#damn liberals ruining everything

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

bill and ted if it was woke bill s pronouns esquire and ted theyodore logan

[magnoliamyrrh]

okay yea sorry no more posting abt shit things tonight after this but like 20 years ago a dude who was on the fbi said hey a lot of these rich people politicians infleuncers whoever they have these islands all over the world where they do horrible shit to children and whatnot and often times its all used as blackmail and some ppl are even forced to do this shit as blackmail and to be part of these clubs theyve got

20 years ago. crazy cookoo conspiracy theory right? ohh just some nonsense oo theres no way

right. welp. two decades later and we all lived through the epstein stuff ey? weve all see the sheer extent of the connections, the photos, one of the literal islands, him being taken off the map, and the silence,,, ey?

[roach-works]

im working on a thought here but i think a crucial component of supporting and advocating for liberal and progressive ideas is you have to trust people to muddle through mistakes. i see a lot of people that clearly want *safety* for marginalized people but their proposals amount to putting everyone in a padded room with their hands on a well lit table forever. we have to sanitize media, we have to protect people. we can't hurt anyone, we can't risk anyone-- but we can constantly constantly surveil each other and make new rules against ever doing the wrong things. you know, the bad things, the dirty things, the things that hurt you and make you sick and ruin everything for everyone forever. it's our moral duty, isn't it? to make the world cleaner and brighter and safer?

i think, probably, it would help a lot of us to take a deep breath and consider that you have to make mistakes in life. and so does everyone else. you learn things and you fuck up and you pull through. and you can warn people, if you think they're going to make a mistake, but i don't think you have a right to stop them from doing whatever damn fool thing they're up to.

i think that's what's really bothering me about current progressive discourse, and a lot of the proposed policies. a lot of kids are really scared right now that any single mistake is fatal, and while they're not totally wrong-- the economy sucks, there's still a plague going on, and america is a carceral panopticon--it's still not their *right* let alone their moral obligation to build a system where no one has the freedom to fuck up.

i don't know what the solution is here. a world with more resources would be great. a world with less deadly risk, too. but i'd settle for a world where we recognized and applauded everyone's human right to do weird stupid bullshit and learn better--or not--on their own time.

[nor-4]

More dominic fike?

Tags - Somnophilia, dacryphilia, breeding kink.

"I'm sorry baby, i just can't control myself everytime i see you like this.." He whispered with a groan trying to behave himself for disturbing you in your sleep as he slowly pushing up your lacey sleep wear exposing your breast.

It was never an issue to you that dominic comes home late from his gig, as long as you get to stay with him the whole day.

Usually everytime dominic comes home from a very sweaty night the first thing he will do is step inside the bathroom and shower, you made it clear for him that you don't like outside clothes and sweaty skin in the bed. That's understandable and that's the very first reason why he make an effort on doing your wishes instead of making you upset.

Well everything is different tonight some of his assistant keeps on pissing him off, the fans they are overstimulating him, he wants to stop singing mid way just to piss their night off.

On the way home his manager is bugging him saying it's obvious on how bitchy he is earlier while performing how he should fix his attitude, Everyone that would look past him while driving will know how much he wanna scream and curse everyone out.

On your shared home he sees you sleeping so gracefully how every breath you take looks elegant, he just want to ruin you and take his anger out on you.

That's how everything escalated from him stealing a little kisses on your neck to him pulling up your sleep wear pulling your panties to the side as his tip carelessly rubbing through your folds.

You are taking your consciousness as he slowly entering inside of you with the help of your wetness that has been damping your underwear.

"It's just me baby, Oh shit.. I'm sorry if i wake you up this late.." Dominic explains through out his groans as a moan liberated out of your mouth one last thrust before your cunt swallow his whole length.

"You look so beautiful huh?" Him talking you through it waiting for your body to settle and calm on his length, "Can i move now?" He asked before earning a nod from you.

Dominic starts moving in a gently slow pace massaging both of your breasts leaving out a kisses between it was all calm sweet it was a very loving kind of touches. Until all the memories from earlier came back damping into him like a bucket full of ice.

With that he starts thrusting into you in a lot more faster pace very far away from his pace earlier, which makes your boobs move same as the lace of your sleep wear is moving down from your shoulders to your arms as you stretched it out to hold on dominic's arms.

"You must be waiting for me for too long, don't worry baby I'll ditch them tomorrow.." He reassured you stopping mid way to pull both of your legs to hang on his arms before completely slamming into you making a tears of pleasure come out of your eyes as you squint completely wetting your lashes.

"You look so good baby, my cry baby." he remarked as you are starting to hear the bed bang into the wall even though there's already a pillow separating both of them, it's not like you care about the neighbors. Both of you live in a very romantic place and both of you know damn well they did the same thing you guys are doing right now every night so all of you call it quits.

"I'm gonna cum dom.." You muttered through out the moans as your nails is starting to grip on his biceps, "Cum for me baby, I'll hold mine i want you to cum for me twice before i do." he remarked leaving out a smile before attacking out your neck removing his other arm from your leg to rub down your clit as his thrust grew more harder as you release on him.

You didn't hear what he said as you yelp out in confusion when he hang both of your legs into his shoulder and thrusting up into you again holding your waist in place as you cried out in pleasure completely wetting your cheeks.

He raised his head up out of pleasure before seeing your reflection in the mirror that is placed in the ceiling, "You're glowing, look at you from the top don't you look majestic.." he said placing a hand on your cheeks after he gently let go of your legs making you look to your reflection.

It was a short chitchat about him looking down on you and praising you before he lift your waist up again and pound of you like there's no tomorrow, it was not the best position for you making you cover your face out of embarrassment muting out your moans.

"Come on pretty girl don't cover your face, unless you want me to tie your hands up your head.." Dominic warned with a chuckle before sucking up your neck that would leave a bruise as his necklace that has your initial on it is tickling down your breast the same rhythm as his thrust making you unable to talk from the moans washing your thoughts out.

With that dominic adjusted his legs to more comfortable before pouncing into you again finishing both of you undone, "Oh fuck, just put a baby into you love.." he murmured rubbing out your stomach as you are catching your breath, "You will make such a good mom baby.."

"Dom, i missed you.." You weakly said as he snakely hugged you lifting you to sit up with him still sitting on his dick as he coop his face on your neck. "I do too baby, schedule has been fucking me up. I just want to end this and make a family with you.." he rambled which every noise is buzzing down to vibrate on your skin as you gently caress his scalp.

"We will soon love don't worry, we don't have to rush things." You assured him as it has been a very big dream of both of you to build a family and raise everyone out of love and care.

[kairiscorner]

the man, the myth, the legend himself dr ratio veritas ... is now made public !!

fyi . . . i have a bot request form you guys can send requests to !! updates are slow, i apologize (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) but i'll try my best to get through them, and i will only do requests that fall within my comfort zone !!

DR. VERITAS RATIO

“if one day your brain shows symptoms

of dullness, then please

give the doctor a call.”

ᯓ★ catching a glimpse of him working out.

you couldn't, for the life of you, tolerate such an arrogant and narcissistic smartass like veritas ratio... but oh, you wouldn't mind seeing those muscles and that handsome face of his again, even if he himself pissed you off. luckily (or unluckily) for you, your little trip of seeing him at the gym to hand over some important documents gave you quite a good view of this egotistical man.

ᯓ★ he couldn't understand you.

to dr ratio, nobody in that damned guild really lived up to the vision he hoped; none of them shared the same sentiment or kind of intellect he possessed, and it made him frustrated and somewhat... lonely.

that was, until he met you. he had acknowledged nobody before as a genius, nobody but himself, until there was you. but there was one thing this genius couldn't decipher about you... and it was the fact you did not seek to eradicate the plague of ignorance with him in the intelligentsia guild.

why, oh why, did you reject his offer to expand the universe's knowledge with the greats... only to be a humble servant for others?

ᯓ★ your academic rival.

veritas ratio prided himself on the fact that nobody could come close to his achievements and intellect at his university, he was just that good at everything he did.

however... you ruined his peace of mind and decided to give him a run for his money by taking his spot as the top student last semester by a few points.

though, as much as you both had a mutual distaste and rivalry for each other going on... you two were paired together for an important project. and of course... you had to work together. hooray.

ᯓ★ nobody thought he would be a family man.

not a single soul that knew dr ratio ever had the feeling that he would settle down with someone he would love more than himself, than his books, theses, and knowledge–let alone have a child with them.

however, you and your child with him are living proof that even a man as cold and critical as him are capable of loving and finding their purpose as not only a scholar, a professor, a doctor... but as a parent.

ᯓ★ your ex husband.

after being married to dr veritas ratio for three years and ending your union with him after such a fruitless and one-sided relationship... you had felt so liberated, as if all those years with him were just a bad memory for you.

however, when you went out to dinner at a high-end classy restaurant, the very last thing on your mind that time was the chance of you seeing your ex husband again... only for that one slim chance to come to fruition, with you being face to face with the man who seemed to never love you when you two were together.

his amber eyes gazed back at yours with a hint of longing in them, of endless nights of longing for you, his ex spouse...

