#chitter yelling

[7-ferrets-in-a-coat]

UehehahHHehhHAHAHA I LOVE ALL NY MUTUALS AND FOLLOWERS

[transannabeth]

she thinks you love the beach you’re such a damn liar!!!!!!!!!!!

[mentohol-blog]

I didn’t get a single bite, but I did get yelled at by a raccoon, so I considered it a successful evening of fishing.

[spookykestrel]

Lets Talk Farm Terminology!

Yay! I'm here to answer all the simple farm animal questions and misconceptions you've been too afraid to ask! Why? Because im bored and have thoughts and am reading Watership Down and want people to know the difference between "bunny," "rabbit," and "hare."

Leporidae

You're probably thinking wow kes how bold of you to start out not only with an animal uncommonly kept by farmers but also starting with a scientific name few will know! And you're right, but I don't care! The Leporidae family includes rabbits and hares, and yes! they are different. Very closely related as they belong to the same family, but rabbits and hares are not the same thing. Simply: hares are bigger and wilder than rabbits. There are no domestic species of hare and they are more adapted to solitary life than living in groups/colonies. Looking at the image above you can note slight differences in facial structure and build, as well as most notably the ear length, with the smaller rabbit on the left and the larger hare on the right. Most Watership Down art features hares but I don't mind it all that much as the hare anatomy is more fun lol.

Now, what's a bunny? Bunny is an informal term used to refer to rabbits, especially young ones. It wouldn't be incorrect to refer to the long eared friend in your yard as a bunny but if you were writing a paper or just want to sound more serious, it would be better to say rabbit (as you notice, I am refraining from calling them bunnies in this post).

When referring to rabbits, their terminology is similar to other familiar animals. A male rabbit is called a buck and a female rabbit is called a doe, like deer or goats. However, a baby rabbit is called a kit or kitten and a group of siblings is called a litter, just like cats.

Goats

Aw no more latin? As the domestic breeds of goat all come from the same species, there's no need for a broad scientific name as we all have an idea of what to picture, unless you're thinking of a mountain goat which are not considered true goats and are considered a goat-antelopes, making them closer in relation to muskoxen! Which is a whole different topic! Regardless, there's lots of different breeds of domestic goats (Capra hircus), like dogs and cats. Some are better suited for dairy production, some for meat, others are bred for their cashmere! Pictured above is a Saanen goat, one of, if not the most popular dairy goat breeds (in the US at least), known for their high milk production.

Many goat breeds have horns, which vary from antlers bc of how they grow and their composition. Horns can be removed when the goats are young, in a process called dehorning or disbudding. When horns are removed, their growth is stunted and they will not grow back once the animal is older. However, disbudding is a controversial topic as it is not painless and often unnecessary. Both male and female goats can have horns, although their appearance may differ.

I mentioned above that (mature, uncastrated) male goats are called bucks and females are called does. Many, many people use the terms billy and nanny to refer to goats. However, the better term would be buck/doe, and when people use billy/nanny it does peeve me. You may also hear the word wether to refer to castrated goats. Baby goats are called kids.

Cattle

My favorites of the post, let's finish with cattle (Bos taurus)! Same as goats, cattle can be bred and used for many purposes like the lovely Brahman I've included above, a very recognizable meat breed. Cattle terminology can get a little tricky as its not as straightforward as some other animals.

Cattle is the correct term for these animals, as cow technically refers to a mature female (has been bred). No one's going to freak out if you say cows instead of cattle, myself included, especially because if you dont know the specific details of the animal its hard to know whether to say cow or heifer or bull or steer.

So, a cow is a mature female, and a mature male is called a bull. An immature, young female is called a heifer. A castrated male is called a steer. When referring to an immature male you can use bull or bull calf.

Many places you will see the term "ox" thrown around (not to be confused with a MUSKox mentioned previously) and there's a lot of misconceptions surrounding the name. An ox is a specially trained bovine. That's all it is. There's lots of regulations on how they are trained and all that, but that's the basics of it. It is most common and recommended to use castrated males (steers) because castration should temper their aggression and testosterone production; additionally, males are typically larger than the females. However! Female cows can be trained as oxen, as can bulls.

Technically an ox should not be referred to as such until they have completed their training, which can take years. Typically oxen are selected at a young age and routinely worked to develop good skills. They are used for tasks plowing or pulling carts, and as modern technology has improved, use of oxen has declined.

Thaaaat's all I have to say about that today, I sort of led into each topic in little ways and I've nothing more to mention. Hopefully you learned a little, I think livestock are cool 👍

[hellshoard]

i wanted to slam my head against the wall on trying to figure out the code for the relations page

[i-declare-a-kaggath]

What tickles the fancy?

Massive OC lore dump

Invitation to RP

Detailed life update

Video game

Make new OCs for the whimsy

A billion AUs

[birdyverdie]

Just caught one of my mom's party guests yelling at Avalon

I have the patience of a SAINT for not immediately losing it

[heirrogance]

i did not expect my new salesman to be aggressively an ally with a lesbian ex wife

[meshyjournalofinterests]

It feels like I have boulders in my chest right now

[kestrels-nook]

I feel like every scene with sally shes pissed off at him ?? Like obv parenting a demigod is stressful and she’s a good parent despite it but doesn’t he have any fond loving memories of her ..

[transannabeth]

when characters get together too early in the book and you know things are going to go to shit

[meatcarnival3000]

banging on the walls of my enclosure can anyone hear me

[spookykestrel]

If I ever interact with a personal post of yours in a way you don’t want me to have just yell at me bc I don’t have good filter or boundaries

[ddejavvu]

Bat animagus!reader who has scared Poly!marauders by accidentally falling asleep hanging upside down in the cabinets

The last thing Sirius expects when he goes into the cupboard to make Remus some tea is a little furry blur falling towards his face, but that's exactly what he gets. With a window-shattering shriek he jumps backwards, dropping the teacup he'd grabbed and wincing as it shatters on the tiled floor. You're just as bewildered as Sirius is, leathery wings flapping about as you desperately try catching yourself. You manage to land on Sirius's shoulder, but that only makes things worse, and he desperately tries prying your little clawed fingers off of his sleep shirt.

"Bloody hell!" He gripes, finally relaxing as his fight-or-flight response cools off, "You- you can't sleep in the cupboards!"

You chitter angrily at him from where you're barely hanging onto his clothing, but he's finally stopped swatting at you, which is nice. Instead he glares at you, bending his arm at an awkward angle to do so.

"And if you're going to, don't fling yourself at whoever opens the door."

Sirius regards the shattered teacup at his feet, and it's the only reason you're not transforming back to yell at him properly. Instead you crawl your way up his shoulder, screeching in annoyance directly into his ear.

"Mm, and of course you're not gonna help me clean this up," Sirius grumbles, storming off through the clean part of the kitchen to fetch the broom and dustpan, "You're lucky James and Remus are so fond of you, otherwise I'd chuck you into a cavern in the middle of nowhere and apparate off before you could flap your wings."

You call his bluff by nipping sharply at the shell of his ear, and he lets out an indignant squawk at the feeling.

"Hey! Okay, okay, I won't fling you into a cave. But the next time you scare one of us shitless, you're cleaning up the mess."

The chuff you let out beside his ear sounds a lot like a laugh, and Sirius is going to have a bone to pick with you and your attitude as soon as you can respond without swatting him in the face with a wing.

[carnalcrows]

A WHOLE NEW WORLD

summary: You were never supposed to be anything more than a thief. But a stolen bracelet, a runaway heart, and a single reckless wish change everything. Now the world is spinning out of control—and the boy you can't forget might be the only real thing left to hold onto.

pairing: princess jasmine!choso kamo x alladin!male reader

content warnings: 18+, ftm choso (she/her pronous are used in the first half bc nobody knows of this), mahito is a warning of his own, top male reader, drowning, reader is an unreliable narrator (sorry bro).

word count: 8.0k

best viewed in dark mode

The market always smelled like too many things at once. Spices. Sand. Fruit that’s a little too ripe. Sweat. You’ve been running these streets since you were old enough to steal your first loaf of bread—and dumb enough to think it was free. These days, you know better. You know which stalls swap their goods by the hour, which alleys to cut through when the guards give chase, which rooftops creak beneath your weight and which ones won’t even notice you’re there.  

And today? Today, you’re hungry. Not just for food, though you could eat. It’s the other kind of hunger. The kind that scratches at the back of your throat and says don’t sit still too long. The kind that makes you pickpocket out of boredom, not desperation. Which is why you swipe the silver apple from the merchant’s tray with a grin and no remorse, tuck it into your sash, and disappear into the crowd like smoke.  

