#earth attuned

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

How will turning into a ghost affect Cole and his powers? Will it mess with his attunement? Also, if you're okay with answering it, how will that affect Jesse?

Well I was gonna answer this like a normal person but then ya went and mentioned Jesse—

. . .

"Careful there, Jess." Though he speaks with a tilted smile, no amount of pleasantry can mask the misery that bleeds from Cole's tone. "Or I'll start to think you're more upset about this than I am."

Jesse swallows a hiccup as he shoots Cole a look from across the room, not appreciating the stab at levity when prickling glitter trails down his cheeks the same way his tears do. He's been sobbing uncontrollably ever since the news was less-than-delicately dropped on him. Only now, being alone with Cole in the aftershock of the chaos, forced to face this new reality, does Jesse finally start to come to grips with it all.

But, a surprise of the cruelest flavor makes it all the harder to swallow.

And it's not that Cole hasn't had his own share of wallowing over the situation either—but his crying was just louder, hollow, hauntingly tormented, and dry. Only a mere echo of what he was once capable of.

Now, any tears he could've shed—were it still possible—would have killed him in more ways than one.

Cole stares at his boyfriend and yearns, wanting nothing more than to thread his fingers through Jesse's stupidly soft hair and soothe him until the pain of the situation becomes numb enough to bear. He wants to hold other boy tight and let their arms mingle with one another. Wants to hold his gentle face, wants to press kisses to his cheeks, wants to lean against him as they share headphones over a handpicked playlist, wants just to touch him one more time; to keep with him the memory of something he hadn't realized was so fragile.

And he knows from the look at the edge of Jesse's gaze that he longs for the same thing too.

Cole swallows around the lump in his throat. Of course, that would be a sensation he'd get to keep—not anything he'd actually want.

"It...it might not be forever. I'm not dead, just...cursed. We could find a way to break it somehow," Cole tries again, attempting to be positive for the both of them. Although 'cursed' and 'dead' are pretty much synonyms to him at this point. Jesse doesn't need to know that though. "And Master Wu said there's...ways I can make this work for me, y'know? And even if I am cursed like this forever...we know it's possible to at least become corporeal enough to be somewhat normal, thanks to Harleigh. Maybe one day, we won't even notice the difference!"

Jesse swipes a sleeve across his eyes, gazing at Cole but also through him at the same time. His stomach churns at how Cole seems to disappear even in his vision—and keeps slipping through his fingers—but he stamps his roiling feelings down. He's...just going to have to get used to this. Baby steps.

"...on that note, I've been wondering...What...um, what does it...feel like? To...be a ghost?" Jesse asks in a desperate bid to understand, and in lieu of anything else to say, though his voice is raw from screaming in horror for days on end. Cole wilts with every forced out word. "Is that...okay to ask?"

Cole curls his fists against the blanket of the bed he sits upon; the fabric remains undisturbed beneath him. The overwhelming sensation of nothing when there should be something wracks through him and steals away a breath he doesn't have.

He doesn't think there's anything that could describe the sheer ache that notion leaves him with.

"...not everything feels like something else." Cole withers when glitter trickles from the corners of Jesse's eyes again. But Jesse remains patiently listening. "...but, if I had to say...it's...mostly like...being in a fog."

Jesse's head tilts curiously. "A...fog...?"

"...Yeah." Cole gnaws his lip as he strings his thoughts together. "Like I'm mostly here, but not really. Like I can see something in the distance thought a mist, but not a clear picture. Like sometimes, people speak at me, and their voices are garbled like I'm underwater. And every motion I make is like trying to push through a cloud...and the feel of the cloud is featherlight, barely there, brushing against my hands, just a...wisp. But then I know in my heart—or what remains of it—that there should be...something more."

Cole lifts a translucent hand that yields neither the warmth nor strength he's become accustomed to. There's some sensation; something akin to a dulled static. But it's a far cry to the subtle earth-made vibrations he could once pick up on instinct.

The Element of Earth still thrums just beneath his "skin"—no curse could ever take that away from him. The earth is always shifting, even in the subtlest of ways, and he's still in sync with that much. In the slow erosion of a cliff at the seaside, in the tumbling of the sands of a beach, in the crumbling of a foundation when it finally gives way, in the spinning of the world as time marches on, in the throes of an aftershock of a earthquake...all of that he can still sense with his soul.

And yet, when it comes to his powers, the disconnect is immense—he'd describe it like a chasm suddenly cleaving his elemental connection, but even that would still yield contact with the Earth. No, this is more like the ground is slipping away from him—he's falling in reverse, going upwards, drifting farther and farther away, with nothing to tether him down—nothing to keep him grounded—

His body is no longer solid. There is no longer a foundation for Earth to be supported by.

He's never felt less attuned.

"And, overall..." Cole wraps up his thoughts, pulling his knees up to his chest. He shakes, longing for something he can anchor onto other than himself. "Everything feels...lacking. And I feel...very empty."

Pulling out of his puddle of self-pity, Cole chances a glance at Jesse. Everything in him seizes up upon witnessing Jesse openly crying again. It's not as broken and utterly devastated as before. Now, though...he cries not for what's been lost, but what he can no longer have.

"I just wanna hold your hand and comfort you so bad," Jesse confesses in a weep. "And I can't."

"...heh, yeah. Master knows I could use it right about now," Cole agrees. Even his voice is inconsolably trembling now. His heart clenches. "And I'm also dying to kiss you senseless, but ha, that's even less of a no-go. Cuz, y'know—"

It's an attempt at a joke—albeit a very true joke—that only sends Jesse deeper into a sobbing fit. And Cole can do nothing but watch it happen—watch as he's the cause for Jesse's continued turmoil. He can't even lend a shoulder for him to cry on, for there technically is no shoulder to offer, and Jesse's tears would prove to be lethal anyway.

He may not be able to feel much, but he certainly can feel how much pain he's causing for Jesse. He...can't do this to Jesse. He can't keep doing this to Jesse. He can't burden him like this, as much as he craves Jesse's comfort otherwise.

"Why do these things keep happening to you?! Why can't you—we—be blissfully happy for two seconds?!" Jesse trades his tears for a fit of protesting frustration. Cole lets out a weary, humorless chuckle in response.

"Hey, I told you I was hard to love. Just...maybe not this hard." Cole fights for it, but he can't keep the plastered smile on his face. Horror flashes across Jesse's; Cole's voice starts to crack. "But maybe...I mean–you deserve...better than a ghost, y'know. Better than a wisp of a person, in any case...not that I was all that great even before 'dying', ahahaaa...still can't believe you would've wanted me, heh..."

Jesse's blood runs cold. "Cole. Cole. C-Cole, no don't do that—"

Cole presses on. "But if this, y'know...changes anything between us—changes how you feel about me, then I...I-I would understand if you...it would be okay if...if y-you wanted to lea—"

Jesse jumps to his feet and claps, punctuated by a sound that fills the room and drives away the rest of Cole's tirade. Jesse's expression is pinched as he draws a ruby red rose from his sleeve, tilting it gingerly in Cole's direction.

"And I told you, I'll love you regardless." It's the most resolute Jesse's sounded in days. Cole can feel the imitation of his heart skipping a beat. "So, come what may...I'm going to be here for you. I'm going to be at your side, if you'll have me. Unfortunately, you can't get rid of me so easily, darling. Not even death itself could drive me away from you!"

"...jeeeeeez, so dramatic." A lightness flows through Cole and he eagerly chases the high of it. Jesse smirks in spite of himself. "But, it is one of your many adoring qualities."

Scoffing, Jesse presses a kiss to one of the petals of the rose. He spins it twice between his fingers, the blessed petal now facing towards Cole.

"It's going to...take some time to adjust to this. But we'll work together on it, just like with everything else. You're right, and we will figure something out. This...doesn't have to be the end of the world."

Cole leans forward now, matching his lips to the petal presented to him. He may not be able to feel the delicacy of the flower, but the Jesse's sentiment he receives in full force.

"I couldn't agree more, sweetheart."

And, just maybe, Cole doesn't feel quite as empty as he thought.

[girlbob-boypants]

Kind of wild that even after like. Idk. A year of other games? 6 months? My muscle memory on weaver is so strong I can feel the difference a half second makes on the cooldown of attunements

[shemakesmefeellikeprey]

My Second Favorite Place

My second favorite place,

is a place to place

myself in space.

Surrounded by the planets,

I found my first love in the moon.

When I look up, I never forget to feel terrified,

as the vastness of what is, I am not immune

to feeling small

in the scheme of it all.

9 celestial bodies and their children

all dance around me while I stand still.

My chaperone, herself blue and green,

keeps the pace of her own beat until

it all expands into itself.

9 celestial bodies and their children

all dance around me while I stand still.

My favorite place however, is with the tenth

heavenly body:

HER.

[theplotmage]

Principles and Laws of Magic for Fantasy Writers

Fundamental Laws

1. Law of Conservation of Magic- Magic cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed.

3. Law of Equivalent Exchange- To gain something, an equal value must be given.

5. Law of Magical Exhaustion- Using magic drains the user’s energy or life force.

Interaction and Interference

4. Law of Magical Interference- Magic can interfere with other magical effects.

6. Law of Magical Contamination- Magic can have unintended side effects.

8. Law of Magical Inertia- Magical effects continue until stopped by an equal or greater force.

Resonance and Conditions

7. Law of Magical Resonance- Magic resonates with certain materials, places, or times.

9. Law of Magical Secrecy- Magic must be kept secret from the non-magical world.

11. Law of Magical Hierarchy- Different types of magic have different levels of power and difficulty.

Balance and Consequences

10. Law of Magical Balance- Every positive magical effect has a negative consequence.

12. Law of Magical Limitation- Magic has limits and cannot solve every problem.

14. Law of Magical Rebound- Misused magic can backfire on the user.

Special Conditions

13. Law of Magical Conduits- Certain objects or beings can channel magic more effectively.

15. Law of Magical Cycles- Magic may be stronger or weaker depending on cycles (e.g., lunar phases).

17. Law of Magical Awareness- Some beings are more attuned to magic and can sense its presence.

Ethical and Moral Laws

16. Law of Magical Ethics- Magic should be used responsibly and ethically.

18. Law of Magical Consent- Magic should not be used on others without their consent.

20. Law of Magical Oaths- Magical promises or oaths are binding and have severe consequences if broken.

Advanced and Rare Laws

19. Law of Magical Evolution- Magic can evolve and change over time.

20. Law of Magical Singularities- Unique, one-of-a-kind magical phenomena exist and are unpredictable.

Unique and Imaginative Magical Laws

- Law of Temporal Magic- Magic can manipulate time, but with severe consequences. Altering the past can create paradoxes, and using time magic ages the caster rapidly.

- Law of Emotional Resonance- Magic is amplified or diminished by the caster’s emotions. Strong emotions like love or anger can make spells more powerful but harder to control.

- Law of Elemental Harmony- Magic is tied to natural elements (fire, water, earth, air). Using one element excessively can disrupt the balance and cause natural disasters.

- Law of Dream Magic- Magic can be accessed through dreams. Dreamwalkers can enter others’ dreams, but they risk getting trapped in the dream world.

- Law of Ancestral Magic- Magic is inherited through bloodlines. The strength and type of magic depend on the caster’s ancestry, and ancient family feuds can influence magical abilities.

- Law of Symbiotic Magic- Magic requires a symbiotic relationship with magical creatures. The caster and creature share power, but harming one affects the other.

- Law of Forgotten Magic- Ancient spells and rituals are lost to time. Discovering and using forgotten magic can yield great power but also unknown dangers.

- Law of Magical Echoes- Spells leave behind echoes that can be sensed or traced. Powerful spells create stronger echoes that linger longer.

