i.e. one who is into women), she doesn’t do anything for Falin that I wouldn’t do for my closest friends. Yes including the necromancy and the bath scene. I think folks see the bath scene as ~so yuri~ because they don’t realize that the manga is Japanese, and that bathing together is rarely a sexy thing even when co-ed (I mean just look at the sauna scene). Public baths are common. ((If you want to talk other hot takes i have more! i don’t have a lot of irl dungeon meshi fans to talk to about it. I love your art, btw!))

Hey’o no worries! I love hearing opinions, I wouldn’t have made that post if I wasn’t bored and didn’t wanna hear them LOL.

As someone who’s also gay, I’ve NEVER been into fandom culture especially shipping culture because of how it can get. I haven’t for a long time since I was younger when I use to do that as we all do in our middle school era haha

That being said I honestly see we’re your coming and agree. From as someone not a fandom or shipping in fandom spaces person as mentioned. I do say, I saw this coming sm. As in where people would enter being so disappointed when they find out their not exactly actually upfront canonly gay.

Like I do also love the ship, but it’s so obviously not canon in the way people think, it’s canon in the sense it’s literally the walking their gay but neither of them know it or are self aware and are just best friends. I saw a Twitter post that perfectly described it actually then I ever could. I now can’t find it for the life of me RIP.

They’re very good friends who don’t know their gay in my head of how I interpreted it. Which is why also nothing is super acted upon cause, again their unfortunately in canon their nothing more. like in my head Marcille to me is so self unaware

(if that makes sense). Like when I think of Marcille I think about how I was so self unaware before I realized I was gay

ALSO THANK YOU SM!! I very rarely post because I vary rarely draw stuff people wanna see. I’m glad you like it, also heck yeah if you want to go ahead I don’t mind at all! I’d love to hear y’all’s opinions

This is a safe space for all 💪💪😎

[kingakryn]

It’s called a snowball effect

A Rengoku fanfic by Kaen Homura

Warning : angst, fluff, smut, switch rengoku, bj

Ah yes, Summer, Rengoku’s favorite time of year, when the flowers are in bloom, the sun shines bright and when it’s the warmest time of year. This was also his favorite time of year for training as he was able to do his waterfall training without freezing, afterwards he’d soak in his private estate’s hot springs for a while to relax his muscles. 

His day of training was over, after sharpening his skills as per usual he walked towards the hot springs for a long soak. Y/n had just got done cleaning the estate, she felt she could use a nice relaxing bath. After putting away the cleaning supplies and double checking the estate to make sure it was clean she proceeded to the private sauna. Steam was pouring through the door, something that doesn’t usually happen unless the vents were closed for some reason. As she opened the door she saw that recognizable golden hair and red tips. It was her Burnin Flame, Rengoku ! 

Rengoku had heard the door open, causing him to become alert to the situation. He turned his head around with a raised eyebrow as to what or who could be disturbing him while he was relaxing. Much to his surprise his Little Flame came through the doorway and his expression quickly changed from curiosity to joy at the sight of her. “Care to join me my darling?” he asked gently, not in his usual booming voice. The man was in a total state of zen relaxing. “I’ll be in soon, I just have to undress.” Y/n responded with her usual soft tone. 

When y/m was done undressing she walked over to the springs and slowly walked into the hot water so that her body can get used to the sudden temperature change. Rengoku heard her walking towards the bath, he leaned his head forward and opened one eye slightly to see his Darling Flame. “Welcome in, Little Flame, enjoy yourself, the water is just right.” He stated as he proceeded to lean his head back, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Kyojuro.” Y/n said kindly as she sat a few feet away from her lover. 

           The two of them rested for a few minutes, but y/n couldn’t help but constantly look at Rengoku’s large chest and chiseled arms. Her mind began to wander, and so did her eyes as she looked over his entire body, covering every square inch of it as her eyes drifted lower. “His body must have been sculpted by the Gods, he’s so fine.” She thought to herself. She couldn’t help herself but to move closer to him. She did her best to move closer without him noticing, but the sound and movement of the water gave her away. “What are you doing, Little Flame? Is the water not to your liking ?” He asks worriedly. He caught onto her red blushing face as he responded in a burly somewhat seductive manner as he looked at her with a low-lid side-eye “Or did you just want to get closer to me.” 

