#i also feel like it makes the rest of the colors in my recent pieces pop more which i'm happy about

[flowerakatsuka]

i'm glad that getting back into osmt and drawing in the show's style made me realize i could get a little silly with the colors i use for my lineart, i'm having a lot of fun playing with that in my recent stuff.

[huggybearhughes43]

Best friend Quinn doing a favour for reader and helping her take spicy pics for her only fans when she convinces him to get involved for some photos/videos by letting her suck his fingers or filming while she begs for him to touch her and play with her pussy (leads to smut)

Just me, okay?

A/n: this is also for the person who requested the number 13 for my drafts (unfortunately but also fortunately was not Nico Hischier, so sorry)

Warnings- smut, finger sucking, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), recording, daddy kink but only for the fans, raw dawgin but he pulls out

Summary- in the request but a teeny tiny bit different

Word count- 1.3k

Quinn’s sitting on the other side of my couch with my feet resting on his lap. His focus was on the tv that played highlights of his most recent game. The gears in my head were turning as I scrolled through my new subscribers on my only fans. I huff and puff realizing that I hadn’t posted anything in a hot second. Quinn’s eyes flicker to me and his brows furrow, “What’s wrong?” I explain to him and he sighs, “I can leave if you want?��

My eyes light up as a thought comes to my head, I was a genius. “Can’t you help me?” Quinns face flushes and I think for a moment that maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. Quinn and I had been friends since he got to Vancouver but we’ve never even shared so much of a peck on the lips. “Well- uhm, I mean… you don’t have to? I just-“ “I’ll help” he laughs, “What do you want me to do?”

My mouth gapes but then I close it, “Uhm, first help me pick out something to wear?” He leans back against the couch and nods. I get up and go to my bedroom just a few steps into the hallways that sprung from my living room. “Okay I have three choices.” I mutter before slipping into my room. I rummage through my drawers and find three sets of lingerie. A dark red, a dark green, and a blue. I figured I’d save the one he’d like the best for last.

I walk out of my bedroom with the green lace, it was close to sheer, you could clearly see anything if you looked hard enough. Quinn looks up, his face turning dark red, “I wanna see all of them before I choose” “yes sir” I turn back and change into the dark red one piece that had cutouts in just the right spots for access. The second I walk out Quinn hastily reaches for a pillow to place on his lap. I giggle and he clears his throat, “last one?” I nod and go into my room to change into the blue one, a blue that was almost the exact shade of his team colors. It too had cutouts, the top was sheer and the bottoms had a slit. Again, for easy access.

He groans at the sight but tries to cover it up with a clearing of his throat, “I like this one the best.” “Thought so” I smile and plop right down on the couch next to him and hold out my phone with it switched on video. He stands up and puts the camera right in front of my face, making me move to sit on my knees. Before he got the chance to ask, I pull his hand and stuff two fingers in my mouth. He takes this as his queue to begin recording. The second I hear the video start I begin to move my head back and forth, making seductive sounds around his fingers.

My eyes droop but I manage to look up, not at the camera but at Quinn. I stick my tongue out and pull his hand away, making sure I got the trail of spit connecting the two of us on camera. “Touch me, daddy…” I whisper, fluttering my eyes lashes at him. He has to bite his tongue to hold back any sound that threatened to escape and give away his anonymous position. His hand moves down to my throat, squeezing softly which earned a whine out of me.

Quinn slowly drops to his knees, spreading my knees apart. He makes sure to get all the good angles on the camera. His wet finds trail up my leg and he looks up at me to make sure it was still okay that he was the one doing it. I nod, my jaw slacking the second I feel his fingers poke at my entrance. I don’t mask my moans as he forces his thick fingers into my hole.

I’d never had another person help me with any of my videos. In reality, the whole concept was just for extra money, I hardly ever slept around with anyone. Quinn was the only exception, but he was a close friend anyways. My back arches off the couch when he begins to move his finger back and forth. He angles the camera so you could see the pleasure on my face as well as his fingers stretching me out.

The urge to moan out his name strained in my throat, his fingers pulling me over the edge. My legs shake and I moan loudly, “I’m cumming, daddy!” His fingers are soon coated in my cum. Quinn sat back on his knees, switching the video off before licking his fingers clean. “Quinn…” I whine when I see his dirty actions.

While I was catching my breath I failed to notice Quinn setting my phone up on the coffee table, recording the whole couch. I jump slightly and look down when I feel Quinn spread my legs again. "Tell me if you want me to stop" he days softly before dipping his head in between my legs. I throw my head back, my hands rushing to grasp Quinn’s hair.

His tongue moved strategically through my folds. He licked and slurped like he was a starved man. His skills plus the lingering past orgasm quickly catch up to me. “Quinn- I’m close again-“ his movements don’t stop. My back arches causing my cunt to press harder into his face as I cum all over his mouth. He pulls back, licking the juices from his lips, not wanting to let any go to waste.

“Lay down for me.” Without another word, I do. I never thought of Quinn this way but now that I felt it, I didn’t think I’ve ever felt anything better than him. He pulls off his shirt, followed quickly by his pants. He crawls on top of me, peppering kisses along my shoulders and collar bone sweetly. He checks the camera to make sure it was set up right. Once he got the confirmation, he looked up at me.

“Is this still okay? We can stop if you don’t want to go this far-“ “please,” I interrupt him, “I need you so bad Quinn.” He smiles goofily at my words and lets out a quiet, “okay.” Before spitting in his hand and reaching down to use it as lube. He lines himself up, slowly pushing in. I gasp and throw my head back.

Quinn smirks and once’s he’s bottomed out, he begins thrusting right away. He lifts my legs to rest on his shoulders, creating a new position to reach deeper. Quinn’s hands fall from my legs to rest next to my head, nearly folding me in half but providing me with something to hold onto. “You’re so fucking wet” I moan, trying to find the words to respond, “all for you.”

These words seem to be Quinn’s breaking point, his thrusts begin to be sloppy but harsher. “Fuck-“ he moans out, throwing his head back. The mere sight pushes me into my third orgasm of the night. My juices come out in squirts, soaking all the way up to his mid abs. The feeling causes Quinn to break. His abs twitch and he pulls out and jerks his cock harshly, releasing his load onto my stomach.

He reaches over to stop the video. His head turns to me and he smiles, “send this to only me, okay?” I smile and nod, “I will, can I post the other one?” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “That’s what I was here for.” He sets my phone down and stands up, not bothering to redress quite yet.

I had an idea of what he was doing as he left, so I stay quiet. My suspicions are confirmed when he returns with a damp rag. He approaches and takes his spot back above me, wiping up the mess he made. The second he finishes, he tosses the rag somewhere that I didn’t care about before plopping down on top of me. I laugh and wrap my arms around him as we cuddle.

[akanemnon]

Last question before I once again leave you to rest and recuperate for the rest of the hiatus.

Do you know color theory by any chance?

(And if so, can you teach me some techniques…? /nf)

Your most recently posted piece is so amazing that I can’t even put it into words. It’s cool how you can switch between styles like that. However, I hope you’re taking of yourself in the process!

If there’s anything to learn from the anon attacks, it’s that even though some people unfortunately don’t see it, being an online influencer of any sort is more of a sacrifice than it looks, and it can the tiring to the creator when others don’t understand. Im not half as popular as you are and I too am starting to feel the effects of posting almost everyday for the sake of the fans.

You’re probably the first online artist I’ve been a BIG FAN of. Not just because of your AU, but because now I’m know I’m not the only easily anxious artist out there. You’ve really inspired me, and lots of other people too, but to keep up the good work, you have to make sure you’re also okay.

Take care!

- The Kogetai Kiddo.

I know some color theory in terms of creating designs. For painting, not so much. It's a pretty complicated subject to explain, so that might take quite a bit to get into...

And no worries, I am taking care of myself and take plenty of breaks in between when I'm getting too frustrated. As for the style thing; I like to try different things once in a while to prevent stagnation. I can switch between styles thanks to practice, but changing mediums does take some getting used to. Digital painting is not exactly something I'm that good at because I don't do it that often. It takes a lot of time and energy. But it's a good challenge.

