#fireball form for a reason

[microsff]

My cat woke up, did a big stretch, and yawned. Then she hiccoughed, turned into a small dragon, and coughed up a fireball.

"!!!" I said.

"What?" She shrugged back into cat form.

"You're a shape shifter?"

"All cats are. There's just never any reason to not be a cat."

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[gothcsz]

imagine javier peña as a pornstar holy shit-

gif by @underbetelgeuse | Pornstar!Javier x Pornstar!OFC x Fem!Reader | ~4.5k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI. | Read Part 2 Here | Series Masterlist |

Summary: You're a camerawoman that shoots pornos. Javi's the pornstar you can't stand. So why is it that you're so affected by him during this honeymoon scene between him and his co-star?

Tags: smut, voyeurism(?), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), no use of Y/N, reader doesn't fuck javi in this i'm sorry, yes it's steve murphy as the sound guy, unbeta'd asf we're here for the dirty vibes, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: well my beloved, this spiraled into something i wasn't expecting but i hope you enjoy, hehe 🖤 shoutout to my lovely mutual @almostempty for summoning the threesome demon that inspired me to finish this.

You’re not a prude. Sex isn’t aversive to you. And you suppose it can’t be considering what it is that you do for work.

A camerawoman for dirty films. Not a director, just the lucky girl that points and shoots. It’s not a bad gig, even though sometimes you do wish it paid a little more. Then you’d be able to drop your bartending job.

Recording people fucking all day then tending the bar all night, you rarely ever have time for yourself or any of the hobbies that you’ve attempted to start but haven’t nurtured simply because there aren’t enough hours in the day. 

During your downtime, you’re either sleeping or tending to your shit apartment that’s conveniently located above Lucky’s–– your night job. The only reason you can afford to live in Los Angeles is because of the cheap rent there and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

You hit the button on the elevator, currently taking you to the sixth floor of the surprisingly nice hotel the production company has booked a room in for tonight’s shoot.

Once you make it to room 606, you’re greeted by Steve, the sound guy. “You’re early.”

“Daddy got us a new toy and I wanted to test it out before we shot.” There’s a playful smile on your lips as you carefully show off the brand new camera bag with the device inside.

Steve whistles lowly, stepping aside to let you into the room. Looks very typical. Nice, grand bed in the center of the space. Desk, television stand, blah blah blah, and a bar cart.

You suavely make your way towards it, eyeing the small bottles that littered the glass top.

“Surprised you even got that thing. He’s as cheap as they come.”

You shrug, uncapping the small Fireball plastic bottle and swiftly downing it, the burn familiar and taste delicious. “I know, but considering how much money we’re making him, maybe he’s starting to realize our worth.”

You both share a knowing look then laugh. As if. That man would find any way to cut a corner. It’s honestly surprising how well his pornos do.

“Who are we shooting today?” You ask casually, beginning to set out the camera and all its attachments neatly on the desk.

“Lexxie Gold and…” He trails off, lanky form walking over to where his equipment is half set up, pulling out a tattered notebook that he flips through until he lands on the intended page. “Javier Peña.”

You can’t help the grimace that crosses over your face. Great. You’ve shot Peña a few times, each with a story that reminds you how much you dislike the guy.

Sure he seems to be a good fuck— but man was he cocky, annoying, and so damn full of himself.

Just because you have the biggest dick in the world, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

“How fun.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on the blonde man across from you and he doesn’t press— knowing you don’t get along with the star.

You curiously start messing around with the camera, flitting through its different settings, taking random videos of Steve as he finishes setting up while you chastise him playfully from the other side. 

Your fucking around is disrupted by a heavy knock on the door then the familiar voice of your boss and the director, Robbie, and you let him in with a brief hey.

The scene is simple enough: a honeymoon. How romantic. He wants to focus on close ups, hence why he bought the new camera.

“Gotta show them how pretty and erotic it really is.”

“I don’t really think they’re watching for the riveting cinematography.”

He shoots you a look and you raise your arms defensively before shrugging your shoulders and getting back to making some last minute camera adjustments.

Steve helps you finish dressing the place up, making the hotel room look like a lover’s getaway. Rose petals everywhere, moody lighting, it helps that the sun has fully set to really set the scene.

Not long after do Lexxie and Javier show up, his arm thrown around her shoulders, seemingly having met up on the ride up the elevator. She’s giggling over something he’s whispered in her ear, pushing at his chest playfully.

You suppose that’s why he’s so good at what he does— that goddamn charisma that seems to charm the underwear off of any woman, hell even some men, that cross his path. 

His chemistry with his co-stars is what’s made him so popular in the industry. Aside from his appearance: cut jaw, full and fitting pornstache, golden lean body and nice cock; Javier ate pussy like his life depended on it and fucked women into oblivion— he usually ended up leaving set with one on his arm.

You remember one time his prowess had been so magnetizing, that he ended up taking the makeup artist home. The fucking makeup artist.

But things with you are different, somehow. You can feel it, he can too. Maybe it’s because you’re a no bullshit type of person that just shows up to do your job then you’re out.

In the beginning, he had attempted to flirt with you, but you weren’t really in the market to reciprocate.

A shock to anyone who meets him because what do you mean you didn’t jump at the chance to be charmed by Javier Peña?

You don’t mix business with pleasure, no matter if the pleasure seems to outweigh the business. 

And since then he’s made it his life’s mission, it feels like, to push your buttons until you’re lit up like a fucking soundboard.

The flirting, petty comments, sometimes weaponized incompetence just to get you to move the camera into a more desirable position for him— yeah it really irks you.

With it being a simple, smaller shoot today: it’s only you, the director, Steve and the two stars in the room.

As Lexxie finishes doing some last minute touch ups in the bathroom, Steve and Robbie head out to the balcony for a quick smoke, leaving you in the room with Javier as he checks his appearance in the full-length mirror by your equipment.

The shoot is starting with them already half undressed, so he’s got an unbuttoned white collared shirt on, his toned chest on full display, with a pair of dress pants hanging low on his hips. He’s not wearing underwear, so you get a peek of the prominent V of his pelvis and the enticing trail of dark hair leading below the fabric.

Goddamn him.

“Lookin’ like somethin’ crawled up your ass and died, sweetheart. All good?” He asks, no real concern in his voice but the typical condescending tone he uses when he speaks to you.

You ignore him, wiping off the lens of your camera, lowkey wanting to down another small bottle of liquor. 

“It’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not exactly thrilled to have your balls slapping against my new camera.”

He smirks at the bite in your voice, “With the amount of times you’ve seen my sack, I figured you’d be used to that by now.” You roll your eyes and bite your tongue because he’s right and that wasn’t the best retort you could have given him.

You’ll admit, sometimes his attractiveness throws you off and that only pisses you off further.

“New camera, huh?” His eyes meet yours in the reflection, thick brows raising in amusement, “Honored to be the one to christen it. ‘Specially with Lexxie.” He whistles lowly, brown eyes flickering over to the cracked door of the bathroom, “She’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she?”

You ignore him again so you don’t get tongue tied by trying to outwit him, breathing out a sigh of relief when Steve and your boss reenter and the older man begins to throw out orders for everyone to follow.

“I want this to feel real. Aside from the close ups, I need some filthy, dirty talk. Sell it, make those horny bastards bust their load over the believable newlyweds.”

Lexxie is leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, a beautiful white lingerie set on her curvy body, obscured by a silk robe.

You’re both jealous of her for looking so goddamn pretty and jealous of Javier for having the pleasure of getting to fuck her.

“We’re not amateurs, Robbie.” 

Okay, so maybe Javier isn’t all that bad and you do tend to overreact sometimes.

It’s just hard not to, he has a penchant for getting under your skin like no other. Kind of like the annoying boys you used to go to high school with that would relentlessly tease you for being you.

No time to project your insecurities. You’re at work, you remind yourself, listening intently as your boss turns to you and begins to describe how he wants you to shoot the scene.

Intimate. Very. Intimate.

He yells action and the scene begins to play out naturally.

Lexxie stands by the window, her white silk robe loosely tied around her waist, revealing glimpses of her smooth, brown skin. The moonlight accentuates her curves, making her look like a vision of desire against the backdrop of the shimmering city.

Javier watches her from the bed, gaze dark with anticipation. He can’t take his eyes off her, the way the silk clings to her body, hinting at the treasures beneath.

She turns to him, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and slowly walks toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

Steve holds the boom mic above them, out of the camera’s view, as you follow Lexxie’s movements with careful precision, zooming in on her long legs then panning up to her thick thighs.

As she reaches the bed, she unties the belt of her robe, letting it fall open. Javier licks his lips, the outline of his cock prominent against the fabric of his pants.

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips, her hands gliding over his chest.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.” Her voice is a sultry whisper as she traces her fingers along Javier’s jawline. “I can’t believe we’re finally here, just you and me.”

There’s a lopsided smile on his lips, large hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. “You look incredible, baby. Couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. My pretty wife.”

She leans in, her breath warm against his ear. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.” Her words are a teasing challenge, her teeth biting down on his earlobe.

He groans softly, hands roaming over her curves. “I want to touch you, taste you. Feel you shiver under my hands, hear you moan my name.” His voice drops to a near-growl. “I want to make you mine, over and over again.”

You’re on the bed with them, knees digging into the comforter as you hold the camera at eye level, the small screen that extends from it giving it that grain that makes it look even more erotic. 

All of this is beginning to feel too intimate but you block that out, even if it’s fucking hard to. This is what your boss wanted, anyways.

You feel your clit pulsing, heat pooling at your core as you watch them and it’s infuriating.

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she kisses him deeply, her tongue dancing with his and you make sure to get a good shot of it. “Then take me. Show me why I married you.” She pulls back slightly, her gaze locked with his.

He pulls her closer, his lips capturing hers in another passionate and hungry kiss. They’re absolutely unbothered by your presence.

“I’m going to worship every inch of you.” His tone is thick with promise, bringing his hand up to wrap around her neck. “I want to hear you scream for me, break that little throat then soothe it with my cum.”

Your breath hitches at his words and for the life of you, you don’t understand why you’re being so affected by this.

While faint, he hears your reaction and you don’t miss the subtle smirk that tugs at those pink, pouty lips of his. 

“Yes. I want you. I need you. Fuck me like it’s our last night on earth.” Her words are a plea, filled with raw desire and feigning love.

A little corny, but what the hell, that’s half the appeal of these things anyway.

Their bodies press together, the heat between them palpable that you can feel it from where you are.

Her fingers tangled in Javi’s hair as she deepens the kiss, her body moving rhythmically against his.

The passion they exacerbate is undeniable, an electric charge that ropes you in as you move the camera closer, igniting your every nerve.

His skilled fingers move to pull down the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts and he uses his hold on her neck to tilt her back slightly, leaning down to wrap his lips around her stiff nipple. He suckles on it, drawing out a moan from the star on his lap as his wet tongue darts out to flick rapidly against the pebbled flesh.

He does the same to the other, you following his movements and your own nipples hardening, the friction of them rubbing up against your sports bra with each deep breath you take enough to gradually turn you on even more.

After lavishing her chest with his attention, leaving her tits glistening with a layer of his spit, he goes to kiss her again and they share more of that porny dialogue that usually makes you cringe.

But not today.

Not as you watch how they touch up on each other, the way he slowly releases his hold on her neck and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders then shimmies down his body, pulling his pants down and revealing his cock.

You’ve seen it dozens of times, it shouldn’t phase you (just as how he reminded you of earlier), but fuck— with the way you’re so heated right now by unofficially being part of this twosome, you can’t help how your mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

It’s got just the right amount of hair surrounding it, looking real heavy and swollen with arousal as she wraps her fingers around it.

You move down to get a good POV shot, bending at the waist and accidentally wagging your ass in his face. 

While Lexxie begins to blow him, showcasing her skill to the camera, Javier’s eyes are glued to your ass and how good it looks in the jean shorts you’re wearing.

You can feel it, his stare heavy as lead, as one of his hands comes down to make a makeshift ponytail of the woman’s curly hair while the other just barely grazes the back of your thighs.

If you weren’t so hyper aware of his touch, you would have missed it. Your hips involuntarily moving subtly and you play it off as you shuffling to get more comfortable to record the oral he’s currently receiving. 

Sounds of her gagging and his grunts fill the room. Steve’s brows are furrowed in concentration, picking up every single thing and you pray that he doesn’t hear how ragged your breathing has become.

You didn’t even notice it until the camera in your hand started shaking just a little.

So unprofessional, this shoot is gonna haunt you for weeks.

But Robbie doesn’t seem to mind, and you wonder if you’re the problem with how Steve and him seem to be so locked in while you’re sitting here, all hot and bothered, trying not to think of Javier despite seeing his spit slick cock slipping in and out of her mouth so filthily.

The director orders them to switch and you try not to be too hasty when you move off the bed, allowing the couple to do as they’re told.

You avoid Javier’s eyes, the ones looking for yours, as he settles in between Lexxie’s spread legs.

He comments on how wet she is, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he begins to kiss her over the lacy fabric of her fancy panties.

There’s an obvious wet spot from both her slick and his saliva. You alternate, panning the camera from his ministrations, up her gorgeous body, then to capture the look of pure fucking bliss on her face.

She squeezes her tits, moaning obscenely as he pulls her underwear to the side and begins to suck and lick at her pussy— wet sounds of his lips smacking against her folds and clit has your own cunt dripping and the rough fabric of your jean shorts rubbing against your underwear is just embarrassingly pleasurable. 

It’s like you can feel his tongue on you as it flicks over her flesh, her arousal coating his face and dampening his mustache.

Javier begins to finger her and the director urges you to get a closer shot of it, which you do and it has you so close to their intimacy; you can smell her pussy.

Your thighs clench.

She cums all over his fingers and he pulls back, traversing up her body slowly, his lips marking their path until he’s kissing her messily again before shoving those sinewy digits into her mouth, and she expertly cleans them off, not breaking eye contact with him.

You lick your lips, practically tasting her, and they’re directed to start off in missionary then end in doggy.

“Put her head on your lap, get a shot of her tits down with his torso in view. Lexxie, scream his name like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had inside you.”

“Won’t be hard to do. It is the best I’ve had.”