Her face just went from a pink blush to bright red in embarrassment that he caught onto her deeds. “M-maybe, I just really like being close to you Kyo, I hate to be away from you and I want you arms around me.” She said in a somber tone. “Awe, don’t be sad Little One, I’ll always be there for you. You have nothing to worry about. Come here and sit next to me, we can relax closer together, I don’t mind it one bit.” He said with a super caring tone and bright smile. He wrapped his arm across her back and to her side pulling her in close to him. He rested his muscular arm over her shoulder and held her hand. “Thank you, Kyo. I love you.” Y/n said under her breath as she leaned into his chest. “I love you too my Dear.” Kyojuro whispered as he laid a kiss upon her head. 

That one little kiss and his action of pulling her in close to him got her super flustered and excited her so much. She slid her hand onto his lower thigh. Rengoku’s eyes tightened as he just simply tried to ignore it. “It was just an accident, she didn’t mean to lay her hand on my thigh.” He just thought to himself. Since he didn’t react to that touch, y/n very lightly and slowly up his thigh and grazed a finger past his shaft, sliding up his little patch of fuzz. Rengoku’s body immediately reacted as his thighs suddenly clenched shut and his eyes widened. She decides to play with him more by sliding her hand up his shaft and toying with his tip. Without warning Rengoku stood up and turned to stand in front of y/n as he held her wrists back. His face wa flushed red, looking desperate and hungry. “Little fl-flame. We can't do this. Not, not h-ere.” he said very breathily. He let go of her wrists and leaned down picking her up bridal style to walk up the stairs exiting the bath. He grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it to dry his darling Firefly off before he dried himself off. “Let's go somewhere more, uhm, more private my Little Flame.” as Kyojuro picked her back up and carried her to the room. 

As soon as he got to the room he closed the door behind him by pushing it shit with his foot and layed y/n on her back upon the bed. He climbed on top of her, hands at the sides of her head and legs bridging over hers. His face was still red. He couldn’t help himself but lean down to kiss her. Y/n had anticipated the kiss and she had placed her hand on the sides of his head entangling her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for a searing kiss. Kyojuro pulled back to kiss her again but this time y/n kept his face close to hers, her lips opened slightly and Kypjuro took his chance to glide his tongue into her mouth as the sound of wet kisses filled the room Kyojuro started to move down lower with his tender sweet kisses. As he moved down her jaw to the neck, leaving little love bites behind, trailing lower to her chest, y/n grabbed hold of his shoulders pushing his back. A worried look came across Kyojuro’s face, assuming he had done something wrong or something she did not like. “What is it, Little Flame. Did I do something not to your liking?” Kyojuro asked with a worried tone. “No, you didn’t sweetheart. It’s just that I would like a turn this time around. Can you sit on the edge of the bed for me? Pretty please?” Y/n had said with puppy eyes and an eager tone. 

Kyojuro got off on top of y/n and sat on the edge of the bed, curious and surprised at what is to come, since she usually never takes charge in the room. “Spread 'em.” Y/n demands as she points down at the man's legs. Kyojuro does as commanded, but he’s never been in such a vulnerable position. His ears go red as looks down at the corner floor of the room with a flustered look on his face. Y/n softly grabs hold of his chin making the man look up at her. “Ah ah ah, you have to focus on me my dear and enjoy it.” Y/n said as she looked into his eyes with a devious smile. The vixen in front of him knelt to her knees, on one leg she lightly glided her hand up and down his inner thigh, knowing how sensitive it is. With the other she stroked him to get him going. “Nng~ My LIttle Flame, your hand feels so good. Don’t stop.” Kyojuro whimpered and requested. With a few pumps of her hand she stopped, and rested her hand on his other thigh. Y/n opened her mouth and her warm breath laid upon his tip as it twitched and dribbled pre-cum. Y/n stuck out her tongue and lapped it slowly on the slit to taste him. “Ahh mnn~ Firefly don’t toy with me.” the blonde begged. Y/n placed her mouth over his tip and swirled her tongue around it as she began to bob her head up and down. The moans coming from Kyojuro let her know that she’s doing a good job with him. She kept bobbing her head at a moderate pace but Kyo wanted more. He gently placed his hand upon y/n’s head and bobbed her head faster, in response she moved one of her hands to his sack and began fondling his balls. “Ohh nngh~ R-right there Little Flame, keep going. You're such a good girl for me aren’t you.” He breathily moaned out loud. You loved hearing your man moan, it was always the best to hear his voice like that. 