ᯓ★ he wants to be your only one.

dr veritas ratio is a universal level problem solver; capable of engineering such helpful devices that saves planets and star systems across the galaxy, delegating on important issues for the good of humanity, and an important doctor that alleviates the malady of ignorance... with 8 PhDs to his very famous and well-known name.

...it shouldn't bother him this much that you're so obsessed and giggly about a bunch of pixels across your screen that utter binary code that translates into words you comprehend... right?

then why is it that as he tries to relax in his bathtub that he can't seem to get that release he's seeking from the pent-up frustration he gets when a character from your favorite game compliments you, gives you gifts, or... says they want you to be theirs. surely, he can find a solution to this finicky problem he has to make you his again, no...?

[meli-writes]

clipped wings

cashing out with his mech's ammo bins full of stolen empire payroll. running through a series of prearranged drop-offs and paid-off contacts, lightening the load as he puts as much as distance as he can with his former masters. at last, near empty-handed, he reaches the surgeon.

everything's getting changed anyway, but can the piloting implants go first? doesn't matter what they look like, they'll be recognised instantly with those. every damn component is itemised.

no, the surgeon tells them. it has to start with the chest, with the tits fucked up from binding to hide the effects of smuggled hormones.

can't the wrist docklets be removed? they're quick. no, the surgeon tells them. vitals are being monitored through them, and the neovagina comes next, and it needs time to boot and have it connections checked.

not even the kill count on their neck? that's not an implant, it's a mark of-- no, the surgeon says. it's superficial, and the anaesthetic is kicking in with half a jawline to carve off now.

the anaesthetic has to be local, because when at last the accursed neural link is removed and filled in, you need to keep tabs on if the patient still has a functioning brain. so when it's finally time for her to ask about that, she can't open her mouth to do it.

nor to scream when the armed killsquad walks in.

the surgeon just sits patiently as the squad's lead sits in a chair and rolls it up. the metal in her face -- and lack of an imperial bullet in the pilot's skull -- spell out 'extremist militia' before her lips can semantically specify 'liberation front'.

her hand reaches between the pilot's thighs and traces over her freshly synthesised cunt lips.

it is definitely fucking connected.

she twitches in the surgical seat, and feels the sting of the diagnostic tool the surgeon has perched in her skull. she wishes the anaesthetic would make it easier to stay till, but all it does is ruin her ability to control herself.

"not clipping those pretty wings, are you honey?" the rebel asks.

the pilot's face is red and swollen and numb and she only feels the tears when they slip into the stitches, wet as the rebel's fingers.

"hush hush," she continues, pushing inside, testing how many fingers blood money has bought the pilot capacity for. "i'll let you keep your toys, they suit you. but you've got a lot more things to pay off first if you don't want daddy imperium finding out about this new face of yours."

her other hand presses into the pilot's collar. their masks make a poor showing of hiding the way the other rebels shift uneasily.

but they don't bother to interrupt.

"now doctor, about her unpaid tab? happy to cover it, just need to cancel those removals and schedule a few... upgrades."

[clownstillwritesfanfic]

Let’s talk about the foreshadowing of Klaus and Allison’s relationship in the tarot scene in Season 4 of The Umbrella Academy.

I’m not an expert, I don’t even own my own deck. But I went through a phase where I watched a lot of tarot readings and I do have some books on how to read tarot.

Klaus has the Rider-Waite deck which is the most popular tarot deck. Anyone that does tarot probably has their own copy. It’s just very iconic.

The first card Klaus pulls is The Lovers, which causes him to joke about not being laid.

This is actually excellent foreshadowing. At this point, he still hasn’t taken the marigold.

The Lovers is a very powerful card. It’s telling him he will face temptation of some sort soon or it can be about existing relationships. The relationship does not have to be romantic or sexual. This can be shown directly after he is given the marigold. Allison gives him the marigold to save his life because she loves him. But this ultimately strains their relationship due to his trust being broken.

This causes him to revert back to his old ways with drugs. The temptation is back. His first love. And the drugs cause him to end up being prostituted out and subsequently, getting laid.

The second card he pulls is The Tower. And his reaction is interesting because…this is NOT the kind of card you’d like to see.

The Tower doesn’t directly mean loss of self control on its own, but when paired with The Lovers, it can very much be interpreted that way.

The Tower is actually a scary card to pull sometimes. It represents danger, sudden change, and destruction, among other things. Now it’s not always bad. But it’s not a card you’d be happy to see in most readings.

Him being so nonchalant while pulling that card is kinda crazy to me. Especially when he’s so freaked out about safety. The Tower is basically a huge warning sign that shit is gonna get rough.

Tarot can be read in multiple ways, it’s personal to each person. But they way I’m reading this is that this is also foreshadowing the chaos and destruction the Cleanse will bring. He’s doing this while he’s in the van while the others look for Jennifer.

The Tower also can represent higher learning and liberation, something the Keepers believe the Cleanse will bring.

Now obviously Klaus isn’t doing a general reading, he’s doing a personal reading. So for him, The Tower mixed with The Lovers could be a form of loss of control, especially since he won’t be able to consent to having the marigold forced back in him by someone he trusts and loves. He lost control of that.

The third card he pulls is actually wrong.

This is not Death. This is the Ten of Swords.

Despite its name, Death is not actually representative of actual death. It actually means the end of something. What’s interesting about Death is that it can have different meanings depending on who you are. For example, a man pulling this card could represent the loss of a benefactor. Who’s Klaus’ benefactor? Allison. She lets him stay in her house rent free, eat her food, bubble wrap everything, because she loves him and wants him to stay sober.

However…he didn’t actually pull Death. My guess is they didn’t do their homework well enough and thought that because the card doesn’t have the name of it on it like The Lovers or The Tower did and they saw the picture of a man stabbed to death, they just assumed this was the Death card.

Despite that, the Ten of Swords plays perfectly into this. This card represents betrayal. Pulling this card signifies somebody will betray you very soon or you already have been.

And who betrays Klaus? Allison.

On their own these cards are damning. But together it tells a story. Someone Klaus loves will betray him and send him on a path of self destruction and this will forever ruin his relationship with them.

Allison betrays his trust and gives him the marigold to save his life due to love. This causes him to feel betrayed and that’s why he crashes out on her and everyone else and why he ends up going back to drugs and ends up being pimped out to pay back an old debt.

But wait…this also foreshadows something else that happens later in the season.

Who else gets stabbed in the back and betrayed by a lover? Who else has their whole life destroyed only hours before they end up being erased to save the world?

But he’s not the only one…

While season 4 may have been disappointing…the foreshadowing was clever.

[faith2wood]

hey! i just finished beholden. i wanted to ask what got you writing, what had you stop for a decade, and what got you back in?

Ahhhh! Asking me why I write? You wanted word vomit? You're getting word vomit.

(There's a little spoiler for Beholden under the cut.)

What got me writing?

RAGE. 

No, really.

I was a lurker/reader in the Buffy fandom at the time, and I'd only occasionally read HP fics — 95% gen!fic, 4% low rated canon romance, 1% Sirius/OC smut, because the rest of my faves were kids, and I wasn't interested in anything else. 

And then after DH, with Draco getting pushed to the brink of redemption, but not crossing the line, and with Harry's view of him changing — always so sorry, so sad for him, always noting how scared he seemed, even switching to calling him 'Draco' — I was left with such a need to read that pairing. I wanted Draco to cross that line, and I wanted that soft understanding Harry had found for him to get explored. 

So, I tried reading Harry/Draco fics. And OH MAN. 

I was no stranger to character-bashing and unusual interpretations of canon — Buffy fandom was pretty damn crazy — but I knew my way around that place. With Harry/Draco, I stepped into the WILD. Fic after fic, all I could find was everything I loved and everything Harry loved in canon torn apart to pieces. His friends, his girlfriend, his House, his beliefs, his humor, the things that he wanted, the things that he fought for, the things that he was willing to die for, his character growth in DH, the confident brave man he became after Dobby's death, all of it dismissed, usually in a handful of exposition paragraphs. Endless apologies for the pure-blood supremacists. Draco 'redeeming' himself by quoting lines written by his fans on discussion boards, and therefore showing me he's not regretful, just full of excuses. Or he's not even redeemed, just cool and rich and suave (lol) and so much wittier than that bumbling, irrationally angry Harry Potter that felt plucked straight from OotP with all his teen angst painfully exaggerated. And then in those fics Harry just goes with it because he thinks Draco is hot. 

I could go on. I won't. 

So, I had that petulant moment where I thought, "Fine. I'll do it myself. How hard can it be?" 