You roll your eyes at the smug smile that tugs at Javier’s lips at her words, that statement enough to calm you down as you shift into the optimal position, her head on your lap as Javier strokes his dick and rids her of her panties, leaving her with the cups of her bra still below her tits and the garter belt on her waist.

The white stockings brush up against his thighs as he hitches her legs up on his hips.

He begins to fuck her, each thrust sending her further up your body and you grip onto your camera as you zoom in on the way her body moves, her back arching and needy whimpers pushing past her plump, glossy lips.

Your eyes are glued to the small screen, his toned body looking like a sculpture and a thin sheen of sweat making him glow.

Yeah, this tape is going to fucking sell.

“Get over here and get a shot of her pretty pussy when I push her legs up.” Javier instructs you and you can’t help but drop your jaw at the audacity.

There’s an insult on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be lashed out but Robbie agrees and you fight the urge to fling the camera at him.

Javier senses your irritation and fucking smirks, but you pay it no mind (or at least try not to) as you move away from Lexxie, off the bed, and beside him.

He spreads her thighs and pushes her knees up to her chest, her pussy on full view as his cock continues to piston in and out of her.

It really is so hot. Usually, some stars would have to use lube to get the process going but not Javier. Never Javier. 

He eats pussy so messily and knows just how to treat his girls, they’re usually fucking drenched and dripping by the time he’s ready to fuck them. He doesn’t need anything artificial to help him out.

Lexxie is moaning and spitting out pure filth as he continues to fuck her, you’re doing a good job at capturing it all. 

Suddenly, Javi leans over to whisper into your ear.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, camera once more shaking slightly in your grasp and your skin warms. What the hell is his deal?

And why does the idea of being spread out like this for him suddenly so fucking enticing?

Your eyes flicker over to Steve, who both watched that little interaction happen and picked it up on his mic, an amused expression on his face.

You shoot him a look that basically translates to Don’t and he shakes his head lightly, holding back a snicker.

They’re directed to switch again, both stars getting closer to their orgasms, and you use this a chance to take a step back and fucking collect yourself. No doubt that your cunt is an absolute mess right now.

Maybe you’ll rub one out before going in tonight. That is if you have the time. Maybe if you’re not so tired after, you’ll pick up one of the men at the bar and use him to fuck Javier Peña out of your mind.

Now bent over, her ass and pussy are on full display. Javier, once more acting like he’s the goddamn director, moves aside so you can get a good shot of it. You do, bristling as he brushes against you whenever he gets back into position behind her, entering her pussy in one swift motion and beginning to fuck the shit out of her.

Jesus. Christ. It must be because of how fucking weird this shoot has been but man, is he giving it to her good.

A few delicious spanks are brought down to her ass, his large palm making the meaty flesh jiggle and he grunts loudly at how it feels against his dick.

There’s more dirty talk, him telling her how good this pussy feels and that it belongs to him now. Her doubling down and telling him that he’s the only cock she’s ever going to take.

You move below his spread legs, getting a good view of his heavy balls slapping against her clit, his precum and her arousal coating the flesh of his sack, the sound of it smacking against her is for sure going to make some poor soul release their spunk all over their keyboards or whatever it is that they’ll watch this on.

Getting more footage of their full bodies, you maneuver yourself all around the bed, knowing that when this sucker is edited together, it’s really going to feel like an intimate telling of a couple’s honeymoon night.

You’ll give it to Javi and Lexxie— they’re good at what they do.

She reaches her peak first, shouting that she’s coming and her body flails and tenses, squeezing his cock and gushing cum out of her hole.

You make the mistake of looking up at Javier, finding that he’s already staring at you and he growls, stilling inside her and filling her up with his load.

It’s like everything else melts and disappears, leaving just you two suspended in this moment. The way his brown eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite decipher has your entire body quivering and your heart beating wildly in your chest.

What the fuck is going on?

“Get the money shot!” Robbie barks at you, seeing that you’ve been lost in a fucking daze and you shake your head, snapping out of it and moving off the rose petal covered sheets, again moving next to Javier as he pulls out.

Lexxie positions herself sexily, and not long after does her pussy flutter and milky cum begins to seep out of it, an obscene squelching sound as it drips lazily onto her engorged clit then the mattress.

It’s so fucking hot, you’ll admit it. That’s the point of these things, isn’t it? To turn others on. You can’t blame yourself for the way its intended effect washes over you.

Except your mind is still hazy from how Javier had looked at you while coming inside of another woman.

The pornstar shakes her hips erotically, giggling as Javier smacks her ass.

“And cut. Great fucking job team. You guys just made me a whole lotta money.”

You quit recording, licking your lips and moving off the bed quickly, closing the camera and making a beeline to the other side of the room, not being shy about the way you snag up another travel sized bottle of Fireball and shoot it.

“Drinking on the job?” Javier tuts, walking over to you with his soft cock hanging between his legs and you do your best to not let your eyes drop down to it. He’s got an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. “Very unprofessional.”

Lexxie has disappeared off into the bathroom again to clean up, Steve and Robbie discussing who knows what.

“Yeah well.” You’re flustered and hate how you’re conveying it. He’s reveling in the sight of you. “I got thirsty.”

“Hmm,” he hums, gaze narrowing ever so slightly, “Camera like what it saw?”

You clench your jaw, turning from him to begin packing your stuff up. You don’t have time for this, for him. You need to leave and get ready for the bar.

“You heard Robbie— just made him a whole lotta money, so what do you think?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

You freeze, static in your brain like an interrupted television broadcast and your body feeling feverish. You need to get out of here.

“And you say I’m acting unprofessional.” You scoff, trying to act like you’re not affected by him and his stupid words and that dumb mustache and his fucking bare cock.

He snorts out a laugh, prepared to say something else to grate your nerves but you don’t give him a chance, slinging the strap of the camera bag over your shoulder and grabbing your purse, pushing past him.

“Alright, Robbie I’m out. I’ll swing by the office tomorrow and drop this off after I’ve reviewed the footage.”

You can see Javier from your peripheral, tight jeans up on his hips and moving out into the balcony to smoke.

You feel like you can breathe a little easier now.

“Sounds good. I’ll have your check for it then.”

You nod, saying bye to Steve who has a shit eating grin on his face. “You workin’ at Lucky’s tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there ‘round eleven for a beer… and to discuss whatever the fuck all that was.” He motions vaguely and you roll your eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“S’too damn bad. I drink Michelobs, by the way.”

Your face scrunches up, “I shouldn’t let you in based on that alone.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips at his reaction, but it’s all in good fun.

This little interaction is almost enough to make you forget about… all that. Almost. The door to the balcony slides open again and you take that as your cue to get the hell outta dodge.

“Alright, whatever, I’ll see you then. Hopefully we’re not too busy.”

You say goodbye to Lexxie over your shoulder, briskly walking down the hall to the elevator, looking forward to the cold shower you’re about to take to cool down your heated skin.

[cameronspecial]

Could you write a Rafe Cameron x curvy/chubby middle class reader fanfic where reader starts receiving love letters and gifts from a secret admirer called your mr right or something cheesy like that and she requests help from the pogues help in finding this secret admirer. Later she finds out that her secret admirer is none other than Rafe Cameron (her “handsome enemy”) after him interrupting her and a guy because (he’s super jealous). She confronts him on it(thinking it is some cruel joke of his; trying to get the chubby/curvy pogue princess to sleep with him and talk bad about her afterwards to his friends. Rafe has been in love with reader since the day he met her and flirts with her which always leads to bickering mainly reader being sassy and sarcastic with him and him just eating it up with a smirk. This confrontation leads to love confessions, breeding and praise kink/smut

Mr.Right

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Y/N never thought Mr. Right would be none other than Rafe Cameron. It doesn’t make sense. After years of the two of them being in opposition, she can’t believe he is the one who has been sending her love letters for just as long. She remembers the excitement of finding the first letter. 

She had been living in the Outer Banks for three weeks and she couldn’t believe someone was interested in her, especially because no one had shown any desire for her in thirteen years of living. Most of the boys she has met didn’t like that she was sassy and sarcastic. They preferred girls who would go along with their every word. Sure, her friends, her fellow pogues, weren’t like everyone else, but she knew they all had a crush on Kiara, which was understandable to her because JJ, John B and Pope had known her forever. So, when she found the messily written letter signed by Mr.Right saying that she had a fiery personality and was the most beautiful woman Anonymous had seen, she couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach. It was the first time someone had considered her a woman, even though she had her first period two years ago. As the years went on, more and more letters came in, sometimes with gifts, and her self-confidence grew. She would use the letters as a reminder of who she really was whenever the dick boys at school would mock her because of her weight. 

That is why when she pieces together the identity of Mr. Right, her mind reels at the thought of Rafe being the one to help boost her confidence. It can’t be him, not when he has been the one to poke at every button she owns. Nevertheless, it can’t be more clear to her as she processes the words he says. “Don’t touch Fireball again,” Rafe threatens the man who she was dancing with. The nickname is one only used by one person in her life and it can’t be a coincidence that Rafe used it too. Suddenly, the butterflies plummet to their death into her stomach acid. Of course, Mr.Right is him because the letters aren’t genuine love letters. They can’t be. Instead, she is sure that he is using them as a cruel way to mock her and she can imagine the years he has spent laughing over her naivety. He has probably hidden from the sight of her mailbox to watch her happily open the letters. He must have loved it whenever she would do one of her dorky dances in excitement. 

Fury forms in the pit of her stomach and she goes to the one mode she is used to when it comes to Rafe. Confrontation. 

Rafe watches the loser walk away from Y/N with his head hung low. Rafe’s satisfaction is short-lived as she grabs his shoulder to spin him to look at her. “You are a cruel man to play that sick joke for six years,” she yells in his face. His eyebrows meet and his head tilts, “What are you talking about?” She laughs with a shake of her head. “Don’t play dumb with me, Mr.Right.” She punctuates the alias with bunny ears. The pseudonym illuminates the reason for her anger and he is quick to understand that she thinks his letters were a joke. “They aren’t a joke, Fireball. Every word I said is true.” He doesn’t see a reason to lie. He has been found out. She scoffs, “Why would I believe you? All we’ve ever done is be at each other’s throat and you would take any chance to blow my fuse.” He steps forward so that she can feel his breath fan on her face. The mintiness of his breath mint hits her. “Because every single fibre of my body yearns for you and it is impossible for me to hide it. That’s why I had to write to you,” he growls at her, not in anger but in passion. His words cause a wetness to form between her thighs. She is definitely going to feel it when she walks away, her thighs rubbing against each other will cause it to spread. She doesn’t back down, “Like I can believe you can feel anything other than anger. I bet most of the girls you have slept with faked an orgasm because they couldn’t take how furious you look while fucking them.”

“So you have thought about what I looked like while having sex?”

“Ha, yeah, totally. Just about as much as you think about me.” 

His eyes darken and his mouth dips so it presses against the shell of her ear, “Then you must see me every time you are in bed with someone because you are the only person I imagine when I’m cumming. And I’m willing to prove it.”

His hand wraps around her wrist and she doesn’t protest as he leads her through the busy party to an unoccupied bathroom. He slams the door, locking it before pushing her forward so her clothed breasts press against the counter. His hard-on digs into her bum. He unbuttons her shirt so she can see his toned abs through the mirror. She says nothing whilst he grabs the bottom of her dress and pulls it off. The bulge of her stomach that is revealed makes her want to shy away from him. She has seen the other girls he has slept with before and she doesn’t have anything in common with them. He tsks, “Don’t do that, Fireball. I want you to see every sexy part of yourself while I fuck you dumb.” Her hair is in his grasp and he yanks her head back so it is beside his. He kisses the spot below her left ear. She gasps when his other hand goes down to her thong and he rips it off. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots him shoving the used item into his back pocket. His thumb finds her clit and he begins to rub it clockwise. Their eyes meet in the mirror. “See this. This is what I imagine every single time I come,” he mumbles, speeding up the pace of his finger until she cries out that she is coming.

He watches her with pride as she recuperates from her high. She decides to provoke him, “I don’t believe you.” His nostrils flare and he tugs on her hair a little hard so his mouth can drop to her neck. He begins to nibble on her skin. “You want to play, then I’ll play.” He uses one hand to remove his jeans and his boxers, gripping his large length. She watches with hooded eyes as he pumps cock. He gathers some of her cum between her legs and smears it across his dick. She bites her bottom lip in desire. She catches his smirk from the side of her eye. 

He steps forward and the tip of his penis flicks against her entrance. He teases her for a bit, chuckling when she whines at him to do something. He obeys her command and slams into her at full speed. His thrusts are fast and harsh, hitting every spot inside of her that she needs. She lets out tiny squeals at every jerk forward. “I don’t know why you can’t believe that I think about you. I mean look at you,” he orders. His chin motions to the mirror and she observes her reflection. “Every single part of you is a work of art and I’ll be damned that you can’t see it.” She can’t form any words, too focused on the pleasure he is providing her. His hand goes back to her bud and he rubs it in synch with the movement of his hips. Her toes curl in her heels. God, she hates and loves that he knows what he is doing. “Aww. Is my dick so good that you can’t think of anything to say? It’s okay, I’ll fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be able to recognize your beauty. I’ll have to admit it once you see how adorable our kids are,” he teases. Her walls clenches around him and he takes notice. “Hmm. You like that idea, don’t you? It’s okay, Fireball. I always knew you were a beautiful slut inside.” She reaches back and shoves her fingers in his mouth, “Shut up would you, I’m trying to imagine Zac Efron.”

Rafe lets out a breathy laugh and grabs her left ankle to place it on the counter, allowing him to be deeper inside of her. Her breasts bounce in a way that hurts a little as he brings her closer to the edge. “He won’t ever get to see you like this, Fireball. This is my privilege and if I have to fuck a cuteass baby into you so that gets the message across, then I will.” He accentuates his next sentences with a thrust each. “Only I get to have my head between these thick thighs.” Thrusts. “Only I get to grip these soft hips.” Thrust. “Only I get to call your stunning self mine.” She moans at his words, feeling herself tighten with each promise. “Repeat what I said,” he commands and she does. Her release is brought during her repetition and she collapses against the smooth counter. 

She pants with her cheek stuck against the marble. His dick spasms inside of her and his cum stains her gummy walls. He leans down so his chest is pressed against her back. “So, who am I to you?” he questions in a pant. She gives him a tired smile, “Mr.Right.” 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[chocodile]

Amaranthine Magic System PART II: Spellcraft for Wizards

This is Part III of a three-part worldbuilding set.