- Law of Arcane Geometry- Magic follows geometric patterns. Spells must be cast within specific shapes or alignments to work correctly.

- Law of Celestial Magic- Magic is influenced by celestial bodies. Spells are stronger during certain astronomical events like eclipses or planetary alignments.

- Law of Sentient Magic- Magic has a will of its own. It can choose to aid or hinder the caster based on its own mysterious motives.

- Law of Shadow Magic- Magic can manipulate shadows and darkness. Shadowcasters can travel through shadows but are vulnerable to light.

- Law of Sympathetic Magic- Magic works through connections. A spell cast on a representation of a person (like a doll or portrait) affects the actual person.

- Law of Magical Artifacts- Certain objects hold immense magical power. These artifacts can only be used by those deemed worthy or who possess specific traits.

- Law of Arcane Paradoxes- Some spells create paradoxes that defy logic. These paradoxes can have unpredictable and often dangerous outcomes.

- Law of Elemental Fusion- Combining different elemental magics creates new, hybrid spells with unique properties and effects.

- Law of Ethereal Magic- Magic can interact with the spirit world. Ethereal mages can communicate with spirits, but prolonged contact can blur the line between life and death.

- Law of Arcane Symbiosis- Magic can bond with technology, creating magical machines or enchanted devices with extraordinary capabilities.

- Law of Dimensional Magic- Magic can open portals to other dimensions. Dimensional travelers can explore alternate realities but risk getting lost or encountering hostile beings.

- Law of Arcane Sacrifice- Powerful spells require a sacrifice, such as a cherished memory, a personal item, or even a part of the caster’s soul.

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[the-witchhunter]

To clarify canon versus fanon, the souls exposed to ectoplasm is fanon

Danny Phantom canon avoided talking about souls and actual death despite early ghosts being implied to have been real people, mainly because it’s a kid’s show. Light horror aesthetic but shying away from the topics of death and religion/spirituality. It’s never really discussed how ghosts form in canon

In DC ghosts are just souls that haven’t gone off to a specific afterlife. That’s it, just souls that stuck around or escaped hell or similarly unpleasant afterlives

The imps are 5th dimensional beings so making the Ghost Zone the 5th dimension has a lot of bizarre implications, chiefly that they are reality warpers because they exist 5 dimensionally instead of 3 dimensionally, so that would stand to reason that all ghosts are reality warpers

This has been a clarification on canon versus fanon, you may now return to your regularly scheduled posting and making Danny deal with Imps

Hmmmm…..

So imps.

Inter-dimensional imps or tulpas.

They could be from the infinite realms! Stay with me.

I’m not sure if it canon or fanon, but ghost can be souls exposed to ecto or strong emotions imprinting and given form via ecto.

So that would mean Batmite and Nightmite are Ghosts!

The combined thoughts of the fans imprinting onto ectoplasm thus birthing the imps.

Ha! Imagine the possibilities! The implications! The shenanigans, if King Phantom is aware of them!

[imasimpforshanks]

one piece characters - how they love you

──────────────────────

ft. Zoro, Sanji, law, ace, Sabo, shanks

A/N: I have risen from the dead to post this!!!! Inspired by a jjk version I saw (cant find it anymore though so all credit to them for the idea!!!) ANYWAYYYYYY here you go. Just some fluff and stuff.

I hope you enjoy and that you are all doing well x

──────────────────────

Zoro loves you simply. instead of grand gestures and loud declarations of love, he whispers quiet reassurances into your head as you drift off to sleep on his chest. he’s attuned to your unspoken needs; he knows when you need space or when you need a hug after a long day. he carries your bags for you without being asked and gives you his jacket when you shiver. in his heart, your presence has become the anchor of his days; without you he feels incomplete.

Sanji loves you passionately. your favorite song, your favorite drink, your favorite meal - he remembers it all. every second of every day is entirely devoted to you and ensuring your needs are met because he’s so overwhelmed by his desire for you. his vocabulary consists of “i love you” and “whatever you say, my dear.” he worships the ground you walk on; sanji loves you like it’s all he’s ever wanted in life.

Law loves you quietly. you see it in the way he’ll prepare your cup of coffee in the morning without being asked. you hear it in the way he hums in acknowledgment while you yap away about anything and everything- your voice soothes his heart. you feel it in his fleeting touches to hands, thigh and small of your back - he’s never been one for public displays of affection. laws love is lowkey and private; but you know it’s there.

Shanks loves you proudly. he takes any, and every, opportunity he can to talk about you to others. he encourages your drunken shenanigans with whistles and cheers of “that’s my girl!”. he holds your hand without hesitation in a crowded room, and challenges anyone who even dares to comment on your relationship, because shanks is fearless in the face of judgement, and certain that his love for you knows no bounds.

Ace loves you unconditionally. for richer for poorer, for better, for worse - no matter what, ace loves you. he has your back, providing you with unwavering support at all times. he would go to the ends of the earth for you. ace loves you unconditionally because that unconditional love is what you’ve shown him.

Sabo loves you effortlessly. it shocks him a little at first - how easy it is to love you. he kisses you just because he can, makes your favourite meal just because he can, gets you a gift just because he can. loving you is second nature to him; so deeply embedded in his every thought and action it’s as if your hearts are one.

[fairuzfan]

19 October 2023: In Gaza, we have grown accustomed to war

Horrific experiences of death and destruction have permanently impacted Palestinians’ culture, language and collective memory. “Is it war again?” asks my little Amal, 7, memories of the previous Israeli assaults still fresh in her mind.

The wording of the question shows the maturity she has been forced to develop. Last year, Amal asked her mum if it was “another war.”

Yes, it is war again in Gaza! In Gaza, we have grown accustomed to war. War has become a recurrent reality, a nightmare that won’t go away. A brutal normality. War has become like a grumpy old relative, one that we can’t stand but can’t rid ourselves of either.

The children pay the heaviest price. A price of fear and nonstop trauma that is reflected in their behaviors and their reactions. It’s estimated that over 90 percent of Palestinian children in Gaza show signs of trauma. But also, specialists claim there is no post-war trauma in Gaza as the war is still ongoing.

My grandmother would tell me to put on a heavy sweater because it would rain. And it would rain! She, like all Palestinian elders, had a unique sense, an understanding of the earth, wind, trees and rain. The elders knew when to pick olives for pickling or for oil. I was always envious of that.

Sorry, Grandma. We have instead become attuned to the vagaries of war. This heavy guest visits us uninvited, unwelcomed and undesired, perches on our chests and breaths, and then claims the lives of many, in the hundreds and thousands.

A Palestinian in Gaza born in 2008 has witnessed seven wars: 2008–2009, 2012, 2014, 2021, 2022, 2023A and 2023B. And as the habit goes in Gaza, people can be seven wars old, or four wars old. My little Amal, born in 2016, now holds a BA in wars, having lived through four destructive campaigns. In Gaza, we often speak about wars in terms of academic degrees: a BA in wars, an MA in wars, and some might humorously refer to themselves as PhD candidates in wars.

Our discourse has significantly changed and shifted. At night, when Israel particularly intensifies the bombardment, it’s a “party”: “The party has begun.” “It will be a horrific party tonight.” And then there is “The Bag,” capital T and capital B. This is a bag that is hurriedly prepared to contain the cash, the IDs, the birth certificates and college diplomas. The aim is to grab the kids and one item when there is a threat of evacuation.

The collective memories and culture of Palestinians in Gaza have been substantially impacted by these horrific experiences of war and death. Most Gazans have lost family members, relatives, or loved ones or have had their homes damaged or destroyed. It’s estimated that these wars and the escalations between them have claimed the lives of over 9,000 (it was 7,500 when I started drafting this last week!) Palestinians and destroyed over 60,000 housing units.

Death and war. War and Death. These two are persona non grata, yet we can’t force them to leave. To let us be.

Palestinian poet Tamim Al-Barghouti summarizes the relationship between death and the Palestinians that war brings (my translation):

It was not wise of you, Death, to draw near.

It was not wise to besiege us all these years.

It was not wise to dwell this close,

So close we’ve memorized your visage

Your eating habits

Your time of rest

Your mood swings

Your heart’s desires

Even your frailties.

O, Death, beware!

Don’t rest that you tallied us.

We are many.

And we are still here

[Seventy] years after the invasion

Our torches are still alight

Two centuries

After Jesus went to his third grade in our land

We have known you, Death, too well.

O, Death, our intent is clear:

We will beat you,

Even if they slay us, one and all.

Death, fear us,

For here we are, unafraid.

23 October 2023: Five stages of coping with war in Gaza

Our familiarity with war in Gaza has led us to develop a unique perspective and unique coping mechanisms.

We can identify five major emotional stages that Gazans go through during these grim conflicts. The stages are denial, fear, silence, numbness, hope, despair and submission.

This is day 16 and Israel has killed more than 5,000 Palestinians (many are still unaccounted for under the rubble), including over 2,000 Palestinian children, Gaza authorities tell us. More than 15,000 were injured and over 25,000 Palestinian homes were destroyed. And Israel says it is ready for ground invasion.

Stage one: Denial

In the early stages of a crisis, there is often a sense of denial. We convince ourselves that this time won’t lead to war. People are tired of the recurring conflicts, and both sides may appear too preoccupied to engage in warfare. As missiles fall and soar, we maintain a form of partial denial, hoping that this time will not be as lengthy or devastating as past wars.

No, this time it’s not going to be war. Everyone is tired of wars. Israel is too busy to go to war.

Palestinians are too exhausted and too battered to engage in a war. It could just last five days, give or take, we hope.

Stage two: Fear

Soon, denial turns to fear as the reality of another war sets in. Gaza is paralyzed as civilians, including children, are attacked by Israeli bombs. The pictures and videos of massacres, of homes obliterated with the families inside, of high rise buildings toppled like dominoes turn the denial into utter terror.

Every strike, especially at night, means all the children wake up crying and weep. As parents, we fear for our kids and we fear we can’t protect our loved ones.

Stage three: Silence and numbness

This is when Israel particularly intensifies the bombing of civilian homes. Stories are interrupted. Prayers are cut short. Meals are left uneaten. Showers are abandoned.

Therefore, amid the chaos and danger Israel brings, many in Gaza, especially children, withdraw into silence. They find solace in solitude as means of coping with the overwhelming emotion and uncertainty that surrounds them. Silence prevails.

Then numbness follows. As people attempt to protect themselves from the constant onslaught of distressing news, they grow indifferent. Because we could die anyway, no matter where we go. Emotional numbness sets in, as individuals attempt to detach from their emotions to survive.

Stage four: Hope

In the midst of despair, glimmers of hope may emerge. Even in the darkest moments, Gazans may hold onto the belief Israel might at least kill fewer people, bomb fewer places, and damage less. The most hopeful of us wish for a lasting ceasefire or an end to the siege or even the occupation. But this is merely hope. And hope is dangerous.

We hope that politicians will man up. We hitch our hope to the masses taking to the streets to reassure their politicians and warn they will be punished in future elections if they support Israeli aggression against Palestinians in Gaza.

Stage five: Despair and submission

Unfortunately, hope can often be fleeting, and many Gazans have experienced recurring cycles of despair. The repeated loss of life, homes and security lead to deep feelings of helplessness.

In the final stage, there is a sense of submission as Gazans accept the reality that they are unable to change the situation. That they are left alone. That the world has abandoned us. That Israel can kill and destroy at large with impunity. This is a stage marked by endurance, as Palestinians strive to adapt and persevere in the face of ongoing challenges.

These stages of war have become an unfortunate part of life in Gaza, shaping the resilience and perseverance of the Palestinian people in the face of unimaginable hardships imposed by the Israeli occupation.