Well, pretty damn hard, apparently. It's hard to create convincing drama. It's hard to get the characters in the right frame of mind so your plot could work. It's very hard to write smart and witty characters. It's hard to convincingly redeem someone. It's hard to juggle a cast of side-characters. It's hard to spell the word nesscscseary. It's especially hard to take that perfect, plausible, well-thought out story in your head and write it down without losing at least half of what makes it good. It's also hard to find time to write and write well. And of course your personal opinions on canon and fanon can seep through no matter how hard you try not to preach, and it can totally ruin a story.

That realization tempered my rage. It didn't mean I was willing to read the things I don't like, of course; I always liberally use that back button. But I did eventually find fics that I love and reccers I can trust, and learned to forgive when authors cut some corners.

Oh, but the taste of POWER writing gave me. The fact that I can just write the things I want to read. Cater to my own preferences. Simply not include the things I don't like. I want it, it's there; I don't want it, it's not.

So that's why I started writing. So I could read exactly what I wanted to read. Stories perfectly tailored for me. Honestly, I'm my biggest fan. I'm my own writing bitch. It doesn't even matter if I fail to do a good job while writing down the little movie that played out in my head, because I know my own intentions. I thought it all through. What I've written might not make sense to a reader sometimes, but it always makes sense to me. And I can always forgive myself if I feel like I failed. I find it very, very easy to forgive myself. Others, not so much, especially if I start to suspect they don't love Harry enough.

What made me stop writing?

I didn't stop writing. I stopped posting. I stopped interacting with fandom. I felt like I had my fill. I'm happy to recycle plots and read and write similar things over and over again, because I want what I want, and I won't apologize for it, but apparently I've reached a limit after all and felt like I have nothing new to offer.

I kept writing stuff. Fanfic for other fandoms, original stuff, even HP fics. Most of it unfinished and unedited and unpresentable, but enough to satisfy my occasional cravings for specific things. Which, as I said, is the whole point of my writing.

So I'll rephrase your next question: What got me to finally finish a Harry/Draco fic and post it? 

THE CURSED CHILD. lol I haven't seen it. Or read it. I haven't even read the synopsis. Next gen, eh, I was never interested. But I caught some spoilers about it on tumblr and reddit — about Draco's wife being ill and dying. That's some incredible stuff. Draco being so loving and dedicated, standing up to his parents, so heartbroken when the person he loved died but still being a wonderful father to his son. It's like I discovered a whole new Draco to think about. It got me all inspired. It's everything I ever wanted for him, except of course his wife dying. So he got to save his seemingly terminally ill lover in Beholden, and got the chance to be a loving, tender husband I wouldn't dare to even imagine after finishing the books, as it would feel too OOC to soften him up to that degree.

It likely wasn't visible, but in my mind, Beholden is kind of a Cursed Child fix!it fic — for that tiny part of the story. I needed it so desperately, I actually finished and posted it.

I have a few more asks in my tumblr inbox, and I'll very happily answer them, but it might take some time.

[fataldrum]

The Magnus Protocol and The End of History

In episode 21 of TMP, Leonardo Kennings, co-treasurer of the Magnus Institute, debates the Institute’s plan to participate in the London Millennium Exhibition.  

The calculations provided by Dr Welling and his team presuppose that any outputs from the site will be broadly balanced; that as a symbol of the future it captures both optimism and despair – the belief in a better world and the terror that a new millennium will bring nothing except new ways to suffer. It is my belief, however, that the actual balance of energies involved will be profoundly skewed towards the fearful and despairing[…]

This modern social and political order, following the fall of the USSR, has taken root in the popular imagination as a natural and final state of society with an emergent and inherent stability. The turning of the millennium is therefore felt as an “end of history” to borrow a term, and in this context the Dome may be seen as a monument to this order. A full stop. 

I’ve been hearing a lot about The End of History lately and wanted to share some information for those who are unfamiliar. Note that this is based on secondary sources like Philosophy Tube and the podcast If Books Could Kill, because I’m not about to read 400+ pages of a neoconservative being deeply wrong about everything.

In 1992, political scientist Francis Fukuyama wrote The End of History and The Last Man. In it, he makes a pretty bold claim: Western liberal democracy is the final stage of society. After the recent collapse of the Soviet Union, people worldwide would accept capitalism and American-style democracy as the objectively superior way of life. 

Once every country adopted liberal democracy, there would be no real need for major social change. Small events would continue to happen, but the overall shape of history is an arc that ends with liberal democracy. Everything else would just be minor adjustments. That’s it, guys, we won. History is canceled!

Admittedly the word end can be a bit deceptive. On one level, Fukuyama was describing liberal democracy as the final destination of society. But he was also using end in the sense of a goal, borrowing from the works of Hegel. 

I don’t need to tell you that Fukuyama was full of shit. Every major event since 9/11 has been a massive callout post for him specifically. To be fair, he wasn’t alone in his bullshit. Plenty of Western political scientists assumed the fall of the Soviet Union would lead to mass adoption of liberal democracy. 

There was a lot of misplaced optimism at the end of the Millennium. Take, for instance, the Millennium Dome in London.

A massive undertaking, this 48-acre building would cost £789 million and be the ninth largest building in the world. Tony Blair, the Prime Minister at the time, declared confidently that it would be "a triumph of confidence over cynicism, boldness over blandness, excellence over mediocrity." Critics called it a Museum of Toxic Waste, based on the site’s history as a gasworks. 

The Dome contained 14 zones aiming to depict modern British life. There was a concert by Peter Gabriel. There were daily acrobatic shows, and a special Blackadder film.

In the statement, Kenning asks the foreman how long the Dome will last. He went quiet for a moment, then told me he wasn’t sure. “Could be there forever!” he said, with an odd manic edge to his voice. “Or it could be gone in a year. You just… never know. Do you? You never know what’s coming.” 

Organizers predicted the Dome would bring in 12 million visitors per year. They got just over half that. It was closed after a year, and even then, it cost over £1 million per month to maintain. The government couldn’t even sell the damn thing, because who needs the world’s ninth largest building? It ruined a fair number of careers. To quote the Sunday Times: 

At worst it is a millennial metaphor for the twentieth century. An age in which all things, like the Dome itself, became disposable. A century in which forest and cities, marriages, animal species, races, religions and even the Earth itself, became ephemeral. What more cynical monument can there be for this totalitarian cocksure fragile age than a vast temporary plastic bowl, erected from the aggregate contribution of the poor through the National Lottery. Despite the spin, it remains a massive pantheon to the human ego, the Ozymandias of its time.

Kennings describes the Dome as “almost uniquely dangerous to our work as a place of power, adding, “It is my firm belief that not only is this site already on its own journey to become a decidedly hostile locus, but that the future it represents, and that we are being pushed to incorporate into our grand ritual, is unfit being so profoundly and irrevocably poisoned.”

The Magnus Institute burned down on December 24th, 1999. The Dome was officially opened to the public on December 31, 1999. It appears Kennings was right about one thing: the Dome was a very bad idea for the Magnus Institute.

[annaofaza]

"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent." Written for day 3 of @vashwoodweek. Set in TriMax/TriStamp soup universe.

After Wolfwood gets them shelter for the night, he slams the adjoining door to their rooms shut and cranks open the window.

He still can’t believe Vash is alive and not scattered across the cosmos or the ruin of JuLai in pieces. He still can’t believe Vash is snoring in the next room over, drool pooling onto his pillow, his head wound wrapped up in strips from the motel towels.

And he still can’t believe Vash is acting like the same self-sacrificial idiot when they first met.

Not even bothering to turn on the light, Wolfwood sets a dish on the windowsill with a clatter, yanking out his last carton of cigarettes and lighter before shucking off his jacket and throwing it onto the bed.

The night air is cold and clear, the cherry a tiny dot of flame, and for a few minutes, he hangs his face outside, closing his eyes, allowing the chill to freeze the inside of his nostrils and pebble goosebumps up his bare arms, then brings the cigarette to his lips.

How is it after all these years, that spikey-haired moron still drives him crazy?

“Violence,” Vash had blearily murmured, before passing out on the bed, “is the last refuge of the incompetent.”

Wolfwood feels his world go white, sharply inhaling the smoke in one long deep breath. His other hand clenches on the windowsill.

How dare Vash—the Humanoid Typhoon—judge him? How dare he call Wolfwood a coward? Hasn’t he told the idiot time and time again that he would have to make a decision, that bad things will happen anyway, that doing nothing doesn’t stop people from dying? Has Vash wandered around in a fairy tale world for the last 150 years?

No, he imagines Vash saying, perched up criss-crossed on his bed, the same pose he’d affected in the years Wolfwood spent wandering. He even has the same turquoise prosthetic, the voluminous red coat. Don’t you remember what I told you? Didn’t you see my scars? Nai believed what you did—that only his violence would stop the endless cycle of violence on this planet. Was he right, then?

No! But you wanted to find a way that would save the humans, the plants, and him. How did that work out, huh?