Part I - Part II (you are here) - Part III

So, what makes a wizard different than a non-magically capable mundane? A few things:

Unusually strong personal magical field

Ability to sense/”see” magical energy

Some unknown characteristic that allows them to manipulate their own magical field as if it were an extension of their body. Possibly a physical difference in brain structure?

The last part is the most important and is truly what sets a wizard apart from every other creature on the planet. Though, of course, without the first two traits, it’s going to be of limited use.

As mentioned in Part I, wizards cast their spells by applying a mental “filter” their own magical output. This is referred to as active casting. Passive casting, which will be covered in Part III, is typically the realm of animals and plants. Being able to filter something mentally is an extremely unique skill only possible by sapient creatures (probably) due to the complexity involved. However, wizards do typically use hand gestures in casting as well. Hand gestures provide an additional optional channel on which you can “filter” your spell. Because it’s easier to do hand gestures than to teach yourself these complex mental filters, it’s common for amateur wizards to use many more hand gestures when casting, while very advanced wizards use fewer of them because they are capable of juggling a larger number of simultaneous “filters” mentally. Additionally, hand and arm gestures are commonly used like the barrel of a rifle, to control and direct the magical energy being shaped by the mind.

Learning how to control magic like this takes many years of study and practice. You must really understand the “physics” of how the waves work and how each puppeteer string will affect the shape of the waves when pulled. On top of that, you need a good understanding of the object you’re interacting with. Magic will move differently through water, air, or stone. If you are trying to create a spell that will create a net of energy that will catch fish in a river, you need to be very familiar with the physics of how magic will interact with water and flesh, as well as have an approximate awareness of how deep the water is, whether the bottom is rocky/uneven or not, how fast moving the current is, etc. Gathering that info will require several steps of study and reconnaissance before you ever get to the “make a net and catch some fish” part.

Healing magic is very tricky for this reason. Flesh can be knit together, but because the blood vessels and nerves and such are so small, and so many different types of material are present in, say, a cross-section of an arm, successfully re-attaching a limb would be something only an expert who has dedicated their life to studying anatomy would be able to pull off. You know those radioactive tracers doctors use before imaging tests? That sort of thing gets a lot of use in healing magic. Healers can train themselves to recognize the tracer (well, a magical energy equivalent) and follow that through a body, then target their spell on the location where the tracer ended up. Much easier and more reliable than trying to guess exactly where someone’s alveoli are from outside their body.

Spellcraft has two primary “branches”. The First Branch is a school of magic based on unleashing your own magical potential in a very basic, direct way. Its rawest form would manifest as something like a lightning bolt: an erratic, jagged bolt of pure, difficult-to-control energy. Pretty much all “attack” type spells are variations on this, as well as any spells that involve pushing/pulling/moving things. This branch of magic is seen as much easier and, ironically more beginner friendly. Though it does have the capacity to cause grievous injury, the concentration and mental effort involved mean it’s very hard mix up a “pull” spell and a “fireball” spell. Western Kingdom schools almost exclusively teach this branch.

The Second Branch deals more with manipulating the world’s “background radiation”. (if First Branch magic can be visualized as a line, Second Branch magic is more of a plane or 3D sphere) The wizard alters and exaggerates the shape of their own magical aura to exert pressure on the “background radiation” around them to produce type spells that are more like buffs/debuffs in a video game. Some examples would include a spell that makes everyone in the area feel weirdly invigorated or sleepy, or slows down/speeds up time in a small area, or makes a room with your dead mom in it really, really cold (cough, cough). These spells tend to be more subtle and frankly kind of weird… it’s a very versatile branch of magic with some interesting potential implications. However, it tends to be the harder type of magic to learn by far and requires a very steady hand and calm mind to maintain.

Though they use First Branch magic as well, it’s worth noting that Second Branch magic is very common in the Eastern Kingdom, where it has been well-studied for thousands of years. Their extensive library of research is kept by the Eastern Kingdom Sultan in his private library. Westerners tend to view the Second Branch as shady and manipulative… who knows what a Second Branch wizard could be doing to you without you knowing? The only Second Branch magic to be commonly used in the West is healing magic.

However, as mentioned before, one important thing about the magic system in Amaranthine is that wizards are not psychic. They don’t have x-ray vision and do not innately know how every object or life form they encounter works, and a lot of specialized magic involves knowing the inner workings of things and being able to picture things clearly in your head. A wizard cannot use telekinesis to pick up an object they don’t know the location or shape of (if they tried, it would likely either not have any effect, or they’d break it/damage it/knock it over by targeting it incorrectly, depending on how “off” they were). Nor could they use magic to pick a lock if they didn’t already know how locks worked well enough to visualize the inside of it.

For this reason, wizards tend to be pretty well-read in general, as you have to know a lot about the mechanics and structure of the world around you in order to make the best use of your powers. Hyden specifically has a lot of esoteric nerdy technical knowledge about how things are put together but also huge blind spots when it comes to how the world works in practice. For example, he may know a lot about the anatomy of a corn plant because he had to study them one time when the Royal Mages tasked him with purifying a village’s corn field of crop blight, but still be unable to identify a carrot or yam. He may be able to draw a detailed diagram of the wheels and axle of a carriage because he helped assemble a fleet of them once upon a time, but not have any idea why those parts go together or what they specifically do.

[powdermelonkeg]

Archwizard Gale lore???

Okay, SO! My personal headcanons for Gale's powers, both as archwizard and Chosen of Mystra, are based upon the following:

D&D makes a distinction between "archmage" and "archwizard," with the former being a spellcaster dedicated to the arcane arts and either: the counsel of royalty, a lich tyrant, or a reclusive hermit, all with multiple apprentices, and the latter being "an arcane spellcaster of extremely high power who successfully claimed a floating enclave," that specification coming from the time of Netheril.

Gale is NOT royal counsel, NOT pursuing lichdom, NOT a hermit (willingly), does NOT have apprentices when he first makes the claim, and does NOT have a floating enclave.

Despite these, he still claims "archwizard" as a title. This is significant, especially from Waterdeep, where the most powerful wizards in the world gather, including Laeral Silverhand (another of Mystra's Chosen, immortal to a degree, and Open Lord of Waterdeep) and Vajra Safahr (current Blackstaff and Archmage of Waterdeep).

Bonus points for his significance, he is Gale of Waterdeep. His personally chosen moniker marks him as outstanding among Waterdhavians. There might be a handful of people named Gale in Waterdeep, but there is only one Gale of Waterdeep. This is further backed up by Lorroakan recognizing him, with his only reason for Gale being lesser than someone who supposedly figured out immortality being that Gale was Mystra's discarded lapdog.

Gale is skilled in all manner of magic. This is confirmed directly in his epilogue, where you can question him about his choice teaching the School of Illusion, and he says that he wanted to teach ALL the classes there, but the staff told him no. That includes schools you wouldn't normally associate with him, like Divination and Necromancy.

Based on all of that, I've decided that "archwizard," as Gale means it, is a term referring to a wizard who's multiclassed into all their subclasses.

Does this make him overpowered? Yes. But he's an archwizard, prodigy, and Chosen, he's MEANT to be within the bounds of his own lore.

In addition, I also believe him to be an untrained Storm Sorcerer, based upon the following:

Sorcerers and wizards differ in that sorcerers know magic intrinsically, while wizards study it to use it.

When talking to Halsin as Origin Gale, you can tell him that as a baby, you summoned a whole pack of rabbits. Presumably, baby Gale was NOT reading and comprehending arcane textbooks.

Gale has an intrinsic understanding of the Weave, by his own admission, saying he could compose it rather than just control it. He was also casting third level spells like Fireball at eight years old.

Gale's theme is all about storms: his name is Gale, he occasionally says "A rough tempest I will raise" in combat, almost all his official art has him controlling lightning, and his robe is thunder purple. This continues into God!Gale's design, where he has literal glowing lightning bolts framing his eyes, and his outfit is lightning blue.

K'ha'ssji'trach'ash: On his own, the mephit is pretty self-contained; it's a magma mephit capable of revealing the true form of a True Ressurection scroll. However, the key to getting him to do this is to respond to the question "what is my name" in Ignan with the correct answer. After which, K'ha'ssji'trach'ash says "T'i n'uthrantha m'ahthra Gale." We don't know what this means, but it's clear that he's talking to us, about Gale, possibly thanking us or asking us to pass a message along. This implies that he doesn't speak Common, or else he would, because we answered correctly. Why do I bring this up? Storm Sorcerers have an innate ability called Wind Speaker, which allows them to speak Primordial (including Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran). Thus, Gale can speak to/understand K'ha'ssji'trach'ash, despite his known/studied languages being Common, Celestial, Giant, and Draconic.

Because he's untrained, and rather than Storm Sorcery being just a Lv1 flavor bit that does little, I've decided that Gale has access to the class features of Storm Sorcery without access to its spell slots or Metamagic, that way it's reflective of his power without training.

With both of these conclusions, both archwizard and sorcerer, I've decided to pick and choose which class features are from which iteration of both classes, because BG3 and official D&D have a few key differences that were mostly changed for gameplay reasons. I've then taken those and added more flavor to them, based on the already-given flavor of D&D and effects of BG3, doing away with the mechanical side of things for storytelling reasons.

On top of this, because the maximum level you can reach in BG3 is Lv12, and we know that the Orb consumes "the greatest of [his] talents," I've decided that the Orb consumes any ability beyond Lv12 until its removal.

That being said, beyond whatever spells and slots you care to give him, the powers I think Gale has pre-tadpole are:

Abjuration

Arcane Ward: When Gale casts Abjuration spells, residual magic shields him from the worst of incoming hits

Projected Ward: Gale can extend Arcane Ward to someone nearby instead of himself

Improved Abjuration: On short rest, Gale can strengthen Arcane Ward to sustain itself beyond a single hit

Evocation

Sculpt Spells: Gale can control his Evocation spells and keep them from harming allies

Potent Cantrip: Gale can force enemies that resist his cantrips to take half damage from them anyways

Empowered Evocation: Gale's Evocation spells are particularly deadly (based on +INT modifier to damage rolls)

Necromancy

Grim Harvest: Gale can harness the power released when a spell kills a creature to heal himself, UNLESS it's undead or a construct

Undead Thralls: Animate Dead: Gale can reanimate a corpse

UT: Additional Undead: Gale can efficiently harness the power it would take to reanimate one corpse to reanimate two corpses with Animate Dead

UT: Better Summons: Gale's reanimated dead can take more of a beating than others' dead

Inured to Undeath: Gale's been exposed to necromancy enough that he's resistant to necrotic damage, and his life force capacity can't be reduced (this one in particular helps with the "Netherese bile" flowing through his veins)

Conjuration

Create Water: Gale can call forth rain at will (BG3's feature over D&D's to align more with storm sorcery)

Benign Transposition: Teleport: Gale can teleport up to 30ft, and can use that to swap places with an ally

Focused Conjuration: Gale's concentration on conjuration spells can't break due to pain

Enchantment

Hypnotic Gaze: So long as Gale holds eye contact with someone, he can charm them into stopping everything they're doing and staring at him in a daze

Instinctive Charm: Reflexively, Gale can make a split-second charm attempt to redirect an attack at someone directly nearby

Split Enchantment: Gale can efficiently harness the power it would take to enchant one person and instead enchant two targets at once

Divination

Portent: Gale can focus and gain split-second glimpses into the immediate future (such as the next blow about to be thrown in a fight)

Expert Divination: Casting divination comes naturally enough to Gale that he can cast divination spells using a lower spell slot

Third Eye: Gale can increase his powers of perception and gain a very limited Darkvision/Ethereal vision at will, as well as read any language

Illusion

Improved Minor Illusion: Gale can cast illusory effects with incredible ease

See Invisibility: Gale's experience with illusions lets him detect invisibility spells at work, focus on them, and see through them

Illusory Self: Gale can create an identical double of himself reflexively to confuse opponents

Transmutation

Experimental Alchemy: Using transmutation magic, Gale can more efficiently refine potion ingredients, occasionally enough to create a second potion

Transmuter's Stone: Gale can lock some of his transmutation magic into a stone, granting whoever holds it an effect of his choice from the following: Constitution proficiency, Darkvision, extra speed, resistance to acid/cold/fire/lightning/thunder damage

Shapechanger: Gale can polymorph himself once a day without consuming a spell slot (only into beasts with a CR of 1 or less)

Storm Sorcery

Wind Speaker: Gale can speak, read, and write Primordial (Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran)

Tempestuous Magic: Gale can summon gusts of wind around him immediately after casting a spell greater than a cantrip. These winds are strong enough to propel him in flight for ten feet

Heart of the Storm: Gale has resistance to lightning and thunder damage. In addition, whenever he casts a spell that deals lightning or thunder damage, the magic that erupts is stormy and more powerful than other kinds of magic at equal level

Storm Guide: Gale can subtly control the weather around him, causing rain to stop falling in a 20 foot sphere centered on him, or wind to blow in a different direction in a 100 foot sphere centered on him

Feats

These are based on what I, personally, think make the most sense for him pre-tadpole:

Ability Increase: +2 to INT score

Elemental Adept: Thunder: Spells/attacks ignore resistance to thunder, and when a spell he casts causes thunder damage, it can't critically fail

Elemental Adept: Lightning: Spells/attacks ignore resistance to lightning, and when a spell he casts causes lightning damage, it can't critically fail

Okay, so Gale's crazy powerful, right? What could he have possibly lost that's greater than all this?

Well...