⋆｡°✩  

“Thief!” someone yells. You sigh. That was faster than usual. Megumi chitters from your shoulder, fur twitching, eyes sharp as ever. He flicks your ear like this is somehow your fault. You flick him back and keep moving. You don’t run. Not yet. You walk like someone with somewhere to be. Let the tension build. Let the guards get close enough to think they have you. And when the right corner comes—you bolt.  

⋆｡°✩  

You lose them after five turns, three leaps, and one stolen chicken skewer that you do, in fact, eat. You’re not sorry. Megumi squeaks his approval as you hop down from the awning and dust off your hands. The back street is quieter here. Fewer eyes. Fewer witnesses. And that’s when you see her.  

⋆｡°✩  

Dark cloak. Hood up. Shoulders tense, like she doesn’t want to be here. Like the world is too loud for her today. But her hands are delicate where they rest on the edge of a fruit cart—fingers trailing over a pomegranate like she’s trying to remember what sweetness is supposed to feel like. Her eyes flick up. Meet yours. There’s a flash of something you don’t expect. Not fear. Not scorn. Recognition.

And then the fruit seller turns, sees her fingers on the goods, and yells something sharp in a dialect neither of you speak. Her eyes go wide. You step in without thinking. “Hey!” you bark. “That’s my sister.” The man scowls. “She doesn’t talk,” you add quickly. “Head injury. Real tragic.” You loop an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, tug her away from the cart before either of you get hit with a broomstick.  

She doesn’t resist. Not until you’re two alleyways over and laughing breathlessly, and then—  

“Why did you help me?” she asks, voice low, cautious.  

You blink. Her hood’s fallen back a bit. Her face is pale and fine-featured. Sharp eyes. Loose braid. A little too well-groomed to be anyone’s sister from the lower quarter. You shrug. “Didn’t feel like watching you get yelled at.” She studies you. Really studies. Then—“You’re a thief,” she says, like she’s not sure whether to be impressed or irritated.  

“I’m a specialist,” you correct. “It’s different.”  

⋆｡°✩  

She walks like someone who’s used to silence. That’s the first thing you notice. Even in the backstreets—where the city’s heartbeat slows and the noise fades into sun-warmed stone and dust—she moves like she’s afraid to take up space. You pretend not to notice. You’re good at pretending.  

“So,” you say casually, adjusting Megumi’s grip on your shoulder. “You always ‘almost’ steal pomegranates, or was that just for flair?” She glances at you. Dry. “I wasn’t stealing.” You raise a brow. “You had your hand on it.” “I was thinking.” “Dangerous hobby.” She doesn’t answer that. Just keeps walking.  

She doesn’t belong here. Not just because of the cloak or the way her braid looks like it was combed by someone paid to do it. It’s the way she watches everything—eyes sharp beneath the hood, like she’s memorising the exits. Like you used to.  

“Are you lost?” you ask eventually. “No.” “Running from something?” She pauses. Then: “Not anymore.”  

⋆｡°✩  

You lead her to a little archway near the edge of the district—just low enough to duck into, just quiet enough to feel safe. You toss her a piece of the stolen chicken skewer. She catches it. Megumi squeaks at you like you’ve betrayed him. You toss him one too.  

She eats slowly. Not like she’s starving—but like food hasn’t made her feel human in a while. The light catches on something at her wrist—a bracelet, mostly hidden by her sleeve. Woven threads and silver beads. Not expensive, but loved. You can tell.  

“Nice bracelet,” you say casually. She covers it with her hand. “It was my mother’s,” she says, too quickly. You nod. Say nothing.  

The moment stretches. Softens. And then— Footsteps. Heavy. Fast. Not guards. But not far off. You both freeze. You tug your hood lower. She pulls hers up. Your heart kicks once. Not from fear—from instinct.  

“Come on,” you whisper. You grab her hand. She follows without hesitation.  

⋆｡°✩  

You split off near a vendor stall. “Go that way,” you tell her, gesturing to the alley. “Sharp right, then left again. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.” She hesitates. Then she nods. “Thank you.” You grin, backing away. “It’s what friends are for.” She rolls her eyes. Then disappears.  

You wait until the coast is clear before slipping your hand into your pocket—and finding the bracelet you never meant to steal. Your stomach dips. You stare at the familiar weight. The tiny silver bead worn smooth in the centre. You didn’t take it to be cruel. You took it because… something about her made you want to keep a piece. Just for a little while. You sigh. “I’ll bring it back,” you tell Megumi, who just tilts his head. “I will.”  

You’ve snuck into a lot of places before. Noble houses. Merchant vaults. One bathhouse, by accident (long story). But the royal palace? That’s new. It’s not the guards that make you hesitate. It’s not even the sheer size of it—white stone and winding corridors, too many windows and not enough exits. No, what throws you off is how clean it is. No dust. No noise. No secrets whispered in the walls. You hate it.  

Megumi clings to your shoulder as you scale the garden wall, little claws digging into your shirt like he’s second-guessing your choices. You pat him once, then drop into the hedges. “I know,” you mutter. “But I promised.”  

The bracelet weighs heavier today. Not just in your pocket. In your chest.  

You don’t even know her name. But you remember the way her fingers curled over it. Like it wasn’t jewellery—like it was a memory. You’re not a good man. You know that. But you can be good for one thing. Even if it’s just this.  

⋆｡°✩  

You make it halfway across the inner courtyard before you see her. At first, you think you’re imagining it. The light hits just right—filtered through silk drapes and pale stone—and there she is, no hood, no cloak. Her braid is clean and tied back, her robes richer, darker, edged in silver thread. Two guards flank her at a respectful distance. Another man walks just behind her—dark-haired, sharp-eyed, well-dressed. Not a handmaiden. Not someone she reports to.  

They’re following her.  

Your heart stops.  

She’s not just from the palace.  

It’s her palace.

⋆｡°✩  

You’re frozen in place, suddenly very aware of the bracelet in your pocket and the stolen way you’re dressed and the dirt still clinging to your boots. You shouldn’t be here. You don’t even know her name.  

And she’s the princess.  

You take a half-step forward anyway. You don’t know what you think is going to happen. Maybe you’ll give the bracelet back. Maybe you’ll say something—anything—before you vanish again into the city and pretend you never made a promise to someone you never should’ve touched.  

And then—  

“Caught you.”  

⋆｡°✩  

A hand clamps down on your shoulder. Hard. You twist. Megumi screeches and leaps off you. But it’s too late. You’re face-to-face with a man you’ve never seen before. Light blue hair, loosely tied. A smile that doesn’t touch his pale eyes. He’s dressed like a royal advisor. Gold trim, rich layers. But the look he gives you is sharp enough to slice.  

He glances down at your hand. “Oh,” he purrs. “What’s this?” You don’t answer. “Breaking into the palace just to return a bracelet?” he asks, tone sweet and sour all at once. “How noble.”  

You try to pull away. His grip tightens. “Come,” he says, and you feel your stomach drop. “Let’s talk.”  

The desert doesn't begin the way you expect. It creeps in slowly—grain by grain, hush by hush. You don't even realize you've left the city until the horizon loses its edges and the color of the world flattens. Gold swallows grey. Stone gives way to sand. And suddenly you're small beneath a sky so wide, it feels like it's watching you.

Megumi is silent on your shoulder. Tense. You don't blame him.  

Mahito glides ahead, his pale blue hair ghosting behind him like the tail of some ancient thing. He hasn't said much since dragging you from the palace. Just that there's a cave. That it's full of treasure. That you'll find what he needs at the center.  

"You'll know it when you see it," he'd said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.  

Now, as the wind picks up and the dunes shift under your boots, you're starting to think this wasn't one of your better ideas.  

⋆｡°✩  

The cave entrance yawns before you like a mouth. Massive. Monstrous. Carved from obsidian and gold in the shape of a jaguar—or maybe a lion, but wrong. Too sleek. Too alive. Its eyes glow. Its teeth form the archway.  

Mahito sighs, almost bored. "Try not to touch anything but the lamp. The cave doesn't like greedy hands."  

You stare at him. "That's it? No map? No backup plan?"  

He grins. "Where's the fun in that?"  

The moment your foot crosses the threshold, the ground rumbles.  

⋆｡°✩  

Inside, the air turns thick—warm with the scent of old incense and metal. The walls pulse with veins of gold that glow like trapped fire. And the treasure...  

It's everywhere.  

Goblets crusted with emeralds. Weapons wrapped in silk. Jewels in colours you don't have names for. You step carefully, avoiding the statue that watches with jewelled eyes—  

—until Megumi squeaks.  

You turn just in time to see the ruby in his paw.  

Small. Beautiful. Terribly red.  

"Megumi," you whisper.  

The cave roars.  

⋆｡°✩  

Treasure collapses like water. The ground splits. You sprint, dodging falling stone, the lamp suddenly heavy in your grip as the entrance grinds shut behind you.  