27 October 2023: What it’s like when Israel bombs your building

I have six children. And so far we have survived seven major Israeli escalations, unscathed. We are an average family. My wife, Nusayba, is a housewife, I have two children in college and my youngest child, Amal, is 7. In Gaza, Amal is already four wars old.

We are an average family in Gaza, but we have had our fair share of Israeli death and destruction.

So far, since the early 1970s, I have lost 20 (and 15 last week) members of my extended family due to Israeli aggression.

In 2014, Israel destroyed our family home of seven flats, killing my brother Mohammed.

In 2014, Israel killed about 20 of my wife’s family including her brother, her sister, three of her sister’s kids, her grandfather and her cousin. And destroyed several of my in-laws’ homes.

Combined, my wife and I have lost over fifty 50 members to Israeli war and terror.

2023 war on Gaza

As the bombs fall and Israel targets sleeping families in their homes, parents are torn between several issues.

Should we leave? But go where, when Israel targets evacuees on their way and targets the areas they evacuate to?

Should we stay with relatives? Or should our relatives stay with us, whose home is relatively “safe?” We can never be sure. It’s been more than 75 years of brutal occupation – and over six major Israeli military onslaughts in the past 15 years – and we have so far failed to understand Israel’s brutality and mentality of death and destruction.

And then there is the fear of what to do if – when – we are bombed. We try to evade them. But how can you evade the bombs when Israel throws three or four or five consecutive bombs at the same home.

The big question Palestinian households debate is whether we should sleep in the same room so that when we die, we die together, or whether we should sleep in different rooms so some of us may survive.

The answer is always that we need to sleep in the living room together. If we die, we die together. No one has to deal with the heartbreak.

No food. No water. No electricity.

This 2023 war is different. Israel has intensified using hunger as a weapon. By completely besieging Gaza and cutting off the electricity and water supplies and not allowing aid or imports, Israel is not only putting Palestinians on a diet, but also starving them.

In my household, and we are a well-off family, my wife and I sat with the children and explained the situation to them, especially the little ones: “We need to ration. We need to eat and drink a quarter of what we usually consume. It’s not that we do not have money, but food is running out and we barely have water.”

And good luck explaining to your 7-year-old that she can’t have her two morning eggs and instead she will be having a quarter of a bomb! (Israel later bombed the eggs.)

As a parent, I feel desperate and helpless. I can’t provide the love and protection I am supposed to give my kids.

Instead of often telling my kids “I love you,” I have been repeating for the past two weeks:

“Kids, eat less. Kids, drink less.” And I imagine this being my last thing I say to them and it is devastating.

Israel bombs our building

If we had a little food last week, now we barely have any because Israel struck our home with two missiles while we were inside. And without prior warning!

My wife Nusayba had already instructed the kids to run if a bombing happened nearby. We never expected [our building] to be hit. And that was a golden piece of advice.

I was hosting four families of relatives in my flat. Most of them were kids and women.

We ran and ran. We carried the little ones and grabbed the small bags with our cash and important documents that Gazans keep at the door every time Israel wages a war.

We escaped with a miracle, with only bruises and tiny scratches. We checked and found everyone was fine. And then we walked to a nearby UN school shelter, which was in an inhuman condition. We crammed into small classrooms with other families.

With that, we lost our last sense of safety. We lost our water. We lost our food and the remaining eggs that Amal loves.

We are an average Palestinian family. But we have had our fair share of Israeli death and destruction. In Gaza, no one is safe. And no place is safe. Israel could kill all 2.3 million of us and the world would not bat an eye.

[perilusjax]

Dc x Dp Prompt:

A Dragon Descends

The Justice League could only watch from their watch tower as Chaos and Order fought. While in a meeting, a barrier made up of both Order and Chaos magic covered the earth. With only an apology coming from Nabu. Constantine and Zatana were creating a summoning circle, hoping someone would answer.

As the circle glowed, every magic attuned heroes felt something answered. From the revanent Jason Todd to the Champion Shazam. Then it appeared a large purple head with green horns.

It phased through the walls of the tower. As it's body coiled around the tower, the head phased back into the main room.

"Who has summoned me," the Dragon spoke, his voice

"We beg of you o lord of Balance, our home is in peril," Zatana pleaded with the dragon.

"The forces of order and chaos battle upon our home, and there is nothing we can do. So please ancient one, help us protect our planet," Zatana explained.

"The thieves of Hecate and this one's own children have caused you much trouble," the dragon murmered, his eyes filled with a deep sadness.

The JL's eyes widened in surprise at the information that was revealed by the dragon.

"H-How did they get their powers?" a shocked Deadman asked.

"When the lords of Chaos stole Hecate's magic and made the universe scream, the mortal magicians sought this one's assistance. In return for empowering them, they became my children," the dragon explained, making the mortals look upon him with a new understanding.

"Now, if you wish for my assistance, a champion must be crowned. Only one touched by the realms can become this divine one's anchor," he explained.

The heroes fought, as they didn't know who to choose. There were four heroes touched by the infinite realms. As the arguing got louder, they missed one person stepping before the star riddled dragon.

"I'll do it, I shall become your champion," the voice of Jason Todd spoke, his conviction causing the others to quite down.

"I accept," the keeper of balance, Danny Phantom intoned, his voice reverberating throughout the air.

[astrocafecoffee]

• Moon in Groom persona chart •

✨ For entertainment purposes only, enjoy My lovelies ✨

• SUN IN GROOM PC

• MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~💖💖~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🌙 MOON IN 1ST HOUSE:

- Your future spouse will be deeply attuned to their emotions and those of others.They may have a charming and approachable demeanor, making it easy for others to connect with them on an emotional level. This sensitivity also lends them a strong intuition, allowing them to navigate complex interpersonal dynamics with ease.Creativity and imagination are likely to be prominent in their personality. They might express themselves artistically or through innovative thinking, bringing a unique perspective to any situation.they may gravitate towards careers where they can use their emotional intelligence and creativity. They might excel in fields such as counseling, psychology, art, design, or any profession that involves working closely with people's emotions and needs. Their nurturing nature could also lead them to professions where they can care for others, such as healthcare or social work.On the flip side, their deep emotional sensitivity can sometimes make them prone to mood swings or emotional fluctuations. They may need time and space to process their feelings, which can occasionally lead to misunderstandings if their emotional needs aren't met or understood by their partner.Their strong attachment to their independence and individuality might occasionally create a need for personal space and freedom within the relationship. They enjoy sharing their thoughts and feelings openly and value a partner who reciprocates this emotional depth. They may appreciate romantic gestures and expressions of affection that resonate on an emotional level rather than just superficial displays.They might enjoy activities that allow them to connect with nature or explore different cultures and philosophies.They can have moon in 1st house/ moon in Aries / moon in fire sign / moon in fire house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 2ND HOUSE:

-Your future spouse is likely to have a strong sense of emotional security and stability.This can manifest in their ability to provide emotional support and practical care in relationships, making them reliable and dependable partners.Their emotional connection to material possessions and financial stability may motivate them to excel in career paths related to finance, banking, real estate, or any field where they can use their practical skills to build security and stability.They may find satisfaction in activities that involve tangible results or artistic expression through craftsmanship, such as gardening, cooking, pottery, or home decorating. They appreciate beauty and comfort in their surroundings, often creating spaces that reflect their emotional warmth and aesthetic sensibilities.At times, their strong attachment to stability and material security can lead to possessiveness or overemphasis on financial matters. They may prioritize practical concerns over emotional needs in relationships, which could require open communication and understanding to maintain a balanced partnership.They enjoy activities that allow them to indulge in sensory pleasures and appreciate the finer things in life, such as gourmet dining, travel to beautiful destinations, or leisurely hobbies that bring comfort and relaxation.Their emotional fulfillment often comes from a stable and harmonious home life, where they can feel grounded and supported. They may seek a partner who shares their values and is willing to invest in building a secure and comfortable future together. They can have moon in 2nd house/ moon in Taurus/ moon in Earth house / Earth house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 3RD HOUSE:

-your fs is likely to be highly communicative and articulate, with a keen interest in intellectual pursuits and learning. This placement often indicates someone who is curious, adaptable, and enjoys engaging in conversations and exchanging ideas. They may have a knack for languages or writing, and their profession could involve communication, such as teaching, writing, journalism, or public relations.your future spouse is likely to be emotionally responsive and expressive, although they may also be somewhat changeable in their moods or emotional states. They value mental stimulation and may seek a partner who can intellectually challenge them and engage in meaningful discussions.This placement suggests a spouse who is supportive of your endeavors and who values open communication in the relationship. They may be nurturing and caring, particularly in how they express their emotions. However, on the negative side, they could be prone to overthinking or moodiness at times, especially if they feel emotionally unsettled or unbalanced.Their interests are likely to include reading, writing, socializing with friends, and possibly engaging in activities that involve short trips or frequent movement. They may enjoy hobbies that stimulate their mind or involve communication skills, such as debate, storytelling, or blogging.They are likely to enjoy deep conversations and may appreciate a partner who can challenge them intellectually. They can have moon in 3rd house/ moon in gemini/ moon in air sign / in air house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 4TH HOUSE:

- your future spouse is likely to be deeply connected to their family and roots. They may have a strong emotional bond with their upbringing, homeland, or ancestral heritage. Family values and traditions could play a significant role in their life and in the way they approach relationships.they are sensitive and nurturing. They may have a natural inclination towards caring for others, especially those they consider family or close loved ones.They may seek professions that allow them to work in environments where they feel emotionally secure and connected. Careers related to real estate, interior design, hospitality, caregiving, or working with children and families could be appealing to them. your future spouse is likely to be loving, protective, and deeply committed. They may be intuitive and empathetic, able to understand and respond to your emotional needs with sensitivity. on the negative side, they may sometimes struggle with moodiness or emotional insecurities, especially if they feel their emotional needs are not being met or if they experience disruptions in their home or family life. They may also be nostalgic or attached to the past, which can influence their decision-making and emotional reactions in the present. They may enjoy cooking, decorating their home, gardening, or spending quality time with loved ones. They may also have a strong interest in history, genealogy, or exploring their cultural heritage. They can have moon in 4th house/ moon in cancer / moon in water sign/ moon in water house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 5TH HOUSE:

- your future spouse is likely to be deeply in touch with their creative side. They may have artistic talents or a strong appreciation for the arts, such as music, theater, painting, or other forms of creative expression. This placement suggests that they find emotional fulfillment through creative endeavors and activities that allow them to express themselves freely.your future spouse is likely to be affectionate, romantic, and playful. They enjoy the excitement of romance and may have a natural charm that draws others to them. they may be drawn to careers in the arts, entertainment, fashion, or any field that allows them to express their creativity and passion. They may also enjoy working with children or in roles that involve mentoring and inspiring others.they are sensitive and intuitive. They may be attuned to their own feelings as well as the emotions of those around them. They seek emotional fulfillment through joyous experiences, romantic connections, and activities that bring them pleasure and satisfaction.they may sometimes struggle with emotional drama or fluctuations in their moods, especially if they feel their creative expression or need for fun is stifled. They may also be prone to seeking validation or attention through their creative pursuits or romantic relationships.Their interests and hobbies often revolve around creative outlets and leisure activities. They may enjoy hobbies such as dancing, playing musical instruments, participating in theater or performance arts, or engaging in sports and recreational activities that bring them joy and excitement. They can have moon in 5th house/ moon in leo / moon in fire sign/ moon in fire house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 6TH HOUSE:

- your future spouse with the Moon in the 6th house is likely to be very focused on their day-to-day responsibilities and obligations. They have a strong need for structure and organization in their life, and they may excel in roles that involve caregiving, service-oriented professions, or roles that require attention to detail.they may be drawn to careers in healthcare, nursing, nutrition, counseling, teaching, or any field where they can help others and contribute to their well-being. They may also have a strong work ethic and take pride in their ability to handle responsibilities effectively. your future spouse is nurturing and caring, especially towards those they work with or care for on a daily basis. They derive emotional satisfaction from being of service to others and may find fulfillment in roles where they can make a positive impact in practical ways. They value stability and may seek a partner who shares their practical approach to life and who appreciates their dedication to their work and responsibilities.on the negative side, they may sometimes struggle with perfectionism or becoming overly critical of themselves or others in their pursuit of efficiency and productivity. They may also experience emotional fluctuations related to their daily routines or work environment, especially if they feel overwhelmed by their responsibilities.They may enjoy hobbies such as cooking nutritious meals, gardening, yoga or exercise routines, volunteering, or engaging in activities that contribute to their personal growth and well-being. They can have moon in 6th house/ moon in Virgo / moon in Earth sign/ moon in Earth house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 7TH HOUSE :

- your future spouse with the Moon in the 7th house in GPC places a strong emphasis on their relationships and partnerships. They may have a deep longing for emotional connection and seek a harmonious and balanced partnership where they feel emotionally supported and understood.They value emotional intimacy and may seek a partner who can provide them with a sense of security and emotional fulfillment. They may also be inclined towards compromise and cooperation in relationships, striving to maintain harmony and balance.they may excel in careers that involve working closely with others, such as counseling, mediation, law, diplomacy, or any field that requires negotiation and interpersonal skills. They may also have a knack for understanding others' emotional needs and perspectives, making them effective in roles that involve managing relationships or partnerships. They can also have a knack for beauty industry.They may seek a partner who complements their emotional nature and who values mutual respect and cooperation in their relationship dynamics.they may sometimes struggle with indecisiveness or fluctuating emotions in relationships, especially if they feel uncertain about their partner's feelings or intentions. They may also be prone to seeking validation or reassurance from their partner, which can affect the stability of the relationship if not managed consciously.Their interests and hobbies often revolve around activities that foster connection and understanding with others. They may enjoy socializing, hosting gatherings, or participating in activities that allow them to bond with their partner or close friends. They may also have an interest in psychology, relationship dynamics, or exploring ways to enhance communication and emotional connection. They can have moon in 7th house/ moon in Libra / moon in air sign/ moon in air house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 8TH HOUSE:

-your future spouse with the Moon in the 8th house of GPC experiences emotions in a profound and intense manner. They are likely to have a strong need for emotional depth and intimacy in their relationships, seeking connections that go beyond the surface level.they are deeply intuitive and may have psychic abilities or a strong interest in metaphysical topics. They are drawn to understanding the deeper truths of life and may engage in spiritual practices or seek transformative experiences that allow them to evolve emotionally and spiritually.they may be inclined towards careers that involve psychology, counseling, healing, research, or any field that requires delving into the depths of human emotions and motivations. They may also excel in roles that involve managing shared resources or handling complex financial matters.

They value trust, loyalty, and authenticity in their relationships, and they may have a profound ability to connect with their partner on an emotional and spiritual level. They may be protective of their loved ones and possessive of their emotional bonds. they may sometimes struggle with jealousy, possessiveness, or emotional volatility in relationships, especially if they feel threatened or insecure. They may also be prone to experiencing emotional crises or undergoing periods of intense transformation that can impact their emotional stability.They may enjoy practices such as meditation, astrology, tarot reading, or other forms of divination that provide insights into the hidden aspects of existence. They can have moon in 8th house/ moon in scorpio/ moon in water sign/ moon in water house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 9TH HOUSE:

-The 9th house in astrology is associated with higher education, philosophy, spirituality, travel, and long-distance journeys. Therefore, your future spouse with the Moon in the 9th house has a deep emotional connection to these areas of life. They are likely to be intellectually curious, philosophical, and spiritually inclined.They have a strong desire for learning and expanding their horizons, both intellectually and spiritually. They may have a broad-minded approach to life, valuing freedom of thought and exploring diverse perspectives.they may be drawn to careers in higher education, academia, law, publishing, or fields related to philosophy, religion, or spirituality. They may also excel in roles that involve travel, multicultural interactions, or promoting cultural exchange and understanding.They value honesty, authenticity, and philosophical discussions in their relationships. They may also seek a partner who supports their personal growth and spiritual development.they may sometimes struggle with restlessness or a desire for constant change or adventure, which can affect their stability in relationships or career choices. They may also experience emotional conflicts related to their beliefs or values, especially if they encounter differences with their partner or societal norms.They may enjoy studying languages, participating in religious or spiritual practices, or pursuing activities that promote personal growth and self-discovery. They can have moon in 9th house/ moon in Sagittarius/ moon in fire sign/ moon in fire house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 10TH HOUSE:

-your future spouse is likely to have a strong emotional connection to their career and their public image. They may prioritize their professional success and strive for recognition and respect in their chosen field.They are likely to be ambitious, driven, and goal-oriented, aiming to excel in their career and make a significant impact in their chosen domain. They may also value stability and success in their professional life, seeking positions of authority or leadership. they may excel in careers that involve public visibility, such as politics, business management, corporate leadership, government roles, or any field where they can utilize their organizational skills and ambition to achieve their goals. They may also have a nurturing and supportive approach to leadership, caring deeply about the well-being and development of their team or organization. They value stability and may prioritize their professional responsibilities, sometimes at the expense of their personal life. They may appreciate a partner who can balance their need for emotional support with respect for their career commitments.they may sometimes struggle with work-life balance or emotional vulnerability in their public persona. They may experience pressure to maintain their professional image or status, which can affect their emotional well-being or relationships if not managed consciously. They may enjoy networking, attending industry events, honing their skills through continued education or certifications, or engaging in activities that enhance their leadership abilities. They can have moon in 10th house / moon in Capricorn/ moon in Earth house/ moon in Earth sign in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 11TH HOUSE:

-your future spouse places a strong emphasis on their friendships and social circles. They may have a wide and diverse group of friends who play a significant role in their life and who share common ideals and aspirations.they value their friendships and social connections deeply. They may find emotional fulfillment through their involvement in group activities, community efforts, or humanitarian causes. They are likely to be humanitarian-minded, caring about social justice issues and contributing to the well-being of others in their community or society at large.they may be drawn to careers that involve teamwork, collaboration, or working towards collective goals. They may excel in roles that require networking, social outreach, or organizing community events. They may also have a nurturing and supportive approach to leadership within their social or professional circles, fostering a sense of camaraderie and unity among their peers.They seek a partner who shares their ideals and aspirations, and who supports their involvement in social activities or community initiatives. They may appreciate a partner who can participate in their social life and who understands their need for independence within their friendships.On the negative side, they may sometimes struggle with maintaining boundaries in their friendships or with feeling emotionally detached in intimate relationships. They may prioritize their social connections or group dynamics over personal emotional intimacy, which can lead to challenges in their romantic relationships if not balanced effectively.They may enjoy networking events, community service projects, attending group meetings, or engaging in activities that promote social causes or collective growth. They can have moon in 11th house/ moon in Aquarius/ moon in air sign/ moon in air house in their natal chart.

🌙 MOON IN 12TH HOUSE:

- moon in 12th house of GPC suggests your fs is a person who experiences emotions deeply and profoundly, often in ways that are not immediately apparent to others. This placement indicates that your spouse may have a rich inner world where emotions, dreams, and subconscious thoughts play a significant role. they are highly sensitive and intuitive, often picking up on subtle energies and emotions around them. This sensitivity can make them compassionate and empathetic towards others' struggles, but it can also make them vulnerable to emotional overwhelm or feeling drained by the intensity of their own feelings. They may have a strong interest in spirituality, meditation, or practices that help them connect with their inner self and the spiritual realms. Their dreams and intuition may guide them towards understanding their purpose and finding inner peace. They may have a natural talent for music, art, writing, or other forms of creative expression that allow them to channel their deep emotions and subconscious thoughts. They value emotional intimacy and may prefer to build trust slowly, revealing their deeper emotions over time. They may also need a partner who respects their boundaries and supports their spiritual or creative pursuits.Challenges with this placement may include struggles with self-doubt, escapism, or difficulty confronting painful emotions that are buried deep within their subconscious. They may benefit from practices that promote emotional healing, such as therapy, meditation, or journaling. They can have moon in the 12th house / moon in Pisces/ moon in water house / moon in water sign.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.

-PIKO ✨

[wayti-blog]

Non-violence leads to the highest ethics, which is the goal of all evolution. Until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages.

Thomas A. Edison

[stormborn-witch]

13 Goals of a Witch: Attune with the Cycles of the Earth

These are my personal interpretations on the Goals, and your own may be different. That's completely fine!

What does it mean?

This is one I struggle to explain. The Earth has it's cycles. Day and Night. The Seasons. Even the differing weather conditions could be considered cycles.

I think attuning ourselves to those cycles means we need to recognize what each cycle is meant for. Like Spring! It's a time for growth, so we should focus on our personal growth. Does that make sense?

How?

Once again, something I struggle with. How do we attune ourselves to each cycle of the Earth? Honestly I don't have a blanket solution for this. Do what you feel you need to. We are in winter. The Earth is resting so, do what you can to rest your body, your mind. Any aspect of yourself. Try to frame each cycle in this way and you'll find what works for you.

[trashmouth-richie]

frangere me | break me | 🥀 [3.4k] emperor geta x reader

dulcis ut rosa || dulex

vitiosus + deliciosus || ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

18+ smut, violence, talks of war

The stone wall bit into the tender flesh of your back. With your head thrown back, a silent moan etched itself across your face. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and Geta responded with a groan against the column of your throat, a deep thrust pistoning so hard the paintings hung beside you fell in a loud crack to the marbled floor.

It had been like this for months. What started as a midnight affair blossomed into fucking in broad daylight. The thrill of being caught making the lust for one another heighten to the Gods above. Each time was better than the last. Geta quickly became attuned to your body. 

You pleasured him beneath his desk as he discussed military stations and territories with his generals, his poker face never faltering— only hitting the large desk with a fist as he came hot and heavy in your mouth. 

He had you screaming in the middle of the coliseum, the sand rubbing against your forearms as he rocked his mighty cock into you, a whip in his right hand slapping your ass with glee. 

Fucking Geta was sinfully erotic, filthy and savory. A favorite time of yours was when you were face to face, a shared orgasm breathing between you as your hips circled his cock in the balineum, water splashing and slapping around you. 

His was during the light of dawn when he took your hand pulling you to where his throne was perched in the throne room. Geta was gentle as he kissed you, his fingers were feather light touches against your molten skin, he knelt before you as you leaned back in his throne chair, his laurel wreath crown balancing on your head. 

He licked and bit at your thighs. Suckling on your clit as he whispered, “mea imperatrix,” working you through the earth shattering orgasm as you coated his tongue. 

You couldn’t get enough of him, and he of you. The wall of this palace held many secrets, but yours and Geta’s was by far the most delicate of all.

—

Goosebumps prickled your skin as Geta ran blunt nails down your back. It was nearly daybreak, yet you still hadn’t left his chambers, how could you when his arms were wrapped around you pleading for you to stay with him just a little longer. 

You’re drifting to sleep against his chest when his breath fans against your ear, “you have not bled this month.” 

“Hm?” you mumble sleepily, a yawn drawing past your lips.

Sitting up in his bed, Geta hooks a finger under your chin. “Do not be coy, my dulcis… you haven’t bled yet, have you?” 

Stretching the kinks from your arms and spine, you rise to your knees, peeling your warmed skin from his, still sticky with the grape wine you poured down your chest and Geta had licked off just hours before. 

You met his eyes as they traveled across your body, “the month is not over, there are still days left for the cycle to begin.” 