He was bobbing your head at an impossible speed, gagging on his giant throbbing member as it took up all the space in your throat. “Your mouth is so warm, so wet, and so tight.” he said seductively with heavy breaths. As he continued face fucking you your moans vibrated on his cock as he came closer and closer to his climax. “Mnn ah~ Y-y/n I’m close, I’m so close.” Kyojuro gave you a look of desperation as you sucked him off. He bobbed your head a little faster as he climaxed into your cavity as his warm sticky semen coated the back of your throat and the roof of your mouth with some dripping down your chin, his cock now limp. Quickly you got off his dick and stood up as you held his chin and head with both hands kissing him passionately as you snowballed him, forcing him to taste himself. His eyes went wide so fast in reaction to this sudden movement of hers. “Mmn, mm, ah, *puah*” he moaned out as he tried to pull away from the kiss, but y/n kept his face to hers until she was done. She leaned back in for another kiss keeping his semen in his mouth. His body was tense but as she continued the kiss she felt him submit to her as his body went limp. As Kyojuro got a taste of himself he realized he wasn't bitter or salty at all, he was very sweet. It must be from all the sweet potatoes he eats. As his body went limp he slowly started to lean backwards and had his Little Flame towering over him. “You’re such a good boy for me my darling fire.” Y/n said, almost out of breath. “So I did a good job, my little flame?” Kyo responded with his own seed drippin down the side of his cheek and a fucked out expression. 

After their session they cleaned up and fell asleep cuddling naked to the soft summer breeze. 

[fiapartridge]

i love this au with all my heart so i am begging for a soft slow morning with will and daisy

bye i love u sunny and ollie have my entire heart

(takes place at their apartment in sj after college)

Slow mornings with Will were always the best. It felt like life was always a speeding train, always off to the next destination. There was barely ever a moment where it was simply just Will and Daisy, so this morning was definitely a shock when Will’s loud alarm clock didn’t ring repeatedly. Instead, it was 8 o’clock and the bedroom was silent other than Will’s soft snores and Daisy’s legs rustling the white comforter as she scooted closer to Will, their bodies facing each other and their arms attached, but still leaving a couple inches of space, like a distant hug.

As if feeling her eyes on him, Will let out a yawn, fluttering his own open and smiling upon seeing Daisy. He’s usually up and getting dressed by the time she wakes up, so seeing her there laying underneath the comforter with him was nice– actually, it was greater than nice. It was perfect. Slow mornings like this were always perfect.

“D’you want me to make you a cup?” Daisy yawned, taking in the light bags beneath Will’s tired eyes. The Sharks were definitely working him, getting him prepared for the new season, but when has he ever had the chance to just… rest? Not ice baths and saunas with the boys, not massages from their team massage therapist, but actually slept for a full eight hours in his own bed in his own home?

Not waiting for an answer, Daisy turned around, letting her freshly-shaved legs from last night slip under the sheets and into the cool air. 

Before she could fully make it out of bed, Will had her torso in his arms and his chin on her shoulder, placing soft kisses on her neck. She sighed, relaxing her body into his. “Stay in bed,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”

Daisy wanted to pamper Will to her fullest extent. She was all about female-empowerment and not doing anything or taking any shit from men, but she felt like she owed Will at least something. He pays most of the rent for the apartment, cooks dinner, cleans the house, always has a bath ready for Daisy before bed— she just wanted to do something. Something to show that she cares about him just as much as he cares about her.