Honestly, I don't want to be titled as an "influencer" or "content creator". I'm just some person who likes sharing their work and comics that people seem to like them a lot. I'm no authority figure and I don't like seeing myself as something greater than others just because of some numbers. Numbers don't mean anything. It's the person that matters. I just wanna make art, and if it happens to make people happy, I'm happy too. Still anxiety and internal pressure can make things hard. There IS that underlying feeling of having to perform and do well. Because those are your own standards. In the end, you are your own worst critic. Anxiety is the worst, and it's an endless struggle against it. But it's possible to live with it. At some point, taking a step back and realizing you need a break is the right call.

Hoping the best for you and all the other anxious artists out there!

And with that'll be off on my last few days of break. Asks are closed now. See you back on Sunday!

(Little teaser from the next page for good measure)

[benevolentbones]

I have an idea for an angst/fluff. Bare with me because this is my first request. Spencer notices reader has small reactions to yelling, slamming doors, stomping, etc. Maybe it’s from arguing parents as a child or they got a bit of trauma on a case and had been hiding it from the team (maybe both. Like arguing parents and then a traumatic experience brought it all back up). She hid her anxieties from the team because she knows she’s safe with them and is slightly embarrassed by the reactions. Spencer only noticed because he pays such close attention to her (he’s got a crush!) and starts doing things to help reader. Like changing the subject when an argument is coming on, distracting them after someone slams a door, etc. I’m not a writer so i have no idea how to end this. Thx 💓

silent support | spencer reid x reader

warnings: brief mentions of bad childhood. spencer fluff! gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy<3 reblogs n comments n requests always appreciated

spencer reid wasn't the kind of man to overlook details. his job demanded meticulous observation, and he'd long since developed a knack for noticing things others missed. this skill, however, extended beyond crime scenes and into his everyday interactions, particularly where you were concerned.

you had joined the bau team almost a year ago, and from the very beginning, spencer had found himself drawn to you. he admired your dedication, your intellect, and your ability to connect with victims and suspects alike— and of course he thought you were the most beautiful person he ever laid eyes on. but recently, he began noticing something else about you—small, subtle reactions to loud noises and arguments.

it started one evening in the bullpen. hotch and morgan were in a heated debate about a case direction, voices rising steadily. you sat at your desk, seemingly focused on your work, but spencer saw the way your shoulders tensed at each raised voice. when morgan slammed a file down in frustration, your hand jerked slightly, knocking over your coffee cup.

spencer's eyes narrowed as he took in your quick, shaky breath and the way you forced a smile when jj handed you a napkin. the pieces of a puzzle began to form in his mind. he had read your file—he probably shouldn’t have but—he knew about your difficult childhood, the endless nights spent listening to your parents argue, the fear that came with every slammed door. and he suspected there was more, something you hadn't shared with anyone on the team.

his suspicions were confirmed over the next few weeks. during a particularly rough case in phoenix, a suspect's sudden outburst caused you to flinch noticeably. you recovered quickly, laughing it off, an embarrassed blush covering your features, but spencer didn't miss the way your hands trembled slightly as you continued with your questioning.

he wanted to say something, to let you know he understood and was there for you, but he also knew how embarrassed that might make you feel. so instead, he began to find small ways to ease your anxieties.

when arguments started brewing in the office, he would subtly steer the conversation in a different direction, diffusing the tension before it could escalate. if someone slammed a door, he would immediately engage you in conversation, pulling your focus away from the noise. these actions were small, almost imperceptible to the rest of the team, but he hoped they made a difference to you.

one particularly tough case in chicago brought everything to a head. you had just finished interviewing a suspect who had a penchant for yelling, and spencer saw the strain in your eyes as you walked back to your desk. garcia was arguing with an it technician about a software glitch, her voice raised in frustration. when she slammed her laptop shut, you visibly jumped, the color draining from your face.

before you could retreat into yourself, spencer was there, standing beside you with a gentle smile. "hey," he said softly, "did you know that the world's largest snowflake on record was 15 inches wide?"

you blinked at him, momentarily distracted from the chaos around you. "really?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

he nodded, his smile widening. "yeah, it was found in fort keogh, montana, in 1887. pretty fascinating, right?"

you managed a small smile in return, the tension in your shoulders easing. "that is pretty interesting, spencer….thanks."

he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "just thought you might like to know."

over the next few days, spencer continued his quiet campaign to help you. he found ways to be near you whenever the atmosphere in the office grew tense, offering bits of trivia or starting conversations to distract you. you noticed his efforts, of course, and though you were slightly embarrassed by your reactions, you were also deeply grateful.

one evening, after the team had wrapped up a particularly grueling case, you found yourself alone with spencer in the conference room. the rest of the team had gone home, but you were both still reading over files, trying to wrap up loose ends.

"spencer?” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, "can i ask you something?"

he looked up from his file, his expression attentive as he studied your form. "of course."

you hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "i've noticed... you've been going out of your way to help me lately. distracting me when things get tense. why?"

spencer's cheeks reddened slightly, and he pushed his hair back nervously. "i... i noticed that loud noises and arguments seem to bother you. i know you had a tough childhood, and i figured maybe it was bringing up some old anxieties. i just wanted to help..."

your heart swelled with gratitude, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "thank you, spencer. it means a lot to me. i... i haven't really talked about it, but you're right. —there was something that happened on a case a while back that... well, it just made everything worse." you chewed on your lip, meeting his gaze.

spencer reached out, his hand covering yours. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but just know that i'm here for you. i promise.”

you squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of comfort and safety wash over you. "thank you, spencer. it helps more than you know."

in that moment, surrounded by files and the remnants of a long day's work, you realized just how much spencer reid meant to you. he wasn't just a colleague or a friend—he was someone who truly cared, who saw your vulnerabilities and accepted them without judgment.

the days following that conversation were transformative for you. knowing that spencer understood your struggles and cared enough to help made a world of difference. you found yourself growing less anxious about your reactions. spencer's quiet support gave you the strength to face your fears head-on.

one evening, after a particularly stressful case, the team decided to unwind at a local bar. laughter and conversation filled the air, but you couldn't shake the lingering tension from the day. as you sat nursing your drink, you watched the interactions around you. hotch and rossi were deep in conversation, garcia and jj were dancing to the jukebox, and morgan was charming a group of women nearby.

spencer slid into the seat next to you, a gentle smile on his face. "you okay?" he asked softly.

you nodded, though you knew he could see the truth in your eyes. "just a lot on my mind."

he studied you for a moment before speaking. "want to take a walk?"

grateful for the escape, you agreed. the two of you slipped out of the bar and into the cool night air. the streets were quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic.

eventually, you found yourselves at a small park. you sat on a bench, the silence between you comfortable and reassuring. spencer looked at you, his expression earnest.

"you know," he began, "i've been doing a lot of thinking about what you told me. about your past and what you’ve experienced. and i just want you to know that it's okay to feel the way you do. there's no shame in it."

you looked down at your hands, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief. "it's just... i thought i had it all under control, you know? but then things happen, and it all comes flooding back. i feel weak."

spencer's hand found yours, his touch gentle and reassuring. "you're not weak. you're incredibly strong. you've been through so much, and you're still here.”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, not wanting to cry. "you always know the right thing to say."

he smiled, a soft, genuine expression that made your heart ache. "i'm just glad i can be here for you. you mean a lot to me, you know."

your breath hitched slightly at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "you mean a lot to me too. more than you know."

spencer's eyes softened, and he reached out to take your hand. "i'm here for you. always."

spencer’s eyes flickered over your features, the harsh street lights casting a soft glow over you, taking in how beautiful he found you.

you took a deep breath. "there's something else i need to tell you. something i've been feeling for a while now."

he looked at you, his features softened, the warm light catching pieces of his dark hair causing them to almost look golden. "what is it?"