Geta’s eyes continue descending down your bare body before him. The beautiful curves and supple skin he dined on, pinched between his fingers any chance he could get. He had claimed you every night and day for half of this year, and he’d continue doing so until his death. 

His chest rose and fell heavily as he scrubbed his hands down his face, “we have not been careful, my seed drips between your legs at this very moment.” 

Reaching for his hands you delicately pull them from his face so you can stare into his dark eyes. The torture this man was battling internally would one day consume him, and you tried your hardest to keep him afloat. 

“I have never missed my cycle, and I won’t this month either. I know the way my body works.” 

Geta grabs your wrist and kisses your open palm, “I know every inch of your body better than the maps of Rome on my desk. You smell sweeter, your breasts are fuller, I can tell by the way you whine and purr with pleasure that your nipples are significantly tender, more than usual.” 

You frown, pulling your eyebrows together before he swoops you up and lays you down, kissing your neck as you giggle. His face dangles inches above yours. “All of Rome will know our secrets when you start showing.” 

You move his face from your neck and hold his cheeks in your hands, rubbing against the rough midnight stubble collecting on his jaw.

When dawn creeped into the last dark drink of night, Geta was the most handsome to you— when the sleep drug heavy on his eyelids and those salmon tinted lips moved lazily when he spoke. Moving a lock of untamed honey from his forehead you admire him wholly. 

“We don’t know that I’m carrying for sure. For all we know, my love, this could be the work of Mercury.” 

Geta sighed deeply, “do not mistake my worry for ignorance. I would fill you with my heirs every year for the rest of our lives if that’s what you wanted. My worry isn’t about you bearing my child, it’s about the other that rules half of this kingdom.”

“Then maybe it is time for the unveiling of this adulterous devotion.” Pulling yourself up to his mouth, you slot your lips between his. Kissing him deep until your tongues join and you can feel the tension and worry seep from him. 

Geta slides down resting his body gently onto yours, “Not until a crown lay on your head and you stand next to that reptilian infant before the gods— no adultering has been made.” 

“And you’d want to wait for that moment?” you question. 

He bit your lip with his teeth until you squealed, and his tongue lapped up the single drop of blood that appeared, “I will stand before Rome tomorrow if I thought it meant you being mine was equal to your safety… Caracalla will not take this union and betrayal of ours lightly.” 

“I thought my bloodthirsty lover would kill any man who threat—”

Geta laughs darkly, “Caracalla is not a threat— merely an annoyance who uses others for his dirty work, but he is vile, and will go to extreme lengths to destroy anyone who crosses him… rest assured my little wicked thing—I have plans for him. My taste for bloodlust has not lost me yet.” 

He smiles then like a man gone mad, your blood staining the crooks of his teeth. 

“I will wait however long… but let’s not bother ourselves with him tonight Geta, I want you inside of me one last time before I have to pretend we’ve never lied together.” 

Your legs open for him, the heat from your core beckoning him as slick wets your lips. His eyes darken, “my favorite game, acting as if I hate you all day only to fuck you until you’re weeping into my sheets at night.”

He dives into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin biting harder when you moan. 

“You’re the worst, my love,” you say breathless as he reaches between your bodies and nudges the head of his cock between your folds, a small moan on your lips as you circle your hips needing him deeper, “absolutely the worst.” 

Geta leans up, grabbing you harshly by the bend in your knee, a wicked grin on his lips as he thrusts his cock into your wet welcoming heat, “that’s right, and don’t you ever forget it.” 

—

A servant’s day in the palace was bleak at best. Following Caracalla around as he fussed over his appearance, and shouted at staff for the way the grapes tasted, it was all monotonous. Everyone gathered for the mid day feast, a summer celebration where servants and the royalty eat in the same hall. 

You hid your smile when Geta approached behind his mother. The dried blood on your lip from last night a steady reminder of why you ached between your thighs today. Heat flushed your skin when you imagined those great veiny hands scorching body as he came loud inside of you. 

What if he was right? What if you were with child? A small ripple of joy shot through you at the way Geta didn’t seem afraid of having a babe with you. You let your mind wander as you sit next to the other servants of the palace while they gossip, and you pick at the roasted pork before you. 

You imagine him being stern, those overgrown hands of his no doubt able to discipline unruly children bearing their father’s eyes and quick fired temperament. But that side of Geta that no one else in Rome knew about would also leak through his tough exterior. 

The piece of him that was sweet and caring, that part of himself that he bore to you over and over again because of the way you made him feel. He was sweet, kind, gentle when needed. 

A smile presses on your lips and you hum an audible sigh. Yes, Geta would be a good father— when that time came, if it ever did. Your heart flutters and your stomach lurches when you peek over your shoulder at him. 

His jaw was set tight at the head table as he listened to his generals whisper about the upcoming war. A flicker of those dark eyes catch yours and he balances a smirk on his lips for a second before shooting a wink and quickly 

turning away. 

Your small victory over the contest of staring is short lived before a loud whisper interrupts your daydream of that devious mouth on your skin. 

“Don’t lie Jessaphina,” Claudia hissed behind her hand, “you’ve never been to his chambers!” 

“I have so,” the blonde announced unabashedly, sipping loudly from her wine, “how else would I know that it’s high in a tower? Or that he prefers the shades to be drawn at all times… but the view from his balcony is breathtaking, I could really get used to it.” 

Claudia clicks her tongue, “you’re going to get yourself killed with such nonsense lies. No whore is allowed in the Emperor’s chambers.” 

“You are if you’re invited.” Jessaphina crooned, a smile on her lips, “my garments are on his floor as we speak.”

“Jessapahina!” Claudia hissed out every ‘s’, “it’s impossible is it not? You’re betrothed to one of the general's men, fifth in command.” 

“Fourth— Claudia, and not anymore…Geta has promised me the throne besi—”

Slamming down your plate you had heard enough. It took seconds for you to reach across the table, an even shorter amount of time to wrap your fingers in her braids and bring her face down hard into the oak table until the satisfying sound of her nose breaking had every pair of eyes on you. 

Your name was screeched from Claudia’s lips as she tried to pry your fingers from Jessaphina’s hair. Rage boiled within you and a sudden rush of ecstasy as Jessaphina’s screams became blubbery sobs. 

It was his voice that silenced the room, demanding all attention to him. Your eyes met Geta’s and it was then and only then that hot tears welled within your own. 

Without breaking his stare, you spat on Jessaphina, unfurled your fingers from her blonde locks and spun on your heel, storming out of the dining hall.

Betrayal. The one person you had put trust in, gave everything too and more— and it was gone. 

You didn’t make it very far before a fuming Geta met up with you, “what in gods name are you trying to do?” 

Spinning to face him, you slapped his face with tears rolling down your cheeks, “I should ask you the same question!”  

Geta’s face burned with crimson as he stared down at you, “watch your tongue—”

Your hand cracks his other cheek, “how could you?!” 

“Gnat,” he says through gritted teeth, “I have no idea what you are asking.” 

“Jessaphina! The blonde whore with the now broken nose! She claims she’s been to your chambers!” 

He laughs in annoyance, “what?” 

“She knows where it is what it looks like— she knows that your curtains are drawn in darkness!” 

Geta reaches for you but you swat his hand away, “of course she is lying, I’m sure she has heard that from the servants who come to clean.” 

“She said she was invited!” you spat back, at him, “that she was to be your equal on the throne, that her clothing was strewn about your chambers as if she belongs there.”  

His left eye twitches at the crease, “I have never seen that woman before in my life. You are it for me, mea amor—”

“Don’t!” You screech, shoving him away, “do not call me that when you’ve been fucking another!” 

“I know nothing of her!” Geta yells loudly, “not my eyes, nor my hands or lips have touched anyone but you.” 

You scoff then, “you never touched me either when we started out. Remember? It was only my mouth, and your cock.”

Geta sighs and hangs his head, those dark eyes pooling with tears, “my sweet girl, please.” 

“Is that all I am to you? A warm mouth… even now? We play in the shadows of secrecy…all those nights swearing how I am yours… were you ever once mine, Geta?” 

“Mea domina,” he whispers, pulling you to him as you cry into his chest. “I am yours and yours alone, what more proof can I offer you.” He pulls your chin up to him, wiping a line of tears from your eyes. “I swear on my crown, there hasn’t been another since you, and there won’t ever be.” 

He doesn’t owe you anything. He’s an emperor, and you are nothing but a wet fuck when no one is around. After all these months you’re still his secret. 

You jerk your chin away from him, your hands falling to their sides, “I’m such a fool aren’t I? For ever believing a word that comes from your mouth.” 

Geta pleads your name as you pull away, leaving his heart shattering to pieces as he stands alone. In the same corridor that this all had started— it would also end.

—

Geta was a miserable man without you, he felt hollow— exactly as he did before your pretty and defiant smile came here.The daylight was easier on him, but when night fell he felt as if he was being suffocated, as if every breath was expunged from his lungs in one tight grip on his throat. 

Were you hurting? Were you as bad off as he was? Geta was many things but he wasn’t a liar, he truly had never seen that woman until that very day when you smashed her face to bits into that table. 

Days passed without him even catching a glimpse of you, but the night was filled with ghostly pearl whispers of your voice in his ear, invading his dreams and keeping him awake. 

He assembled soldiers into the foothills to train for the impending war. Cracking a whip over their heads as they fought to the bloody death to prove themselves to him. 

Every ounce of pain he felt since you left was pushed into those men, he was ruthlessly deranged and couldn’t be stopped, the spitfire temper he was known for was back with a vengeance, led by a weeping soul. 

Around the fire one evening as Geta polished his sword while the few surviving men slept, the ground crunched beneath Acacius’s feet. 

“Your excellency,” he greeted with a bow of his head, “I have my best guards watching Emperor Caracalla in my absence.” 

“Very well,” Geta mumbled, his vacant eyes losing focus. 

Acacius fiddled with the leather on his wrist, “yes, and the—erm.. sir? Your lady…would you like me to watch for her as well?” His dark eyes looked pitifully at his broken hearted Emperor. 

Geta’s eyes met Acacius’ and the moon kissed the tear as it fell on his cheek, “please.” 

-

Caracalla was full of himself. You were certain of that, and because of that reason alone— he didn’t notice that your eyes had lost their sparkle, or the way the skin beneath them seemed to darken from lack of sleep. As long as you paid attention to him he could give a shit whether you looked off or not. 

You had heard from the others that Jessaphina would heal fine. And from Caracalla’s loud mouth he said that Geta had taken troops to prepare for the inevitable battle that loomed ahead. 

Hearing his name burned like fire in your stomach. It had only been three days without him but you felt as if it were a lifetime. The palace was lonely without his presence.  Most nights you found yourself wandering the halls like a spirit, sneaking into his study and curling up on the chaise. Replaying your nights together in your head until the sun shone through the curtains. 

You missed him, and you felt sick to your stomach thinking of the pain in his face when you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. But you were also hurt, deceived by the only man you’ve ever truly cared for. 

It was irrational the way you had reacted, you spent every night in Geta’s arms for months on end, how could he possibly be seeing anyone other than you? He couldn’t have. It was that simple and truly were a fool for doubting him. 

More days passed and every time you heard a galloping hoof on the rocks your heart burned with it being Geta returning to you, but every time it wasn’t him. 

It wasn’t until tending to Caracalla’s wardrobe one evening that a lower ranked general you’d never seen before approached you in a hushed whisper.

He was covered in sweat and smelled of the wind as if he had just rode back from far away. He bowed at the waist before grabbing your hand and thrusting a note into your palm before leaving immediately before being seen.

The parchment was covered with soil and splattered in blood, but nonetheless you knew who it had come from. 