“I should turn down the AC, you’re freezing,” she said.

“Please,” he gently kissed her flushed cheek. “Let’s just stay here.” He said it as if staying there was the most important thing he was going to do all week; as if it was something that had to be done; like his day would be ruined if they didn’t stay in that bed together — even only for a few minutes. And so Daisy gave in, realizing that if she wanted to do anything for Will, it’s this. Not everything has to be materialized or repaid in chores, but simply spending time together is the best form of repayment. 

Except that Daisy enjoyed it, too.

They snuggled closer in bed, her head resting upon his bare chest as she listened to him talk softly, explaining the logistics of getting a dog and why they should definitely have one. They talked about all of the places they would take their dog, where the dog could sleep, who would take care of the dog if they were on an important trip together, what they would name the dog.

Still mornings like these were everything. And sure, they would have things to do later, but none of that mattered, because right now it was just Will and Daisy, and that was the best thing of all.

[lovelytayforce]

The Amusing Novelty Of Photography - Chapter 2: Rush of Rain

Dot found herself moving before she could think her plan through. She pulled herself up and dashed upwards on what felt similar to the steepest hill she had ever hiked up! Her Ion blaster dangled and swung wildly at her side until she took it into her hand and didn’t hesitate to warm it up. “Megatron,” It was scorching, even the mist below that formed between their firepower seemed to slowly turn into a sauna between two hot-blooded machines. “I need you to trust me and move to the left.” She could almost hear his audible “What?” echo from below in her earpiece. Her brown eyes shimmered in the direct beam of the sun as she watched Starscream’s signature null ray attempt to outshine their own planet’s star above before she took a shot at Soundwave’s head. “Just trust me.” There was no moment of hesitation in those harsh few seconds as the smoke of her overworked blaster was blown to the wayside as Megatron made a feign of attack before backing away. Before the null ray could even flash their way, Soundwave’s optics met her eyes. It was strange being seen by him, noticed to the point of looking between each other’s souls. She could see even with his visor there was nothing there but unbridled rage, hurt, and something so recognizably human, that it almost pained her to keep gazing into them. Wistfulness. Her finger clicked on the trigger and she silently wondered what he witnessed within her eyes. Did he also feel as if they had connected, or was he too blinded by his pain to see who and what she was. ‘Because I saw the living being that you are…’ Dot thought. ‘Dr. Meridian was wrong…’ The shot missed his head by mere seconds, and the null ray caused a huge explosion of water and electronics in the area to spring to life only to stop in a frozen state. Dot stood up, never looking away from the blue mech as Megatron looked back up into the sky, putting the dots together for the eventual assassination attempt. “Which means you can’t use your signature move.” It was a risky but smart plan if Megatron had been alone, nullifying them all on equal terms with a two-on-one. The failure of their plan rained upon them. The sound that was usually comforting was eerie around the anger-induced smoke that spilled from Soundwave’s vents. Despite that, he kept pushing his frame to make noise even if it rattled his frame painfully as he kept staring holes into her person. Megatron for once, did not exist in his peripheral vision. It was just Dot and Soundwave. Her hands shook as she watched him, no one seemed to know what to do. It all depended on how he reacted. Through rain and smoke, Soundwave lifted his right servo, his sharp digits pointed toward her and she could see the shine of Megatron’s bright red optics reflected in the metal of them. They were in the form of a gun. Skywarp teleported in shortly and that was when Megatron moved. The sound of jet engines blasting off in the distance was loud. Soundwave made a gesture of shooting her with that servo of his and before Megatron could properly shoot at them. They disappeared. The rain stopped. And all the soldiers' guns slowly fell to the wayside to cool off for the day. Okay, cool,

And like that

We really mean it this time

I guarantee another era is upon us

~ Link for the full story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52059640/chapters/131659042

[mamasturn]

la douleur exquise | v.

pairing: austin butler inspired male oc x kat graham inspired fem oc (calisto and alcacia) summary: they've known each other since childhood. their parents were close and they grew up together. with growth comes feelings of love and lust. alcacia finds herself wanting to be with calisto, knowing he doesn't want her back, but that doesn't stop him from using her to get what he wants. warnings: toxic relationship. emotional manipulation. nsfw themes (no smut though). alcohol consumption. potential tag list (these people tend to interact the most. let me know if you want to be added/removed): @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker

He was back in the same position he was five weeks ago. Toppling over imaginary objects and slurring words like a drunken sailor. There was no party, however. In a house meant to shelter six individuals, he was by his lonesome for the night...as he was every night. 