"i... i think i'm falling for you.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "you've been so caring and kind to me...more than anyone in my life."

a look of pure, unfiltered joy spread across spencer's face, and he squeezed your hand. "from the moment you joined the team, there's been something about you that drew me in. and the more i got to know you- the more i fell for you..”

relief and happiness flooded through you, and you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss. it was a moment of pure connection, a promise of support and love.

as you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips. "thank you. for everything."

he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes shining with affection. "no, thank you. for trusting me, for letting me in. i wouldn't have it any other way."

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid @khxna @cynbx

[pinkthrone445]

-"You are my miracle"-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Soft, fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:The kids decide to put together a fake wedding for you and your girlfriend Melissa on Valentine's Day.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone, sorry for not writing something longer, but I thought the day deserved something sweet and cute.

Six months, six months it took Mel to get to know you completely and open up to you. It took her a year to finally accept that you were girlfriends. Six more months to move in together. And it took her just a minute at the right time to realize that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with you.

Melissa Schemmenti was a determined woman, she had tried a lot of things and she knew what she wanted and what she liked and what she didn't. Marriage was something she had tried before and she was pretty sure she didn't want to go through it again. That's why a couple of years ago she had broken up with Gary, she knew what she wanted to and he wasn't going to convince her of changing her mind.

A year after that, you arrived at school, a new transfer teacher, a new energy in the place, and a new love in the redhead's life. You came like a typhoon, dragging everything in your path, including her heart.

The redhead didn't expect to fall in love, she didn't want to, but it happened, it happened so fast that she didn't even notice it until you were already oficial girlfriends.

Mel felt something with you that she hadn't felt in a long time, comfort. Love is not about who turns your life upside down, love makes you feel comfortable, happy and at peace, and that's exactly how she felt with you. You never demanded more than she gave you, you respected the limits she had, you were sure and determined about what you wanted, you didn't let yourself be managed by others, you were perfect for her.

There were a lot of things that you and Mel had talked about from the beginning, not to marriage, but yes to children and moving in together, no to mommy king yes to costumes and role play, and a lot of stuff more. You wanted to get married but she didn't, so you adapted. She moved in with you even though she loved her home, compromising her part. Love was to give the best of both parts and that's what you did, neither of you gave 50-50, yours was to give one hundred percent each other.

This was the third Valentine's Day you spent together, you usually didn't do many things for that special day, you went home and did a movie marathon with your favorite snacks, but this day, something at school changed everything.

Mel taught a grade of third-graders, you taught second-graders, when kids are that young, their curiosity is through the roof, each thing they learned generated more questions and more curiosity, they wanted to know and experience everything that was possible as quickly as possible. They had recently found out what Valentine's Day meant, they had also found out that you and Mel were a couple, which made their imagination work and somehow convinced you and Mel to do a fake Valentine's Day wedding in the school gym.

The children planned everything and handed out invitations. Along with the art teachers, they had prepared dresses for you and decorated the gymnasium, with Gregory they grew flowers for the bouquet and with Barbara they chose songs to dance the waltz, they even chose bridesmaids and groomsmen.

You never thought you'd be nervous about a fake wedding, but this touched on something you'd kept deep inside. Seeing yourself in the mirror with that fake dress made of toilet paper and colored cutouts, made you think about what a real wedding with Mel would be like, you knew it was never going to happen and you would never insist on it, but it was nice to dream. Life with Melissa was perfect and you wouldn't risk it by insisting on something like that. Having her in your life was enough and nothing would get better than that, not even a piece of paper saying you were married. Right?

You sighed looking in the mirror while one of the teachers combed your hair

-"Everything fine?" - She asked and you nodded looking at the votes youe kids helped you write

-"Yes..."-You smiled and let her continue to comb your hair.

One of the little kids dressed very elegantly came to pick you up a few minutes later informing you that everything was ready at the gym. You carefully grabbed your bouquet and smiled at the sight of Gregory waiting for you outside in a smart suit made of cardstock.

When you got to the Gym Gates you sighed trying to ease your nerves, if this was just joking, why did you feel so nervous? None of this was real, once they finished all this theater, Melissa would still be your girlfriend and everything would be normal as before.

Gregory smiled and started walking down the aisle when the doors opened, the whole school was there, the children sitting neatly next to their teachers, the walls decorated in white, soft music in the background and at the end of the road, Melissa in a dress also made of paper, which made you laugh. Arriving at her side, Gregory handed her your hand and then took her corresponding place next to you, while next to Mel was Barbara. Mel stroked your hands gently and looked at your dress smiling as the officiant, Mr. Johnson, introduced the ceremony

-"You look beautiful... Is that designer's?" - she joked and you nodded laughing

-"Yes, The most experienced in the business, he has almost all his life of experience to show" - You joked laughing and Mel kissed your hand leaving a kiss marked with her red lipstick. Mel's hands were also sweating a little, was she nervous too?

After a while, they gave you time to read the vows you with the kids had prepared, after clearing your throat, you started reading the notes

-"Melissa... You make me happy like when I eat my favorite candy, you are beautiful like the cutest dog on the planet, I like how you smell like flowers, seeing you makes me as happy as when I found out that it was a snow day and I don't have to come to school and I can continue sleeping. Listening to you talk makes me want to dance with happiness like when I listen to baby shark...I wish I could spend my life with you almost as much as I wish I had the last dancing barbie doll. I will take care of you and I will always be ready to kiss your boboos when you fall playing in the park, I love you so much that I will lend you my favorite toys and give you part of my lunch. I promise to be well-behaved and not to fart in front of you and also chew with my mouth closed and brush my teeth before giving you a kiss on the cheek, I promise to do all that because I love you so much like I love my mom."-You finished reading the vows that the children gave you laughing, but when you looked up Melissa looked at you seriously which made you scared. Maybe this was too much, maybe Mel had regretted making this joke for the kids, maybe she was angry or uncomfortable. Before you could continue to overthink, the redhead put away the vows she had made with her students and sighed taking your hands and kneeling in front of you taking out the small paper ring she had in her pocket, you looked at her confused

-"(Y/N)... Will you be my wife" - Mel asked and you laughed watching her

-"Babe, that's why we are here at the altar... We are getting married..."-You whispered trying to goad her up but she didn't

-"I'm being serious... Would you marry me for real?" -she insisted again and you frowned

-"I don't understand" - You whispered and she smiled looking into your eyes

-"I said one time that would take a miracle to marry again... And you are my miracle... Seeing you like this makes me understand how lucky I am. You're the most gorgeous woman I know, you came into my life to improve it in every way, I know that I am not an easy person to get along with and you adapted to every part of my being, as if we were a complement to each other. The patience you have for me and the happiness you bring me is incomparable, I want to feel that every day for the rest of my days. I don't want to lose you just because I was afraid of getting hurt again or because I was a coward that didn't wanted to take the step and really commit to this relationship. I want you to be by my side like my wife for the rest of my days... What do you say? Would you marry me?"-she whispered smiling, the whole gym had fallen silent waiting for your answer, so quiet that you could hear your heavy breathing and your heartbeat. Mel was shocked when you knelt down in front of her to kiss her while you cried

-"I do! I wanna marry you" - You whispered over her lips making her smile and she carefully placed the paper ring on you

-"I'll get a better ring, I promise" - She whispered and you laughed kissing her again

-"This is perfect..."-You muttered, unable to help but grin from ear to ear

-"I think our vows were better than what she said..." - One of the kids commented out loud, making you laugh as the whole school applauded happy for you two .

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: Random Messages You May Need 🌈🎆⛅

Sup, y'all. I'm finally back for another pick a card reading. I really apologize if folks have not heard from me over the past month, I meant to get this reading (among other things) out a while ago. I have not been able to touch tarot for the past few weeks. Life has been… topsy turvy, to say the least. Heh heh. [sweating profusely]

I meant to have another game out and to have paid readings available by now--that is still part of the plan. What was meant for June will be in July. So this blog might go from 0 to 100 mph real soon, to move along with plans as intended!

I was loosely inspired by the Baker pride flag from 1978 for this group selection. These piles are pretty nondescript: each one contains a random message that may resonate with you. Pick based on whichever color of the Prism Oracle speaks to you most, and feel free to choose more than one. Take only what resonates.