—tonight, when the moon is highest, meet me, our spot—

The corridor was ominous and pitched into darkness as you looked past the pillars into the sky. You had never been more nervous than tonight. The moon was positioned correctly as it always was in the beginning when Geta had requested you to meet, but he had yet to appear. 

You remained near the opening, feeling the humid air warm your face as the cicadas sang their mating calls. The loose fabric of your stola flowed behind you in white lengths. Dutifully, patiently you waited for your Emperor’s return. 

Too long it had been since you’ve held his eyes in yours, since his smell invaded your nose and filled your lungs, you couldn’t wait to throw yourself into his arms, to tell him how ridiculous you had been. 

Footsteps had you turning the same time a familiar voice rang in your ears. 

“There you are.” 

—

“… we must move through the western front for the advantage.” 

“Neigh Titus, the southern region is less barren, easier to disguise amongst the trees.” 

Geta and the highest generals were sitting in the war camp pouring over maps and territories on where to strike first. A full week had passed since he’d been home, but the attention and focus he put into his men waa slowly mending himself to how he was before you. 

“Emperor!” Acacius roared, slapping open the tent opening out of breath, “a word, please.” 

Geta flicked his wrist to release his men. After filing out of his tent, Acacius interrupted before Geta could ask. 

“Word just came from the Hill that there’s been an ambush.”

Geta’s nostrils flared and he rose from where he was sitting, the psychotic twitch in his eye stung as his breath quickened.

“We’ve been prepared for retaliation for weeks, our walls will hold until we get back— tell the men to gather their weapons, we are leaving camp immediately.”

“This is not an enemy led attack— it’s from within our own walls!” 

“Wh— Acacius explain yourself!” 

Acacius yelled frantically, “Staff are dead, soldiers killed by their own bloodlines— and your lady… my excellency, she’s been taken.” 

🌿🌿 there will be another part bc i can’t help myselfffff i love the angst 😫

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[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?” 

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…” 

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.” 

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!” 

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.” 

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?” 

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.” 

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?” 

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.” 

“Can it, Kugisaki!” 

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.” 

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.” 

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve. 

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words. 

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.” 

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked. 

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered. 

“Especially Sukuna.” 

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

“No.” 

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?” 

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?” 

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace. 

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts. 

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate. 

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!” 

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air. 

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead. 

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster. 

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.” 

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily. 

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?” 

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.” 

– 

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind. 

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting. 

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort. 

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it. 

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull. 

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power. 

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades. 

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need. 

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.” 

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him. 

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours. 

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture. 

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you. 

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.” 

“So did you.”

“Hey.” 

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?” 

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering. 

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.” 

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.” 

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.” 

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all. 

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again. 

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit. 

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.” 

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?” 

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth. 

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty. 

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster. 

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good. 

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.” 

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante. 

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits. 

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all. 

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him. 

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips. 

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it. 

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours. 

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted. 

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.” 

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.” 

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.” 

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself. 

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open. 

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free. 

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time. 

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure. 

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain. 

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure. 

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power. 

With you, he could entertain the idea, however. 

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself. 

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest. 

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you. 

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah. 

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in? 

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone. 

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right. 

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds. 

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways. 

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though. 

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat? 

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter. 

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat? 

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much? 

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said. 

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person. 

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?” 

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.” 

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?” 

“Eternally.” 

“Do you want him back?” 

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles. 

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.” 

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.” 

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?” 

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats. 

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet? 

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all. 

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth. 

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold. 

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth. 

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence. 

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history. 

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you. 

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant. 

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now. 

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind. 

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare. 

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything. 

Sometimes, you’d choose to  lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter. 

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one. 

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.” 

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement. 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours. 

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.” 

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips. 

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with. 

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating. 

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him. 

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort. 

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose. 

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind. 

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of. 

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more. 

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse? 

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed. 

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?” 

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him. 

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep. 

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence. 

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. 

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.” 

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know. 

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally. 

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded. 

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait. 

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle. 

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream. 

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits. 

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care. 

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.” 

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?” 

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal." 

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?” 

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse? 

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One. 

[pochaccoups]

cw — minors dni, gamer!wonwoo, fingering

wonu <3: Hi love

wonu <3: I’m gonna stream in a bit

you: does that mean u need me? :3

wonu <3: Yes please :)

Within seconds, the soft patter of your boyfriend’s footsteps down the hall comes to a stop outside your bedroom door. He opens it slowly with a soft smile on his face, slinking over to your shared bed where you lounge with an anime playing on your laptop.

A shiver of thrill runs down your back as the gleam in his dark eyes drinks you in, his pearly teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

While this pre-stream ‘ritual’ of his is technically for his own benefit that is him warming up his fingers to game, you also get an orgasm, sometimes two, out of it, so it’s a win-win for both of you. He’s conditioned you to look forward to stream days, though that’s not to say he doesn’t touch you—he does, as soon as you bat your lashes and ask him so sweetly. Still, he insists that it’s a way of getting you “involved in his career” or whatever. (He’s just trying to be a good, inclusive boyfriend. You can’t complain.)

A giggle comes bubbling out of you as he kneels on the edge of the bed and pulls you into him, holds you gently by the back of your head so he can guide your lips to his and kiss you sweetly, yet with enough fervour for a dull heat to begin pulsing between your legs.

When his tongue finds its way into your mouth, your brain switches off in an instant, your mind attuned to nothing but the way Wonwoo’s hands are so warm on your waist and how your mouth melts into his like you were put on this earth to kiss him.

With you putty in his hands after just a few seconds, he lowers you to the mattress once more. Your legs part instinctively so that he can slot himself in between them and teasingly press one of his thighs up against your clothed cunt.

You mewl when, along with his thigh, Wonwoo brings a hand between your legs and strokes you through your shorts. His touch is soft in a way that’s teasing, in a way that makes you buck your hips and ask for more when he hasn’t even gotten you naked yet.

“Needy girl,” he coos against your lips, pulling away to mouth at your neck whilst his fingers tease at your centre.

“You love it,” you say.

He chuckles, raising his eyebrows in amusement at your smugness. Truth be told, your neediness does in fact fulfil something deep within Wonwoo. Your begging strokes his ego just right, and the sounds you make when he gives into your pleas heal his soul.

“Want me to touch you?” he asks, toying with the band of your shorts as he settles into the spot next to you because he knows you like to curl into his embrace. His question is not just to hear you whine, it’s a reminder that this being a ritual doesn’t mean a thing if you don’t want him right now.

You, however, are greedy, and your boyfriend is hot.

“Pretty please,” you reply, your bottom lip jutting out subconsciously at him. Without wasting another second, Wonwoo’s hand dips past your shorts, past your panties, until it finds its way to your awaiting clit. His fingertips brush against it lightly, and behind his glasses his cat-like eyes are fixed on the way your mouth parts in a soft sigh at the contact.

He inches further down, swiping through your folds, along your slit where your arousal is already pooling. It should be embarrassing, but when Wonwoo looks at you with his v-shaped smile and pride gleaming in his eyes, you can’t feel anything but warmth—heat. All over your body and in your cheeks and especially where his fingers are prodding at your entrance.

“So wet from a kiss, baby?” he says, his fingertips growing wetter and wetter with your slick with every second that he doesn’t put them inside you.

“I get wet from you looking at me, Wonwoo,” you whine, rutting your hips as impatience stirs in your core, along with your desperate need, mingling together into a feverish dizziness that can only be cured by your pretty boyfriend’s pretty hand.

He laughs through his nose—so mean when he knows he’s got the upper hand. Then he remembers that, technically, you’re doing him a favour, and at long last two of his fingers dip into your awaiting hole, and your back arches, and you give a honeyed moan that’s full of content.

Wonwoo slides his long, slender fingers in all the way to his knuckles, curling them upwards into your sweet spot so good that you see stars for a second. He gazes upon your face that’s scrunched up in pleasure and starts to move his wrist, feeling his dick stir in his pants as you whine and toss your head back into his shoulder.

He’s not teasingly slow this time—far from it. He’s doing this to warm up, after all. Before you know it, he’s moving his entire arm as he drags his fingers back and forth, in and out of your dripping pussy with a slick, obscene sound.

“W-wonwoo, please,” you whimper, peering up with him with sparkly eyes.

“Hm?” is all he replies, but the way he’s grinning with a mixture of something like pride and awe shoots pangs of pleasure to your core.

“More,” you manage through a moan.

He obliges with a peck to your temple, angling his hand slightly, then the pad of his thumb is drawing rapid circles over your clit and your noises grow even louder, even needier.

“Fuck, Wonwoo!”

Your hands find the fabric of his hoodie and you cling to him, bucking your hips wildly while his fingers set fire to every last one of your veins.

“So good for me, baby,” he mutters, giving a soft groan of his own when your cunt clenches around his fingers at his words. He loves how predictable you are—you’ve never been immune to his sweet talk.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, grasping fistfuls of his hoodie by now.

Without hesitation Wonwoo leans down and meets your lips, kissing you hard this time, sliding his tongue against yours like he’s trying to claim you, and you’d let him. Meanwhile, his fingers piston in and out of you with vigour, and you can’t imagine it getting any better until he pushes a third one past the ring of your hole, stretching you out even more deliciously than before.

Wonwoo pulls away just an inch from your face, staring intently at you as you pout. With resolve in his eyes, he brings his free hand to your mouth— he needs to warm up both hands of course— and it’s only when your glossy, puffy lips wrap absentmindedly around his middle and pointer fingers and suck that he realises how painfully hard he’s gotten.

Deep in your abdomen, a heat blooms and radiates outwards to every last inch of your limbs. It’s a winding coil that’s begging to snap, and Wonwoo can tell.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, his breath biting at your ear. His voice has fallen deeper somehow, so husky that it’s nearly a whisper.

“Mhm,” you reply, your moan muffled by the fingers in your mouth.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with abandon and his keyboard skills come in clutch because before you can even process it, the coil deep inside you snaps.

“That’s it baby, cum for me,” he utters.

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out of your mouth and watches the bliss overcome your face, watches your eyes roll into the back of your head as a string of high-pitched moans falls from your lips. Your cunt clamps around his fingers, sloshing from how much slick gushes from your hole now, as he’s intent on fingering you until you come back down to earth.

When you do, and you’re left quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Wonwoo drags his fingers out of you just to pop them in his own mouth and lick them clean, though he’s not as shameless about it as you.

“Gross,” you quip.

“Yeah? I’m sure it was gross,” he replies, grinning at you. He has the patience of a saint and also the gall of a demon.

You roll your eyes in feigned contempt. “Don’t you have a stream to do?”

“Yeah, but I also have a needy girlfriend who needs to be held after she cums. Do you want ramyeon?”

You melt instantaneously, your head drooping against his chest.

“Pretty please,” you say.

Anyone would assume he’s grovelling from the way he brings you ramyeon and strawberry milk and gummy bears and your favourite chips. You know it’s just because he loves you.

He’s also trying to make up for the fact that he’s ditching you for the next three hours.

[kaces-graham-crackers]

To Die For - Halloween Special

Monster Hunter Wednesday Addams x Werewolf Reader

Summary: Y/N, a lone werewolf, finds themself hunted by none other than Wednesday Addams of the infamous Addams Family—but this isn’t a typical chase. Wednesday wants to understand them. As they set a trap for a darker creature lurking in the woods, alliances blur, and both hunter and hunted face more than they bargained for.

Word count: 5.5k

The air was thick with the scent of pine and rain as you moved through the dense forest, your breath coming in sharp bursts. The moon was high, hidden behind clouds, but you didn't need its light. Every instinct and nerve in your body was attuned to the woods around you, heightened by the curse coursing through your veins.