Abjuration: Spell Resistance: Gale was in tune enough with the Weave that he could resist spells (as well as gaining advantage on saving throws against them)

Evocation: Overchannel: Gale could deal maximum damage on a 1-5 level spell without ill effect on first cast, but suffered unresisted necrotic damage when using it again

Necromancy: Command Undead: Gale could bring undead made by other wizards under his control

Conjuration: Durable Summons: Gale could give anything he summoned a temporary shield against damage (30 temp HP)

Enchantment: Alter Memories: Gale could make someone unaware they were charmed by him, as well as make them forget something that happened during that charmed period

Divination: Greater Portent: Gale used to be able to predict more split second decisions ahead with ease

Illusion: Illusory Reality: Gale used to be able to pull shadow magic together into illusions and make them, temporarily, real. He can still do a limited version of this, but only via concentration to keep the threads together (hence the "anatomically correct" illusory wizard in the Drow twins scene; shadow magic is NOT the same as the Shadow Weave)

Transmutation: Master Transmuter: Gale could consume magic stored in his transmuter's stone in one go, using it to transmute one object into another, remove curses, diseases, and poisons, raise the dead, or reduce a creature's apparent age by up to 30 years

Storm Sorcery: Storm's Fury: Gale could react with lightning damage when struck physically Wind Soul: Gale was immune to lightning and thunder damage, could fly at a speed of 60 feet, and could reduce his flying speed to 30 feet for 1 hour to make four additional people fly

Yeah. Ouch. And that's not even including his former Chosen abilities.

Gale's Chosen abilities

Silver Fire: Gale could command pure energy of the Weave in the form of silver-white flame, which, at his command, could destroy anything in its path, banish dead magic areas, restore torn Weave, purge external magic and psionic effects from his own body, teleport without error to the last location he used the ability at, or cast spells without verbal, somatic, or material components

Mantle: Gale could cast the dangerous Mantle spell without suffering any ill effects, while other wizards casting the spell would suffer a drain of life force as long as it persisted

Weave Detection: Gale could detect magic's presence without the use of a spell

Weave Tapping: Gale could cast high level spells repeatedly without losing a spell slot, although this was discouraged by Mystra

On the page for Mystra's Chosen abilities, it says that sometimes her Chosen gained an immunity to magic, as well as disease and poison. I don't think Gale was so lucky, however; in the House of Healing, he mentions that he once turned himself in to a hospice in Waterdeep for a "bout of ruddy pox." Him having turned himself in implies he was an adult at the time, and should, therefore, already be Mystra's Chosen.

All that to say: behold, Gale of Waterdeep, in his original splendor. How the mighty have fallen.

[yokohamapound]

How about some angsty HCs?? 😏

How would Kunikida, Dazai, Fukuzawa, Chuuya and Fyodor (or anyone else you’d like too) react to their s/o taking a hit for them that would have otherwise been fatal if they didn’t?? S/o ends up being okay but the gentlemen are all angsty in the meantime >:)

Thanks so much lovely! 🥰💕

Hello, my lovely! It's been a while since I wrote some good old angst, so this scratched an itch. I hope these are what you are looking for!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: death mentions, suicide mentions, controlling behaviour, anger issues

Nakahara Chuuya

Ooh, it’s kinda difficult for him to deal with? He’s in two minds about it, really. 

On one hand, he’s strong enough that whatever blow was being dealt to him really wouldn’t have hurt him that much, or so he tells himself. All he can think about is that moment where the bullet/bomb/fireball, whatever it is, was coming toward you. Yes, you survived it, but he had to live through the nanoseconds of absolute hell when he thought he was just about to see another person he cares about die right before his eyes. 

His temper erupts afterward. He’s furious, yelling at you that you “didn’t fuckin’ need to do that!” You’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s his pride you’ve hurt, but it’s anger born of worry. Those few moments he thought you were going to die were harrowing for him. 

Imagine if he carelessly lost the person he loves the most, just because he was too slow or too stupid to see it coming? Shit, he could never live with himself if that happened. 

However, there’s the other side of the coin. Which is that you cared about him enough to intercept a blow aimed at him. Chuuya can’t remember the last time someone did that for him. He’s used to being the tank, to soaking up all the violence so the geniuses can get on with their schemes. He doesn’t really know how to handle someone trying to protect him, like he’s something vulnerable.

He likes it and he doesn’t. He’s grateful and he’s pissed. Chuuya’s a complicated creature. 

Once he’s done yelling and has calmed down a little, he’ll mutter something that sounds like a ‘thank you’, though he says it with his eyes mulishly averted and one arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He won’t be letting you out of his sight for a while, even while he’s being a grouch.

Dazai Osamu

While he might not show it on the surface, this has a rather profound effect on Dazai. Remember the last time someone he loved died in front of him?

While he pretends to be calm on the surface, inside he’s in turmoil. He should have seen it coming; you’re the self-sacrificing sort, always trying to save him in one or another. But before now, it hasn’t been literal. 

I feel like time moves very slowly for someone as fast as Dazai. He was able to process far too much information in those few seconds you were in danger. All of his mistakes, laid out for him as plain as day. 

He tends to convince himself that he can plan around every kind of incident but this is a start reminded that this isn’t always the case.

“Hey, bella?” His tone is unusually serious. His hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to need you not to do that again. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you die in front of me.”

If you pay close attention, you’ll notice Dazai doesn’t make any more double suicide jokes after that. They don’t have the same appeal. Dazai doesn’t think he could stand to watch you die, even if you did want to join him. 

He keeps a close watch on you after that, turning up unexpectedly throughout your day without any explanation, his lanky form popping up like a weed.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

While he will never, ever reveal it, this will shake Fyodor’s iron-clad ego a little bit. He likes to think he is in control of everything, and he can predict every single action of yours down to the blink. For whatever reason, he didn’t foresee you getting in his way and taking a hit meant for him. 

You gain an element of unpredictability, which is both intriguing and alarming for him. 

There is also the fact that you stepped in to take a hit for him. While he’s used to having underlings who look up to him like a god (Ivan), he doesn’t count you amongst the peons. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, but in a way that promotes adoration and obedience, not self-sacrificing recklessness. He’ll have to step back and examine your relationship somewhat.

“My darling, what was the meaning of that?” he asks of you, his tone soft and a little dangerous. “I do not need you flinging yourself in the path of danger for me. I have everything in hand.”

He likes your devotion, but he doesn’t want you getting in the way of his plans. And he does care about you, love you in his own way—he doesn’t want to lose something he sees as his. 

If you were injured at all, he will have the best private doctors on hand to treat you. Be prepared for his love and attention to be a little stifling for a while. He won’t want to let you out of his sight. 

As for the person whose attack you foiled? Fyodor will turn the full weight of his enormous intellect to destroying them. They were dead the moment their attack came near something he cares about.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Fukuzawa is very much the self-sacrificing sort. He’s said more than once that he doesn’t mind giving up his life in order to ensure peace in Yokohama, or to protect the lives of the younger members of the agency. He’s heavily bound by duty.

While he holds these values to himself, he doesn’t expect you to abide by the same code. In fact, he doesn’t want you to. You’re not a grizzled old samurai like him. (His words, not yours.)

He also heavily dislikes the idea that you were in danger because of him. Your relationship with him shouldn’t be a source of danger for you. As soon as he’s sure you’re safe and well, he will sit back and mull things over in his silent, intense way. He considers all options, from simply killing the person who tried to attack him, to ending your relationship with him to ensure your safety.

Thankfully, he comes to the conclusion that you are an adult who knows what is good for you. He’s never hidden the truth from you, and if you’re willing to face that to stand at his side, then Fukuzawa needs to respect that. He can’t make your decisions for you. 

“However,” he says. “I must ask that you do not do that again. I can accept my own death, but not yours.”

“Don’t you trust me to watch your back?”

“Obviously, you can be trusted,” he says. “Today is evidence enough, but know that I could not live with myself if you were injured or killed looking out for me. If death is coming for me, I have earned it.”

He can’t really be talked out of this mindset, but that’s part of why you fell for him in the first place. Just make him a promise that you won’t put yourself at risk on his behalf. 

Kunikida Doppo

Poor Kunikida.

One of his ideals is that he will never watch anyone die right in front of him if he can help it. The last time he had to watch an innocent person die, it almost shattered his psyche. 

If you were to die in front of him, it would break him utterly. Even though you’re fine, the close shave rattles him down to his core. Instead of blowing his top and then settling down, the way you’re used to him doing, Kunikida becomes grim and quiet. 

He refuses to step away from your bedside while you’re in the hospital for a check-up after the incident. His notebook of ideals is folded in his pocket, ignored. The fact he isn’t scribbling anything down is a little alarming. He’s not Kunikida if he’s not adding little notes to it every five minutes. He has his hands steepled together, his face grim behind his glasses.

“Are you going to yell at me?” you ask him. 

Kunikida lifts his gaze to you, almost as if he’s surprised to hear you speak. He breaks out of his reverie a little bit, sitting up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. The light hits the lenses, hiding his expression from you a little. His voice is sombre.

“I must thank you for saving my life,” he tells you, almost formal. 

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?” You know him well enough by now. You reach out and take one of his hands.

Kunikida fingers tighten around yours, trembling slightly. It’s the only way that you can see how completely off centre he is. 

“Kunikida?”

“Don’t…don’t make me worry like that again. Please.”

[midnightanxietytm]

Don't think about the dream! (NSFW)

A/n: this one is for @melle-d, so not my lamb, I had a lot of fun with this one, didn't even review it, just wrote. Also, can anyone send me a dollar for totally not related reasons? BRL don't really cover it.../j

Summary: But, since turning immortal, since getting their marvelous ring, Ewen, now known as just The Lamb, has looked forward to death, if only because they wish to see their beloved. Three nights ago though, things changed.

MINORS DNI - nsfw under cut

The Lamb is dreading their death.

Weird thing to feel, most people dread their death all their lives, it shouldn't be a new thing at all for them. But, since turning immortal, since getting their marvelous ring, Ewen, now known as just The Lamb, has looked forward to death, if only because they wish to see their beloved.

Three nights ago though, things changed and they had an… Interesting dream, one that involved their legs spread open and their god pounding them ruthlessly, and they’ve been thinking about it ever since, which was the root of their problem. If they died and ended up in his realm, Narinder would surely read their mind and see everything. Sure, it could be an opportunity to tease a bit, nothing they hadn’t done before, but that dream had been especially intimate and it had evoked a more visceral reaction than even their actual experiences.

Now, standing on the doorway to Anura, all ready for a crusade, for the first time, they hesitate. 

They step in anyways, promising themselves that this time it would be a no-death run.

It was not a no-death run.

There wasn’t much time to think about sex dreams when you’re getting swarmed by fireballs and jumped on by giant frogs, but as soon as they appeared on the summoning circle in front of their god and looked up at Narinder, the dream flashed tough their mind all over, a shiver going up their spine.

They don’t remember how it started, but they do remember the heated kisses, his clawed hands ripping their clothes, as Narinder revealed his own eldritch form; arms and abdomen pure bone, so much taller than them, pushing them into the ground and willing the crown into a barbed-

That all crossed the Lamb’s head before they had the sense to stop it. Oh sacred death they shouldn’t have thought about the dream.

There’s half a second of regret before Narinder speaks, his tone amused; “It matters not how many times you are struck down, as I’ve told you, but are you really that eager to see me, little vessel?”

Something about the way his voice rang through the infinite space brought another shiver to them and all they could think was; Don’t think about the dream, over and over, so no answer left their mouth as they looked to the side with an awkward chuckle.

Which seemed to be a mistake, because then came Narinder’s voice again; “What dream, Lamb?” Another shiver,now as they feel their god prod shamelessly into their mind, like cold tentacles prodding into their thoughts and- Oh lord, wrong train of thought! “It’s pointless to try and hide your mind from me, vessel, I own all of you, every thought of yours should be devoted to me.”

“Oh, believe me, my lord, they are.” They say, but almost regret as their tone gives away all the sinful things running through their mind. Narinder seems to find the memory of their dream just then, and Ewen catches a brief second of surprise in his features.

But then he laughs “Oh poor little vessel.” He says. “You wouldn’t be able to take me on this form.” He leans down and uses a giant hand to pull them closer. “Little Lamb, your desire is also devotion that fuels me, even if I can't personally satisfy them…”

The Lamb’s breath hitches at the implications. “I haven’t… I wouldn't dare disrespect your image, my lord.” They say, looking up through their lashes with big doe eyes and raising a hand to the bell on their neck. It was a pretended innocence, they both knew. The lamb had been not-so-subtly provoking Narinder since they first met.

  “Lamb, you are my vessel, you belong to me, every act of yours, every desire, is devotion to me.” The Lamb exhales shakily, the ring around their neck almost burns. “Go on, show me how devoted you are.”

Ewen raises their other hand and undoes the clasp of their fleece, letting it fall to their feet, then they move to remove their bell, but Narinder stops them. “Leave the bell, little lamb.” They do, and start to unbutton their clothes, all while looking up at their god. His hand was still resting on the ground behind them, and they lay down, leaning against it.

Narinder’s eyes are fixated on them as they spread open their legs, already painfully horny. They started to run their hands over their body, as they had done dozens of times before, but now, with their god watching them so intently, it felt so much better.

They don’t waste too much time, soon they’ve shoved two fingers inside themselves and moved them with reckless abandon, breathing shakily and letting out an occasional small bleat of pleasure. Narinder doesn’t say anything, but he watches them with a grin; three red eyes focused on them.

They decide then that if their god wanted to see their dream, they could show how it went, at least partially.

The crown, eager for sin, moves and transforms mid-air, assuming the phallic shape, with the barbs, just like they had imagined. Lamb slides further down, spreading their legs and raising their hips for their god's better view, and the crown shoves itself into them without hesitation.

  And the god watches; the Lamb’s pathetic bleats and moans fill the silence of death's realm with pleasure, with the hot dripping feeling that is desire. The crown moves slowly at first, but it only takes Narinder a bit of will to order it to move faster. 

The little Lamb rolls their eyes, calls his given name in between a moan and with a dumb satisfied smile on their face. Narinder can feel their devotion, their obsession, dripping like the wetness between their legs. “My lord!” They plead, eyes barely focusing on him. “I'm yours all yours!” They say it like a mantra, a prayer to belong to him and him only. 

They say Death is merciless, but Narinder feels quite merciful as he moves his hand to better support his darling vessel before willing the crown to go faster.

Ewen's mind feels melted; their god, Narinder, was looking at them with the repressed hunger only an immortal could have, the crown inside them was hitting all the right places, and their climax approached fast, so fast, almost there.

They cum with a desperate bleat, the crown finally slows down. Narinder takes in the sight of their perfect vessel lost in bliss; in another time, he would have adorned the little lamb in jewels and have them sit on the arm of his throne during every banquet, then take them to his chambers and fuck him over and over just to see them so beautifully blissed out.

But his chained form doesn’t allow him such things, so instead he allows the crown to return to the Lamb’s head — clean and back to its regular shape —  and nudges the lamb to stand on their shaky legs.