You make it out—barely—hands scrabbling at the ledge as your body dangles over nothing.  

Mahito appears above you, framed by sunlight.  

"Help!" you shout.  

He smiles. "Pass me the lamp first."  

You hesitate.  

He stomps on your fingers.  

⋆｡°✩  

You fall.  

For one terrible second, all you see is sky. Then stone. Then—  

—Something catches you.  

Soft. Woven.  

A magic carpet sweeps beneath you, spiralling upward as Mahito's laughter fades. The lamp still burns in your hand.  

You stare at it.  

Wipe off the dust.  

And give it one, tentative rub.  

⋆｡°✩  

The explosion of light nearly blinds you. Smoke pours out in brilliant blues and purples, the air buzzing like it's trying to become sound. Then—  

A shape. A grin.  

And a voice like laughter and lightning:  

"DID SOMEBODY SAY WISHES?"  

Standing before you is a man, glowing faintly at the edges, with white hair that sparkles like frost and a robe that won't stay one colour.  

"Hi," he says, flashing teeth. "I'm your new favourite mistake."  

You open your mouth. Close it.  

Megumi faints.  

The man catches him mid-collapse and coos, "Aww, that's fair."  

You point. "What are you?"  

He beams. "Genie. Name's Gojo. Wishes. Magic. Sparkles. Screaming exes. The usual." He tosses Megumi gently onto a cushion that wasn’t there a second ago. Then turns back to you.

“You get three wishes,” he says, lifting three glowing fingers. “No refunds, no substitutions, no wishing for more wishes, no bringing back the dead, and no, I can’t make your eyeliner sharper—that’s between you and your mirror.”

You stare. He waits. Then tilts his head.

“…You okay there, street rat?”

⋆｡°✩  

You’re still trying to catch your breath when Gojo starts doing cartwheels in the air. Literal ones.

Glowing, twirling, smug-as-hell flips while conjuring a sparkling drink in one hand and a mini fireworks display in the other. Megumi clings to your shoulder like he’s ready to bite the next magical thing that moves.

“You okay there, sparkle-thief?” Gojo asks between spins. “Wanna make a wish? Something big? Bold? Perhaps shirtless with charisma?” You stare at him. Then down at the lamp in your hand. Then back up.

 “…So you can do anything, right?” Gojo winks. “Three wishes. Anything your heart desires, babycakes.”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving the lamp a little. “I mean outside the wishes. Just you. Can you do anything? Or do you need the wish to work your mojo?” Gojo puffs up immediately.

“Excuse me? Excuse me? I am the most powerful being in the known realms. You think I need permission to do a little trick like—” he gestures vaguely “—I dunno, get you out of here?”

You shrug, mock-casual. “I mean, this cave’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it? Magical, collapsing death trap and all that. Maybe you can’t.” Gojo’s eye twitches.

You lean back on your palms, baiting him harder. “I mean, I get it. Maybe that’s why you need the wishes. You know. Limits.” Megumi squeaks like he knows exactly what you’re doing.

Gojo freezes midair. Then slowly floats down, landing in front of you with arms crossed and a pout forming fast.

“You wound me.” You give him a little shrug and a smug grin. “Prove me wrong.”

⋆｡°✩

There’s a snap. A burst of wind. And suddenly, the world flips. The cave vanishes. The stone. The heat. Gone.

You’re standing in open desert again, beneath a pale violet sky, stars blinking into view one by one like they’re surprised to see you alive.

Megumi topples into the sand beside you. You blink. Then slowly turn. Gojo is frozen mid-strut, mid-celebration, one finger raised in triumph. And then—

His whole face drops.

“Wait.” You grin.

He stares at you. “You—”

“I didn’t wish for anything,” you say, smug and victorious. His mouth opens.

Closes. Opens again. “You tricked me!”

“You tricked yourself,” you say, dusting off your hands. Gojo slaps his forehead. “Oh my god, you gaslit a genie.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘strategic flattery.’” He paces in a circle. “This is so embarrassing—this is like day one Genie Academy stuff—never let them goad you, Gojo—”

Megumi snickers. Gojo glares at him. “Don’t laugh. He’s your thief.” Megumi just grins wider.

You flop down in the sand with a sigh, running your fingers over the curve of the lamp. Still warm. Still yours.

Gojo eventually stops pacing and flops down next to you, kicking his sandals off mid-air.

“So,” he mutters, still sulking. “You've got three wishes left. Gonna wish for a palace? Infinite gold? A harem of emotionally damaged men?” You shake your head.

You pull the bracelet from your pocket. And you say, “I want to become a prince.”

Gojo raises a brow. “Oh? You royalty-curious now?” You smile a little.

“No,” you say. “But she is.”

⋆｡°✩

Gojo hovers upside down for a second. Then rolls onto his back in midair and kicks his legs like a teenager hearing drama for the first time.

“Ohhh,” he sings. “It’s a crush.” You shoot him a glare. “It’s not a—”

He floats closer, chin propped on one glowing hand. “She’s beautiful, mysterious, emotionally reserved, probably a little dangerous—”

You blink. “You’ve never even met her.”

“I’m magic, babe. I know things.” He spins once, flaring his sleeves with dramatic flair. “So! Wish number one: turn you into a prince. Let’s do this!”

You pause. Just for a second. “What’s the catch?” you ask warily. Gojo gasps. “How dare. I am deeply offended.”

“You said you’ve got screaming exes.”

“Yeah, but they’re mostly jealous I look this good in silk.”

“Gojo.”

“Fine, fine. No catch. But you have to be specific.” He floats down to eye level, suddenly serious—well, serious for him. “You wanna be a prince, I can do that. But a real prince? With history, backstory, legitimacy, social clout, a tragic origin story?” He wiggles his fingers. “You gotta be clear.”

You hesitate. Then say quietly, “I just need to be… enough. Enough for her to look at me like I belong in her world.”

Gojo softens. It’s barely there, but real.

“Got it,” he says. Then he claps his hands once.

And the world explodes.

You don’t know where you are.

There’s colour everywhere—glitter and silk, ribbons of light, sand turning to glass beneath your feet. Megumi yelps as he’s scooped into a flurry of golden fabric, then promptly drops out the other side wearing a tiny embroidered vest and hat.

You are also suddenly in new clothes. Many clothes.Too many. A turban appears, spins three times, and explodes.

A jacket snaps onto your shoulders, then vanishes, then reappears in a different colour. Gojo mutters to himself, throws a handful of stars into the air, and steps back.

The whirlwind fades. You stumble forward and catch a glimpse of yourself in the water.

You look like someone else.Not a stranger. Not fake.

Just… polished. Taller. Cleaner. Like a better version of who you’ve always tried to be. Gojo whistles.

“Damn. You’re gonna break hearts and laws with that face.” You stare.

Touch your chest. Then look up.

“…This is me?”

He grins. “For now.”

⋆｡°✩

It starts with music. Low and distant at first, like a heartbeat under the ground. Then louder. Brighter. Faster.

By the time it reaches the palace gates, the sound has become a parade. Drums pounding. Horns blaring. The ground practically shakes beneath it. People gather at the edges of the street, wide-eyed, murmuring, pushing to see what the noise is about.

The guards don’t even know what to do. One of them drops his spear. And at the centre of the chaos— You.

Perched atop an extravagant, over-decorated, too-sparkling chariot that Gojo conjured five minutes ago because, quote, “You need drama.” There are banners in colours you don’t recognise, dancers flanking your path, golden confetti swirling through the air like it’s trying to make up for your anxiety.

Megumi rides next to you on the magic carpet, arms folded and expression deeply unimpressed, wearing a crown Gojo forced on him.

You want to throw up. You smile instead.

⋆｡°✩

Choso watches from the upper balcony. He doesn’t say anything at first.

Geto stands beside him, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the spectacle below. “Another prince,” he mutters. Choso hums. This one’s different.

The way he smiles at the crowd—not too big, not too forced. The way he bows at the gates. The way he scans the palace—once, quickly, like he’s trying not to look for something he wants to see.

It tugs at something in his chest. Something familiar. He frowns.

⋆｡°✩

“Introducing,” Gojo declares from the front of the parade, spinning mid-air and throwing glitter like it's a legal requirement, “the dazzling, the dashing, the devastatingly single Prince of the Seven Sands and Fourteen Rivers and One Very Cool Monkey—”

You elbow him. Hard. Gojo coughs. “—I mean. Prince—”

The guards step aside. The palace gates open. And you step through.

⋆｡°✩

You’re led into the throne room with trumpets blaring, velvet swishing around your ankles, and Gojo whispering terrible advice in your ear.

“Don’t trip,” he mutters. “Don’t bow too low. Compliment her—them, compliment them. Say something about the tapestry. Or the hair. Or, ooh, eyes! But don’t say eyes first, that’s creepy. You know what, just—say nothing. Smile. Look rich.”