Pile 1 - Strength (Red) Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange) Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow) Pile 4 - Movement (Green) Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise) Pile 6 - Trust (Blue) Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet) Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

Pile 1 - Strength (Red)

10 of Swords, Insight

You've been asked by the universe to put up with a lot, especially recently. You're reaching a finish line of a very long and brutal marathon. There have been too many times where you questioned whether or not to throw in the towel. If you have, you may also have questioned whether or not it was the correct choice. Sometimes, things don't work out, and it's better to move on. It can be difficult to hold everything up when one thing after another seems to fall apart at the seams, but either way you're being reminded of the light at the end of this long and turbulent tunnel.

Collect yourself, pick up what pieces you can. Time has shifted everything, but the essentials still stand. Gather the wisdom you have learned from this ordeal. There is still beauty to be found in the decay, glittering gems in the rough.

Maybe you don't want to get stronger. Healing may feel like a better option than grinding for difficult experience points. Give yourself the rest and repair you need. Let go of only that which is keeping you from starting again, but you don't need to throw the baby out with the bathwater. You've gained so much wisdom and strength, this trial wasn't without gain. Treasure it and begin anew.

Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange)

2 of Swords, Clarity

Whatever answers you seek are coming to you. Or perhaps they've already arrived; open your eyes and see for yourself. You may be wondering which path will satisfy you more. The process of reconciling this could take forever unless you lean on your gut here. This can't be decided based on intellect alone, for you could get stuck mulling it over for days. Imagining all the different possible outcomes could be taxing for your brain, so narrow it down. Eliminate the weakest links and home in on what excites you. It should feel like an "aha, yes!"

If you cannot see the answer right away, go within to the realm of imagination. Feel your way through. Visualize not just with sight but with yearning. Does the light of the sun make you feel hopeful? Does the cool rain make you feel relaxed? Would an art class expand your capacity to imagine many things, or would taking a science class?

The X mark in 2 of Swords is like a railroad crossing sign. Redirect that train of thought into brighter and more positive avenues of expression. Say "what if" as if you can't wait for something to happen. "What if I saw a shooting star tonight? What if my cute neighbor asked me out?" Let the future shine its beacon for you. It will all make sense in due time.

Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow)

Ace of Cups, Reconciliation

Have you been staying up way too late trying to figure everything out? Please give yourself a brain curfew: no problem solving or saving the day after 10 pm! I'm getting that you may tend to ruminate on the same strong emotions. For some I'm getting that there is a crush here. There's inconsistent text messaging. I know it's easy to get too nervous about their reply, but try to wait until at least the next day to hear back. They may need time to formulate their words right. They may not even see your message straight away. Take it all in stride and sleep on it; if they want to reach out to you, then they eventually will.

For others in this pile, you may be going through a rough patch with another person right now and could be wondering how things will pan out. Give them time to respond, they could still be processing it. Stay on the more positive end of things with the idea that things will work themselves out. I feel like if you can manage this in a relaxed and non hurried way, the knot will untangle easily. The coffee in the Ace of Cups is very hot, so give it a chance to cool.

There is opportunity in your near future to make up for something that went awry due to a miscommunication error. You may get a chance to make up for a test, appointment, or an interview. You will receive grace for any mishaps. Remember that tomorrow won't necessarily be the same as today, so cherish both the good you have now along with the good that soon awaits you.

Pile 4 - Movement (Green)

IX Hermit, Devotion

Looks like things are progressing faster than you even thought they would. You may be blinking your eyes in partial disbelief: could this ball really be rolling? Indeed, thanks to your efforts, goals are being met and results are more evident by the day. You eschewed a lot of distractions to make this work, so give yourself a pat on the back for the level of commitment you put into it. Some of you in this pile may have just graduated, if so then congratulations! But try not to get too comfortable with your laurels, for you have a long road ahead of you in whatever you do next. This one completion is the start of many.

Does that thrill you? If so, wonderful! On the other hand, some of you may be feeling uncertain about continuing. You may be reviewing your options to see if this really is worth pursuing. Something that requires a lot of dedication and focus on it to the exclusion of all else… yeah, I can see how that can get tiring after a long time. There are folks who can get their Master's right after their Bachelor's, or have another child right after the first, but people can also happily move on to what feels more right for them instead.

It's okay to stop and assess your tracks if necessary. Taking time off is not the same as quitting. It's not losing motivation, it's recovering it. This is your passion and your discipline, not anyone else's. If you need to give other parts of your life more room to breathe, then do so with the confidence that your great work will wait for you.

Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise)

4 of Wands, Hospitality

Have you been stuck with something for a while? There's a strong sense of a blockage that is being eroded away over time. This process can be sped up by allowing the ice to thaw a little more. "Break the ice." You may be wanting to open up and spend more quality time with other people but don't know how. Or you could be faced with meeting new people and being nervous about interacting with them. Even more so if they're roommates. A few people in this pile could be moving or have just moved. This is a chance to ease up and get to know new people.

This blockage could be a result of the past and of anxiety. The sound of a turning doorknob just jumpscared me as I typed the last sentence. You may benefit from learning about social anxiety and how to manage it. It's not an overnight job for you to fix this, though, but to just be aware of it and not allow it to get in the way of positive change in your life.

If you're struggling to figure out how to deal with meeting new people, I would suggest looking up videos or how-tos on social interaction, especially if a certain etiquette is required for an event. Learn about conversation starters and fun things you could do together like hosting a game night. Practice makes perfect, and over time the blockage will melt into the stream.

Pile 6 - Trust (Blue)

3 of Swords, Conversion

You have a very soft and tender outlook on life, which makes it all the more painful when reality doesn't conform to such a compassionate vision. It doesn't always try to respond to vulnerability in appropriate ways. Much of the time, this isn't from natural events as much as it stems from the ways in which people can treat one another cruelly. You've had some toxic people in your life who have put you through the wringer and attempted to squeeze every ounce of kindness they could from you. Making light of this pain to them only resulted in further deflection and antagonism on their part. The only outcome was to salvage whatever you could and pray for the best.

It is not your job to change their closed minded perspectives. They're on their own, here. Do not concern yourself with their messy inner world and lose any more of your energy. Also, do not attempt to regain what energy has been lost through bargaining either, as much as it hurts to press onward without looking back. You will recover, but you have to move on first and prioritize what you deeply care about most (you included).

There will come a time when your heart will be healed so you can see the brighter side of human connection again. All the beauty that your gentle soul is seeking is still there, shrouded by layers of protective petals that will one day bloom again and your life will truly flourish. For now, this is a time to give yourself all the comfort you can.

Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet)

XII Hanged Man, Spring

I get the feeling that you've been waiting quite a while for some good results to come in. This could either be from something that you started back in the spring, or are waiting to see results which may come around springtime. It is a season of flowers, so you may be waiting for this thing to blossom--that is, to be fully presentable to the public in some way. To have something to show for the time you put in. Like "hey, this is what I've been working on, this came from the seeds I planted." It could be growing in a direction unlike what you're used to, leaving you wondering how it could succeed in such unusual and burdensome conditions.

Lean on your inner guidance when it comes to the right timing. I don't believe that you're currently in a space where you need to push so hard for the best results. You can let things move at their own pace. Over tending to anything can end up in just as much trouble as neglect. There's only so much you can do before you have to let the flower do the growing and blooming for itself.

It's not always easy to sit in the place of uncertainty with the idea that doing more will provide more. But sometimes less is more. What you're creating is coming to fruition and may even turn out better than you expected. Trust in both the knowledge you've earned over time from learning lessons, as well as your natural intuition, to help you decide when it's time to take action.

Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

7 of Swords, Gossip

Let your heart lead the way here, not your worries over what others will think. Sure, you may end up with some people talking about you, but opportunities will keep passing by if you wait for everyone else to catch up to you. Leaning too much on everyone else's perspectives will only distort the vision you have for your own life journey. We all have unique journeys to go on, but unconditional kindness remains at the center of the Love card, the one thing that brings us together. Following life from a heart centered place may result in having others glance over and whisper, but that shouldn't distract you.