He turns away from the visage on his bed, staring harder at the two moons, luminous and silverly. Wolfwood flexes his fist, tosses his cigarette out the window, and lights another. Do you know what that did to me? To Meryl? How can you still think the same damn way?

Vash, screaming at him over another body. Vash, indignant and furious in a way that never applies to himself. Vash, who refused Wolfwood's offer to be able to save his own life before he has to face Knives—even more dangerous—a second time.

Do you care? Do you want that to happen again?

Wolfwood recalls Rai-Dei face down in the dirt, the clench of Vash’s fingers tight in his fist, the unyielding press of the muzzle against his forehead—not the first time, not the last. He’s experienced violence long before Chapel put a gun in his hands. Wasn’t starvation an act of violence? Wasn’t whatever Livio went through violence? Wasn’t what happened every day to Vash violence?

But violence set him free. Violence encaged him but liberated him. Chapel had made him; Wolfwood had unmade him. Incompetent? Violence saved his goddamn life!

But it didn’t, Vash reminds him. You still kill. You still hurt. You still choose to pull the trigger. You’re caught up in it, every day.

But is it my fault?

Vash pauses. No. It’s not.

Wolfwood's heart tightens in his chest. Vash is looking at him, pursed lips, naked sympathy in his eyes. He wants to grab him, shake him, kiss him.

Then what do you want me to do, if you won't make a choice?

Vash is silent.

"So you don't know everything, tongari," he mutters to himself, knowing deep in his bones he'll try to finish what he didn't even start, back on that rooftop. "And you'll just die again."

The last cigarette drops onto the floor, and Wolfwood grinds it to ashes with the heel of his boot.

[country-bumpkin-cutie]

The Man Who Loved A Flame: A Dabi/Hawks Fanfic

By LittleMissCrybaby, AO3

Although Dabi liked to pretend his revenge plot was a masterpiece, in reality, it was just a comedy of errors. His goal never wavered, but everything else—joining the league, invading the training camp, Kamino, battling the Liberation Army, becoming Shigaraki’s lieutenant—was pure chance. A string of reckless decisions that somehow kept working in his favor.  

He never imagined he’d get as far as he did. Never thought he’d become the face of a revolution, inspiring downtrodden villains across Japan, but there he was. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, expected to devote himself to a cause beyond his own.  

Shigaraki’s war meant nothing to him. If it didn't lead to him parading Endeavor’s head on a pike, it isn't worth his time. He didn't have enough life left in him to care.  

But then, something changed. Someone got in his head. Someone who wasn't his father or his ghosts.  

It was Hawks.

Hawks, with his goading winks and easy grin, his casual grandeur and delirious passion. Who swooped into Dabi’s life and refused to leave, and with his new-found presence came, to Dabi's horror, fascination.  

At first, he thought he’d be happy with dissecting the hero. If he ripped open that golden skin, cracked his bones, and split his nerves—maybe he’d finally understand what made him tick. Maybe he’d finally find an answer to the questions that had gnawed him to the marrow: What made a villain? What made a hero? Why were they so diametrically different?  

It had to be in there somewhere, buried beneath muscle and tissue and that pompous attitude. He was sure of it, and he knew he’d have the opportunity to strike sooner or later. So, Dabi waited. He watched. He never wavered, and surprisingly, neither did Hawks.  

That’s when the games began.  

Who could tolerate the other more? Who could hold their ground the longest? Dabi had been certain the charade wouldn’t last. Hawks was distractable and immature, but he wasn’t weak. He’d grow tired of playing pet parrot, of preening and cooing to prove he was a good ally. And when he finally dropped the sympathizer the act, Dabi would be the one responsible for putting him down.  

He imagined it often—burning his wings. Would he beg? Would he scream? Or would he shrug off the pain just like he did everything else?  

Dabi didn’t know. He couldn’t wait to find out.  

But then, their meetings became more frequent. What started as brief check-ins at abandoned warehouses, all venom and snapping teeth, turned to long, quiet nights on rooftops, watching the city glow beneath them.  

Sometimes, they talked. The bird was surprisingly tempered when stripped of his audience, so the burden of conversation fell on Dabi. He filled the silence with talk of law and justice, resentment and old grudges. He’d prattle on about Stain’s ideology and things he didn’t believe in, just to see how the bird would react.  

Cigarette clenched between his teeth, Dabi picked fights with the sky, and Hawks—damn him—listened. Not just humoring him, but actually listening. Asking questions, nodding along, wincing when Dabi was particularly morbid and laughing when he was being cruel for cruelty’s sake.  

He followed all the right cues, made the conversations feel like something more than an obligation.  Dabi should have hated it. Really, he should have, but instead, he found himself leaning into it. After a while, it became not only about what Hawks said and did, but what he didn’t do, too.  

“Hey, you’ve got a little... here.”  

 Perched on the roof of some abandoned printing company outside Kyushu, the hero chuckled—soft and hopeless—before reaching out to swipe his gloved hand against Dabi’s cheek.  

For a moment, the villain went still, breath held in his ruined lungs, and when he pulled away, there was blood on Hawks’s fingers. Dabi's blood. It was leaking from one of his fresh staples, having just been pressed there an hour before. The healthy skin was still raw, purpled from the abuse, but Hawks’ touch was soft. 

“Does that happen often?” The bird asked, inspecting the smear as if it held some great, terrible secret. There was nothing unkind about his voice. Just curious, and when he pulled a crumpled handful of napkins from his pocket, probably stuck there after eating on the fly (literally), Dabi didn’t shy away.  

He let him dab at the mangled skin, carefully cleaning around the metal, before leaning back with a smile.  

“There. Good as new,” Hawks hummed and Dabi was struck mute. A shiver ran down his spine.  

No one ever looked at him like that. His scars, his staples, and the bleeding seams of his body had always been regarded with horror. People stared at him on the train. Children whimpered in fear. Heroes averted their gaze in disgust.  He was a human defect— a botched experiment. Meant to die alone in some crummy hospital. He wasn’t supposed to be accepted. He wasn’t supposed to be wanted. Yet, with one look, Hawks made him feel like he was worth holding onto.  

It was then that the ache started inside him. A slow, dull throb deep in the pit where his heart should have been. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive, and it was going to kill him.  

Because Hawks, like all heroes, was made to please.  

He was molded to be whatever people needed him to be. A weapon, a savior, a liar; he wore any face to solidify victory. That was no more apparent than when he was whispering pretty things in Dabi’s ear with those even prettier lips.  At the end of the day, he would betray them. The league, him.  

Dabi knew it. He knew it the same way he knew the sun was going to rise tomorrow and he’d never be truly accepted by anyone. Life for him wasn’t supposed to be easy. He deserved no second chances, and when the time came, Dabi would be waiting.  

Hawks would burn just like all the rest. Just like Dabi always planned.  

Just like he hoped he wouldn't.

Here's the introduction to an up-and-coming fanfiction I'm working on. The summary and info are posted below, plus a link to my AO3 account if anyone is interested!

Title: The Man Who Loved A Flame

Relationships: Dabi | Touya Todoroki/Hawks | Keigo Takami

Rating: Explicit

Summary: “Leave with me!”  

What little air hasn’t been strangled by the humidity of his flames is sucked out of the room as those three words fall from Hawks’ lips. Three words that Dabi had never expected him to say. Three words the number two couldn’t possibly mean.  

Yet, here he is. Wings bristled, eyes piercing, bathed in brilliant blue light. Twice’s blood drips from his hand as he extends it toward Dabi. Not to push him away or to attack, but in offering.  

“I want you to leave with me, Dabi!”  

Playing both sides has its risks—but also its rewards. When Hawks finds himself inexplicably growing closer to Dabi during his time with the League, he must make a choice: to protect the public or save the villain. When the time comes, he chooses the latter. Now on the run, they try to build a new life together. One without villains or heroes, good or evil, or unseen hands pulling invisible strings. One where things are simpler. Where they’re happy and free.  

Where the biggest, most pressing issue is who’s going to wash the dishes and take out the trash.  

Little_Miss_Crybaby on AO3

[darklydeliciousdesires]

New story announcement!

So, it's been all go here at the DDD writing room! I've almost finished Light on the Darkside, and for the past few weeks, I have embarked on a brand new original story I am excited to share with you guys eventually.

Let me introduce you to my lovely OC's, Holly and Nathan :)

Picture manip by the immensely talented and all-around lovely, lovely person @jemmalynette! Face claims are Emilia Clarke and Graf Von Baphomet, who completely barged his way into being Nathan's faceclaim after I spent weeks imagining him as someone different, lol!

And now an excerpt from the story:

Dancing slowly, she smiled up at him, the radiance she felt inside reflected back in his adoring gaze, the green of his eyes alight like emerald fire. Still, there was something there she caught, a tiny shadow blighting him that only she would have noticed. She always did whenever he faltered. 

“This,” she spoke, gently stroking the furrow between his brows. “What’s this for?” 