“Return to your duties, little vessel, but remember I'm always watching you.”

  The Lamb gets dressed, still a bit shaky, and is sent back to the cult, knowing that their god would have much to watch during the next few nights.

A/n: A little messy, but I had fun trying to write another Lamb, hope i did it justice.

Where are aym and baal during this scene? Out on a walk or smt idk. Whats the Lamb's genitalia like? Bruh whatever is convenient idc im not good at describing those things lol

[kindaasrikal]

I hope the tournament of sources shows the capability of the elements each master has way more.

Like for a good while most elemental masters quite literally just blasted or used their elements in the basic forms, like Kai shooting fire, Jay moving lightning or absorbing it. Basic stuff that you expect from the elements.

But after seeing the later exploration of Nya and Cole’s elements, with Nya becoming one with water or being able to somewhat control ice, or Cole’s rock form or the shintaro season that explored how elemental powers get stronger when surrounded by it. I want them to further explore everyone else’s elements

I want the return of Kai and Jay lowkey becoming their elements, like how Jay used to be able to fly by becoming lightning, or when Kai became a fireball and was shown to be able to withstand CRAZY temperatures.

I want Zane being able to somewhat control water, create snow, create weapons and the such with his element. I want them to to show Zane being able to create an ice form like Cole’s rock one, dude i want him to do cool stuff with his element.

I want Lloyd to feel the life source of each living being around him, to feel when someone is near death, to control small amounts of the other elements again or show less obvious factors that shows his connection to each element, like beings super strong, or dealing with wild temperatures, or being fast or smth.

I want Jay to control bits of wind like how Nya can ice, and therefore Morro and Euphrasia be able to control bits of lightning in return.

Like please can they stop nerfing the ninja down and instead give them tougher challenges guys 😭

They can give canonical reasonings to each of these things. Like when controlling other elements only barely connected to their own it takes too much mental effort and concentration that drains and tires out the master in seconds, or them not becoming one with their elements often-like Jay flying- because it affects their bodies if done too much. Like bro they even threw away the elemental dragons too, they could’ve used them sometimes and said that creating them drains their elemental energy or smth.

[banditthewriter]

Home - A Halsin drabble

I said I would and I did! A short 800+ words with our favorite druid! I wrote this in about 20 minutes. It is also the first thing I've written in over a year.

I know this isn't what most people follow me for but hey. We all change sometimes!

Enjoy!

***

Light pierced through the back of your eyelids. A groan came from your throat as pain started to throb between your temples. Your last memories were beyond recall as you tried to remember where you were. What battle had you been fighting, what enemy had you fallen to? Was the light you saw a fireball coming your way?

“Oak Father preserve me,” came a guttural groan from beside you.

Halsin. Your eyes shot open despite the pain. Fear coursed through you as you imagined that not only you had fallen during this battle, but Halsin as well.

What you saw was a different kind of battlefield all together. You were pressed up against Halsin in the overstuffed, oversized mattress that took up most of the small cabin the two of you shared in what was once the Shadowcursed Lands. Shadowed no more, the sun often shone happily down on the land these days, but not often did it shine directly into your home.

You peered over Halsin’s large frame towards the front door. Two small children stood side by side, their faces dark as the sun poured in behind them, but you knew them well. Their forms seemed to shimmer and join as  you watched them.

“Thaniel, Oliver. Is something wrong?”

“The land missed you while you were gone, but you came back.”

They spoke in tandem, which still freaked you out a bit, but you couldn’t help a bit of a smile as you snuggled in closer to Halsin.

“Of course we did. This is our home.”

They boys giggled and turned as one to leave, but they did not shut the door. The idea of getting up to do that yourself was beyond comprehension so you conjured just a little magic to shut the door behind them.

Blissfully dark in the cabin once more, you sighed and moved to snuggle your druid again. As you did, you noticed his eyes on you, the smallest smile on his lips.

“Gone for mere hours to see our friends at the old camp and we were missed. It brings pleasure to my heart to hear it.”

That was the reason for the extreme headache, you thought with a laugh. Last night was the reunion with your other traveling companions. There had been many bottles of wine while the group regaled each other with stories of the last six months and revisited some tales from your time together. You vaguely remembered challenging the others to a drinking game which would explain the constant thunder in your head.

“Perhaps our next reunion should include less alcohol. My head feels like there is an owlbear in it.”

You laughed at his description, which was immediately followed by a snort as you remembered there was now an owlbear somewhere here with you. Hopefully it remembered the rule of not eating anyone.

“Problems for the future. For now I just want this,” you explained as you snuggled closer to Halsin, your lips pressing against his bare shoulder.

As your eyes started to drift close, Halsin tugged you until you were basically on top of him. It wasn’t a sexual move, just a need for closeness.

“Did you mean what you told Thaniel and Oliver? That this is our home.”

For a moment you thought he meant the small cabin the two of you shared. The large bed and two trunks full of both of your items, shelves filled with books and carved creatures. Even beyond these four walls, the area that the two of you had carved out for yourselves while surrounded by the people you had helped. 

But he meant more than that. He meant the cabin and the lands and the people. The once cursed lands which now prospered under his leadership and skill. Everything used for evil was repurposed and rebuilt. Six months had shown so much growth and you knew in six more months the land would show no scars of the past. 

This land, these people. This druid in front of you. This was your home.

“Yes,” you answered simply, because the answer was simple. You had had homes before. You could go anywhere you wanted, but this? This is where you wanted to be. This is where you needed to be.

“That brings me happiness beyond words, my heart. This is my home and it would feel as dark as the curse without you in it. I am honored to have you at my side.”

Later the two of you would go and talk to the people. Halsin had many new stories to tell the children, though some would need to be censored until they were older. You needed to meet with the people who were rebuilding the House of Healing to make sure they had everything they needed. You wanted to find the owlbear and make sure he was settled in comfortably.

But for now? For now you simply closed your eyes and enjoyed being held by your druid. The two of you were safe and happy, if more than a little hungover, and that was enough for you.

[bethanythebogwitch]

My favorite magic system from a game I haven't actually played is from Mage: the Ascension. It kind of fits as both a hard magic system and a soft magic system at the same time because there are some hard rules, but its mostly very open. To become a mage you have to realize that reality is not what it seems. In MtA, reality is whatever the majority of people believe it is, known as the consensus. The consensus in modern days is pretty uniform everywhere, with small variations based on where you are, but it used to be wildly different based on the cultural beliefs of the local people. A mage is a person who realizes that the consensus isn't true reality and gains to power to act outside of its rules. Any given mage's abilities come from their own personal view of reality, known as their paradigm. A mage's magic can do basically anything, as long as it is accounted for in their paradigm. So a mage who's paradigm includes the classic Aristotelian elements can perform magic based on that, but if their paradigm doesn't include animistic spirits then they can't commune with those spirits even though other mages could based on their own paradigm. The problem with this is that the consensus doesn't like it when you go around breaking its rules and will punish mages by slapping them with an effect called paradox. Paradox can be anything from a spell failing to getting shunted into your own personal pocket universe. Nothing generates paradox like being seen doing magic by sleepers (people who are not mages and still live fully within the consensus). Most mages either only use magic around other mages or, if they need to cast around sleepers, will disguise their magic as a mundane effect. Someone throwing a fireball from their hands will generate major paradox because the consensus is that people can't do that. However if a mage holds a lighter up to a spraycan before casting their fireball, the sleepers can rationalize it as something that exists within the consensus and not as much paradox will be generated.

In the dark ages, magic was part of the consensus and mages could openly rule over the sleepers because everyone believed in magic and therefore magic was part of the consensus. In response to the tyranny of the mages, a group was formed called the League of Reason, who wanted to introduce a new form of magic to the consensus that everyone could use. This form of magic was based on logic and reason and was called science. This led to the ascension war, where the League of reason sought to remove magic and superstition from the consensus and a very loose coalition of mages called the Council of Nine Mystic Traditions want to keep magic in the consensus. And the League of Reason won. A mostly rationalistic, scientific worldview has become the consensus worldwide, forcing the Council into operating underground. The League of Reason has become the Technocracy, a worldwide secret organization ruling the world from the shadows and trying to stamp out magic and any other form of "reality deviants" to keep humanity safe, even if they have to suppress basic human imagination to do so. Notably, the earliest books for the game very much said "Traditions good, Technocracy bad", but later books went for a much more grey approach to the conflict between them, making it clear that both sides really are doing what they think is in humanity's best interest even if their ideas for how to do so are fundamentally incompatible.

What's really interesting is that science and technology really are a form of magic and technocrats are mages, even if the Technocracy would vehemently deny this. Technology is a form of magic that everyone can use because its part of the consensus and science doesn't discover new facts about the world, It creates those facts and applies them to the world. The Technocracy's super-advanced technology creates paradox just as much as magic does because personal anti-gravity suits and mass-produced clones violate the consensus just like throwing around fireballs and conjuring demons does.

Mage: the Ascension is a super fun setting because just about any fantasy or sci-fi trope can exist here. Classic pointy hat and wand wizards can battle cyborgs armed with self-replicating nanotechnology. Anti-authoritarian punks can hack your wallpaper to spy on you because they believe all reality is part of a unified mathematical whole that the internet gives us access to. A group of spacefarers can ride the luminiferous aether to mars only to encounter Aztec shamans who asked the spirits to carry them there thousands of years ago. A powerful mage can create a time loop by convincing their younger self to obtain enlightenment through the power of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Two people can have an argument over whether the guy they just met was an alien from Alpha Centauri or an elf from the Norse nine realms and both of them can be right. Animistic spirit-callers can upload themselves to the internet to combat spirits of malware. And an angry mage might just teleport you into the sun because they believe distance is just an illusion and therefore have the power to make anything go anywhere with a thought. It's a wild ride.

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member is Aespa's Karina girlfriend ft protective J-line

A/N: Heyyy, I'm trying to make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that the anons who gave me these very similar ideas on Tumblr like it!

The requests: Hi I want to request where y/n is dating karina from aespa and the unnies especially ( the j-line) want to see how she handles y/n because she (playful, mischievous and childish) and karina did a great job and she also put y/n to bed and cuddle her.

Hi can you do where y/n is dating karina from aespa and where y/n brings karina to meet the members and they all gave her a warning especially the j-line and also some tips to take of y/n. Thank u 

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

It was a Friday evening, and the atmosphere at the TWICE dorm was vibrant with laughter and excitement. The reason? The 10th and youngest member, Y/N, was finally introducing her girlfriend, Karina from Aespa, to the unnies. The J-line, aka Momo, Sana, and Mina, were particularly thrilled, their mischievous grins already in place as they prepared to put Y/N and Karina through their playful inspection.

The doorbell rang, and Nayeon, mom number 2, skipped to answer it. 

Nayeon - Karina! Welcome to the TWICE dorm! *motherly smile*

Exclaimed the fake maknae, pulling the Aespa member into a warm hug. 

Karina grinned, her eyes glancing around the lively space. 

Karina - Thank you, Nayeon unnie. I'm excited to be here.

As the evening unfolded, Y/N and Karina were showered with warmth and laughter. Jeongyeon, the second eldest and mom number 3, took the lead in guiding them through the dorm, introducing Karina to the various rooms and sharing anecdotes about the group's time together.

Dinner was a boisterous affair. Momo couldn't resist teasing her little sister from across the table, throwing playful glances that made the youngest member blush. Sana, sitting next to Karina, joined in the mischief, making the atmosphere light and carefree.

Mina, on the other hand, observed quietly. Her sharp eyes didn't miss the subtle interactions between the couple. As the night progressed, the J-line's plan started to unfold. Momo, Sana, and Mina exchanged sly looks, plotting their next move.

After dinner, the group settled in the living room for a round of games. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, the other two members from the maknae-line of TWICE, joined forces with Y/N and Karina, forming a team against the unnies. The room echoed with laughter as the teams competed fiercely.

Amid the chaos, the J-line seized their chance to observe TWICE's angel and Karina's dynamics. 

Momo - Look at them, Sana. Our Y/N is completely smitten. *whispering*

Sana giggled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Sana - This is going to be fun. Let's see how Karina handles our baby's playful side.

As the games continued, Mina discreetly pulled Karina aside for a chat. 

Mina - You're doing great, Karina. But be prepared. Our dongsang can be a handful. The J-line especially knows how to bring out her mischievous side.

Karina nodded, appreciating the advice. 

Karina - I'll keep that in mind, Mina unnie. But I can handle a little mischief. *smiles smugly*

Mina - We'll see about that. *smirking*

The night wore on, and eventually, the group gathered in the cozy living room. Y/N, visibly tired from all the excitement, leaned against Karina, her head resting on the Aespa member's shoulder. Momo couldn't resist teasing.

Momo - Look at our little Y/N. All tired out. *winking*

Y/N - I'm not tired! Just resting my eyes. *pouting*

Sana - Karina, you have your work cut out for you. Our little fireball is a handful, especially when she's pretending not to be tired.

Karina chuckled, wrapping her arm around her girl. 

Karina - Don't worry, I can handle her. She's adorable even when she's pretending to be tough. *kisses Y/N's forehead*

The J-line exchanged knowing glances, silently acknowledging that Karina was handling the situation well. As the night progressed, the members decided it was time for bed. Y/N, already half-asleep, was gently guided by Karina to one of the guest rooms since she was gonna sleep with her girlfriend.

Once TWICE's sunshine was settled in bed, the J-line took Karina aside for a serious talk. Momo, with a playful yet stern expression, spoke first. 

Momo - Karina, you seem great, but we need to make sure you can handle Y/N's playful and mischievous side. She might act tough, but she's a softie deep down.

Sana - And she loves to be spoiled. Don't let her fool you with her independent act.

Karina listened attentively, appreciating the unnies' concern. Mina, with a gentle smile, spoke next.

Mina - Just be yourself, and take care of our little sister. We trust you, but we also want Y/N to be happy... Which means we will end you if you hurt our kid.

Karina nodded, grateful for the advice. 

Karina - Thank you, unnies. I really care about Y/N, don't worry because I'll do my best to make her happy.

The J-line exchanged satisfied glances, convinced that Karina was genuine in her intentions. With a final round of warnings and advice, the members bid each other goodnight, leaving Karina to her thoughts.