“Gojo.”

“Also, maybe mention your monkey. Everyone loves a monkey.”

“GOJO.”

He vanishes in a puff of smoke. You inhale slowly. And step forward.

⋆｡°✩

Choso is already seated. Elegant, poised, eyes unreadable behind thick lashes.

You bow too low.

Geto raises a brow. Mahito smirks from the side like he’s already smelling a lie. And the king—Gakuganji, crowned and ancient and only semi-awake—beams.

“Ah! Our guest!” he says, gesturing with a heavy hand. “Look at this fine young man! What a jawline!” You straighten. Smile. Try not to sweat. Choso blinks at you. You clear your throat.

“It’s an honour,” you say, your voice suddenly a bit too deep, a bit too dramatic. “To be in the presence of such radiant… uh, royalty.” Choso tilts her head.

You panic. “And of course,” you add, “to meet the legendary tiger. I hear it has an excellent sense of character.”

Yuuji, lounging beside the throne, bares his teeth. Loudly. Choso hums. “He usually growls at liars.”

“Ah,” you say, blinking. “How… loyal.”

⋆｡°✩

Mahito glides forward, all polite venom. “What kingdom did you say you were from again, Your Highness?”

You freeze. Think fast.

Gojo appears behind Mahito, invisible to everyone but you, making frantic throat-cutting motions. “Uh—the Eastern Expanse. South of the Glass Sea. Just beyond the Twin Cliffs of—”

“—Cringe?” Gojo mouths.

“—Valour,” you say tightly. Geto narrows his eyes. Mahito hums, clearly amused.

Choso sips from a cup and doesn’t even try to look interested.

⋆｡°✩

Gojo reappears beside Geto, this time visible, in a deep navy robe and too much jewellery, swirling wine and batting his lashes. “You must be exhausted,” he says softly. “All this watching. You should sit down. Or let someone rub your shoulders. Or maybe your ego?”

Geto blinks at him. Then smirks.

“Is this your first time attempting seduction?” he asks. Gojo grins, teeth sharp. “Would you like it to be my last?”

⋆｡°✩

You, meanwhile, are dying.

You’ve complimented the floor tiles. You’ve fumbled three metaphors. You’ve told a story about a camel that might not have landed. And Choso hasn’t smiled once.

Worse, she hasn’t looked at you the way she did in the alley. Not yet. But something in her gaze lingers now—longer than before. Like she’s trying to place a shadow she saw once. A voice she heard in a dream.

You shift, fingers brushing the inside of your sleeve where the bracelet still sits. And you think: Not yet.

⋆｡°✩

The palace quiets after dark.

Servants vanish behind doors. Lights dim. Voices hush. The music from the courtyard fades into nothing but wind moving through marble archways and the distant hiss of sand brushing against stone. You’re standing on the edge of the upper balcony, staring out at the stars, feeling like they’re too far away.

Behind you, footsteps. You turn. Choso steps into view, arms crossed over her chest, long coat pulled tight despite the heat. Her braid is loose. Her expression is unreadable.

“You’re out late,” she says. You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” Choso doesn’t move closer, but doesn’t walk away either. You hesitate. Then smile, gentle. “Could say the same for you.”

“I’m always up late,” she replies. “Hard to rest when everything is so… quiet.” You nod. “Silence is loud, sometimes.”

A beat.

She glances sideways at you. “You’re different.” You tense. “Different how?”

“From the others,” she says. “The other suitors. You don’t walk like you’re owed something. You don’t speak like you believe your own story.” You glance down at the marble beneath your feet.

“I don’t.”

⋆｡°✩

Just then, Gojo appears beside you. Not fully visible—more of a glimmer in the air, like moonlight caught in motion.

He leans close. “Hey,” he whispers. “This is your moment.” You blink. “She’s standing there, all mysterious and gorgeous and complicated, and you’re just standing here like a guy with no game. You wanna impress her?”

You mutter under your breath, “I thought you weren’t supposed to interfere.” He winks. “I’m not interfering. I’m supporting. Now ask if she wants to see something cool.”

⋆｡°✩

You inhale. Then turn to Choso. “I know this sounds strange,” you say, “but… would you like to go for a ride?” Choso raises a brow.

You nod toward the balcony edge. “I have something to show you.” Her expression doesn’t change.

But after a beat, she says: “Fine. But if this is another metaphor, I’m leaving.” You grin. “It’s not.” You whistle.

And the carpet soars up from the shadows.

She steps back, startled. Then stares. The rug hums with magic, hovering just above the floor, tassels fluttering like they’re twitching with excitement. Choso blinks. “Is that—?”

“Sentient? Yeah. A little sassy too.” You step onto it first, then offer your hand. She hesitates. Then places her palm in yours.

Her fingers are cold. But her grip is strong. You help her up. She sits in front of you, eyes flicking to the edge of the balcony, then to the sky.

“…Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Nope,” you say, smiling. “But that’s the fun part.” And with a soft shudder—

The carpet lifts.

⋆｡°✩

The palace falls away beneath you. The night air rushes past your skin. Choso’s breath catches in her throat as the city unfurls beneath you—lanterns flickering in narrow alleys, domes gleaming under starlight, the world spread wide and glowing and endless.

She turns to look at you. You don’t say anything. You just hold on. And take her higher.

⋆｡°✩

You land softly, almost weightlessly, on the terrace just outside Choso’s chambers.

She’s still quiet, still wind-tousled, still flushed from the cold kiss of sky on her skin. Her braid is coming undone, and one hand rests on her chest like she’s trying to hold something in—something that might spill over if she speaks too soon.

You linger there a moment longer, letting the carpet drift backwards into the shadows. You watch her, eyes drawn to the way she turns from the railing to you. A slow pivot. Unreadable expression. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “For that.”

You smile. “Anytime.” You step back, ready to take your leave.

And before you think better of it, you add— “Good night, princess.” It’s meant to be charming. Light.

But her smile falters.

Not in a way that says hurt, not exactly. More like she’s standing on the edge of a truth he’s been holding for too long. You notice too late. “I’m not—” she starts, then stops.

She takes a breath. Steadies herself. And says it clearly, steadily: “I’m not a princess. I’m not even... her.” You blink.

She lifts her chin a little, eyes burning with something fierce and fragile all at once. “I’m a man,” she says. “I always have been. Even if—" She swallows. "Even if not everyone believes it.”

There’s a silence after that. Not empty. Heavy. Alive.

You don’t move. You don’t speak.

You just look at him—the way the moonlight brushes the sharp line of his jaw, the proud set of his shoulders, the tremble he tries to hide in his hands—and realise that somehow, he looks more royal now than he ever did in silk and jewels.

You find your voice. “I believe you.”

His next breath is shaky. “You thought I was someone else.”

“I didn’t,” you say. Quietly. Honest. He glances up. “I thought you were someone extraordinary,” you say. “I still do.” Something in his face cracks. Softens.

You step forward. Close enough to touch. But you don’t—not yet. “I don’t care about the title,” you murmur. “I don’t care about the rules. I care that you smiled at me once in an alley, and I haven’t been able to forget it since.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the day he was born.

And then— He reaches for you.

⋆｡°✩

His hands find the front of your robe. Yours find the line of his waist. It’s not frantic. It’s not even heated—at first.

It’s something slower. Deeper. Something that hums between your ribs and makes your skin ache just to be closer. When he kisses you, it’s hesitant. Careful. Testing the shape of your mouth like he's still afraid he’s not allowed.

You kiss him back like you’ve been waiting to. Like you knew, somehow.

Like this has always been the truth.

⋆｡°✩

The bed is quiet. Soft. Too large, too royal, too untouched by real life—but you forget that quickly. Because he’s beneath you.

Because his hands are in your hair, and your fingers are trembling as you trace them down the length of his spine, over the curve of his ribs, careful with every inch like he’s something sacred.

He breathes out your name when you kiss the spot just below his ear. His legs part instinctively when your body moves between them. Your name again—this time shakier, needier, like he’s falling open for you without even meaning to.

You ask before anything changes. He nods. And you move together like something pulled by gravity.

The room glows gold and shadow. His skin is warm. Softer than you thought. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

You kiss down his chest, over his stomach, tasting every part of him that he gives you. He arches when you touch him—soft sounds spilling from her lips like prayers, like confessions, like things never said aloud until now.

He wraps his legs around your waist. Whispers your name again like it means something new. And when you press into him— Slow, careful, trembling—

He doesn’t flinch. He lets you in.

⋆｡°✩

It’s slow. Not quiet.

He gasps when your hips move. Moans when your lips return to his. You try not to fall apart at the sound—try to last just a little longer, to feel all of him, to remember this as the first time you were seen and wanted and welcomed all at once.