There is a rather delicate message here about dealing with friendships, colleagues, or possibly even family. You may have a tricky situation between several other people right now who have beef not with you but with each other. They may be coming to you to air their grievances and ask for advice.

If you care about both of these people, then it's best to approach this issue as diplomatically and impartially as possible and avoid feeding into the conflict. What would an enlightened mindset do in this situation? How would you want the other person to behave if they were in your shoes? Come from a place of pure compassion. They may choose to make amends or not, it's up to them. If their butting heads is bringing you down, it's always okay to step back and take a break. You are not responsible for what's going on in their heart, only your own, so protect yours well.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[frostedsketches]

( Before you continue, please do not comment or repost with any inappropriate context. It's sad that I have to bring this up, but after having a problem with this on DA and something in a similar taste here on Tumblr just recently, I feel that it is necessary. I am a minor, and in my opinion, pregnant bellies are wholesome and not something to be sexualized, so I will not tolerate any person trying to warp any aspect of this piece into anything pertaining to fetishes or NSFW in any way. We all know how babies are made, we don't need you to yell the specifics with blatancy. Anyone who does will immediately have their comment deleted/reblog hidden, and will be blocked.

Thank you for your time <3 )

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie had to have had the hardest time expecting their young ones out of the Mane Six: Pinkie because she's a short pudgy little muffin carrying twins with the tallest stallion in Ponyville and Fluttershy because, well. . . giant hybrid draconequus baby with chaotic powers carried by a lanky and petite mare such as herself. You can imagine the weight off-set they had to struggle with, especially in the last few months.

Pinkie has almost always wanted to be a mom. She's a people person, adores little kids, and all those years of throwing them and their families parties as well as Cuteceañera's, weddings, baby showers, and every kind of celebration in between let her see first-hoof the treasured memories made, and relationships brought closer together by the entertainment she brought forth. You can see how this might make someone like her long for the same, to feel what a wife and a mother feels and have a family of her own.

This desire was fortunately shared by Cheese who had witnessed much of what she had in his career and often wondered something similar, and though they didn't plan to have kids quite as early as five months after their wedding, they joyously welcomed the surprise. Pinkie often finds herself staring at her unborn twins and realizing over and over that her dreams are really coming true.

Pinkie normally isn't the tidiest pony ever, though she isn't the type to sit around without something to keep her busy — but like most mares with one, or in her case two, little buns in the oven, she started nesting, and when that happened, there was no stopping her.

Other than this her life went on normally, even seven months in she was still throwing parties, making ponies laugh and smile, and baking ( with close supervision from Cheese, more on that later ). In the last few months however, she did find herself slowing down and allowed herself to become more reserved, resting up for the big day and the strenious days following.

Doctors orders were to stay away from sugar after she let it slip how much she consumed on a day to day basis — though considering the twins are from Pinkie's peculiar genes, I doubt it would have mattered either way — and Cheese had a heck of a time making sure she did as told. It's not easy giving up junk food entirely when you're used to eating like that for so long. She still baked as mentioned before, under Cheese's supervision, and Cheese spent most of his time making sure his wifey didn't consume anything she was baking.

Soon though, the thought of using honey instead of sugar popped up, and she was able to eat special honey sweetened treats if she ever just couldn't ward off the cravings.

Fluttershy's foal being half draconequus and chalk full of chaotic powers no less, often gave her symptoms and side affects that one wouldn't consider normal. On top of the usual pregnancy symptoms, she also had to deal with magical stuff like sneezing bubbles, throwing up confetti, changing the colors of her coat/mane/eyes etc etc, one time she had the ability to turn everything she touched into cheese, including living organisms — THAT was a fun eight hours. All this, plus back pain and limited wing usage from her kiddo's size, overall did not give Fluttershy the best experience.

Despite everything above, Discord did his best to help her ease these strange symptoms, wether it was simple comfort methods or magical help to lessen her magical effects. One example of that, when Fluttershy's hurting back got too much for her, since she couldn't lay on her stomach to ease the pain, he would make himself into a makeshift maternity pillow. This way she has a perfect sized donut hole for her belly to rest in while the rest of her is laying comfortably on top of her hubby's velvety soft noodle side whenever she needs it, and Discord gets a warm, beautiful, feathery pegasus blanket to keep him warm, so he didn't mind in the slightest.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed ^^ and I mean what I warned up there!

Toodles~

[animereaderinsertwriter]

supermassive black hole

Gojo is dangerous like a supernova. You're dangerous like a black hole. It isn't love at first sight, but it's something close.

tw violence and sex and porn with plot

Excerpt:

It's so funny that I laugh until tears are squeezing out of the corner of my eyes.

She looks up at me from her kill with dark-bright eyes. With her hands still covered in viscera, she reaches up to touch the sides of my face. I'm still hard for her, and grow harder as she touches me again, melting my infinity. I am powerless against her. My greatest weapon, my ultimate defense, is shattered under her soft, pliant hands.

It gets me off.

A/N I forgot if i posted this already or not so here you go. there will also be a part two which i will link here when it is up.

ao3 link

A hush falls over the room as she enters. 

As well it might. This scene— a young woman entering the privy council— has not been seen for nigh on a century. Out of curiosity, I myself don't dare to speak or even breathe as she enters. I'd hate to miss the disappointed faces of those old farts as she crashes their party. Every moment of victory must be savored, after all— and I do love the taste of victory, even one so small as this one. 

Silk fabric whisks as she moves. Her formal robes are a discreet and tasteful mourning black, but at the hollow of her throat is nestled a red diamond— not a garnet or ruby, but a diamond in its rarest coloring. No doubt she wears it for us as a symbol of her indomitable will and impeccable breeding: a diamond for strength and elegance, red for rarity and for blood. It is a statement piece meant to remind us of who and what she is.

As if we could forget it. 

“Yo,” I greet her finally, smiling toothily. 

I know I look pale and wolfish under the fluorescent lights. It's part of my charm. The other four men in the room just look pale, and are without charm entirely— a tragedy. I would prefer it if everyone were as charming as me, or at least as pretty. It might not make me like them more, but it might make the whole experience of these meetings more bearable. 

The esteemed and lovely newcomer doesn't acknowledge me, but her eyes slide from my sunglasses to my chest and back up. I resist the urge to tell her where my eyes are. Notably, no one else greets her, and she is certainly not welcomed by anyone, not even as a pretense to propriety. 

They know she is here to enact change, and they do not like it. 

I revel in it. 

As the meeting commences, I catalog her features. It has been many years since I last saw her outside of an Instagram post— something that I begin to regret as I trace lightly with my eyes the sweet curve of her cheek, the whispering kiss of her gently curving lashes. It occurs to me as I watch her lips twist into a frown that she is prettier than she was in high school.   

That is to say, very pretty. 

I have always liked pretty things, and so much the better if they are sad or somehow tragic, too. And in her, there is an ineffable air of sadness that sets my teeth to itching.  

It is uncommon for a woman to sit the privy council of elders. It is less common still that a woman under fifty should do so. It is only through great personal tragedy that a woman of her age and status sits the council. Her grandfather, the most recent seat, is lately deceased, her father conspicuously absent; her brother, rest his eternal soul, was a bloodline contender to inherit the seat, but alas, rather talentless, and therefore newly perished, leaving the seat to the nearest surviving relative. Sad, indeed— but it is not grief that weighs on her shoulders like a sandbag. I can feel it, smell it, taste it, her loneliness, like bitter wine. 

It pairs well with mine.

“Focus, now,” says the nearest old man, white tufts of hair sticking out of his ears. “We must pick the catering company for our annual fundraiser. I haven't got all day, and we're off to a late start.”

And so the doddering begins. 

It is inane, whatever they’re all saying. Fortunately, I am not without entertainment. I put my feet on the table and watch how those wizened brows furrow. It is fun to annoy them back whenever they annoy me. Seeing the soles of my shoes dirty their table makes them ornery on the best of days. Today, their glares are fairly murderous. The newcomer, though, does not react at all. Her silk-gloved hands rest laced together in her lap, and she pointedly does not react to anything or anyone at all. 