Alone in the guest room, Karina smiled as she watched her lover sleeping peacefully. The night might have been filled with mischief and teasing, but she felt a genuine connection with the TWICE members. As she cuddled with Y/N, she knew that she had the support of the unnies and that, despite the playful warnings, the night had been a success.

In the end, the J-line's mischievous plan had served its purpose: ensuring that their maknae was in good hands, surrounded by people who cared about her. And as the members of TWICE drifted off to sleep, the dorm echoed with the warmth of friendship and the promise of more shared moments to come.

And this made them all have the same thought:

I'll love my dear chosen family forever.

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors. English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

What led to Showdown—a character analysis

Summary:

Chosen was the one who initiated the rampages after he and Dark escaped the PC.

Dark created the Virabot in an attempt to please Chosen.

I firmly believe that the names of the hollowheads shaped their personality to some extent. The name "The Chosen One" not only bestowed god- like powers upon the black hollowhead but also a instilled a sense of responsibility, strong self-esteem, and a drive to fight for what is right.

Upon his creation, he immediately rebelled against Alan, seeing the animator as "evil" for creating and torturing stick figures just for fun. Five years of enslavement didn’t wear down his spirit, the moment the slightest opportunity arose, he broke free from his shackles and unleashed his fury upon the PC.

But even when victory was within his grasp, with his tormentor's pawn, The Dark Lord, trembling powerlessly before him, he still chose mercy.

I believe his sense of responsibility and justice wouldn’t allow him to harm someone who was already defenseless, even if that person was his enemy.

I couldn't imagine someone with such a strong moral compass initiating or even agreeing to participate in rampages on the internet purely for the sake of destruction and vengeance. A more reasonable explanation is that Chosen initiated these attacks due to a warped sense of justice. The mistreatment by his creator, the only human he ever knew, might have led him to believe that all humans are tyrants who abuse and exploit stick figures. As "The Chosen One," he felt a responsibility to fight on behalf of his own kind, believing it was his duty to deliver well-deserved punishment upon humans.

But as for Dark, he had no interest in justice whatsoever, he went along with Chosen purely for the thrill of it. Contrary to "The Chosen One", the name "The Dark Lord" weakened his sense of morality and empathy(a sociopath, in a sense). This doesn’t mean he was incapable of learning to be good or sympathetic, though. Chosen simply didn’t realize Dark's moral deficiency until it was too late.

(Or perhaps Chosen was in denial? Dark was his best friend after all)

As time passed, Chosen became more aware of the complexity of mankind. He realized that not all humans were evil, some even formed positive connections with stick figures, like building websites where they could live and work. By attacking the internet and destroying these sites, he was inadvertently harming those he wanted to protect. This made him hesitant and forced him to rethink his actions.

But Dark, he didn't care. Humans, stick figures, animations, it's all the same to him. He enjoyed causing harm and destruction, because it was fun, because he couldn't see that it was wrong.

Imagine Dark laughing joyously as he hurled fireballs at the screaming, retreating crowd of stick figures and animations,

but when he turn around he saw Chosen's shocked, horrified expression, it was as if Chosen was looking at a monster, not his best friend.

Chosen could no longer ignore the fact that Dark was betraying the very ideals he had lived by in his whole life. It became painfully clear that the noble qualities embedded in his code which he so deeply valued were absent in his best friend.

They argued, definitely, fought, maybe. Their once impregnable friendship was cracking, threatening to collapse.

And it scared Dark. Dark didn't understand why Chosen was so angry at him, but he cared about their friendship, he cared about Chosen.

And he wanted to salvage their friendship, he wanted to make Chosen happy again.

So he came up with a plan. He would create a virus so powerful the world has never seen—a virus that would paralyse the internet once and for all. After all, mankind was evil, wasn't that what Chosen always told him? Dark would give humans what they deserve, just as Chosen had always wanted. And then, surely, they could be friends again.

That’s why he eagerly presented his virabots to Chosen, like a child showing off a prized drawing to their parents.

He was certain that Chosen would be impressed, that Chosen would share in the excitement for this grand scheme of destruction.

But instead, the black hollowhead was terrified. Having already lost his trust on Dark, he immediately jumped to the worst conclusion, that Dark was going to terrorise the world including the stick figure civilisation with his virus.

(But Dark's plan never involved harming stick figures. He knew Chosen was adamantly against the idea, so why would he risk their friendship by going against Chosen?)

Dark was understandably hurt and furious at Chosen's betrayal.

It was Chosen who had fuelled his love for destruction, who inspired him to create the virus in the first place. And now, Chosen had the audacity to demand him to stop? Even going so far as to attack him to protect the very humans Chosen had once hated so much?

Was their friendship truly worth less than the properties of evil humans?

As for Chosen, the destructive power of Dark's virabot was the final proof that Dark was an irredeemable villain down to his code. Consumed by a sense of justice, Chosen attacked without mercy.

And Dark, wounded and enraged, retaliated with everything he had.

[pillowbugs]

so uh. that poto au i did just over a week ago.

was playing around with some ships to figure out who would fit the roles of the other characters, and landed on airplaneshipping for christine and raoul. preferably ignore all the plot that would have to happen to lead to this point. (the scene where the phantom shoots fireballs, except in the pokémon universe it's a full on battle against the phantom and his chandelure. for an added bonus, look up the name of the 'song' sung during this part of the musical.)

unmasked ver. (additional design notes under cut)

elesa:

christine's dress in this scene is light blue, which is a colour that is indeed present in elesa's design (her bw2 outfit moreso). elesa not wearing any yellow felt wrong though, which is why the layers underneath are yellow-tinted.

went with her bw1 hair colour because christine was blonde in the original book.

her cloak is mostly based off her bw2 jacket in shape; it's black with a red clasp, which makes it not only similar to the cloak donned by christine in the musical but also retains the same idea of the cloak being a visual representation of the phantom's (who wears mostly black) hold over them. (+ the other colour ingo is most associated with is red.)

however, because of the lighting, said cloak appears yellow on the side closer to skyla - more similar to her canon design, and being close to skyla in a way rids her of the darkness.

she gets to change her hairstyle as a treat.

skyla:

it wasn't common for women to wear waistcoats at the time (1900s), but sapphics in history quite famously fucked with a lot of gender norms.

actually both of these lovebirds are blue now. sets up a colour contrast between the lighter, friendlier blues of the couple and the darkness and reds of the phantom. (blue = friend and red = foe like it's fire emblem)

the way swanna is placed is intentional, to set up a more angelic imagery mirroring the phantom's darker version (more on that in a bit).

both women wear matching white roses in their hair. something something flower symbolism. but skyla does also have feathers in her hair, for obvious reasons.

swoobat because hearts :D

ingo:

was debating on whether to make him actually more deformed in this au, but didn't really feel in the mood to sit down and design it in detail for this piece.

there isn't much i can say about his outfit design given it's literally just mashing his usual uniform together with his butler alt from masters. though upon actually looking up the phantom's outfit, the end result is actually surprisingly close. not surprising given both wear victorian suits and primarily wear black.

my original concept for the au was that he still works with the subway, he just does it from the shadows instead of being a public figure - hence he still wears a train conductor's hat. though since the battle subway isn't a thing (or at least not in the form we know it) he doesn't have its logo.

his cloak is intentionally flared up in this scene, for a few reasons: 1) it looks cool, 2) it resembles gliscor (albeit it isn't present here) and 3) mirrors skyla with a darker angelic imagery - the original musical had the whole "angel of music / death" thing.

i actually went through quite a few variations of his mask before settling on this one, and even then i'm not entirely satisfied with it.

version 1: exactly the same as the one used in most advertising for the musical - decently terrifying, but considering ingo's main 'issue' is his mouth, which this (and the one actually used within the musical) doesn't cover, this would be completely useless aside from probably hiding his identity and especially his resemblance to emmet.

version 2: leaned more into the angle of trying to alter his expression, particularly to be smiling instead - to be more similar to his brother. also suitably unsettling, but this specific style wouldn't work if you looked at him from any angle besides this one though. also, from this angle, because his actual mouth is obscured, i was worried he would actually be mistaken for emmet instead (given generally fandom tends to make emmet the unhinged one - let ingo have some fun too, guys).

version 3, the one i went with: has patterns at the cheeks simulating the edges of a smile (and also has the black-on-white contrast); his actual mouth is hidden but visible through the cloth.

why is there a litwick on the gravestone? good question!

in all honesty, this was part me drawing blorbos into an au and part me conceptualising what the pokémon universe version of POTO would look like.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

ok this is dumb but i have to know, who do you think gave birth to cresent, killer or nightmare? Or was he convinced in another way.

(I am so sorry)

It’s to my understanding that in Crescent’s “canon” that Nightmare was referred to as the “mother” and therefore the one who gave birth somehow.

Tbh I don’t these two would make a kid in the traditional way humans do—why would they. It’s probably more likely something to do with magic and souls, and I remember hearing around that the reason that Killer didn’t “carry” and “birth” Crescent was because his soul is too big of an unknown to risk losing both Killer and the future kid. I don’t know if that’s true or not for Crescent’s story, but it makes sense to me.

I remember reading that Crescent didn’t have that fireball form that the Dreamtale twins were born as, he was born a skeleton monster physically, meaning the amount of Killer’s DT likely would’ve just killed the ‘fetus’ unless Crescent somehow magically adapted to have resistance or immunity to DT.

So yeah I do think Nightmare “carried” the child to term, he just ordered Killer to hand over whatever he needed from him to conceive the child. This also means that Nightmare can go through the pregnancy and birth from the safety of his castle, and Killer is still working out on the field spreading negativity. Still being a good weapon.

And given how I already talked about how I think Stage 2 would fare with pregnancy before here, I wouldn’t be surprised if Killer were to snap and perform a coat hanger abortion on himself if he were to ever be the pregnant one. He’s a killing machine not a baby machine.

Of course if Nightmare is really determined to have Killer carry the kid, he can order Killer to Reset and keep trying until Killer stops trying to kill the both of them and just resigns himself to this violation, but I don’t see it happening unless Nightmare just wants to torture and remind Killer of his place.

It really wouldn’t be beneficial to Nightmare to have his best weapon locked away in the castle pregnant, or out on the field where a single blow would mean having to start all over again.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

In Your Eyes, in the Ice and Rain

Two Weeks of Hitsuhina - Day 3: Wings / On a Starry night

Rating: T/Teen for violence and mild descriptions of injuries.

Setting: before BLEACH’s main story; Hitsugaya is still a third seat and Hinamori the lieutenant of Fifth Division.

Synopsis: During a battle against a pack of Hollows, Hitsugaya's duties as a Shinigami and sense of self is tested when Hinamori gets hurt.

AN: I'm late for the start of the week, but better late than never!

This was such a random idea. I considered not writing it, but then I got started and it took over. If I had to describe this fic in two words, it’d be ‘high emotions’, so prepare for angst, some hurt/comfort towards the end, and probably some out-of-characterness.

It was partly inspired by the song Farewell, My Friend by There’s a Light (YT | Spotify), but more by two images I got while thinking on this theme: one of Hinamori pleading to Hitsugaya (while he has his bankai activated) to save everyone and he was shocked by this, and the other of Hitsugaya coming to Hinamori’s side when she’s injured, hunched over and holding her hand.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one.

_____________________

Hinamori is sent hurtling through the air, and Hitsugaya's forget how to breathe. She arcs over the battle, high above everyone’s heads, out of sight and focus of her subordinates and his fellow tenth Division Shinigami.

He doesn’t come out of his shock until her back smacks off a tree trunk and she tumbles through the branches to the ground. He shouts her name, louder than the Hollows' cries around him.

He flash-steps and catches her before she can hit the ground. She lets out a pained cry at the same time one of the Huge Hollow he’d been fighting roars because its prey vanished out of sight. He almost loses his grip on Hyourinmaru, and hefts Hinamori higher up so her head can rest on his shoulder. But she whirls around, looking without seeing, and thrashes against him.

“Hinamori, stop! You're hurt!” he yells, unintentionally making his grip tighter on her. She barely calms her frantic movements, hasn’t even registered that he’s the one holding her.

He glances at Tobiume lying on the ground. He doesn’t have time to pick up the zanpakuto, but kicks it off to the side, into the cover of bushes. He hurriedly retreats away from the battle, going deeper into the forest. The trees do little to shelter them from the rain, with drops showering over him as he runs, and he folds his wings in tightly so they don’t thrash against the low hanging branches or shrubbery in his way.

He ignores the pain lancing up his leg from the wound he’d gotten just minutes ago. The reason she’d come running to him during the battle, seeing him slashed by ones of the Huge Hollows that’d converged on him. After the wound was inflicted, he’d pretended to be at the creatures’ mercy to lure them into a false sense of security. They would lunge for him while he used a bankai technique to freeze them all in place at once. He’d only practice the ability once, but things were getting desperate in the fight and he needed to take more then one down at a time.

But then she’d come charging in, letting out a furious cry as she launched a fireball at one of the Hollow’s backs, setting it alight before leaping up behind it and landing at the nape of its bent neck and bringing Tobiume to cleave the mask in two from behind. Dislodging her blade, she’d kicked off from its head and landed in front of Hitsugaya while it disintegrated to nothing.

She’d launched another fireball at one, sending the Hollow falling back and being attacked by other Shinigami form behind. She’d briefly glanced over her shoulder at him, her gaze wavering between fury and concern within seconds, before returning her attention to Huge Hollows before them. He couldn’t speak, was in awe of her skill but also shocked she had come to his defence. he forgot about his plan, about getting up because the wound didn't truly hinder his ability to stand and fight.

She was halfway through chanting a kido when the Huge Hollow with oversized, clawed hands slashed her left limbs. Before she could even let out a cry, it back handed her, catapulting her away.

Hitsugaya comes out of his recollection when he nearly slips and falls on a slick of mud in the grass. Blinking rain from his eyes, he can’t see but can still hear the battle. It’ll do.

Hinamori, having realised who was carrying her, had stilled her thrashing. “H-Hitsu –” She gasps as he lowers her to the ground, propping her back up against a tree trunk. She groans while clutching her side with her good arm. “Where…?”

“Don’t talk,” he instructs, but his voice is shaky.