He holds you tightly. Kisses you deeper. Moves with you, against you, beneath you. You don’t rush. You can’t. It builds like a wave.

Like heat and ache and everything breaking open. And when it crests—

You fall together.

⋆｡°✩

Afterwards, you lie tangled in silk sheets and shallow breaths, the world narrowed to the space between your bodies. Your hand in his. Your thumb brushes the line of his knuckles. You press a kiss to his temple. He exhales.

And smiles for real this time.

You wake to the sound of birds. Soft, scattered, high in the distant trees.

The kind of sound you never hear in the lower quarters of the city, where the only music is wheels against stone and the creak of heavy doors. You let it wash over you. Let yourself believe—for one last, fragile minute—that the world outside is as kind as this bed, this morning, this boy sleeping beside you.

Choso lies curled on his side, braid undone, dark hair fanned across the pillow like spilt ink. One hand rests loosely against your chest, fingers twitching now and then with dreams he hasn’t woken from yet.

The light filters in slow and gold, turning the silk sheets into something almost holy. It slips over the slope of his shoulders, the faint line of a scar near his collarbone, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You could stay like this. You could forget the city, the lies, the borrowed name stitched into the back of your coat. You could forget the way Mahito watched you with a smile that never touched his eyes.

You could. But you don't.

You can't.

⋆｡°✩

You shift carefully, brushing your thumb over the back of Choso's hand. He stirs. Blinks sleepily up at you. His lashes catch the light. "...Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," you say, softer. He doesn't pull away. Doesn't flinch. He just watches you for a moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes, like he’s still waiting for you to change your mind now that the night is over.

You don't. You kiss his forehead. He exhales, a sound more felt than heard, and tucks himself closer. You let your fingers trail lightly down his back, tracing the spaces between his ribs, the small scars and marks of a life you haven’t heard about yet—but want to. You want to learn them all.

You think: I could stay. But footsteps echo down the corridor outside. A voice calls faintly—court summons, morning meetings, new dignitaries arriving. Reality creeps in like the tide.

You meet Choso’s gaze. Neither of you says it. Neither of you has to.

This world isn’t made for boys like you. Not yet.

You don’t realise you’re being followed until it’s too late.

The palace corridors twist like veins, familiar but shifting somehow in the heavy evening air. You’re almost back to the guest wing, to the safe warmth of Choso’s voice, when a shadow cuts across your path.

Mahito. Blocking the hall. Smiling like he’s been waiting for this. You freeze. Your fingers twitch toward the lamp hidden in your sash. Too slow.

⋆｡°✩

"You're clever," Mahito says, voice silk-slick. "I'll give you that." He steps closer. You don't move.

"But not clever enough." His pale eyes gleam. His hand lifts lazily—and before you can even reach for Megumi or the lamp—   a sharp shove, magic crackling at your back—

You stumble. Arms grabbed. Ropes you can't see binding around your wrists, your ankles.

"Street rat," Mahito murmurs, almost tender. Then—

The balcony edge rushes up. He doesn't even watch you fall.

The air tears past you in a scream you can’t hear. The river below catches you in a brutal, crushing grip—icy and endless and roaring in your ears. You sink fast. Weighed down by silk, rope, and fear. You thrash. Fight. Try to scream for Gojo—but the water fills your mouth, your nose, your eyes, dragging you under.

You reach for the lamp with your bound hands. Mouth a desperate plea into the black. Please.

The lamp flashes against your chest. Heat surges in your lungs. And the world shatters.

⋆｡°✩

You’re gasping on the riverbank. Coughing so hard it tears at your throat. Gojo kneels beside you, drenched, furious, still sparking faintly with leftover magic.

"You—" he chokes, raking a hand through his wet hair. "You used your second wish." You can’t even answer. You just grip the sand, coughing, as Megumi clambers over your chest, clicking his teeth in frantic relief. "You’ve got one left," Gojo mutters.

Quiet now. Almost broken.

⋆｡°✩

But you don’t have time to think. Not yet. Because somewhere in the palace, Mahito still stands.

Still smiling. Still plotting. You push yourself to your feet.

And you run.

The guards are scattered. The throne room churns with confusion. Gakuganji—the Sultan—is slumped against his throne, eyes glazed, words slurring.  At Mahito’s side, a tall staff gleams darkly, twisted into the shape of a cobra.

You don't need Gojo to tell you. The staff is the key. You charge.

⋆｡°✩

Mahito turns just as you reach him. He grins. "You just don’t know when to die, do you?" You don’t answer.

You swing— Hard. The staff cracks at the base, splintering under the force of your stolen sword.

The magic whines. Then—  shatters. Gakuganji blinks. Shakes his head.And roars for the guards. Mahito snarls—lunges for you—but four soldiers tackle him before he can reach. They drag him toward the dungeons. He twists once to glare at you over his shoulder. "I’ll be back," he spits. "You’ll have to wait," you say, voice steady now.

And the doors slam behind him.

⋆｡°✩

Gakuganji turns to you. "You saved my mind," he says gruffly. "And my kingdom." You swallow. The lamp is heavy in your sleeve.He smiles.

A slow, approving smile. "And if my child wishes it," Gakuganji says, voice rising, "you shall have her hand."The room erupts in cheers. Choso stands stiff near the throne, eyes wide—face unreadable. And in that moment—

You realise the world would give you everything you want. If you kept lying.

Gojo appears by your side, quieter now. He doesn't say anything. Just looks at you. Waiting. Hoping. You tighten your fingers around the lamp. And you hesitate.

⋆｡°✩

The celebration fades around you.

 You barely hear it—the clapping, the cheers, the way Gakuganji beams, and the royal guards stamp their spears in approval. All you see is Choso.

Standing a few steps away. Not smiling. Not rushing forward. Just… waiting. Hesitant. Hopeful. Fragile in a way that cuts deeper than anything Mahito could have thrown at you.

⋆｡°✩

Gojo stands at your side. Still shimmering faintly from the river. Still waiting. Not pushing.  Not pleading. Just standing there like someone holding a string he already knows you’re about to let go of.

You reach for the lamp. Feel the weight of the final wish burning against your skin. Your throat tightens. You promised. When you first met him—lost and laughing in a puff of glitter—you promised you’d set him free. That was before you fell in love with the wrong name.

The wrong life. Before Choso looked at you like you were worth it. Before you knew what it felt like to belong.

⋆｡°✩

You close your fingers around the lamp. Breathe.

And you can feel Gojo’s gaze—steady and unbearably gentle. Waiting. Trusting. You falter. You think– Just a little longer. Just until the wedding. Just until you’re sure.

You need him. You can’t do this without him.

You can't.

⋆｡°✩

You lower the lamp. Don’t say the wish. Don’t say anything. The betrayal is small.  Quiet. You don’t even see Gojo flinch.But you feel it.

In the way he goes, very still beside you.  

In the way the magic in the air dims—like a candle guttering before it goes out. You glance at him. He smiles. Almost. A threadbare thing.

"Guess some promises are easier to break," he says softly. No anger. No accusation. Just… sadness.

⋆｡°✩

Before you can speak, before you can explain or apologise or take it back— Gojo retreats. The magic swirls around him, blue and gold and soft with resignation.

The lamp hums once in your hand. And he’s gone. Sealed away. Silent.

You stand alone in the throne room. Choso approaches carefully. And the crowd cheers again. But it sounds so far away. Like the echo of a door closing behind you.

⋆｡°✩

You don’t sleep that night. Not really. The palace celebrates around you—banquets and music and the rustle of gold—but it sounds muffled, like you’re hearing it through water.  

You sit alone by the windows, staring out over the empty streets, watching the stars blur.

The lamp sits heavy in your hands. You haven’t touched it since Gojo vanished inside. You don’t know if he’s listening. Or if he even wants to anymore.

The knock at your door comes soft. You don’t move at first.

You think maybe it’s Choso—come to ask if you’re alright, to pull you out of your own head the way he did once with a single smile. But when the door creaks open—

You see blue hair. You see Mahito’s grin. And you know you’re too late.

⋆｡°✩

It’s not a fight– It’s a theft. A blur of motion—magic flaring cold and sharp in the small room—the lamp ripped from your hands before you can even shout. You stagger. Reach. Miss.

Mahito steps back into the shadows, lamp cradled against his chest like a prize he was always meant to have. "Thanks for keeping it warm," he says sweetly.

Then he’s gone. Vanished into the dark.

⋆｡°✩

The alarm rises seconds later. Too late.

Guards scrambling through the halls. Choso shouting your name across the marble. Geto throwing orders like knives.   But none of it matters. Mahito has the lamp– And you know what comes next. You know because you know him—better than you want to.

He’ll wish for power. For the throne. For the kind of magic no mortal should ever touch. And no one—not even you—can stop him now.