As I watch her, it becomes clear that, sad and tragic or not, she is beginning to lose her patience. With what, I couldn't say— I never listen at these things anyway— but it's a safe guess that the doddering old fools are going on about something foolish or ineffectual. Her jaw clenches, then relaxes. The diamond at her throat shifts. For a moment, I believe that she will conquer her frustration, let it pass over and through her, until only the dignified daughter of sorcery titans remains. 

She speaks, and that moment passes. 

“Pardon me, reverend elders,” she says congenially, “I’m sure there is some fault in my understanding, but it seems to me that there are more important matters to discuss than what wine pairings we might consider for the council’s anniversary dinner. Might we table the cocktail conversation until a bit later?”

The two councilmen who had previously been yapping turn to look at her with outrage in their eyes. Her face remains open, as placid as a koi pond, and I grin. 

Oh, but I do adore novelty!

“You are new to this council,”one of them replies, disgruntlement coloring his voice. “These decisions, while small, must be made.”

She's not having it. 

“Any fool can select appropriate drinks.” She leans forward, eyes glinting sharp like steel. “What do you mean to do about the increased curse activity?”

The rest of the council hisses in unison. Whispers of insolent girl! and tactless upstart! cut like knives through the air. She remains unaffected. She's a woman after my own heart, and so I do the best I can to throw her a bone. 

“What do you propose we discuss, then?”

She looks at me— through me and into me— and inclines her head in respect. 

“I want to present a motion to the council.”

The other members stare uneasily at her. Their withered faces crease in concern and distaste, but they are bound by oath and by beloved tradition to hear her out. I gesture for her to take the floor, and she stands. Again, we are blessed with the image of her fine figure as she paces, panther-like, to the front of the room. She pauses there, thinking. 

“We have been fools too long,” she says quietly. It is almost a strain to hear her. “Sorcerers have always been a reactionary force against curses. It's an inevitability, the nature of the beast— but we have stayed more on the back foot now than we have in centuries. More of us die. Less of us stay to complete our education.”

She moves again, allowing her words to settle uneasily over her audience. When she stops, I realize that she intentionally moved to stand next to the marble bust of an old, legendary sorcerer— her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather. She looks strikingly like him, and I realize that her movement was more intentional than I initially thought. 

“We lack understanding. We forget what our forefathers knew.” 

She looks at her ancestor, then back to her audience. To me . I might as well not even have my sunglasses on for all I fail to hide from her. I feel sure that she can see my very soul.

“We do not succeed against curses because we are stronger, better, or more capable. We are weak, pitiful in comparison.” Well, maybe they are weak and pitiful. That's something I've never been— but I don't take the slight personally. “We have succeeded thus far only because we outsmart them. The jujutsu sorcerer’s academy has forgotten its purpose. It has abandoned its study in favor of militant strength. The clans, likewise, have followed suit. The academy— this council — has forsaken academia, spurned knowledge, and teeters on the edge of destroying us all.”

The elders sit and merely blink, nonplussed. 

“And what are you suggesting we do, exactly?” 

Her eyes harden. Leonine and lovely, she tilts her chin up in defiance before speaking again. 

“I have assembled a team of excellent researchers— all brilliant, all with a pleasant pedigree. With the correct resources, I believe that I can turn them into a front-line reconnaissance task force whose purpose is to capture and study curses.” She pauses a moment, her brow creasing slightly. Then, she adds, “I believe that we can use them to suit our ends— more so than we already have. If a wolf can be tamed, so can curses. Perhaps one day there will be curses as loyal to us as dogs.”

It's brilliant, what she's suggesting— or, it would be if curses weren't manifestations of pure, actual evil . After all, why put human lives on the line when often one curse could do for another with relative ease? Once, it may have seemed that wolves were evil to men, and now their sons and daughters depend on rescue dogs, police canines, ans service dogs. And it isn't so terribly inconceivable that it could be done, taming curses— we just haven't tried yet. The benefit might just be worth the risk. After all, I knew someone once that made masterful use of the curses at his disposal. 

The wound from him is still raw and bleeding. I try not to imagine his smile, but it's like trying not to think of elephants. 

Ah, well— it's really a different thing from what she is suggesting and I know it. No one is capable of Suguru’s mastery of curses. At best, we would be trapping them, tracking them, and perhaps extracting information where we could. But who knows what such study could lead to? Human ingenuity has ensured the survival of the species for a very long time. Who's to say we couldn't develop new technology to aid us? 

The elders all exchange glances. Then one nods and says,

“Of course, you're right. Assemble your task force, girl-child. We will provide whatever resources you require.”

“ Whatever resources ?” Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You don't know what I'm asking for yet.”

“Of course, you will need to draw up an expenditure report for council approval, but you seem a level-headed girl. We trust that you will not ask more than we can give.”

It is a clear dismissal, but she does not sit down. She's no fool. It's clear that she knows what I know:

They're agreeing with her to shut her up. 

More than that, I don't think they intend for her to live long enough to pester them about it. 

Stubborn, she stands there for the rest of the meeting, arms folded. She's still, statuesque, but the pissed-off press of her lips against each other belie her serenity. I am possessed of a childish urge to pass notes to her like a schoolboy. Fuck them, I would write. You're onto something. We could change the world.

Instead I sigh loudly and crack a smile when I get not one but two glares out of it. 

When it's all over, I catch up to her in the hall. Her posture is rigid and regal, a prideful measure against her painful dismissal. I touch her shoulder just to see if it feels real, or if it's made of the same steel as her backbone. 

I'm almost surprised to find that she is supple and soft under my hand. 

“Yo,” I greet her once more. “What a drag of a meeting, right?”

This is the wrong thing to say. I know it as soon as she stops short, eyes blazing.

“Gojo-san.” Her voice is polite and soft, but as cold as fresh snow. “How is your foot? I noticed you were elevating it earlier. I hope you aren't injured?”

“Oh, terribly injured,” I grin. “I'm positively lamed. Could I lean on your shoulder for support?”

Her eyes close. When they reopen, they make me wish I'd been less of a clown. They are tired, drawn, and I let my grin drop like the farce it is. 

“Hey, don't look so glum. They wouldn't hate you so much if you weren't right.”

She thinks on that for a moment, then adds cooly,

“And a woman.”

I grin. 

“And a young, pretty one at that.”

She hums noncommittally. 

“How long do you think they'll let me live?”

I'm not prepared for the question. She looks at me deadly serious, and I know she wasn't fooled for a moment by those moth-eaten codgers. She knows their game as well as I do, and I feel a sudden strange kinship with her— as if I am seen for once by someone who knows. It is at once relieving and terribly, awfully sad, because I know the answer to her question.

“If they have their way, you'll be dead within the week,” I say, “but that's generous. They'll try for tonight.”

Really, from their point of view, the sooner they're rid of her the better. It will give her less opportunity to talk about her plan to others and notify her task force, and it would give them an excellent opportunity to simply close the seat and refuse to let anyone else in. 

She nods thoughtfully. The diamond at her neck glistens, and I try not to stare. 

“And if I survive tonight? The week? Will they try again?”

I shrug. 

“Who's to say? Depends on how much you annoy them versus how powerful they think you are.”

I bend low enough for her to see behind my sunglasses and I give her a wink. 

“That's where being the strongest comes in handy. I do so love to annoy them.”

She hums and appraises me. 

“Do you know what my clan is known for, Gojo-san? What genes my father was hoping would be passed down to his children?”

I vaguely remember my own father saying something about her clan— something derogatory, like that they sucked the life out of things— but I politely do not bring that up and shake my head. 

“Can I touch you, Gojo-san?”

Confused, I nod. She pulls the black glove from her right hand with her teeth gleaming white against the silky fabric. On instinct, I keep my infinity on as she reaches for my hand, looking for signs of treachery— but I find that my precaution doesn't matter. 

It doesn't matter because she touches me anyway. 