You stopped, catching a scent—something unfamiliar, cold. It wasn't the usual wildlife or the damp earth. It was different. And it was close. You knew what it meant. They'd sent someone after you. And that someone was closer than you expected.

A figure stood on the edge of the clearing, watching with an intensity that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. Dressed in all black, she was still as stone, her pale skin almost ghostly in the shadowed forest. Her eyes, dark and calculating, were locked on you. She wasn't afraid, and she wasn't here to run. She was here for you.

Wednesday Addams.

You'd heard the name whispered through the underground networks of the supernatural. A hunter—someone who sought out the monsters that lurked in the shadows, just like you. Most avoided her, too afraid of her family's infamous reputation, but not you. You had faced far worse than a cold-hearted girl with a knack for finding trouble. And yet, something about her unnerved you. Without taking your eyes off her, you moved back a step, your pulse quickening. But Wednesday made no move to follow. She just stood there, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, as if she had all the time in the world to watch you squirm. "Running won't help you," she said, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I'll find you either way." You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. You'd outrun hunters before. But something told you Wednesday wasn't like the others. This wasn't just a hunt. It was a game to her. "I'm not in the mood for games," you growled, your voice low and rough as you fought against the pull of the full moon's power creeping under your skin. Wednesday's expression remained unchanged, her gaze gleaming in the dark. "Who said anything about games?" You weren't sure what it was about her—her calm, almost detached demeanor or how she watched you with that piercing gaze—but it made you uneasy. And yet, there was something else, too. Something that made your chest tighten in a way you didn't want to acknowledge.

But before you could say anything more, Wednesday took a step forward, closing the distance between you in one swift motion. "I'm not here to kill you," she said softly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Not yet." The unspoken implication hung in the air, thick and heavy. You clenched your fists, fighting the instincts rising within you—the urge to run, fight, and protect yourself. "Then what do you want?" you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes fixed on yours with a calculating gleam. "I'm here to observe you." Her words stopped you cold. You'd expected a fight, a chase, something far more dangerous. But curiosity? Curiosity from someone like her? That was something you hadn't prepared for. You narrowed your eyes, trying to gauge her intention. "Observe me?" you repeated, disbelief lacing your voice. "What am I? A science experiment to you?" Wednesday's gaze remained unwavering, unreadable. "Something like that."

The forest seemed to still be around you, the air thick with tension. You felt the full moon's pull lurking just beneath your skin, a dangerous reminder of what you were. But Wednesday stood there, completely unphased, her calm presence unsettling. "And what happens when you've finished your little study?" you asked, your voice low, challenging. Wednesday's eyes flickered, but her expression remained controlled. "That depends on what I find." You let out a slow breath, realizing you wouldn't get a straightforward answer from her. Not yet, anyway. She was too clever, too controlled. The mystery of her intentions hung in the air, thick and unspoken, but it was clear this wasn't the usual hunt. Why me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the gnawing unease crawling up your spine. Wednesday took another step forward, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "You're different. I don't hunt monsters just because they exist. I hunt them because they interest me. And you, well… you're fascinating." The word "fascinating" sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't exactly comforting to know you were the subject of her twisted intrigue. But there was something else in how she said it as if she saw something far beneath your surface. "Different, how?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Her gaze never wavered, studying you like she could dissect your essence with a glance. "You don't embrace what you are. Most werewolves lose themselves to their instincts, run wild and reckless." Her voice was calm and calculated. "You maintain control—calm, aware, even rational." You bristled at her words, unsure whether to feel insulted or complimented. She was correct; you didn't give in to the hunt as others did. While your instincts were just as strong, you managed to channel them, a level of restraint that had taken you years to develop. "I've observed creatures like you before. But none who... moderate themselves," Wednesday continued, her tone clinical. "A werewolf who seems determined to remain civil." She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. "I wonder… just how far that control extends." Her words hit something deep within you, stirring a mix of pride and resentment. You knew what she meant. To a hunter, a monster was expected to behave predictably, to follow their instincts blindly. But you were neither fully human nor beast—which seemed to disturb her. "Curiosity can get you killed, Wednesday," you replied, your voice steady despite the underlying challenge. You should leave me alone. Wednesday's eyes darkened slightly, yet her expression remained as controlled as ever. "You don't really have a choice. I'm not leaving until I figure you out."

You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the familiar heat rising in your chest as the moon's pull grew stronger. But despite the anger building inside you, there was something else—a strange pull toward her, like a dangerous curiosity of your own. She wasn't like the others who had come after you. She wasn't here to kill or capture. She was here to… understand. And somehow, that made her more dangerous. You took a step back, unsure of how to proceed. But Wednesday, ever the enigma, took the choice out of your hands.

"I'll be around," she said, her voice soft but with an edge. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into the forest's shadows, leaving you alone, heart racing, mind spinning. Watching. She'd be watching you.

Later that night, you prowled through the dense forest, your mind consumed by the routine of your werewolf form. Your senses were heightened—each sound crisp and clear—the rustling of leaves, the distant howl of a predator, the wind shifting through the trees. You moved fluidly, focused on tracking a small rabbit. Tonight was supposed to be like any other—no drama, no interruptions.

But something felt off.

You paused mid-step, your ears twitching as a strange scent drifted. It was sharp, unfamiliar, and sent a cold shiver down your spine. Instinctively, you crouched low, muscles tense, as you scanned your surroundings for the source. The forest had gone deathly silent. The wind shifted, carrying a low, guttural growl—deep and menacing. It wasn't coming from you. Your heart pounded as your eyes darted through the shadows. Just beyond the trees, something was moving. It was larger than anything you had encountered in these woods before. Its shape was indistinct, obscured by the darkness, but its eyes—glowing faint red—pierced through the black, locking onto you. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to back away. Whatever this was, it wasn't human. And it wasn't friendly. Before you could react, the creature lunged, crashing through the trees with feral speed that caught you off guard. You barely leaped aside in time, claws digging into the ground as you dodged its massive form. It landed heavily, the earth trembling beneath its weight. This thing—whatever it was—wasn't like you. It was something else entirely.

The creature turned to face you, its eyes gleaming a deep, unnatural crimson pulsing with intelligence you hadn't expected—cold, calculating, and predatory. It was far larger than any werewolf, its shape unnervingly twisted, with sinewy muscles and long, limbs that moved in an oddly graceful yet erratic manner. Completely furless, looking like it had mange. Under the dim moonlight, you could make out a distorted, warped form—a creature that seemed barely contained, as though it might burst from its own skin at any moment. And then it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the forest, vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. The sound wasn't just menacing; it was unearthly, like a warning echoing from another realm entirely. This was no ordinary beast. It felt ancient, primal, as though it had been born from something dark and forbidden, something meant to stay hidden in the forgotten parts of the world. And tonight, for reasons unknown, it had surfaced. You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet.

Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing.

You backed away slowly, your eyes locked onto the creature as it prowled closer, each step deliberate, its eyes tracking your every movement with an unsettling focus. But it didn't attack—at least, not yet. Instead, it watched you, its gaze almost… knowing. Before you could react, the creature let out a guttural, almost amused growl, the kind that felt too close to a chuckle for comfort. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you braced yourself, baring your teeth, ready to lunge if it came any closer. But the creature merely tilted its head, those burning red eyes narrowing as if it were studying you. Then, to your shock, it spoke. "Don't listen to her," it snarled, the voice low, jagged, and disturbingly clear. "She's told that to the others." You stiffened, the words echoing in your mind as confusion and unease collided within you. Others? Who else had Wednesday hunted like this, and what did this beast know? Your pulse raced, the forest around you feeling darker, smaller, as if the creature's very presence warped reality. You fought to keep your voice steady, masking your unease with a low growl. "What are you?" The creature's grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed in the faint moonlight. It moved closer, each step slow and deliberate, as if savoring the tension. "I'm what she can't control," it rasped, a sick enjoyment dripping from every word. "You think you're special, different—but she only tells you that to draw you in. To make you weak." It leaned forward, and you caught a faint, metallic scent that was sickeningly familiar.

The creature's breath was warm and rancid, tinged with something that made your stomach turn. Yet it was those eyes—those ancient, intelligent eyes—that held you captive, radiating a dark amusement. "Don't you see?" it continued, its voice now a mocking whisper. "When the time comes, I'll be there to help you. To tear her apart once and for all." A chill ran down your spine, the forest suddenly feeling claustrophobic as the creature's words echoed in your mind. It seemed to drink in your reaction, reveling in the tension between you. It knew something—something about Wednesday, about you—and it enjoyed every second of the torment it was sowing. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to back away, your instincts warring with the questions churning in your mind. "Why are you telling me this?" The creature let out another rumbling chuckle, stepping back into the shadows, its shape beginning to blur as if it were part of the darkness itself. "You'll understand… soon." And just like that, it melted into the night, leaving you standing alone, heart pounding, and mind spinning with questions. What had just happened? And what did it mean?

Upon stumbling back to your cabin, you stopped in your tracks when you saw her—Wednesday—sitting at the small table, a notepad open in front of her filled with intricate notes and sketches. An entire observation kit was laid out beside her: crossbows, silver-tipped arrows, vials filled with strange liquids, tools crafted with a precision too deliberate for casual use.

Your heart raced, the shock of seeing her in your space sending your senses into overdrive. "How did you get in here?"you snapped, barely able to keep the irritation from your voice. "You need to leave."

Wednesday's gaze lifted, her expression impassive, unphased by your outburst. "I don't leave until I get what I came for."

Your mind reeled, the creature's words still fresh. "That thing out there—it mentioned you," you said, your voice harsher than intended.

Wednesday's eyes sharpened, her mouth setting into a line. "What did it say?"

You hesitated, those chilling words echoing in your mind. "It said… it said you'd told others the same thing. That I wasn't the only one." The knot in your stomach tightened. "Whatever you're doing here, it's not just about me."

For the briefest moment, a shadow of something crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She closed her notepad and stood, her focus now entirely on you.

"That thing you encountered—it's a Hyde," she said, her voice cold yet steady. "A monster driven by pure chaos and destruction. It's been following me since Nevermore."

"A Hyde?" you repeated, confusion and intrigue mingling in your tone. 

Wednesday gestured to her open kit, pulling out a crossbow and a vial of poison with practiced ease.

You stared at the crossbow in her hand, your mind reeling as you absorbed everything she was saying. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because you didn't need to know," she replied matter-of-factly, loading the crossbow with a silver-tipped arrow. "Not until now."

Your chest tightened as you processed her words. She had known this whole time—about the creature, about the danger—and hadn't said a word.

Without missing a beat, Wednesday tossed you a small vial, and you caught it just in time. “Poison,” she said calmly, her gaze unflinching. “If the Hyde comes for you again, don’t hesitate. Use it.”

You stared at the vial, unease prickling your skin. “And what if I don’t get the chance?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a step closer, her gaze intense. “That’s why I’m here.”

The weight of her words settled over you, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of her sudden closeness, her cold commitment to a plan she hadn’t even shared with you. You stared at the vial in your hand, its weight feeling heavier than it should.

 The reality of what was happening settled over you like a thick fog. You didn't know if you could trust Wednesday, but her words rang with an unsettling truth. The creature—the Hyde—wasn't just some random beast. It was hunting Wednesday, and now you had inserted yourself into the middle of it.

"I still don't trust you," you muttered, eyes narrowing as you pocketed the vial.

Wednesday didn't flinch at your words. In fact, she seemed almost amused, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "You don't have to trust me," she replied, her voice cold and precise. "You just have to survive."

Then, to your surprise, Wednesday's hand lifted, fingers cool as she brushed them along your cheek. Her gaze remained detached, yet you saw the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—an intensity just beneath the surface.

"I wouldn't want my experiment to get hurt," she murmured, her voice steady and emotionless, though her touch lingered a moment longer than it should have. 