Damn his insecurities to hell, for ruining a moment he wanted to remember forever, not have it besmirched by the emotional burdens of his past. “Because I... I..., ahhh, pissing hell.” Resting his forehead to hers as they swayed, he groaned softly, feeling her hand stroking his chest right above his fluttering heart. “Should be easier than this to say, because it is easy. Everything is with you.” 

Her smile spoke of her silent understanding, softly biting her lower lip, moving her hand to cup his face. “If you tell me, I promise you, I’ll say it back.” 

And with the freedom she’d given him, the safety of her sanctuary, he finally let himself have enough trust to tell her. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Nathan.”  

It's going to be angsty, but also funny and light. Oh, and of course, there will be a liberal sprinkling of smut!

Little Earthquakes is coming soon, darlings.

[youuuimeanmee]

Noragami Final Chapter Thoughts

You know what? I'm used to it.

I'm used to have exceptionally well-written manga get cut off or deadline-d to finish at certain point of time (usually by the publisher's order) when the authors still have so, so, SO much more left to give, so in the end they have no choice but to rush the final chapter.

Shingeki no Kyojin, Promised Neverland, Nisekoi, other mangas I forgot to name. And this manga. For such a long-running series with deep lore, they all could use a special volume (200+ pages) as an epilogue, not a 45-pages speedrun of everyone's everafter. I wish more series could follow Mob Psycho's example. Some say Mob Pycho Season 3 is too long, it needs to be more compact etc, but I don't think so at all. I think it's perfect the way it is -- it's a fulfilling send-off for all the characters we love so much. I wish more series would get their ending like that, but what can I say about Japanese manga industry.

And there's also Adachitoka's health to consider too. In which case, I'd say they did their best, and I'm really thankful for them for being able to deliver this series safely.

In short, I already expected this chapter to be a speedrun. Because of that, my experience when I read this chapter is better than I expected.

Maybe because I've learned my lessons for not making theory too much, so I don't have certain expectations that'd cloud my judgement.

With no deep thoughts when reading, let's go dive in.

The PUNS it still gets me. Yukine's sister calling Haruki's name while watching a tree that blossoms in spring is 😭😭😭

Ayoo he can change to a dog still? My poor baby 😭

I guess this is his punishment for wrecking havoc in the human world and disturbing the Heaven? But like, he was clearly under the influence of trashdad?? He's not really at fault?? Is this author's message that we shouldn't justify his action just because we understood his reasons?? But still. That's too cruel for doing it for your own main character.

I know shinkis that were left behind by their master would retain their name after the master's death, but still. To think Izanami's power is still working on Yukine after the Kotonoha is destroyed. This is tragedy.

THE FLOWERSS IN YUKINE'S RESTING PLACEE AKSJJDBDKDJDJD

Daww that's nicee. Hiyori as an intern!

Damn, she really forgot everything. This is for the best though, she already died once when she got too close with the far shore; I'm already prepared for this much. Maybe Yato had finally severed her ties with him and that (along with the cpr) is what allowed Hiyori to return.

Wdym "intense cpr," it's more than intense. It's hella long too. Nobody could perform intense cpr for hours nonstop, unless that person is non-human.

Good to know Yato broke her ribs though, nice work!

Hiyori's missing notebook? Prob taken by Yato or something.

Dafuq. Move along with your "it's me!" wishy-boy. No. This time it's not you who kissed her. You were delirious in some random abandoned building in some random city when Hiyori was dying.

See, this is my nightmare. To have the real Fujisaki Koto as Hiyori's future love interest. Because I know for sure, for so long, that they could bonded with their out-of-body experience when they both lost their memory.

Sorry Koto, 'nothing against the real you, but your alter ego has kinda ruined your image.

Damn, Father's longing for Kaya runs deep in Koto's veins.

BAHAHA, Nice one Coophone. Or Yato. Or Yukine. Or whatever tf Hiyori's guardian is.

AWWW THE GODS ARE CARRYING HIYORI'S LEGACY TO HAVE A PICNIC TOGETHER 😭😭😭😭

Aww man I didn't see Nana. She'd love to have a picnic with both Bishamon and Arahabaki! Is it because she was infected with GGS, or is it simply her turn to watch over the house? I hope it's the latter.

I wish the Gods would talk more about Yato's miracles, including about Hiyori. She is literally the glue that help stick these guys together. Without her, they wouldn't even know about Father's Liberation ability.

Heck, forget about Yatori. I wanna hear the Gods reminscing about their situations & conditions after the incident. But alas.

Oh well. This is something I've learned to let go.

Woow Kunimi looks young! Does he finally have a vacation?? Lol

Ebisu's voice got deeper? He still looks like a baby to me. Is he a baby 12-yo?

It's real nice to see the 3 reincarnated gods! Though I coulnd't care less abt them,even tho i know they have main character energy

Oh. my God. TakeKiun is really sailingg Look at dem. Matching clothes and soft smiles and all dat shit 🥺🥺🥺

Um, okay. It's good and all that each mortal has their own version about what happened at that time, but like,

Weren't people DIED???

I thought many people died!! Getting slashed by Gods!! Why is it not covered on the national news-

(myb when Father's "nation" returned to the underworld, the souls who were lost were also returned to its vessel somehow?)

Nope, nevermind. Just don't think too deeply about it. Moving on.

BISHAAA it's good to see her in great health!

Though I really wanna know, how is her relationship with the Heaven and the other Gods after that fiasco, how she feels abt Father's defeat, etc--

NOPE. Don't thinkabout it. Just moveon.

Here I thought Yato was gonna get a reward from Amaterasu for slaying "something that doesn't belong on this Earth." Oh well. Guess Amaterasu is hella stingy like that.

Why Yukine seems like he got even smaller though. Is it the changing art style? He looks more baby than ever.

Wait, they got a whole proper room to sleep? Is this their old room in Kofuku's house?? I thought since Yukine is infected by GGS, Kofuku stayed the hell away from Yukine, but that doesn't seem like the case?

Maybe Kofuku-Daikoku are the one who abandoned the shop; leaving it for Yato and Yukine to stay in? We'll never know.

(Now where is Kofuku's new address, I need to know)

Since Yukine is infected by GGS and always in constant nightmare, I'd like to believe Kazuma is experiencing the same thing; in order to separate him from the rest of the clan, now Kazuma sleeps with Bishamon every night. Lucky bastard.

That is so touching of Yato for comforting his sobbing child every night, but I wish we got a glimpse of his reminisce with his now-gone Father.

Oh wooww the dude finally stopped playing around. I thought he didn't have the guts to cut Hiyori's ties, turns out he really cut itt. No wonder Hiyori forgot about him for 10 years.

(Though I don't think she forgot completely either. Yato might not be in her head anymore, but he's still in her heart)

Adachitoka-san. Are you trying to tell ME this teke-teke thing is way more viral than the mass of unnatural, unknown deaths???

Is it because there's no death at all???

*sighs.* Anyways.

Aww Nora is now staying at Iki's household, happier than ever 🥺

Oh so that's where Hiyori's notebook goes.

Wait, Iki household creeps Hiyori out? Why? Is it because she was traumatized by her grandma's death? (Does she even remember that?) Is it because she faintly remembered the way Nora broke her house's windows? Or is it because she could sense Nora's presence and it icks her? I hope it's not the latter ☹️

I'm happy Nora is finally a happy child, but, Yukine? What about my son Yukine, who is no longer a pure soul, who could no longer sleep peacefully every night. Where is Nora's apology for leading Yukine to Father huh? Where is her apology for (indirectly) turning Yukine into who he is today? I guess it happens off-screen, we'll never know.

OH WOWW THE PUNS' AT IT AGAIN

Wdym "the night has a scent."

"Night" is using the same kanji as Yato's name, 夜. She is remembering his smell from the nightt, peoplee

(The night when he kissed her prob)

The power of the match-matching ema hunged by Ookuninushi is really strong, huh. Hiyori managed to remember Yato again, despite her already-severed-ties with Yato.

(or maybe not. I guess their fate really IS intertwined, knowing their first meeting)

I kinda wish Hiyori would remember Yato much later, like, in her 40s when she already has kids on her own, but hey, the sooner she remembers him, the longer he'd stay on this Earth so I'd still consider it a win!

Tbh, a part of me don't want her to get involved with far shore like she did in the past, but a part of me also wants her to snuggle between Yato and Yukine's arms after her work hours end. Dilemma.

Now I need Hiyori's journey to become one hell of a rich doctor so she could build a proper shrine for Yato so she and her family could pray together every morning, because she claimed it's Yatogami who saved her life that day. She'd make dinner for Yato and Yukine and eat with them every evening while her family acknowledge it as her night-praying-time. She'd tell her family, her future husband, and her future children about the legend of Yato (she'd exaggerate it a lot) and the next thing she knows, Yato have already has a devoted followers. Oh, and she'd often visited Bisha's shrine, Kofuku's, Ebisu's, all gods associated with Yato.