I jerk my hand away from her, feeling unnaturally wounded. Her touch— so cold and feather-light— had eaten away at the cursed energy of my infinity. If she had really wanted to, she could have harmed me then. It shakes me to my core. And yet, as I watch her put her glove back on, she does not look victorious or pleased at all with herself. 

She looks sad. 

 “I inherited this— this hunger .”

I remember now what my father had said all those years ago. That her clan sucked the life out of people and curses alike. 

I can only hope he meant that first bit metaphorically. 

“I… should not have done that.” She avoids my gaze. “It was supposed to be a secret that this ability has resurfaced in my bloodline, a fail safe just in case—”

She looks at me uncomfortably then, and I understand all too well. She is my antithesis. If anything were to happen to me, if I were somehow compromised…

Well. Someone would have to neutralize me. I just never imagined that someone existed who could . 

“But I don't like secrets,” she continued. “I think instead of fighting each other, we should help each other. Consider that a gesture of good will. I want to live long enough to see my task force through.”

“Does it make you stronger?”

The question seems to catch her off guard. 

“Your technique. Does it make you stronger when you siphon someone else's energy?”

“Yes,” she admits. “When I absorb cursed energy, it supplements my own.”

It all starts to make sense. If sorcerers focus their energy into capturing curses and keeping them alive for study, then their cursed energy would provide a steady flow of power directly to her. I don't know if she could store that power up for later use, but regardless, easy access to ethically-sourced cursed energy to consume is something from which she stands to benefit from. 

Perhaps altruism is dead then. Still— I must know if it ever meant anything, all that talk about knowledge and academia and change, or if that was as shallow as it seems to me now. 

So I ask. 

Her answer surprises me. 

“I meant every word.” Her voice is soft. When she looks at me, her eyes are softer. “I think I can use my abilities to subdue curses more easily, to frighten and manipulate them. I'd at least like to give it a shot.”

She seems… genuine. I lean down, studying her, and the curious absence of fear in her eyes suddenly makes sense. She has no reason to fear me. Well, perhaps she has some reason— I'm a large man, and that goes more than a little ways in a physical tussel— but as far as cursed energy goes, anything I throw at her is fuel for her own abilities. 

She intrigues me. 

“Spend the evening with me.”

That gets a reaction. She flinches bodily backward, almost as if I'd asked to take a bite out of her. 

“Why?”

I shrug.

“Why not?”

It will sound egotistical if I tell her it's because I'd like to protect her, to deter any assassins at least until tomorrow. It will sound even worse if I tell her that she makes me curious. So I don't tell her any of that. Instead, I let her look at me and hold her gaze until she makes her decision. 

“Do you mind if I drop by my apartment and change?” she asks. “I don't want to wear my formals all evening.”

“Of course.”

We go together to her place. We exit the venue into the lowering light of five o’clock, and when she leads me through the train stop turnstile, I expect to take the train out to a country estate. We don’t. Instead, we take the train into the city proper. Two blocks from the train station— two blocks that I struggle to slow my strides enough to match hers— we come upon a coffee shop. It is surrounded by trees planted in the allies on either side that shade the building, and in passing I catch a glimpse of a green and brown painted birdhouse that seems to have a group of chipper and chirping tenants on one of the trees. (Y/N) smiles softly at them, then opens the door to the coffee shop for me. 

“You can wait here, if you'd like,” she tells me, nodding to the empty but comfortable-looking seating, “or you can come with me up to my flat, whichever you prefer. I'll only be a few minutes.”

I shrug. 

“I don't want to impose, but I'd love to see your home.”

She smiles, then leads me wordlessly towards the back of the shop. Along the way, she touches the shoulders of waiters and waitresses who smile and greet her warmly. The barista behind the counter wolf whistles at her, and she laughs and makes a rude gesture with her fingers. Abruptly, I realize what this looks like— what we look like— and I can't help but grin. 

She leads me up a set of stairs at the back of the coffee shop. Her key turns in the lock, and then I find myself stepping into a small but homey living room. 

“Sorry it's messy,” she says, “but I promise we won't be here long.”

She disappears around the corner, leaving me alone to observe her living room in silence. 

I don't think her home is messy. I've seen Yuji’s room. That is messy. This place is just… full. Full of books stacked haphazardly on end tables, plants sitting on window sills, and teacups left on the coffee table. There are even photos of people that I can only assume are her family and friends strewn about like so much decorative shrapnel across the room. It's nice in a way I can't explain. 

My own home is… not full. It's got designer everything and sparkling countertops and an unbelievably talented cleaning staff, but not… this. I find my place the lesser for it. 

When she reenters, my breath catches. She's wearing sneakers, shorts, and a T-shirt. It de-ages her by years. In this moment, she looks closer to Yuji's age than mine. Although I know logically that she's my equal or more in age, she seems small and fragile in comparison to who she had been mere moments ago. The her-that-is and the her-that-was are so different that I can hardly recognize her now. 

“Let's go,” she says, smiling up at me. “If we stay up here any longer, the shop owner will never let me live it down that I've brought a man home.”

Oh, but there is some aching in that smile. I surmise that she's been lonely in more ways than I have been. A pity. If I had known… 

I push that thought away. I didn't know, and I didn't make it my business to know. She's not the kind of girl I usually go for. For my more… human needs, I stay as far away from sorcerer society as possible, and with good reason. Still, it dampens my mood— spoiled brat that I am, I covet pretty things.

And she is so very pretty. 

Idly, I wonder what kind of lover she'd be as she leads me down the stairs. Each step brings a new image; one moment, she's kneeling in my mind's eye, sweet and so very submissive, like a pink-nosed bunny— the next, she's got her hands like talons in my hair, yanking it by the roots. By the time we reach the last wooden stair, I'm imagining her whispering sweet nothings as she strokes her strap, and I nearly trip when I realize she's stopped short in front of me.

“Did you hear me?” she asks, turning, and I'm so very grateful that my knee-jerk reaction to embarrassment is a shit-eating grin. If it wasn't, I feel certain my expression would give less sly arctic fox and more stunned snow hare. 

“No, sorry, I was distracted. What was it you were saying?”

“I was asking if you had a place in mind for us to go.”

As a matter of fact, I do have a place in mind. I nod but say nothing, offering her my arm. She takes it; I notice her warmth against me as we step out into the chill of the impending evening. Twilight settles over the street as we walk, and I'm suddenly very glad that she is pressed against me as I notice that my suspicions are confirmed. 

A man is following us. 

Back when I suggested that we spend the day together, I had suspected someone might tail us straight from the council meeting. On the train here, I'd thought we'd lost him. I was wrong. The man, clad in gray heather sweatpants and hoodie, trails lazily behind us just as he had earlier in the day. At this purple-gray hour of the day, he seems almost to blend into the sidewalk. It's not enough to fool me, though. 

I stop walking in front of a downtown club with a line out into the street. (Y/N) looks up at me, at once suspicious and perplexed, and I can't find it in myself to blame her for her skepticism. She doesn't seem like the clubbing type, and we are just a little bit too old to be at this club. Still, though, we pass as younger than we are, and this is familiar territory for me— one of my old haunts as a teenager with outrageous amounts of money and a fake ID. This is my turf, and I have a plan. 

I skip the line, show the bouncer my ID, and walk into the club. The man in gray stands in the queue, posture lazy, but I can tell I've frustrated him already. It won't work for long, though. He'll get through the line eventually. I just hope to buy us some time to talk before that. 

The inside of the club is dark. Red, blue, and purple lights spin across the dance floor, and black lights back light the bar. The smell of weed, liquor, and sweat fill my nose, and at once I feel completely at home, finally in a place that understands me. Here, I am not Gojo Satoru. Here, I'm just a man, same as anyone. 

When I look down, (Y/N) is also not herself. She is suddenly closed off and cold; beautiful, she is like an ice sculpture of a serene and sacred deity as her skin reflects the black light. It is not the desired effect. I want her comfortable, even pliant. 

I want her receptive. 

Reluctant though she is, she lets me lead her to the bar. There, I buy a shot and offer it to her. 

“Here, drink this.”

She eyes it skeptically, then meets my eyes with a dark look. 

“I don't drink.”