Seeing her like this is like the first time he saw her cry; it felt wrong, like something someone like her shouldn't do. Blood runs down her scratched legs and arm, falling either to the ground or being absorbed by the shreds of her uniform. Her hair has been slowly loosening from its usual bun, with the hair cloth missing and the ribbon torn. He supects, judging from the lack of blood not seeping from between her fingers, her side is likely bruised but not torn. Her back is likely the same. There are several tiny cuts across her face and arms, likely from the branches she fell into. Bruising has formed on the side of her neck and her breathing is staggered and wheezing. What if she has a broken rib?

He shakes his head against the nausea and rising panic. “I’ll get started on treatment.”

The rain comes down faster and thicker. Hinamori winces as it pelts over her injuries. Without a second thought, Hitsugaya brings a wing over her head. At the shadow cast over her and the lack of rain hitting her, she blinks and looks up. Her reflection is warped in the ice, it’d be comical if it weren’t for how dire situation was.

“T-Thanks,” she stammers.

He stabs Hyourinmaru into the ground and breaks the ice away from his hands, the blunt talons falling to the earth and melting to slush in the rain. Then he kneels, keeping the wing above her. Fearing she has a concussion, he instructions, “Stay still, okay? Don’t move your head anymore. I’m going to take a look at your injuries.” She lets out a hum, and he takes it as her understanding.

She whimpers when he peels back the remains of her sleeve and hakama leg until the wounds are completely visible. The blood drains from his face and the world briefly spins at the sight of her leg injury; that’ll need Fourth Division’s work. There is only so much he can do for such a wound, but her kido surpasses his. He cringes at the idea of her having to treat her own injury while in this state, but they don’t have any other options.

He gingerly wraps his fingers around the wrist of her bad arm. “I can heal this one. Once I seal it over, you heal the one on your leg and I’ll work on your side and back.”

“It really hurts.” She starts to look down. “Is it that bad?”

“Don’t look yet,” he instructs softly, laying a light touch on her shoulder. “It’s…just don’t look until you need to.”

He expects her to make a sound while moving her arm, but she doesn’t. He doesn't think about, just chants for the healing kido. He gets no relief even when the teal glow emanates from his palms over the scratches. She winces through gritted, but it’s only when he looks up to reassure her that he realises she’d returned to looking at Hyourinmaru’s wing.

“This is your bankai…” She’s breathless still and there’s a slight slur in her speech, but her dazed gaze has turned into something akin to awe despite the pain.

“Yes,” he says, even though she hadn’t posed it as a question.

“I never seen it in battle before,” she breathes. “It’s incredible.”

The small cuts on her arm heal beneath the kido and the larger wound scabs over; with any luck, it’s healing internally too.

Hitsugaya sighs. How can he get her to focus on herself? “Forget about the battle. I’ll help with healing your leg before working your side.”

“I saw you out there,” she continues, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Before that Hollow attacked you, you were turning the tide for us.”

His heart aches. If she’d only known that he’d had a plan, that she was never meant to get involved. No, that’s not it. He shouldn’t have been so reckless. He should've just cut the Hollows down one at a time. He shouldn't have gotten carried away with watching her protect him when she didn't need to.

“Hitsugaya-kun?”

His breath hitches. The kido beneath his trembling palms flickers. With a frustrated grunt, he resumes focusing on the healing her. “I’m almost done.”

“You’re doing great.” Her pained smile says otherwise. Even in times like this, she’s reassuring him, making sure he is okay.

From the distance, a harrowing scream rings out through the air. With it, it brings back the clashing of swords against bone, cries echoing around the battlefield, and howls and animalistic sounds of the Huge Hollows. It’s as if he’d muted the battle until now. Hinamori’s brow furrows, and her gaze sharpens. “No…”

It’s several heartbeats later when Hitsugaya deactivates the kido. It’s not enough, it'll have to do; he should be able to do more. “Come on, let’s heal your leg. You ready?”

He shifts to get closer, wincing as he moves his own injured leg. And the moment he let the sound escape his lips, he curses under his breath.

Her frown deepens.

“Hinamori --”

“Where are you hurt?” she asks, her gaze searching him head to toe.

“It’s nothing, forget about it.”

Her eyes land on his leg and she lets out an alarmed grunt. Hitsugaya can’t help but look too. His sock is bloodied, and the gash he’d received from the Hollow peaks out at the top.

She straightens, peeling her back from the trunk, and moves her uninjured arm towards his ankle. “You should’ve said something!”

“Stop it!”

Her finger sturggles to pull down his sock.

“Hinamori, it’s not serious,” he tries to reassure, but his voice comes out strained. “Your injury is. I’m not the one bleeding out here.”

She shakes her head, and much to his horror, she raises her injured arm with a groan and brings it to his ankle, and it helps to bring his sock down. He thinks to jerk his ankle away, but he fears the sudden movement would startle her and reopen her arm wound.

Hands hover over the wound and she begins to chant.

He grabs her uninjured arm. “Hinamori, stop it, now.”

She ignores him, completing the chant and activating the kido. A fresh wave of pain shoots up his leg, and at his grimace, her frown softens away. “Sorry.”

He can’t work on healing her leg while she’s doing this, not without causing her pain. He lets out a shaky breath. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re hurt.” She says it as if that answered everything.

As soon as the kido spreads out across the gash, his flesh knits over itself rapidly, and the pain is soothed away to a dull ache.

It harshly shakes his head. “You need to focus on yourself, idiot. Use your kido on yourself.”

“I can’t.” The tremor in her voice renders him speechless. “Not while they’re all still out there and you’re in danger, I can’t.”

His heart thuds so hard he hears it in his ears. Battlefield are always chaotic, but even being away from it, he’s lost control of this. “What are you saying?”

She doesn’t speak, only stares at him. It’s one of the rare times he can’t read her expression. “Come on, what?”

She presses her lips tightly for a moment before she speaks. “I don’t want you to fight, but…if you don’t, you’re all in danger.” She lowers her gaze with a whimper. “Why did it have to be like this?”

Still cryptic. He can only conclude she’s concussed, not knowing what she’s saying or doing.

Not even three minutes later, she deactivates the kido and pulls his sock back up. He can’t see how it looks, but there’s still a faint ache. She’s not at the level of Fourth Division, but he can run on his leg without much issue.

“Okay, fine, you’ve healed me. Now come on, your leg!” He’s quick to position his hands over the injury, the beginnings of the kido chant on his tongue.

“You need to go back there.”

That halts him. “What?”

“They need you at the battle.”

Beneath the wet hair plastered to her face, the dirt smudging her face and the bruising forming on her jaw, there’s a grim determination.

“Don’t be a fool,” he mutters.

She winces, but not from the pain of her injuries. “You have to go back and fight, Shiro-chan.”

Hearing the nickname triggers a rush of anger in him. “No!" he snaps. "If we don’t heal these now before Fourth Division get here, the damage might be irreparable. I’m not leaving you!”

“Forget about me, go and help them,” she rasps, bordering on begging. “The fight out there is getting worse, but your bankai can help change the outcome. I don’t want you to go out there and get hurt again but…you have the power to end this. Please, you have to go back there! I’ll be okay.”

“Hinamori, stop this --”

He’s cut off when she suddenly grabs his shoulder and pulls him forward. Too stunned, he barely remembers to keep the wing over her let alone throw out a hand to prop him away from the tree she rests against.

“Remember your duties as a Shinigami," she whispers. "We serve and protect the Seireitei and the Soul Society. We protect our fellow officers in battle, our friends."

The reminder should’ve been like a bucket of cold water dunked over him, but all he can focus on is the blood in the corner of his eye.

He grits his teeth against the tremulous feeling rushing through him. “You weren’t supposed to get involved. Why did you jump in? I had a plan.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Back there, I was…” He can't get the words out. Pathetic.

She takes his free hand in hers. They’re so close that all he sees is her wide, glassy eyes. “Go. They need you…please. Please, Shiro-chan, please.”

His heart stammers. She’s begging him for something. She should never have to do that, not with him. Not for the safety of others.

The sounds of battle reach his ears again. He’s selfish, because in the end, it’s her he wants to protect, and her who he has failed. But she’s counting on him, believing in him as she always has, to protect everyone.

He hardens his expression and withdraws his hand from hers. Standing, he reaches across and dislodges his zanpkauto from the ground. The ice he’d broken off before quickly regrows, engulfing his hands and ending with sharper talons.

It gives him an idea. Warning Hyourinmaru before he raises his weapon, he raises his right arm and hits the area above the wing’s joint with pommel. The ice cracks. Hinamori lets out a startled grunt, but he continues to strike at the ice until the wing breaks off.

"W-What're you...?" She watches him in bewilderment while he manoeuvres the broken off ice to cover her from the rain. A new wing rapidly grows, collecting the falling rain and melding it into the ice to freeze.

He steps back several paces, not looking away from her. He wants to say something, but finds he has no words. He’s simultaneously emboldened and uncertain.

She offers a grateful, strained smile.

Before his resolve can break, he snaps Hyourinmaru’s wings and shoots into the sky. Tree branches rattle and leaves fall in his wake when eh breaks from the treeline into the sky.

High in the air, he twists around in the direction of the battle and with another powerful flap he shoots himself higher into the sky, gliding high above the forest that encompasses the area. From up here, he can tell which direction the Hollows had originally come by the destruction they left in their way. It’s as though a line of the forest had been gauge out, with trees snapped in two or completely uprooted and the earth upturned.

Only a minute later he’s overhead of the battling Hollows and Shinigami. He can’t distinguish which Shinigami belongs to Tenth or Fifth, doesn’t even recognise which one is Rangiku. From this height, they seem so small.

The Hollows, however, have more distinguishin features. He spots the Huge Hollow that had thrown Hinamori away. His grip on Hyourinmaru tightens and his blood simmers in his veins. For all of his conviction in fulfilling her wish, he still puts his own will above it.

I’ll protect her.

He comes overhead of the creature. The rest of battle fades out.

He stops flapping his wings, sharply falling through the sky. Rain and wind whip against him, and it only fuels the growing anger. While in this state, the weather is under his control. With a mere twist of Hyourinmaru, the rain gets thicker and the clouds gather, darkening the area. His reiatsu flashes across his skin in white-blue currents. Against powerful gusts of wind and the forces sending plummeting to the ground, he raises Hyourinmaru. As the features of everyone becomes clearer – the Hollows’ masks, the Shinigami either engaged in battles or the few who, wide-eyed and mouths agape, notice his rapid descent – he lets out a cry. Combined with the howl of the wind, it sounds like a roar.

Most of the Hollows have stopped to look at him. Did they think he was one of them? Has he become monstrous in his fury? It didn’t matter.

He flares Hyourinmaru’s wings out when he’s only several meters from the Huge Hollow who’s struck Hinamori. The creature, realising what’s about to happen, roars and raises it’s oversized hands at the last minute. It’s too late. Hitsugaya stabs Hyourinmaru through the mask, and from it, ice bursts out and rapidly covers it’s grey-purple skin. A cold wave comes from the attack, washing over everyone in the area and shuddering and bending the trees.

The Hollow’s mouth is unhinged wide, stuck in shock. Before it begins to disintegrate, he withdraws Hyourinmaru and kicks off from the creature’s head, landing in the mud.

Hitsugaya’s shoulders heave with each heavy breath, which fogs in the cooling air. He glares at the next Hollow, frozen in place by what it saw. And it wasn’t the only one. Most of them are staring at him, and even some Shinigami are. Eyes wide, lips trembling from either the sudden cold that’d descended over them or from something like shock or confusion.

The Hollows that saw his attack fall into a frenzy, bellowing or snarling, before converging on him all at once.  He’s too angry to be afraid, and raises Hyourinmaru against the closest one. He unleashes a flurry of ice, striking the Hollow and sending it crashing back into another.

“Ryusenka!”

Ice erupts from Hyourinmaru and strikes the two Hollows, encasing them before they can cry out. Hitsugaya lunges forward and smashes the ice, breaking to two apart into pieces that disintegrate.

From behind, a hunched over Huge Hollow charges, tusks aiming to gorge him. He swings his zanpakuto around, ready to duck under and cut into it’s underbelly.

There’s a flash of movement to his right, and he almost swings his sword at the figure who’s appear at his side. Rangiku – hair wet and bedraggled, mud smeared on her face and arms, and a thin cut above her brow smudges with dried blood – makes Haineko form a neko rinbu around them. The Huge Hollow, cut from the tiny pieces of blade, stumbles back with a yelp before it and the other Hollows disappear from view.

“What was that?!” she yells over the whirl of Haineko. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“You need to call the Captains and Fourth Division, now!”

“Why?”

“Because we’re about to end this fight!”

A hand, protected by bone-like armour, lunges through the ash cloud. Hitsugaya spins and slashes into the knuckle, breaking through the plating and sending a flurry of ice racing up its arm. The hand vanishes through the ash. At the screams of both Hollows and Shinigami happening beyond, Rangiku winces and dissipates the cloud.

“You’ve got some explaining to do later!” she yells, before leaping to cut the clawed hand hauling up a badly injured Shinigami.

After that, the battle is a blur. He is not like those in Eleventh Division, prompt to losing themselves in bloodlust, but his strikes are fierce and quick, and regardless of the combat between a Hollow and Shinigami, he intervenes, cutting through mask after mask after mask.

His blood boils, and he feels his face contort into an unrecognisable, furious shape. It doesn’t come entirely from the hatred for the creature he’d slain before. No, he’s angry at himself. At his failure to heal Hinamori, to prevent harm coming to her. He’s angry that their lives are like, filled with danger he can’t always protect her from.

After he cuts down a spider-like Hollow, Hitsugaya spins around, ready for the next, only to see there are none. The Shinigami, whether they’re standing or trying to prop themselves up from the mud, struggle to catch their breaths and look around. The forest had been full of Huge Hollows breaking through the trees, their stampede shaking the ground and their animalistic cries tearing through the air above the rain. Now, everything is still and silent save for the torrential rain.

As if most come to some realization at the same time, many turn to look at him. Fraught emotions tumbling within him still under the scrutiny of his fellow Tenth Division members and those in Fifth. Some look at him in confusion – likely not knowing he had achieved bankai – a few in concern, and the rest in either awe or wariness.

He’s breathing too hard, his limbs shake so fiercely from the adrenaline and harsh beating of his heart. The rain cools his skin. It’s the latter that makes him straighten, and with a silent command to Hyourinmaru, the rain lessens, returning to how it is meant to be.