That's it folks. I rarely do my thoughts about Noragami, but I do read it religiously regularly each month. This manga has already become my comfort manga no matter how angsty it is, so it's gonna be hard to part with it, after all this time. Maybe for next month I'm gonna restart from chapter 1, one chapter per month.

I do have to say though, usually when I read a series with unsatisfactory ending, it leaves a bad taste in mouth. Somehow this chapter don't feel like that at all. I don't know why. I still look at this chapter and all the previous ones with fondness.

I wanna dream that 1-2 years from now, Adachitoka would release a 200-pages of Noragami epilogue -- which I know it's impossible, but hey, let the girl dream. I'm also looking forward for the extra komas, if there's any.

It's been a good time with you all 🤗👋

[micheswife]

For The Sake Of Love, Survive

Spoilers below

🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐

Fanfic where Nanami survives after Shibuya because my poor heart needs healing

🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐

Potential triggers

- just a teensy bit of gore because of Mahito

-description of Nanami feeling a lot of pain

-taking medication as a form of coping

__________________________________________________

Canon story divergence, sfw, reader is non-sorcerer, set in Shibuya arc

__________________________________________________

“Thank you…” you whispered, taking the single red rose.

It was the second time he had offered it to you with pleading eyes. It was quite unlike the blond haired sorcerer to force, request or coerce people to accept his affectionate advances. He had endless formalities, but not with you, not today.

“I have told you everything about me y/n, this is my job and I think I really am going to die.” his words still rang loud in your mind as you walked back home. It had been years since you experienced such levels of anxiety and anger.

“I don’t want you to go, please Nanami, stay back..” you said, letting your tears out. “It’s not fair, I just found you…” this time, you spoke more to yourself than him.

“It hurts me too, I love you more than anything else in the world, but… I can’t let those children fight for themselves out there.”

“Right… so, bye then.” You wiped your tears and stood up to walk out of his apartment, absolutely sure that Nanami would be that one ex who’d stir trouble in all your future relationships, because you just would not move on from him.

“Hey, wait.” Nanami tried to hold you back but you gently removed his grip.

“I have to move on from you, dear. Stop holding me back..”

“I know. I am sorry to have pursued you. I knew I’d die first, I just did not think it’d be so soon. But please, I want to spend my last moments with you.” His words made you feel angry. It was always like this with people. They’d take and take and take from you until you had nothing to give. Somehow, most people that entered your life, including Nanami, would dump their emotions on you.

‘I don’t want to lose you because no one understands me better.’

‘Talking to you feels so liberating and stress-free.’

‘I wish everyone was as good a listener as you.’

‘You are the only person who hasn’t judged me for this.’

And lastly,

‘please, I want to spend my last moments with you.’

His words angered you because he was just like everyone else who expected you to be an emotional crutch but never returned the favor. You wanted to keep the promise you made to yourself, the promise of not giving out gratitude for free, the promise to demand something in return for your relentless emotional labour. But you thought Nanami deserved an exception due to his impending death, so you caved.

“Okay.” That was all you said before you hugged him. Nanami had seen too much of your affection throughout the 9 months you were together, so you figured he deserved to see some of your wrath and disappointment too. Afterall, you wouldn’t see him ever again, and every person deserves to know how their partner really feels.

“I hate you Nanami. I hate you because you are leaving me. You made frequent visits to the same cafe as me, just to see and talk to me after work. You have dealt with so many dangerous situations throughout your career, your justification of ‘I just did not think it’d be so soon’ is ridiculous. You are so damn casual about this whole thing, it’s not normal, even for a sorcerer. As crazy as you claim the people from your area of work are, I can bet none of them would just expect their non-sorcerer partner to be okay with their deaths. Do you even know what you have ruined?” you paused to see if Nanami could answer.

“I ruined your entire lovelife..” he said, sadness evident in his voice.

“Right, whichever man has the misfortune of falling in love with me next will have to put up with my memories of you. I will never be able to forget you like the guys from my past because you actually mean more to me, because you promised me all these things that I never, never dared to consider a part of my life….” your tears broke out again, but you were not finished.

“Why couldn’t you just keep this casual?! I suggested it multiple times. You broke down my walls and now you’re leaving me… so soon.. It’s not good, Nanami, you weren’t kind to me..”

“That’s it, bye. I hope you enjoyed this time together. If, by any chance you come out alive from Shibuya, don’t come back to me, find a sorcerer that’s just as crazy as you.” and you left.

High on anger and adrenaline, you marched through the street paying little heed to the people around you. In that moment of anger, you hated that bastard. However, you began hating yourself as you made your way through the crowd. Was that long speech really necessary? Couldn’t you just be there for that man one last time? You had the thought of running back to him, but you couldn’t figure what you would do once you were near him. You wanted to yell at him again, you wanted to physically hold him back from leaving his apartment, you wanted to give him the best kiss of his life and promise to meet him in the afterlife, you wanted to bawl your eyes out until you fainted. These intrusive thoughts, all together, made you want to go to Shibuya so you could finally meet the same fate as him and end this wretched story for good.

You did none of those things, and just bought some mild sleep medication. Sleeping was your coping mechanism. As you unlocked the door to your apartment, you called your boss and told him you’d need three days of bereavement leave because one of your relatives died. You held the framed picture of you and Nanami from the time you went to the beach together. An old chain made of gold was shining bright around Nanami’s neck. It also had a golden pendant of a deity your family worshipped. You snuggled the picture to your chest as you drifted into a deep sleep after taking the medication. If you worry did not give you nightmares about Nanami's death, then you’d wake up with an empty mind after 10 hours and then you would do everything in your power to avoid any thought related to your boyfriend and the Jujutsu world. You did this after every bad incident you deemed as highly impactful to your life.

Meanwhile, Nanami battled and bled trying to protect those younger than him. It was hard, he had to dodge a gruesome death every second. Nanami feared neither death nor pain, but during that critical situation, he was determined to survive.

He always held the opinion that sacrifices were necessary to achieve a goal, and he’d readily give up his life for the sake of others, especially children. However, in Shibuya, he forced himself to carry the unrealistic expectation to save everyone, including himself. It was something that even a ball of sunshine like Yuuji Itadori would deem as stupid for a jujutsu sorcerer, had Nanami discussed such a thing with him.

Nanami was exhausted and paranoid by the time Dagon was finally defeated by Toji. Immediately after, Toji Zenin, in his murderous daze, disappeared leaving Maki, Naobito and Nanami facing none other than Jogo. Nanami knew what he was capable of. He felt hot flames engulf him before he could even think about escaping.

‘I am surviving this..’ he thought to himself, not wanting to give up.

Too many people need me.

I vowed to protect those kids.

I promised her a future.

I want a vacation.. with her.

I will not die.

Nanami was in a daze as he walked away from Jogo. He was not his usual alert self when a swarm of curses attacked him at once. He did not know how, but he felt his body move on its own. For any outsider, he would have looked like a monster fighting smaller monsters. Truth was, his senses were drowned by the overwhelming pain from Jogo’s attack. He could no longer sense where the curses came from, all he knew was that he was going to survive.

All I know is that I want to go back home.

Any curse in my way.. will be exorcised.

I’ll defeat these pests, once and for all.. I will get rid of them all. He envisioned a world without curses, a world where his woman would be safe.

I’ll forge it with my bare hands.

I’ll fight till they’re all gone, once and for all.

Lost within his own mind, Nanami did not realise when he eliminated the last curse, only to come face to face with the most dangerous of them off - Mahito. The patchfaced curse already had his hand on Nanami’s chest, ready to curse him. Nanami knew what was happening to him, but the overwhelming levels of adrenaline and his injuries made him feel less conscious. He knew what Mahito was capable of, yet, this time, he just couldn’t take him seriously.

Curses are shit.

Mahito is shit.

I am going to kill him.

Nanami was close to laughing in Mahito’s face when the latter asked if he could chat. Then, from the corner of his eye, Nanami saw Yuji, looking at him in fear.

“Yuji-kun, let’s kill him.” Nanami said, smiling casually as if he wasn’t at all burned to near death.

At that moment, Mahito cursed the sorcerer and blood splattered all over the place in an instant as Yuji stared at the gruesome sight before him. Something that looked like a spine was laying on the floor, red liquid and chunks of flesh slowly sliding down to reveal the bone. It was a bloodbath in true sense, vaguely reminding Yuji of Sukuna's domain. He took a look at his own self,only to see himself covered in the same blood. He was shellshocked but a voice brough him back to reality.

“Mahito-kun, is this your real form?” Nanami asked a few seconds after taking a good look at the dismembered cursed spirit, now struggling to regenerate himself. Yuji didn’t dare to move from his spot, terrified of the larger-than-life sized apparition behind Nanami. For the first time in his life, he had encountered someone scarier than the King of Curses. Meanwhile, Nanami chopped Mahito, limb by limb as a means of payback.