⋆｡°✩

Unless. You run. You don’t think– you just move. Out of your chambers. Down the steps. Through the garden where the night air burns cold against your skin. You find Choso at the fountain, sword half-drawn, looking for you.

His eyes widen when he sees your face. "What happened?"You gasp for breath.

"He has the lamp." For a second—just one—fear flashes across Choso’s face.

But then he straightens. Grips his sword. "Then we take it back."

You reach the throne room just in time to see it happen.

Mahito stands at the centre of it all—grinning, wild, radiant with stolen magic.  The lamp in one hand. Gakuganji slumped to one side. The guard kneeling with empty eyes.

He holds the lamp high. “I wish,” Mahito says, voice sharp with triumph, “to be Sultan!” The air twists. Magic slams into the walls, cracking stone and shattering chandeliers.  The throne reshapes itself beneath him, black and gold and monstrous.

The room falls silent. Mahito—no longer an advisor, no longer anything human—turns his new crown in his hands. And laughs.

⋆｡°✩

You flinch backwards. Choso catches your arm. "Stay with me," he says, voice low. You nod. You draw your sword—cheap steel against magic.  It feels useless.

But you raise it anyway. Because the alternative is letting Mahito win. And you’re not that boy anymore. You’re not a street rat sneaking bread from market stalls.

You’re someone worth fighting for.

⋆｡°✩

Mahito steps down from the throne with slow, theatrical strides. Around him, the corrupted guards start moving toward you. Choso draws his sword too. Geto appears from the side doors, slipping through the chaos, blade flashing as he cuts down two of Mahito’s enthralled soldiers.

Megumi—small and furious—claws his way up a guard’s leg and bites. You lunge forward. Steel against steel. Magic crackling at the edges of your vision.

⋆｡°✩

But you’re not winning. Not really.

Mahito’s too strong now. Too fast. Too twisted with power, he was never meant to touch. Every time you cut down a guard, two more replace them. You duck a strike, parry another, heart pounding, throat burning. You can feel the ground tilting—everything sliding toward ruin.

⋆｡°✩

And Mahito watches. Smiling. Like a cat watching mice tire themselves out before the kill. "You can’t win," he says lazily. "You’re nothing. You were always nothing." Your hand tightens on the sword hilt.

You think of Choso’s hand in yours.  Of Gojo’s crooked smile.  Of Megumi clinging to your jacket like you were something worth protecting. You raise your head. And you smile back.

⋆｡°✩

"You’re right," you say. You lower your sword. Mahito frowns– confused.

"You’re right," you say again, louder. "I’m nothing. Just a street rat. A liar. A thief." You take a slow step forward.

"You’re the powerful one now. You’re stronger than anyone. Smarter. Better." You meet his eyes.

"And it’s not enough, is it?" Mahito’s smile falters. The doubt creeps in. The greed. The fear that even with the world under his heel, someone somewhere might still look down on him. You step closer. Let him see the bait.

"If you’re really that great," you murmur, voice dropping to a whisper, "why settle for Sultan?" Mahito freezes. You smile, small and devastating.

"Why not wish to be the most powerful being in the world?"

⋆｡°✩

The silence snaps. Mahito whirls toward the lamp. His knuckles whiten around it. "I wish," he snarls, "to be a Genie!"

The magic screams. The world bends. The ground heaves beneath your feet as the lamp flares—blinding white and burning blue—and Mahito’s body twists, warps, shrinks.

He screams. Not in victory. In terror.

Because he understands, too late, what you already knew: Genies are powerful.

But they are never free.

Chains—gold and searing, lash around his wrists. The lamp yawns open like a mouth. And Mahito is dragged inside. Gone. Sealed.

Forever.

The throne room stills. You lower your sword. Choso catches you when your knees buckle, steady hands warm against your ribs. You close your eyes. And breathe.

⋆｡°✩

The throne room is a mess of broken marble and stunned silence. But none of it matters. Not the shattered columns, or the scorch marks on the floor, or the lingering weight of magic still trembling through the air. You’re still standing.

Choso’s hand is still wrapped around yours. And in your other hand— The lamp. Heavy.

Alive. Waiting.

⋆｡°✩

You lift it carefully. Thumb tracing the worn edge of the spout. You hear Gojo’s voice in your head—bright, careless, teasing:

"What would you wish for, street rat?" And you smile.

⋆｡°✩

You don't hesitate this time. You hold the lamp close. "I wish," you say, voice steady, "for Gojo to be free."

The magic bursts out like a second sunrise. Blinding. Joyous. Real.The lamp trembles in your grip—then stills.

And Gojo— Gojo appears in a cascade of light, blinking like he’s seeing the sky for the first time. He touches his own chest, stunned. No chains. No pull back into the lamp. Just him.

Just free.

He laughs—wild and hoarse and a little broken—and then turns and tackles you into a hug so hard you stagger back two steps. "You crazy, beautiful, reckless idiot," he breathes into your hair. You laugh too—wet and breathless and so full it almost hurts.

"You’re free," you whisper. "Yeah," he says, pulling back to beam at you. "Yeah, I am."

⋆｡°✩

Geto appears at his side, folding his arms and giving Gojo a once-over like he’s assessing a particularly troublesome stray cat. "So," Geto says dryly, "now that you’re not a mystical prisoner of cosmic servitude anymore…" Gojo grins, flashing teeth."You’re stuck with me," he says, leaning casually against Geto’s shoulder like he’s always belonged there.

Geto rolls his eyes. But his hand finds Gojo’s without hesitating. "S'pose I could do worse," he mutters. Gojo’s grin only widens. "Aw," he coos. "You like me."

"Don’t push your luck."

⋆｡°✩

The court regathers slowly. The king—Gakuganji—steps forward, the crown still slightly askew on his head, but his eyes clearer now than they have been in weeks. He looks at Choso.

Really looks at him. Like seeing him for the first time. And Choso—

Choso straightens. Takes a step closer. And says, quietly but firmly:

"I’m not your daughter." The words hang there. Heavy. Sacred. "I never was." A beat. A breath. And then— Gakuganji chuckles. Low. Rough. Like stone cracking. "Good," he says. "I never liked raising girls. Too much screaming." A pause. Then, softer:

"I’m proud of you."

Choso blinks. Then bows his head, just slightly, like he’s carrying something too big to hold all at once.

⋆｡°✩

"And," Gakuganji continues, voice carrying, "I suppose I’ll need a new law." You stiffen.

The king’s gaze sweeps the hall. "From this day on," he says, "royals may marry whomever they choose. No bloodlines. No borders."

His eyes settle on you. "Just hearts."

The hall breaks into cheers. You barely hear them. You’re too busy watching Choso. The way his mouth curves, small and shy. The way his fingers reach for yours again.

The way he shines.

⋆｡°✩

Later, in the garden where the stars first found you—

You stand with Choso under the heavy branches of a fig tree, the lamp finally quiet at your feet, and the moon turning the world silver. You take his hand. You feel it tremble. You let yours tremble too.

"You don’t have to say yes," you whisper. "You don’t owe me anything." Choso looks at you for a long moment. Then steps closer. Presses his forehead to yours.

"I’ve been waiting my whole life," he breathes, "for someone who sees me." You close your eyes. Breathe him in.

And the world—this strange, broken, mended world—feels like it might finally be yours. Together.

⋆｡°✩

Somewhere above, Gojo and Geto bicker about constellations. Megumi steals a peach tart from the palace kitchens and almost gets caught.

And you— You kiss Choso under the stars. Not because a story told you to. Not because a wish demanded it.

But because, for the first time—

You can.

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sa1ki-deactivated20250510@sooniebby @seomn

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[justbelievinginmagic]

when worlds collide - part 1: welcome aboard.

pairing(s): ATEEZ OT8 x Fem!Reader

series summary: What if Aniteez appeared on Ateez's ship, Twilight, after being sent through a Cromer wormhole? How would the two crews work and live in harmony when worlds collide?

warnings/tags: slice of life pirate au! silly times. this is the closest to a crack fic ive ever written but its also done in earnest lol. this is pure fluff for the most part. technically theyre in ateez lore timeline. chaotic aniteez, polyateez x reader, sandeoki is canonically a girl idc shes a princess.

word count: ~3.3k

-> next chapter

series masterlist

“Y/N!”

It wasn’t often Y/N was awoken by one of the crew crying out her name from the top-deck. Sure, there were moments she was woken up by a crew mate snuggling into her bunk with her, sun-warmed or bath-warmed returning from their shift. A kiss pressed to her cheek before they whispered a soft ‘go back to bed.’ Yelling from the sun-deck was rare. In fact, there had only been one other time. A time where they had battled a mechanical kraken of sorts, thanks to the Android Guardians. And the very memory struck fear into her heart.