Above his head, he only has one ice petal left. He withholds a cringe. In such short time he'd overexerted his powers. After a long, quiet breath out, he deactivates his bankai and sheathes Hyourinmaru across his back. It sends out a cold pulse, ruffling the uniforms and hair of those standing near him and disturbing the rainfall for a second.

“I’ve called for Fourth Division!” Rangiku yells from somewhere behind him, making everyone turn their attention to her. He stares at the ground as she continues, “They’ll be here soon, along with Captain Ishiin and Captain Aizen! For anyone without injury, we need to get the injured into the shade and start healing them, now!”

Hinamori.

He snaps out of his stupor and runs between rushing Shinigami.

As soon as he sees her, he shouts, “Matsumoto!”

She looks over her shoulder, then fully turns once he’s close. “Don’t think I didn’t see your ankle before, you need to –”

“Hinamori isn’t here!” He points in the direction he’d come flying from. “She’s badly wounded, she needs help, now!

Rangiku’s eyes widened. “No wonder I couldn’t find her,” she mutters to herself. Then, while running with him in Hinamori’s direction, she asks, “What kind of injuries?”

“Her arm and leg. She can’t walk, and I’m certain she’s concussed.”

Rangiku swears and wipes the hair from her face. She searches for any Shinigami still standing around. At the sight of one officer from their division and another Hitsugaya didn’t know, she calls out to them. “If you haven't got anyone to help, come with me right now!”

They sprint over and fall into line behind them. Hitsugaya casts out his sense. Hinamori's reiatsu flickers from her injuries.

"You sense her too?" he asks Rangiku.

"Yeah, she's not far from here."

“We’ll also need to retrieve her zanpakuto. Tobiume is under the bushes in that same direction, just look for her hilt.”

Rangiku nods. “We'll take care of it.

“What? No, I – ”

“Your ankle will get worse. Stay here, Fourth will arrive shortly.”

“I --”

“That’s an order!”

He’s stunned by her authoritative air. He knows she’s capable of it, but she rarely uses it on him. That isn’t what causes him to slow his run and then come to a stop. It’s the way her eyes soften with knowingness.

He stands at the edge of the tree line, watching Rangiku and the other two Shinigami until they’re out of sight and the flora they’d disturbed stops swaying. After taking down as many Hollows as he did, ending the battle quicker in the Seireitei’s favor, he can't if it's exhaustion or the sense of helplessness that makes him sag against a tree .

At some point he raises his hand and simply watches the rain collect then pool in the center of his palm. He stares at his reflection, colorless and broke apart by raindrops. In an instant he's nothing more than swirling, wavy lines, but they bounce back form him, only a drop to hit and ripple. At times he is nothing but warped lines, and in an instant, he's reformed only for a drop of water to hit and ripple.

It's several minutes later when three whole squads of Fourth Division medics arrive. Most go to the severely wounded first, then rest approach others with minor injuries.

He stumbles away from the tree and waits. Eventually two medics come to him. He only speaks when he needs to, answer their question before they begin treatment. His ankle is as good as new five minutes later. At the comment from one of the Fourth Division Shinigami about how the healing on it was good before they tended to him, he hurriedly walks away without thanking them.

He searches for Hinamori. He hadn't seen Rangiku and the officers come out of the forest, but he can hear the lieutenant's voice echo from somewhere in the area. Around him, uninjured and healed quietly gather and speak to each other, comforting each other or relishing their victory. Those receiving treatment remain in the shades of trees, but some are on stretchers being carried away. He pauses at the sight of a medic placing a spare shihakusho over the face and chest of someone on stretcher. He doesn’t recognize the Shinigami, which meant it’s likely someone from Fifth Division. Had the officer passed before or during his return to battle?

He shoves the thought aside and staggers onward. In the chaos, death is inevitable in battle, they all know that. Somehow, it doesn’t stop the pang that comes with losing a fellow Shinigami, even one he didn't know.

It’s not long before he finds Hinamori when he left her. She lies on a stretcher next to what little remains of Hyourinmaru's wing. She's her hooded eyes look between the two Fourth Division members tending to her. Aizen is kneeling at her side and speaking to her with his back turned to Hitsugaya. He feels a modicum of relief that Tobiume is at her side; Rangiku must have found the weapon.

Several meters behind him, there's a few Shinigami who were carried to be under shelter being tended to as well. He feels a few stares at his back, but he ignores them.

He keeps his distance, observing one medic finishing bandages her arm, while the other continues to cast healing kido over her leg. She shouldn’t be there. She should be standing like so many others here, lifting the spirits of those who lost a comrade today or have witnessed a horrific battle like this one was for the first time.

“You did remarkably well.”

Hitsugaya isn’t startled by Aizen, who has left Hinamori’s side and approaches him. If this were any other situation, he might have thought it funny to see him this drenched and his hakama muddied.

“Without you, I'm certain we would’ve had more causalities,” Aizen continues. “I’ll be sure to tell Captain Shiiba what your efforts did today once he gets here. From what my officers have told me, your bankai is something to be admired, Hitsugaya-kun.”

He sniffs and looks past the captain back to Hinamori. “I’m still training.”

“There’s always room for improvement, but this victory today is thanks to your abilities.” Aizen follows his gaze, and after a beat, offers in the way of sympathy, “I know it’s hard seeing Hinamori-kun like this, but you know she’ll pull through. She’s always been strong, nothing ever holds her back or brings her down.”

That softens him, because it’s the first thing the captain has said today that Hitsugaya agrees with. She’s strong enough to be a lieutenant. She was strong enough to remain his friend, to stand by him when the world and he himself tried to tell her otherwise, even when the enormity of his power became obvious to her.

She’s strong enough to ask him to fight for others when she needed the help and protection the most. She had the strength to see all of these Shinigami as important to her. Everyone, except herself.

“From what she told me about what happened," Aizen continues, "if it weren’t for you, I’m certain her injuries would’ve been worse.”

Hitsugaya manages to not double over but he can’t withhold a grimace.

Aizen frowns at his reaction. “I apologise. Did I say something wrong?”

Hitsugaya stiffly shakes his head but refuses to look at the captain.

"If you're sure." Aizen shifts, half turning away. “I’m sure you’ll discuss today with Captain Shiiba. However, my door is open to you and Lieutenant Matsumoto if you need another set of ears.” He bows his head. “I’ll leave you be. Take care.”

Hitsugaya brows furrow when instead of walking past him, the captain approaches the Fourth Division members, speaking with them for a minute, before they bow to him and move on to the next patient behind him. Aizen gives Hitsugaya a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he leaves.

It occurs to Hitsugaya once the captain is out of his sight, aside from Shinigami being healed behind him, he and Hinamori are alone. He doesn’t fight the compulsion to go and kneel at her side. She’d been staring ahead until he comes into her peripheral. Most of the blood and dirt has been wiped away, but her skin is too pale. He can’t judge whether the haziness in her eyes is from the concussion, something the medics gave her to ease the pain, or exhaustion. Still, there’s a flicker of recognition as her gaze takes in his face.

Her lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. Her chest heaves with a shuddering breath that's dangerously close to a sob.

Without thinking, he takes her good hand between his two own. “I did it, just like you asked.” He loathes the vulnerability in his words, but he only said them because he wants her to be happy.

She blinks slowly, taking in his words. The corners of her eyes moisten. Again she tries to speak, “I’m…sor…”.

He bites the inside of cheek hard. Why is she trying to apologize?

“You don’t have to talk. You’re going to be okay,” he says, more as reassurance to himself. “Everyone’s okay now, we’re safe.”

His words aren’t true. What of that Shinigami who passed away? He can’t have been the only one.

He bows his head. "It shouldn't have been like this. I thought I was outsmarting them, but I ended up getting you hurt."

She swallows, takes in a long breath. His words don't sink in immediately, but when they do, she weakly shakes her head. "No. I'm sorry I...I shouldn't have --"

"Hinamori--"

"--asked you to..." Twitchingly, the corners of lips rise. “But I...knew you could do it. You're incredible, Shiro-chan. Truly.”

He lets out a strangled grunt before bowing over her, his forehead coming to rest on hers. Her smile widens, and she softly shuts her eyes. He closes his own, to try and calm his racing heart and to shut out any onlookers. He’s certain they’d deem his reaction overwrought, especially considering she isn't dying from her injuries. But they don’t know he’s reason she’s hurt, or that without her, he’d have no bankai.

Why did it have to be like this? This isn’t how their lives were meant to go. But what did he expect? The life of a Shinigami is fraught with danger. They have a duty to protect the Soul Society, to lay their lives on the line if need be for it and each other. Why should that have to apply to her?

Without her, his life would be so different. It had come with bad memories, but more than that, it’s come with ones that gave him hope when there hadn’t been any, and she had done so with only her words and kindness. The world needs her, more than it needs him.

He can’t let this happen again, because what good is having this power if he can't protect her from threats or his own foolishness? His prodigal status is something others revere, something coveted by the Seireitei and rare among Shinigami, to the point of loneliness for those that harness it. He should be able to fight like no other, and yet she's still here, still trying to protect him in battle. She shouldn’t be, not after everything she’s already done for him. Not when he has the strength and power to do the same.

I won’t let you get hurt ever again. He opens his eyes, and hers remain closed as he leans back. I’ll get stronger so that I can always protect you.

It feels like a vow, seared into his very being, one that he can never revoke even if he wanted to. One he will never speak aloud to her or anyone else. It’s for him and him alone to carry.

His hold on her hand tightens. When she squeezes it back, his heart clenches. Slowly, she opens her eyes, and he stares at his reflection in them. It doesn’t ripple and warp like the one in the water. He isn't colorless, shaded by the brown of her irises. It’s him, bloodied and sodden. No longer a child, but not an adult either. A Shinigami, gifted with a power few will ever have across the centuries. A power she helped bring forth without ever knowing, and one that will be wielded to ensure her happiness.

______________________

AN: I never do author's notes at the end of a fic, but for this one I felt I needed to.

I have to admit, I got pretty emotional writing this one, and I think it shows ^^; I don't know why though, because I've written far more angsty fics before this one. Maybe it's because of the song that contributed to it's inspiration, or maybe it was because I was feeling down at the time of writing it (I'm feeling better now though). I don't know...

I still hope you all enjoyed it.

I ended up putting Hitsugaya in difficult scenario. Not only did he feel he needed to choose between Hinamori and the other Shinigami, but that he'd come up with a plan and feels responsible for Hinamori getting hurt even though he couldn't have foresaw her involvement.

I feel like while trying to figure his bankai out, Hitsugaya would experiment with what tactics he uses in battle and how he can control his powers, and he's also figuring out just how much his sense of duty means to him. He's serious about his role as a Shinigami, but when he's faced with someone he cares about getting harmed, that goes out the window in furious fashion; similar to how he is by the time of the main story, but lacking the better control and resolve he has by that point -- for instance, I think a younger, less experienced Hitsugaya would've abandoned his fight with Harribel after Hinamori got injured by Ayon to go help her. And he's still coming to terms with being a Shinigami, and with Hinamori also being one. It's a dangerous path for both of them, and they went into it for different (but some similar in a way) reasons.

While writing for this aspect in particular, I thought there might be a tragic element to their bond and particular traits even before they were put under the strain of Aizen's betrayal. Hitsugaya cares about others, but there's only a select few he feels close to, and if any of them are harmed or killed, it has the potential to make him abandon everything he's built for himself. Hinamori cares about more people, but it also means she has more people to worry about or lose in times of crisis. Their bond is precious for these reasons, but also tenuous because they've nearly lost each other way too many times. That Hinamori could ask Hitsugaya to do anything and that there's likely very little he would not do for her out his care and will to protect her, even if it means harm coming to himself physically, emotionally, or to everything he has built for himself. It comes from a lack of maturity to a great extent, I think, which is why he is quick to anger in the main series when Aizen antagonizes him about Hinamori.

Still, because Hinamori cares as deeply as does for as many people as she does, even when she loses someone or goes through a hard time, there will always be someone there for her and she can be there for them if they need her, whether it's Izuru and Renji being her Academy buddies, Shinji and Rangiku there to help her after Aizen betrayal, or Hitsugaya in this fic being by her side while she's recovering from an injury. For Hitsugaya, having those few people who he deeply cares about and who care about him in return is his motivation to get stronger, to be greater than what or who he thinks he is. He's chosen to let Hinamori in as close as he has, and it comes with it's benefits and drawbacks. And how could he not? She was one of the few who cared for him when only his Granny did. One of the few who has been a constant in his life. She accepted him whole-heartedly, and he in turn didn't see her strong will to see the good in others and willingness to help as weaknesses like some would.

He would do anything for her because he deeply cares, but I think he also sees the goodness she brings those around her and believes the world needs more people like her. He doesn't see that in himself, instead focusing on his powers and ability to protect her and others -- things I think were put at the forefront of his mind by his Academy lecturers and senior Shinigami noting his prodigal status and also by his low self esteem from his struggles in the Junrinan.

But Hinamori does see in him the very same qualities he sees in her as well as his powers and fighting talents. In this fic, she trusts him with fighting for everyone, and in a better state of mind, I don't think she would ask him to do what he did here (or when pleading for him to save Aizen in the main series). Then again, she may have asked him due to the duties of a Shinigami and trusting and believing in Hitsugaya's abilities. But even when everyone is safe, she still felt the need to apologize, even when she knew he could win and believed in him.

In the end, Hitsugaya doesn't care about having these powers for the sake of fighting or status. He cares about the people he cares for, and will use the powers he has to protect them. Even with her admiration for Aizen blinding her to who he is and making her focus on working at his side, Hinamori has a strong sense of duty and care towards those she fights alongside, whether they're strangers or her friends. She believes in Hitsugaya, in his abilities and his goodness as a person. It's why she smiles when they touch foreheads, in relief that he's safe and in knowing he cares. In her eyes, he doesn't need to change, he the stable constant for most of her life. but Hitsugaya didn't see that; he saw what he thought he needed to become.

I hope I was able to convey all of this.

I know as a fan of something there's a tendency to over-read into the smallest things, and in this case maybe that's what I've done, but while writing this fic, I couldn't help but feel and think about all of these aspects. I see the potentials from the bread crumbs we got in the main series and I always want to explore them.

If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my fic and this author's note, I sincerely appreciate it.