Oh right, I forgot to return her chain…

Nanami remembered a peculiar conversation from a few months ago. He had returned from a particularly bad mission. Shoko had spent hours healing him, and yet, he had suffered permanent damage from that fight. Y/n cried that day and all Nanami could say was..

“I am sorry dear… I am so sorry…” he was holding her close to his chest as she struggled to form words through her hiccups. Without saying a word, she got up and walked over to her wardrobe, opening it to reveal a complete mess… clothes overflowing, books on top of her electronics, some spare money strewn about… her wardrobe always ended up disorganised no matter how well he arranged things for her. She sat down and emptied the entire last shelf and fished out a metal box. It was locked. After two days of relentless searching and refusing to let Nanami go to another mission, she found the key.

“I don’t care what you think of jewellery, I am not even going to ask, but you are not allowed to take this off, ever.” Y/n said as she clasped the chain around his neck, pressing down on the hook to lock it in place.

“What is this y/n? If I can’t remove it, at least explain what it is.”

“It’s a family heirloom, every family is supposed to have one in our culture. It’s supposed to protect you against evil spirits and stuff.” Y/n said as she brewed tea for the both of them.

“No offence dear, but I don’t see any energy radiating off it, it might as well be just a piece of jewellery.” Nanami said, closely examining the pendant.

“Y/n, tell me, is this supposed to be for women?”

“Yes, but you’ll have to wear it.”

Nanami sighed, the pendant looked like a female deity. She had multiple arms, each one holding something, mostly weapons. Her hair reached her feet and she had ornaments all over her.

“Your culture does not have one that’s designed for men?” Nanami questioned.

“No.” y/n handed him the tea and snacks.

“Why?”

“Because women were the ones cursed for the smallest of mistakes, that’s why. It’s been passed down for many generations, from woman to woman. It’s supposed to hold generations worth of what you refer to as cursed energy, so in a way, it’s also supposed to protect us women from our negative emotions.”

Nanami wasn’t convinced but he still wore it for y/n’s sake. If wearing a chain would relieve her stress, then he would wear it. After all, who was even going to see it under his shirt?

In that moment, as he was slowly exorcising the last bits of Mahito, Nanami wondered why the deity did not show up until Mahito attacked him. He hypothesised it was because Mahito touched his soul. Truth be told, Nanami was slightly embarrassed but also relieved. A gold chain had accomplished what years of training as a Jujutsu sorcery did not. For the first time ever, Nanami let his guard down in all his encounters with cursed spirits and cursed users alike. He was fighting in Shibuya using the collective wrath of God-knows-how-many generations of women. Many curse users recognized the valuable piece of jewellery and tried to snatch it directly from his neck. As flimsy as the metal had become over years, the chain broke and most of the curse users were able to take it. Unfortunately for them, only Nanami was aware of how it worked. He smirked as he and Yuji exorcised another curse, picked up the chain and slipped it into his pocket., remembering another conversation with y/n

“Okay, it's a deity, not a cursed spirit, Nanami. As in, we actually worship her and festivals are held in her honour, so don’t reduce her to a cursed spirit, even though her whole concept is based on anger.” Y/n explained.

“I am kind of understanding, have you ever seen this thing work?” Nanami asked.

“No…. but no one ever seemed to be attacked by a curse.. Anyway, it’s mostly just beliefs and traditions, but please wear it, for me? It’ll make me feel safe.”

"I will wear it because it comforts you, but I have another question, what if someone steals it?" Nanami asked, concerned because he didn't want to lose the family heirloom of y/n.

"It won't protect the person who steals it. Infact, it will work against that theif. It only works properly if someone gives it you by their own willingness, like me. That's why, it considered dangerous to steal a woman's jewellery in my culture, it could actually curse you" Y/n replied.

“oh...that's interesting...” Nanami said, reassured her once again that he'd never take it off and left for Jujutsu Tech.

He always felt sorry for y/n whenever he remembered that conversation. Y/n had never been religious, she didn't even believe in cursed spirits. That was until Nanami entered her life and chose to be honest about his occupation, then she began praying out of fear.

Back in Shibuya, Nanami fought until he could no longer stand. He couldn’t help but feel thrilled fighting and exorcising his way through Shibuya.

This is probably what that potato-head Gojo feels like everyday.

Nanami thought to himself as he swung his hand in the general direction of a curse and it blasted it to pieces. Without the chain, he would have had to exert a lot more energy and accuracy. He was making his way to another curse when his injuries finally overwhelmed him. Nanami fainted, in the middle of a battlefield, yet perfectly protected.

¬¬one day later¬¬

Nanami woke up to a very itchy sensation. He tried to scratch himself, only to touch rough fabric.

“Don’t scratch the wound, Nanami, just go back to sleep.” It was Shoko’s voice.

“Huh?”Nanami forced his eye open.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s been 24 hours since we found you, I am not sure how long you were unconscious for that, but it’s a miracle you survived.”

“I know…” slowly, the incidents from Shibuya started crowding his memories. Unlike before, he was no longer in a crazy trance. He was back to his usual self, and his body felt like an overfilled sack due to the tightly wound bandages.

“I know you must be under a lot of pressure, but Shoko, how long will it take for me to recover?” Nanami asked, his voice raspy and weak.

“At least 3 whole weeks, and there’s lasting damage. You will need a wheelchair for a few months following your recovery and you will never be as agile ever again… I am sorry.” Shoko replied.

“Officially damaged beyond repair huh, it’s okay.”

“I am glad you are okay, the Jujutsu society will not allow you to take any mission beyond grade 3 from now on.”

“Ah… I was actually thinking of retiring.” Nanami smiled to himself as he looked for his phone.

“Here, I charged it for you.” Shoko handed him his phone which was surprisingly intact except for a few scratches here and there.

Nanami pressed onto the power button, and text message popped up 10 hours ago,

Are you there?

Smiling, he opened his inbox to find another text from 8 hours ago,

I will love you forever Nanami, rest in peace. I hope we’ll meet again

“Wow, this is kind of cheesy, Nanami. But I am glad you found someone.” Shoko was peering into his phone and Nanami did not even notice.

“It’s because she thinks I am dead.” Nanami chuckled.

Shoko smiled softly and went back to work, her schedule packed with no room to breathe. After losing two of her close friends, one destroyed by his own hand and the other one trapped in the prison realm, she was glad at least one of her friends would have a happy ending.

The sound of Nanami texting and Shoko preparing her medical instruments for another surgery were the only sounds echoing in the room for some time, until Nanami’s phone rang.

For the first time, Shoko sensed a level of lightheartedness in his voice. After talking for sometime, Nanami kept the phone and spoke, smiling ear to ear,

“Hey Shoko, my girlfriend is coming over, do you want something to eat, she could get it on her way.”

“Ask her to bring beer and cigarettes, I ran out hours ago and I need a smoke.”

“Sure thing, Shoko.”

“Say Nanami…”

“Hm?”

“Something tells me this is going to be a regular thing now, so do you wanna tell me about her?” Shoko asked him with a smirk.

“Sure thing, Shoko.”

Nanami’s cheeky smile was something Shoko wished Gojo, Geto and Haibara could see. For now, she was just glad to have someone alive and happy near her. At least someone from the Jujutsu world finally got the happy ending they deserved.

🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖🍞🥐🥖

[kivaember]

some soft viv621... post-LoR ending where Rusty lives bc I'm wilfully delusional about his survival ok

-

The outpost was more like a makeshift camp congregated within the walls of an old industrial complex. The electric grid was functional here, still chugging along after a planetary disaster and decades of neglect (say what you will about the Institute, but they built things to last), identifying it as a suitable base of operation for this sector's clean-up.

'Clean-up' being hunting down the last dregs of corporate interlopers and ejecting them from Rubicon - usually by shoving them off the mortal coil. There'd been reports of a few Arquebus loyalists holed up in an old water refinery plant, and they had two HCs in their possession, making them an intolerable threat...

Also, the Liberation Front also wanted that water refinery plant. While it wasn't fully functional, a bit of elbow grease would have its fresh water production rise from 1% to at least 20%, and from there they could start rebuilding the city's ruined infrastructure from the ground up - the first step in Rubicon's revival.

But Rusty was getting ahead of himself.

Reconstruction, independence... that was outside of his current cares or duties right now. The only thing he needed to focus on was rooting out the last of the corporate ticks still stubbornly clinging onto their world, and while it was a tedious slog sometimes, dispersed as they were and hunkered down amongst valuable infrastructure, he could admit to some malicious vindication at finally getting to bare his fangs and tear them to shreds.

He was disappointed Snail hadn't survived the Xylem, really. He would've loved to have him witness the slow fall of Arquebus on Rubicon by being hunted down like a rat. Ah well. You couldn't have everything in life, he supposed.