His companion for the evening was Tennessee whiskey. It was strong and hard and made him forget about everything. Yet, he found himself searching for answers at the bottom of the bottle with every swig he took. Each time he resurfaced for air, he was in the same position he started in--lost and searching.

Why'd she leave? Was he not good enough? Who treated her better? Who could’ve been the woman he poured his all into? Alcacia? Alcacia. He was on her mind more than he'd like to admit. During times like these, when his eyelids grew heavy and the liquor began talking, he saw her face. 

The quivering of her lips. The tears within her eyes. The defeat that radiated off of her like steam escaping a sauna. He remembered it all. He knocked back another drink. She didn’t disappear. The ghost of the last memory of her haunted him eerily. Guilt consumed him in ways he refused to admit. He hated himself more and more as the days went by. 

His elbows rested upon his knees and his head in his hand. His left palm clenched the half-filled glass and tapped it against his forehead as his internal patience within himself wore thin. Who had he become? The boy his mother raised had turned into a monster of man within the blink of an eye. 

How would he get back to what he was, to who he was? Would it make a difference to Alcacia if he had? Could she look passed his harshness, his militant attitude, his cruelty, and manipulation long enough to see he was a broken person? 

He took a moment to answer to himself. He knew she wouldn’t. And that within itself gave him permission to overload his body with whiskey until it shut down and he no longer had to think about the mistakes he made. 

[thislovintime]

(Photo 3 by Henry Diltz/Corbis/Getty Images).

Content warning: mentions of alcoholism/addiction.

“‘I don't mean to paint such a bleak picture of [the 1960s],’ Tork said. ‘I still felt I was in the vanguard, along with a bunch of other people. I was pretty happy. I had a circle of friends, and it was a lot of fun. God knows, I went through a lot of scenes and found out what I needed to find out, which is, for instance, that orgies are nice, but they're only temporary and they're not fulfilling.’ Tork's infamous orgies were held at the Hollywood house he bought in 1968, previously the property of comedian Wally Cox. At the height of his fame, Tork could have paid for it in cash, but was advised against it. So he took out a huge loan and spent his money redecorating. In the master bedroom Tork's bed was eight feet by eight feet with a foam mattress six inches thick. He had a four-place bathtub put into the bathroom, along with a sauna. He had Mexican tiles laid. He carved his initials into the shower stall. There was red plush carpeting throughout the house, a wet bar in the foyer, six-by-nine-foot picture window in the living room overlooking the San Fernando Valley. The film room was a splendiferous workshop of sandblasted natural wood that housed Tork's resident filmmaker manqué. The screen covered the entire wall, offering a ten-by-twelve-foot platform for the flower of psychedelia's exploding visuals – viewed by exploding heads of all chemical persuasions, days on end. Just down the hall and across a bridge was another wing of the house. Downstairs was a cabana, leading to a fifty-foot pool. There were no houses behind his, so many people preferred to dive into the pool nude – straight out of his bathroom window. ‘I'd rather have nude swimming,’ reflected Tork; ‘it's much easier. There's a certain charge to bodies if they're covered up, and if you remove that, it takes a lot of that extra energy out of things.’ Originally, Tork brought a girl friend to live with him at the house. Then his filmmaker friend moved in. He was followed by a young woman and her son. Later a friend of his girl friend stayed there. When Tork quit the Monkees toward the end of 1968, his new group, Peter Tork and/or Release, moved in. Often, wandering downstairs of an early afternoon. Tork would come upon two or three strange bodies asleep in the walk-in fireplace. But that was all right. At the same time, it wasn't all right. ‘If you're fixed on the notion that an orgy is going to fulfill you, and one doesn't do it, you're going to try a hundred. If orgies don't do it, maybe drugs will. Like the fixated person I was then, I went from one thing to another. I had to try everything: flower power, dope, orgies, fast cars.’ His sternest nemesis was alcohol. ‘In the beginning drinking was a lot of fun,’ said Tork. ‘I have some memories of things that I did drunk that I never would have done sober, that I guess I always sort of wanted to do. But drinking isn't selective. It doesn't let you do exactly what you want to do and keep you from doing the things you don't want to do. Furthermore, at a certain point, and I think with certain personality types, it's addictive. You find you cannot drink moderately any longer. It finally reached a point with me where it was obvious that I was going to die if I kept up with it. I was never hospitalized, but I could see the path. I realized I was out of control.’”- When The Music Mattered (1984)