Jumping out of her bunk, Y/N scrambled to find her dark face-mask, her black hat, something – anything to hide her features from an android’s database mind if they were present. Finding only Hongjoong’s cowboy bandana, she was quick to tie it around her mouth as she hobbled out of the cabin, half-awake but fearful. The cabin door shut with a heavier clank, and she felt the ship tilt to one side suddenly. Tumbling into a wooden post with a thud, she heard a commotion on the main deck that was barely audible through the creaking wood of the pirate ship. There was a clattering and clanking of items tumbling and shifting canons moaning as the ship continued to tilt.

“Let go!” she heard Hongjoong cry out.

With the rudder clicking loudly far off, the ship steadied itself once more. She quickened her step, grasping onto the stairwell’s rope railing, stomping up the stairs, and pushing open the latch to the sun-deck upwards. Her head popped up through the opened space, and she glanced about.

The bright suns blinded her for a moment; they were so far above the clouds that the sea of fluff only made the brilliant twin-suns burn everything into a fuzzy white haze. But as the sun spots and constellations of rainbow fractals in her vision faded, she only saw chaos on her beloved ship. 

Strange tiny creatures were chasing after the men she knew and love. Their little screeches were not very intimidating yet she still saw San run away quick from a purple-cat thing? as if they were! These beings all wobbled on two legs with over-sized heads that looked fuzzy and soft-looking in the sun. The tallest was perhaps 3 Star Apples tall she pondered; the over-sized apples probably looked like melons next to them though.

Across the deck, there were fights breaking out between the creatures and the feared, wanted pirates. Seonghwa was trying to pull a creature with brown fur and a small wiggling tail from a tall barrel of Mini-Melons that suspiciously rumbled with chomping sounds. A puddle of fruit juice soaked into the wooden planks below.

A pink-rabbit creature wobbled and warbled as it tried to chase after his frantic friends tormenting her crew. Its tiny arms reached out to soothe the others with chittering sounds as it quickly caught the purple cat that had been chasing San by its tail. The lavender-kitty let out a squeak of surprise, almost tearfully looking at the other, before curling into the bunny, daintily. It gave up the fight so quickly it was almost funny.

Some of the creatures were running in circles, panicking. A puppy-dog sort of creature was doing so, fear riddling its features as it took in the large ship, oversized in their perspective.

Others were facing off with her crew mates more directly.

“Y/N! Help!”

Wooyoung cried out from nearby, half perched on a barrel. A black-cat creature hissed at him before turning its head to look at her – following Wooyoung’s gaze on her. Its dark eyes widened at her before turning back to look at Wooyoung, dramatically. The creature wobbled on his feet (almost like their heads were too large for their little bodies, making them clumsy) to grab at the barrel’s edge. As if it could hoist itself after Wooyoung.

“Get back!” Wooyoung slapped at a paw.

The cat let out an unimpressed grumble before hissing again.

“Captain!” Yunho called out, tugging a map from another puppy-figure, that was so tiny next to Yunho that it was almost humorous. The tallest and smallest played a sort-of tug-a-war.

“Busy!” Hongjoong cried out as he fought his own creature at the wheel.

A large tail towered over the orange-furred squirrel?? The little thing let out its own constant stream of gibberish; its wild eyes fixated on her captain with such intensity as they pulled and spun the flying ship this way and that.

While the ship was mostly just jostled by the back and forth movements, every now and then they dipped to one side and the other. All beings – fuzzy and not – would let out shrieks until together Hongjoong and the squirrel would level the ship before eventually it happened again.

The bear creature, faced smeared in bits of Mini-Melon flesh and running away from Seonghwa’s approaching form, tumbled into her legs powerfully, making her plop onto the floor. She let out a shriek. The bear too squeaked in surprise; their eyes meeting for a moment before he was lifted up and off her by Jongho.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” he asked, holding the bear out like a disobedient child as it kicked and wiggled.

“I think so. Thank you, baby.” Y/N replied, catching her lost breath.

Seonghwa stopped beside Jongho and in front of Y/N with a huff. “What are these things?” he queried.

The bear creature babbled and wriggled. Y/N went to stand in the meantime before the ship shifted once more and she lost her balance alongside everyone of the ship. The entire crew tumbled to the ground heavily, even Hongjoong. Jongho thudded to the ground loudly; the baby bear was tossed from his grasp and tumbled into the other animal creatures nearby like a bowling ball into bowling pins. There were groans of pain from them before the entire crew felt the ship dip.

They let out screeches and warbles of fear; the pink creature pushing a few of the crew behind him; the black cat latched onto a puppy-dog.

The ship cut through the air, the crew sliding and banging into one another as the direction of the deck became steeper. She felt Yeosang’s hands, dainty but strong as ever from hauling himself up and down to the crow’s nest, grip onto her and tug her away from hitting a nearby crate. She was pressed into his chest as they finally came to a stop. Mingi let out a gasp as he hit the side of the ship beside them. A duckling-creature thudded into his chest, next, with a warbled cry.

The air rattled through the sails inconsistently as they dipped down and towards the right wildly. Clouds cut through the ship’s keel with a ploof, shaking the ship with a turbulence.

Hongjoong grasped onto the edge of the helm, gritting his teeth and digging his boots into the wood planks. He glared up at the squirrel creature who was half-hanging onto the wheel, clinging to the handles with a wide-eyed look of surprise.

“We have to stop!” Hongjoong snapped at the creature. “Or else, we will fall from the sky – got it?”

The orange-furred being’s nose scrunched, almost insulted that Hongjoong thought he didn’t know that! His ears twitched and his tail jittered erratically behind him. With a huff, Hongjoong hoisted himself up to grab onto the other half of the wheel, hands gripping onto the other side’s handles.

“Truce?” Hongjoong prompted to the creature who wanted to claim control of the ship so eagerly.

It looked the Captain up and down. After a mutter under its breath, it let out its own shriek of a sound. His gigantic head nodded firmly.

Agreed!

Together, it and Hongjoong spun the wheel to an even level. The entire crew and the creatures let out a sigh of relief. Y/N sagged into Yeosang’s arms; his hand rose to pet over her hair soothingly. San and Wooyoung were tangled up; the purple kitty cat pressed to their side. Mingi glanced down at the duck creature on his lap.

It warbled up at him, tilting his head at the healer curiously.

“Hello?” Mingi said softly.

It tumbled back in surprise, rolling back and off of Mingi’s lap in a pile.

The orange-squirrel let out another string of babbles from the nearby helm’s platform, loud and demanding. His paws went to his hips as he looked over to his crew of creatures. The pink-bunny’s ears popped up from inside a barrel of fruit – how did he end up there?

It chirped out and hoisted itself out with a huff. Standing on the rim of the barrel, it looked towards the pile of crew members. It’s high-pitched chatter was almost cute if it wasn’t also commanding, mind you. The duckling made a soft sound before rolling upright and wobbling into the nearby puppy-dog’s welcoming embrace. They giggled at one another, dusting at invisible grime from the battle, before holding hands and wandering over to the squirrel. One by one, the creatures formed a huddle around their squirrel leader; the pink-bunny nudged the black cat towards the group warningly as it hissed at them in passing.

Yeosang and Y/N exchanged glances before they heard a low whistle.

Their first mate, Seonghwa, lowered his fingers from his mouth, giving them a steeling look. Yeosang nearly hoisted Y/N up by her arms as they stood quick. And, one by one they fell in line behind Hongjoong. San crossed his arms; Wooyoung tilted his head at the black-cat.

The two crews faced one another; the gentle breeze of the calm skies ruffled hair and fur, alike.

“You can understand us?” Hongjoong clarified.

His hips tilted as he steadied a glare at the squirrel. It babbled out a reply; the tune sounding like ‘duh!’.

“We can’t understand you, not really,” Seonghwa commented from nearby, his hand resting on the butt of the musket slung across his chest. When had he slung that back on? He rarely wore his musket. He sauntered up beside San.

There was a gasp in the animal-creatures. As if surprised there was this language barrier.

“Why are you here?” Hongjoong followed up. “How’d you get here?”

The puppy-dogs shifted forward, stumbling into the squirrel nearly and babbling over one another. The one with longer ears tugged at the squirrel’s tail, quite chaotically, as he exclaimed something. All the squirrel did was let out a squeak over the chattering, turning to glare at the offending-puppy who smiled innocently.

“Can they write it out?” Y/N wondered, leaning on Wooyoung’s shoulder. His arm went around her waist easily.

“In creature-ish?” San commented nearby, raising a brow. Doubtful as it was jesting.

She nudged his strong shoulder with her hand (slinging it over Wooyoung’s shoulder to do so). She was trying to figure something out. It was worth a shot. San chuckled at her.

There was a sound of agreement, of delight nearly. And then one of the creatures had brandished a thing of chalk triumphantly.