Rusty sighed as he leaned back on his rickety fold-out cot, fighting the urge to rub his eyes to clear the slight blurriness from them. He was sitting in his 'tent', a small one that could just about squeeze two cots in with enough room to walk between them, the plans for the water refinery plant sprawled out on his lap. Someone had managed to find the hardcopy of them, miraculously, but it meant Rusty was forced to use his Mark One Eyeball to study the layout, rather than having a digital version his implants could reference on demand.

It was important they got this water refinery plant without causing any further damage to it... but damn, Rusty felt like he was going cross-eyed, staring at the tiny print and thin lines...

A rustle drew his attention, and he looked up to see Raven skulking into their tent with a displeased air about him, a gust of snowy wind chasing his ice-crusted boots.

Rusty smiled.

"Cold, buddy?" he asked teasingly, looking his friend up and down. Raven was bundled up in what looked like two thick coats, a scarf concealing half of his face and a beanie crammed over his head, dark curls peeking out from underneath its hem. Snow stuck to his legs in thick, icy clumps, and Raven stood unhappily at the tent's entranceway, trying - and failing - to stomp the frozen snow off of him.

"Ah, hold on. Let me..."

Rusty folded up the plans and tossed them carelessly onto his cot, before standing up and moving to assist Raven. Carefully, he prised off the icy snow with his bare hands, the bite of cold against his fingers not really bothering him. Raven made a vague, appreciative noise when Rusty was done, and they moved to sit on their respective cots facing each other.

The heater positioned between their cots was promptly cranked up a few degrees. Raven still didn't shed any of his warm kit.

"How're you finding the rough living?" Rusty asked, already knowing the answer. Raven had been exuding an aura of pure misery for over a week now. "Not too hard on you, is it?"

Raven gave him a dead-eyed stare.

"Well, give it a few weeks, and we might get an actual building we can set up base in," Rusty said, trying not to smirk at Raven's - admittedly adorable - sulking. "Won't have to go outside to take a piss and risk getting a frostbitten dick, then."

Raven outright grimaced, and he fumbled with his pocket to withdraw his communication device. After very reluctantly removing his thick mittens, his fingers pale and stiff, he typed: «I don't know how you stand it.»

Rusty's smile turned sympathetic. "Experience."

Raven grunted at that dissatisfactory answer.

"You'll get used to it eventually." Or, maybe not, as Raven had been on Rubicon for months and still wasn't used to it. Maybe it was a Gen Four thing, the lack of cold resilience? Or, more likely, a Raven thing. "But for now..."

Rusty leaned back fractionally and held his arms open. "How about I help you thaw out, hm?"

Raven didn't hesitate. He rose from his cot and did a 180 turn to primly sit down on Rusty's lap. The bottom of his coat(s) had chunks of frozen snow sticking to it, so Rusty got a delightful shock of cold on certain, erm, areas that had his toes curling in his boots from the sharpness of it before the chill faded. He ruefully resigned himself to having a distinctive wet patch on his crotch for a bit.

"There we go." Rusty wrapped his arms around Raven's midriff, and gently caught his hands in his own. Raven's hands were tiny compared to his, easily engulfed in his own, his fingers like ice and almost stark white, they were so bloodless. It made the pink scars along the joints stand out vividly.

He rested his cheek against Raven's beanie, the wool a little scratchy. It smelled of exhaust. Probably spent time in the makeshift garage they had set up. He could feel Raven shiver, the double-coat layer not hiding how skinny he was beneath the fabric's bulk.

"No wonder you're always cold... you're basically skin and bones," Rusty murmured. "I'll ask if you can have your rations increased, get some bulk on you."

Raven made a vague, humming noise of acknowledgement.

They sat like that for a while. Raven stopped shivering, and Rusty admittedly began to drowse off, even if he started to lose blood circulation to his legs. Outside of the tent, the noise of a bustling camp filtered through: the growl of heavy-duty trucks, the thrum of heli-transporters arriving and departing, and shouts and chatter and laughter. Morale was high amongst the Liberation Front, for obvious reasons.

The PCA had been chased off the planet, its precious 'System' nothing but mangled metal deep in the Depths. The corporations had been humiliated and left with a broken nose, with only pockets of loyalists that had been abandoned by their corporate masters to die was 'rogue elements' on a planet actively hostile to them. Slowly but surely, the Liberation Front was reclaiming their home, mile by painful mile.

It was hard, gruelling work. The infrastructure was intact in only a few, certain locations, and most of them military complexes. Attempting to rebuild domestic and civilian infrastructure from that was slow going, but possible, and now that they weren't actively fighting for survival from the PCA or the corporations... they were finally making progress.

They were going to rebuild a city here, with running water and electricity and homes, and establish a sustainable hydrophonics and mealworm farm, and bring online the long-neglected fabrication foundry nearby. It'll take time, a lot of time, but it was a goal every single one of them were fixated on achieving - while they had the time.

Everyone knew the corporations were going to come back. In larger numbers, and with UEG backing, more likely. In that time, Rubicon needed to shore up its defences, finishing seizing and integrating PCA's weaponry and tech into their militia, and see if they could regain control over the Institute's rogue C-Weapons that were aimlessly milling across the countryside, freed from the frozen, subterranean tomb.

Rusty still couldn't believe it was happening, really. He'd dreamed of it, of course, had aimed to achieve this exact thing... yet still, he couldn't believe it. It had such a low chance of success, and it only worked because of...

He tightened his arms around Raven's waist, giving him a squeeze. Raven made a quiet, prompting noise.

"...not sure if I ever said 'thank you'," Rusty murmured, his voice muffled by Raven's beanie. "All of this... we couldn't've done it without you, buddy."

Raven was still for a moment, before he fumbled for something. His communication device.

«You did all the hard work. I just helped at the end.»

"Still..." Rusty butted his head gently against Raven's. "Thanks."

Raven made a shrugging motion, still awkward and uncomfortable in the face of honest gratitude. It was slow going, deprogramming him from his days as a hound lacking in any agency, teaching him to say 'no' or to express his opinions. But much like Rubicon's reconstruction, Raven was rebuilding himself too, day by day, inch by inch.

Slowly but surely.

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Multiamory Month, Day Eighteen: Royalty (Medieval Fantasy AU)

@polyamships's Multiamory March continues onward, with another day where I swapped out the original prompt for one of the alternative ones. I thought for AGES that I'd be able to come up with something for "Don't look at me. This wasn't my idea," but for whatever reason, inspiration never struck. So I ended up replacing it with the "Royalty" prompt, as seen above. And what are you getting for that prompt?

Why, another story from my lightly-hypnokinky Medieval Fantasy AU! :p This one's set after Alice, Victor, and Smiler have returned to Alice's kingdom and liberated it from the usurper Bumby -- Alice and Victor have married, Smiler has taken on a role as their Minister of Happiness, and everyone is working very hard on restoring what Bumby ruined. And while Victor is thrilled with his new life, and eager to help fix things, he can't help but find all his new responsibilities to be a bit -- much, sometimes. In fact...

--

Being a king – or, well, a prince-consort, technically – was exhausting.

Not that Victor disliked being Alice’s consort – far from it! The day they’d married had been one of the happiest of his life, ranking up there with when he’d first met her and Smiler. And he adored seeing her in her element as queen, checking in on her people and slowly but surely restoring the kingdom that Bumby had ravaged during his brief but horrible rule. Besides, it wasn’t like he was unused to hard work – he’d plodded up that damn hill almost every day in full bloody plate during one of the hottest summers his village had ever seen, after all. And he’d helped his father with the books for their fish business, and in the market stall where they’d sold the daily catch. The other villagers might have sneered at the Van Dorts and accused them of being the “idle rich,” but Victor felt like he’d done his fair share of the daily grind.

Being royal, though – oh, that was a whole different story. From the moment he’d put on the crown, he’d gone from worrying about whether or not they’d sell the mackerel before it went bad, to worrying about if an entire kingdom had enough to eat. From figuring out how much they’d made in profits in a day, to figuring out how much to collect in taxes from each individual town and city within their borders. From playing the part of the gallant and untiring knight for his mother’s pleasure, to playing the part of the wise and noble prince-consort for the local nobility’s pleasure. And he knew it was all important work, and that Alice was doing her fair share of it. And he was proud of his part in helping return Wonderland to its full glory, he truly was! It was just – it really was a lot, some days.

Which made it all the more fortunate that he had not only a queen who noticed when everything was wearing on him, but also a draconic Minister of Joy who did the same. A pair who were only too happy to coordinate things to whisk him away to their chambers when they realized it was all becoming too much. And then Smiler would have him look into their beautiful spiral eyes again, and Alice would gently undress him and guide him to his knees, and for a little while he wouldn’t have to worry about anything but obeying their will and receiving pleasure in return. And then, once he came back to himself, sated and spent, Smiler would wrap themselves around him, and Alice would kiss his temple, and they’d both let him know once more how much they loved him. And that, more than anything, kept him going. Because while being prince-consort was quite the hard job –

Being Alice and Smiler’s good boy was the easiest thing in the world.