“During his comeback Tork discovered ‘too much chemistry' (drugs, not the high school course) was beginning to blur the faculties and waste the resources, financially, physically, spiritually, morally and emotionally. ‘Then a miracle happened. I found, “The Difference.” ‘I can’t name “The Difference” for a dozen reasons,’ Tork added, ‘one of which is that no name sounds the same to everybody. If I said, “God,” a lot of people — a previous self of mine included — would say, “Oh, spare me your sanctimonious bull.” If I say, “the cosmic patterning,” then it would be “Oh, spare me your hippie-dippy bull.”’ Okay. Call it ‘The Difference’ and be done with it. What difference did it make? ‘I was crazy,‘ Tork said. ‘I was behaving crazily. It wasn’t like I was a moral leper. I was just addictive and feeding my habit. Then one day I looked at the chemicals in my hand — in that case a bottle of beer — and I saw that I was not in charge. When I finally realized that, that’s when I began to recover. Since then I have been able to avoid the use and abuse of all chemicals, primarily and including alcohol.’” - The Cincinnati Enquirer, October 20, 1983

“I was very fortunate because I found myself to be an alcoholic and there is a community that is out to help and who will love you just because you’re an alcoholic who wants to get better. That was the beginning of my retrieval as a human being. Otherwise I’d be a bubbling pile of protoplasm in the gutter someplace.” - Peter Tork, Toxic Fame (1996)

“‘I have to say, I did anticipate it [what the interviewer called ‘Beatle-esque global mania’],’ shrugs Tork. ‘But what I never thought I’d see was us still being around 45 years later. ‘I didn’t even think I’d live to see 45.’” - Wales Online, May 13, 2011

“I didn’t know I’d ever be 50 years old.” - Peter Tork, ITN, September 2, 2015

“‘[Alcohol] that’s the one that nabbed me,’ Tork said. ‘Booze was my friend. The worries of the world sloughed off.’ 
One day Tork decided to start keeping a record of his drinking and soon found himself drinking in excess of 12 beers a day. 
 ‘But I wasn’t an alcoholic. Because when I was in jail, I couldn’t drink it and I was alright. When I was in the hospital, I couldn’t have it, and it didn’t bother me,’ Tork said. 
 The realization came one day while in New York when he found himself with a beer in his hand and suddenly realizing he had a problem. He talked to his wife and admitted to her that he had a problem and needed help. Tork praised the Drug Court system and other drug-recovery organizations. 
‘I could have died in agony or distress,’ Tork said. ‘But this, this is humbling. This stuff — Drug Court — this moment, standing in front of you — this is the other side.’” - visaliatimesdelta.com, October 29, 2010 

“He's been sober for almost 30 years, and recently took time to address graduates of a drug court in California as part of his theory that recovery from any addiction is incomplete without service to others. 
‘I have been given a huge treasure: to not have to drink, which was my experience,’ he says. ‘It was obliged, it was mandatory. To be relieved of that imperative is an enormous gift, a jewel beyond price. There is no amount of money to make me give it up. What would I do with the money? ... And to keep this gift is to deny it to others.’” - Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, November 4, 2010