“Oh…” San mumbled with a pout.

Quickly, the shorter dog-creature drew out a shape onto the floor boards. One triangle, another triangle, a circle…

“The Cromer?” Hongjoong breathed, eyes widening at the symbol.

There was a squeak of agreement by the dog and the squirrel.

“The Cromer brought you here?” Seonghwa clarified. “You know of the Cromer?”

The squirrel nodded; his tail bounced, pleased.

“How?”

The squirrel chittered out annoyed that they couldn’t just get it. He shrugged his shoulders and looked to his crew for aid. The black cat huddled closer to steal the piece of chalk, scratching out the symbol and drawing a ship, an arrow, and a cloud.

“You… flew into a cloud?” Jongho said.

There was a grumble of disagreement. Another member of the animal crew stole the chalk, the bunny this time, and it drew an hourglass with sparkles above the cloud and an arrow from the cloud to the Cromer symbol.

“The Cromer made a sort of time-traveling cloud and you went through it?” Yeosang prophesied.

How did he get that from that?

“On purpose?” Yunho added, doubtfully.

Together, the creatures chimed out a negative sound – except for the squirrel who glanced aside innocently. Hongjoong eyed the leader carefully at that.

“You’re lost, then?” Y/N clarified, kneeling down, and eying the creatures and their illustrations at a closer range. “This isn’t your dimension and you know it.”

There was a sound of agreement, almost bouncy in tone as the creatures nodded.

“Why did you attack us, hm?” Wooyoung argued out.

There was a glance between the animal crew as they huddled closer together, protectively…shamefully.

“You were scared?” Mingi asked.

There was a whimper from the lavender cat and it clung to the long ear of the fluffy-maltese-esque puppy dog.

“We won’t hurt you – we’re Ateez.” She told them, reassuringly. “We help others, okay?”

Now, Hongjoong was the one that glanced away at that; fingers fiddled with the gold on his phalanges. They all did help others, but, as much as they were Robin Hoods, they also enjoyed their pillages. The squirrel’s ear twitched, and he tilted his head at the Captain.

Meanwhile, the bear creature eyed Y/N carefully, shuffling closer as if to test if she was telling the truth. His big eyes took in her facial expression; her genuine soft smile. It nodded with a rumbly reply. Its head was large; shimmering fur glinted in the sunlight. Its face was sweet as it smiled up at her, buck-toothed. Its babbling reply was incoherent but by its tone she could tell it was positive. The bear turned to say something to the others encouragingly.

Slowly, the others spread out from their tight-knit huddle, relaxing just a smidge.

“What’s your names?” Wooyoung prompted next, hands going to rest on Y/N’s shoulders as he peered over her.

The bear said…something. It was a warble of sorts, guttural and distorted by the warbling chatter that was their language. None of the crew could understand. There was an ‘ah-ha!’ sound from the squirrel suddenly and he stole the chalk from the pink bunny.

One by one, he drew a little face on the ground of each animal-creature, a bit messy and crude in nature but identifiable, and a wrote a name above it. It was hard to decipher, the writing almost more symbols than text. Squiggly lines and swirls. It was definitely not of this world and yet…

“Jjoongrami?” Hongjoong sounded out, looking at the mischievous drawing of the squirrel.

The squirrel squeaked out in excitement, pointing to itself proudly. His head bobbed up and down, his tail nearly dancing in joy.

“Bbyongming?” Mingi read out.

The duckling warbled clapping its paws? How did a duck have paws?

“Hetmongi!” Yeosang guessed quickly. He loved doodling a character named Hethet! What a coincidence!

One by one they sounded out their names and there was a back-and-forth if there was miscommunication. But it was almost like fate, a different crew member could read another creature’s scribbles.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Seonghwa sighed.

“Well… hello, we’re Ateez. You’re aboard the Twilight.” Hongjoong introduced finally after a look from JJoongrami, ear twitching in patience. Just as they wanted to know who the intruders were, the intruders wanted to know who they were… where they were.

He tapped his own chest. “I’m Hongjoong, the Captain.”

With a grandiose gesture, he glanced to Seonghwa before introducing him: “My First Mate, Seonghwa.”

The long-haired man raised a brow at the creatures, still careful, despite the slowly-charmed smirk on his lips.

“Yunho, Navigator.” 

Yunho, with his mussed dark brown hair over his eyes, shifted his goggles on his head before offering a salute.

“Yeosangie, our Look Out.”

The deep-wine red-head tilted his head at the creatures carefully, only having a flicker of a smile appear at the sight of Hetmongi.

“Y/Nie,” Hongjoong patted her head; Y/N grinned up at him before dropping her head to look at the other crew. “The Helmswoman. Heads it when I'm away, of course.”

“Sannie.” The buff man offered a smile at the creatures easily. “He’s our Bosun.”

Mingi grinned with snake-eyes, an attempt at intimidation despite the softness that was Mingi, as Hongjoong introduced him next. “Mingi, our Healer.”

“Wooyoung,” Wooyoung interrupted Hongjoong boldly. “I’m the best Cook in all of the skies and seas.”

Hongjoong huffed affectionately, rolling his eyes. He gestured to Wooyoung as if to punctuate the other’s introduction. His hand then shifted, pointing towards Jongho. The stoic man stared with pursed lips at the other group, examining them.

“Jongho, our Gunner.”

The creatures mumbled out an acknowledgement before Hongjoong quickly redirected their attention, standing in front of Y/N and the crew once more. Taking control of the situation. Y/N stood, shifting to Seonghwa’s side.

“That’s the crew. Now give us a moment, lads,” Hongjoong requested to the creatures. “So, we can talk - as a crew.”

There was a squawk from the kitty named Sandeoki.

 “What? What’s wrong?” Yunho exclaimed hands raising in defense.

The black-cat who they now knew was called Wooyonyang mischievously stole the chalk and drew a quick crown over Sandeoki’s doodle.

“Oh, not… lads,” Hongjoong exclaimed. “Lads… and lady. Only one lady?”

He eyed the pink bunny carefully, but there were no further explanations (in the form of squeaks or squawks). Sandeoki preened at the clarification nonetheless, and the group nodded along.

“Alright, lads and lady,” he said once more before gesturing for his own crew to huddle across the ship.

“You all alright?” That was the first question.

There were nods; Wooyoung rambled about how he was hissed at. San rubbed his back reassuringly.

“What says all of you?” the Captain prompted. “What should we do?”

“I think… the Cromer sent them for a reason,” Yeosang commented.

Yunho nodded along.

“I don’t think they’re dangerous,” Seonghwa added, draping an arm across Jongho’s shoulder. “Frightened but not outwardly cruel.”

Jongho raised a brow, stern-faced.

“They’re cute,” San argued, even if Wooyoung gasped dramatically. Cute, his ass. Wooyonyang tormented him!

“They know about ships it seems,” Y/N added. “If they came from one like they said. They will be helpful.”

“There will need to be an agreement,” Hongjoong raised a brow. “I can have Jjoongrami stealing the helm again like that.”

“I think they were just scared, Joongie,” Seonghwa reassured.

Hongjoong’s seriousness didn’t ease at his first mate’s comment.

“I’m not convinced,” he said. “That squirrel…”

“He’s mischievous,” Jongho agreed.

“Of course, you’d clock that,” Yeosang commented.

Jongho smirked slyly. Despite his seeming stoicism as the gunner, he was the most mischievous maknae.

“Eight more mouths to feed,” Wooyoung lamented.

“They’re, like, us – I think. Would you abandon a doppelganger of yourself?” Yeosang prompted.

A scoff left Wooyoung, always ready for a debate or a moment to be bold. “Yes.” He exclaimed. “Who trusts doppelgangers?!”

Seonghwa raised a brow, lips twitching into a snarl of a sneer.

Y/N glanced over at the animal-creatures. They too were huddled up, talking. It was cute to see how mirrored they were.

“We can’t just abandon them.”

“You want to keep them?” Hongjoong said.

“They need our help,” Mingi mused, looking at the creatures over Y/N’s head.

He saw the puppy dog and the duck huddle closer, a frightened pout coming to Tyudeongi’s face as the squirrel chattered at his crew. Mingi reached out and wrapped Y/N in his embrace, hugging her close. His chin rested on her shoulder.

“We can’t just abandon them somewhere; the Cromer works in mysterious ways. You know that.” Seonghwa said.

“Captain, what’s the worst that could happen?” Y/N asked.

Hongjoong sighed, hand raising to press against his nose bridge. He could name so many things. But he was no dictator – freedom, expression, this is what he lived for. And his crew wanted this.

“Alright, fine…. They can stay.”

Yippee! They could hear the creatures’ celebrations, because, of course, they had been listening in by that point.

"Welcome aboard!" Y/N cheered.

Hongjoong let out a deep sigh. What were they getting into?