You blinked, stepping back to regain some distance, your heart racing as the weight of her words sank in. "This isn't just an experiment," you muttered, voice strained.

Wednesday's gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, assessing. She pocketed her crossbow, securing the kit with quick, calculated movements before returning to you. "Think what you want," she said coolly, her expression unreadable. "But if you hesitate, even once, it won't end well."

Wednesday glanced away, her focus shifting to the open path between the trees as though reading an invisible trail.

"We set a trap," she said, a note of finality in her tone. "Tonight, while it's still hunting. The Hyde will come."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her plan settle over you, the reality of the danger clearer than before. "And what's the bait?" you asked, your voice low.

Wednesday's eyes flicked back to yours, her gaze calculating. "Us."

Hours later, Wednesday moved ahead, leading you through the dense trees until you reached a small clearing, moonlight spilling down to illuminate the space. The air felt still, a heavy quiet settling over the forest as you both stopped, sizing up the open area.

"This should do," Wednesday murmured, her voice low as she took in the surroundings, her hand brushing over the crossbow at her side. She moved with a calm intensity, arranging her equipment with a precision that left no room for doubt.

You followed her lead, every nerve tingling with anticipation. The clearing felt both vulnerable and strategic, a perfect place to draw out the creature—and for a moment, the gravity of the night settled over you.

Wednesday glanced back, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting in the pale light. "Remember, it's watching. We need to make this look real."

You nodded, heart pounding as the scene took shape around you, the forest stretching out in every direction. Here, exposed under the open sky, there was nowhere to hide. Just you, Wednesday, and the beast that hunted you both.

Your pulse quickened, but you met her gaze, unwavering. "So, we just… wait for it?"

Wednesday's expression remained steady, almost clinical. "Not quite." She walked to the other end of the clearing, placing her kit down, spreading out items with meticulous precision—a few vials, silver-tipped bolts, and herbs that gave off a faint, sharp scent. Every tool seemed perfectly positioned, each a calculated step in her plan.

"We'll make it look real," she said, a faint chill in her voice. "A fight. The Hyde craves chaos, discord. It will be drawn to the scene."

The idea of faking a battle with Wednesday unnerved you, but as you nodded, your instincts braced for what was to come. The forest grew quieter around you, the night holding its breath.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Always."

Without another word, you lunged at her, your hand outstretched to grab her arm. Wednesday moved like a shadow, sidestepping your attack with practiced ease, her expression unreadable. You gritted your teeth and spun around, aiming a low swipe toward her legs. She leapt back, her movements fluid, almost like a dance.

"You think this is all my fault, don't you?" Wednesday spat, her voice cold as ice. "You were always too weak to handle it."

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, they felt real. You growled, pushing aside the sting of her remark as you charged again, this time with more force. "Weak? You're the one who kept this from me!" you snapped, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her backward.

Wednesday stumbled slightly, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. "I didn't owe you anything," she hissed, her hand shooting up to grab your wrist and twist it painfully. "You were always just a liability."

The pain in your wrist was sharp, but it only fueled your rage. You shoved her again, harder this time, and Wednesday retaliated by slamming her elbow into your side, knocking the wind out of you. The force of her blow sent you staggering, but you caught yourself, eyes blazing with anger.

"This is all on you!" you shouted, your voice carrying through the trees. You lunged forward, tackling her again, but this time, you grabbed her crossbow from her side and tossed it to the ground. You pinned her beneath you, your heart racing as you stared down at her. For a moment, it almost felt real. The anger, the hurt—it all bubbled to the surface.

Wednesday didn't flinch. Instead, she glared up at you, her cold eyes unyielding.

 "Pathetic. You're a pitiful excuse for a beast—frail, lacking the resilience of those I’ve effortlessly dispatched. Survival? It was never in your nature,” she spat, brandishing a blade from her belt as she swiped at you.

"Fight me," you growled, your voice thick with emotion. "Or are you too afraid?"

Wednesday's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, and for a moment, you saw something almost like pride flash across her face. She gave a small, cruel smile. "Afraid?" she whispered, her voice low and venomous. "Not of you."

That was the cue.

Without warning, Wednesday kicked you off of her, sending you sprawling to the ground. In one fluid motion, she snatched the crossbow from the dirt, her fingers moving with deadly precision as she loaded it. She raised it and aimed—right at you.

Your thumping, and for a split second, you wondered if she might actually fire. But then, just as she pulled the trigger, the bolt flew past you, into the darkness behind. A loud, guttural roar echoed through the trees.

Out of the shadows, 

the Hyde arrived, 

larger and more menacing than before, its red eyes locked onto her with a predatory gleam.

Wednesday's gaze flicked to you, her voice steady. "Now."

She fired her crossbow, the bolt finding its mark in the creature's shoulder. The Hyde let out another furious roar, lunging forward, claws raking the ground as it charged. You jumped at the beast, claws tearing into its thick hide as you dodged its ferocious strikes, its movements wild and aggressive.

. But it was stronger than anything you'd thought. Wednesday fired bolt after bolt, her shots precise, but the creature was relentless, absorbing each hit with raw, unyielding power.

As you circled the Hyde, its focus split between you and Wednesday, you caught a glimpse of her expression—a fierce determination, her eyes never leaving the target. She reloaded quickly, her movements fluid, calculated, the faintest sheen of sweat on her brow betraying the effort.

The Hyde lunged at you again, its claws slicing through the air, and this time, you couldn't move fast enough. The impact threw you backward, pain flaring as you hit the ground hard, your vision swimming. You forced yourself to rise, catching Wednesday's eye as she aimed again, this time with something stronger—a vial of poison.

In a final act of defiance, you charged the creature, gripping its shoulder and ripping a chunk of flesh away. The Hyde let out a guttural scream, stumbling back before it retreated into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

You dropped to the ground, exhaustion crashing over you as your vision blurred. Blood seeped from a deep wound in your side, soaking into the forest floor. Your limbs felt heavy, and the pain was radiating with each beat of your heart.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Wednesday raise her crossbow, her gaze locked on the retreating figure of the Hyde. She was ready to give chase, her cold determination unwavering. But then, she glanced back, her eyes landing on you, crumpled and bleeding on the forest floor.

In an instant, her stoic demeanor shifted. Without a word, she abandoned her pursuit of the Hyde and hurried to your side, kneeling beside you with surprising urgency. Her hands moved quickly, searching through the small pouch at her side as she pulled out a bundle of gauze and a small vial.

"Stop…" you muttered, trying to push her away with the last bit of strength you had. "The Hyde… you need to go after it."

But Wednesday ignored you, her focus entirely on your wound as she uncorked the vial and poured its contents onto the gauze. The sharp, herbal scent filled the air, and she pressed the soaked gauze firmly against your side, stemming the bleeding with practiced hands.

"Don't be an idiot," she muttered, her voice cold but edged with something you hadn't heard before—something almost like concern. "I'm not letting you bleed out on my watch."

You winced at the pressure, biting back a groan. "But the Hyde… it'll get away."

Wednesday's dark eyes flicked to yours, her expression unreadable but firm. "It's not going to get far. I'll deal with it soon enough. But I'm not letting you die here."

You tried to protest, to urge her to chase down the creature, but she held you in place, her grip unyielding. "If anyone is going to end you, it's me. Not some mindless monster," she said, her tone cold and detached, yet with a hint of something almost… protective.

Despite the pain, a faint smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

 "That's sweet…coming from you."

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, though you caught a flicker of something that almost looked like amusement. "Save your sarcasm," she said, pressing down harder to stop the bleeding. "If you can joke, you're not dead yet."

You let out a shaky laugh, though it quickly turned into a grimace as another wave of pain surged through you. Wednesday didn't flinch, her attention unwavering as she continued to tend to your wound with surprising gentleness.

After a few tense moments, the bleeding began to slow, and the edges of the pain dulled slightly under her careful treatment. You felt your breathing steady, the worst of the pain fading, though exhaustion weighed heavily on you.

"Thank you," you murmured, barely able to keep your eyes open.

Wednesday glanced at you, her expression still cool but softened.”Don't make me regret it," she replied quietly.

You felt a warmth spread through you, despite the cold forest air and the sting of your injuries. She may not have said much, but her actions spoke louder than words. She could have left you there, but she didn't.

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt her shift beside you, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder in a steadying gesture, as if anchoring you to the present. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was her face, framed by the shadows, a silent promise lingering in her gaze.

Back in the cabin, you and Wednesday tended to each other's wounds, the silence between you comfortable, though heavy with the exhaustion of the fight. The small flickering fire cast dancing shadows on the walls, its warm glow a sharp contrast to the cold forest outside. You could still feel the adrenaline thrumming through your veins, but a sense of relief had settled over you, knowing the Hyde was gone for now.

Without warning, there was a deafening crash as the cabin's window shattered. The Hyde barreled through, its massive, bloodied form illuminated by the firelight. You barely had time to react before it lunged, claws outstretched, its eyes fixed on you with a vengeful fury.

But in an instant, Wednesday moved, her body positioning itself between you and the beast. The Hyde's claws slashed across her side as she shielded you.

"Wednesday!" you shouted, horror flooding through you as she flew into the wall, with a sickening thud.

The sight of her blood, of her hurt, ignited something primal within you—a fierce, overwhelming rage. The Hyde barely had time to react as you felt yourself transform, the beast within you rising to the surface with a force you'd never felt before. Claws extended, senses sharpened, you lunged at the creature, every muscle fueled by your bottled instinct.

With a savage growl, you attacked, tearing into the Hyde with everything you had. Its roars echoed through the cabin, but you didn't relent, every strike more brutal than the last as your claws ripped through its thick hide. It tried to fight back, but your rage gave you strength beyond anything you'd ever known.

In a final, explosive burst, you brought your claws down one last time. The Hyde collapsed to the floor, its lifeless form finally defeated. You stood over it, chest heaving, the adrenaline fading as the weight of your actions sank in.

Turning back, you felt yourself return to your human form, exhaustion crashing over you as your gaze found Wednesday. She miraculously managed to slump herself against the wall, her hand pressed to her bleeding side, her face pale but her expression calm.

You rushed to her side, dropping to your knees as you frantically checked her wound. "Wednesday, I… I'm so sorry."

She rolled her eyes. “You're insufferably slow," she muttered, her tone sharp as she stifled a wince. "Did you somehow miss me saying it would return?”

Ignoring her words, you fumbled through her kit, searching for the vial she'd used on you before. Your hands trembled as you unscrewed the cap, but Wednesday's hand reached out, stopping you. She took the vial from you, her fingers stained with blood, and poured the medicine over her wound with practiced ease.

You watched her, still frantic, your mind racing. "You shouldn't have taken that hit… I should've protected you."

Wednesday let out a soft scoff, her gaze unwavering as she stared back at you. Then, with a surprising gentleness, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your lips, her touch as fleeting as it was reassuring.

"You're too dramatic," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I'd die for you any day, and besides,"—her smirk returned, edged with a warmth that softened her usual cool exterior—"I'd rather go down saving you than by any creature's hand."

The sincerity in her words caught you off guard, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You held her gaze, the intensity of the moment settling over you both like a silent promise.

For the first time in a long time, there was no danger, no threat. Just you and Wednesday, the faint light of the fire casting a soft glow over her face. You swallowed, still reeling from everything that had happened, but her words—her confession—anchored you, grounding you in a way you hadn't expected.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Wednesday gave a small, approving nod, her hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer. "Now, can you finally help me with this wound?" she deadpanned, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

You smiled, your relief flooding through you, and you set to work, carefully tending to her injuries. And as you worked, her steady gaze stayed on you, her words—I'd die for you any day—echoing in your mind, a reminder that, whatever came next, you would face it together.