I grin and up the pressure.

“I don't buy that.”

“Okay. I don't drink alone with strange men in strange clubs.”

“I insist.”

She shakes her head. 

“I think this was a mistake.” She's all ice now, brittle, cold, defensive— but still so very lovely. “I'll be going now, Gojo-san.”

She turns on her heel. If it wasn't for my long arms, I'd never have caught her before she slipped away. Thankfully, I manage to catch her, and as my fingers close around her arm, I pull her back to me with a force I don't intend. She stumbles with the motion, and our noses brush. 

Maybe it’s proximity that prompts what I decide next— or maybe it's because it's always worked before, or because I have so very wanted to see how it would feel from the moment I touched her shoulder— but regardless of the reason, I kiss her. It is a simple kiss, but full power. Our lips press together, and I cup the back of her skull in my hand. I can all but hear her heart pounding as I pull away, body all a-tingle with the thrill of her. 

Her eyes are heavy, half-lidded. I think I have her. With our noses still only inches apart, I say,

“Take the shot.”

A wide range of emotion flickers over her features in a fraction of a second. Among these, I see sharp hurt, a laughing, incredulous face of shock, then searing outrage— and that's where she settles. She snatches the shot glass from my hand, slams it back, then slaps me so hard across the face that my ears ring. 

“How dare you,” she rages, slamming the glass down on the bar. “How— how dare you!”

Oh, she's furious with me. 

She's right to be. I was selfish. How long has it been since someone has kissed her with that kind of tenderness, I wonder— and how cruel was it that I had done so without thought or intention outside of getting my way? But even now with the taste of her chapstick in my mouth, I can't bring myself to regret it. She was too sweet. Like a wolf licking his chops from the first bite of game, I hunger for more. It's an animal feeling, terrible and true. I fight it as best I can. 

“Look, I'm sorry,” I tell her, holding up my hands. “I just wanted it to seem like we were having a good time.”

I lean in, lowering my voice. 

“We're being watched.”

Nothing in her body language changes. Her fists are planted on her hips and her face is furious enough to light a match without striking it. Oh, but her eyes— her eyes tell me she's caught onto me. 

“Why didn't you lead with that?” she asks, crossing her arms. “My skill has always been in finesse, Gojo-san.”

To prove her point, she turns her back on me, making our little squabble seem ongoing to an outside perspective. I have no doubt that she's scanning the upper floor, so I hug her from behind and press my face into her neck. 

“Second floor and to the right, leaning on the banister.”

She hums.

“Monochrome gray?”

“That's the one. I want to draw him out, see if he'll strike.”

She hums a noise of assent and tilts her head back to allow more room for me to breathe against her neck. 

To the rest of the world, our passing of information looks like a steamy make-up from a toxic, annoying PDA couple. Any passer-by would be fooled by it. It's impressive, really. My body, too, is fooled. There is a stirring inside me that asks in a still, small voice if I can't push my luck and ask for more of what I started— but I shove that greedy little voice down, because while I am a man of voracious appetites, I do have a modicum of decency. 

And besides, my face still hurts from that slap. 

As I hold her, I realize that I don't really mind the feeling of her siphoning my energy. I test it out a few times by initiating skin-to-skin contact purposefully, but on the whole, it just sort of feels like a cold tingling— like being touched briefly by a mellow, maybe drunken Jack Frost. 

“How does it work?” I ask, pressing my cheek against hers. 

“My technique?”

“Yes.”

She turns to look at me, bringing our noses closer together once more.

“I'm going to need more liquor if you want me to explain it in very much detail.”

So I buy her two more shots and then a bottle of soju, and she talks. Apparently, her technique doesn't rely on touch, which makes sense because she couldn't have touched me anyway with my infinity active. As long as the cursed energy she wants to siphon is within a certain range, all bets are off. 

“Of course, there are limits,” she says, touching my hand, “and certain… nuances. It works even better if I'm actually touching someone, for example— but that's the gist.”

I nod, thinking. I move my hand away from hers and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gray man watches us still, and I decide to up the ante. 

“Let's dance,” I say with a grin, and, sufficiently lubricated by my financial investment in her inebriation, she lets me pull her to the dance floor. 

I have always loved to dance, but dancing at this club in particular has always been on a whole other level of fun. The DJ— who’s got to be a hundred years old by now, and his gold chains probably weigh more than he does— always plays the strangest but totally sickest mixes of modern EDM and 80’s disco music in existence. As she and I hit the dance floor, a mix of dubstep and Let’s Groove Tonight starts playing, and my face splits into a grin. To my surprise, my dance partner looks equally as enthusiastic. Her smile is radiant, and her hips start moving in a way I really, really like. 

We dance for what feels like ages. We don't touch very much at first; we just sort of skirt around one another and allow the tension in the air around us to ease as our limbs loosen and move to the beat. Eventually, though, we warm to one another, and I find myself holding her hips from behind as she moves tantalizingly against me— not quite grinding, but not quite not grinding either. The temptation of it all makes me crazy. I should never have started us on this path of teasing, not-quite-intimacy, but then her hand snakes up to rest at the base of my neck, and I forget myself. Her touch is warm, but the feeling of her siphon is cold. I freeze, I burn, I ache— and she laughs as my hand sneaks a little ways up the front of her shirt. 

In response, she presses harder against my front, and I manage to bite back a groan. 

“I've been thinking,” I say, leaning down so that my lips brush her ear. She shivers, and instead of feeling victorious, I feel voracious. 

“About what?”

Her breath is coming quickly now. My hand moves further upwards, feeling the icy burn of her skin against mine. She's so soft. I love it. 

“Your abilities. Give me details. Tell me how they want you to… end me, if that's what they want.”

“Ideally?” She grinds backwards— actually grinds— and I let my head tilt back. The press of her ass against me is a hell of a heaven. “I'm not so sure. It depends on what I think I can get away with.”

I squeeze her hip with my other hand.

“Give me a hypothetical.”

“Well… hypothetically, if you weren't predisposed to trusting me, then I'd just do what I did earlier and use my technique to slip past your infinity and make quick work of you with a blade or a gun.”

She shivers as I push my luck and nibble at her ear before I reply.

“That easy, huh?”

It might work. She'd have to make it a headshot, and even then it would be a gamble that she could stop my reverse curse technique with her ability. It could conceivably be done, but not without difficulty.

“Well, there are… complications.” She's breathing heavy now, and I can feel her heart beat fast as I pull her completely flush against me. “I don't have your reach or your physical prowess. It would be a gamble at best, and I prefer more sure odds.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

She turns, then, but doesn't move far from me. My half-hard cock presses against her belly, and her hands travel up my arms to my shoulders. They rest there, reaching up to play with the ends of my hair.

“And if I was predisposed to trust you?”

She looks up at me faux-sweetly then, and with the saccharine sharpness of a vampiress, she says,

“I would bring you into my bed, press the length of our bodies together, and consume your power until there was nothing left.”

I arch over her, angling myself so that she can see my eyes shining from behind my sunglasses. 

“And you're certain that you could bring me to your bed? I might not be so easy.”

She touches me. Her hand finds the hardness in my uniform pants, squeezes it through the fabric. Her expression is at once soft and sharp, like a pillow made of barbed wire. In the red-blue-purple lights of the club, she glows. 

“Yes.”

Something between us shatters then. We don't dance anymore, and our eyes are locked. It's horrible. It's a trap. It’s heaven. I know, I know it's stupid, but I lean forward to kiss her again, and she lets me. I cup her cheek with a too-big hand; it freezes and burns. I deepen the kiss, chasing more, more, more — but when my tongue slips past her lips, I feel a teardrop wet the base of my thumb. 

“Don't cry,” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers. “Why are you crying?”

She shakes her head, and I hold her. 

“I never wanted it,” she says, shoulders trembling. “I don't want to use my abilities to do harm. Not like this. I— I'm a lover girl. If I could quit being a sorcerer and move to a villa on the coast, I would, but— but I can't. ”

“Why not?”

“Duty.” She says it as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. “Honor. Family. I have a responsibility here.”

Jesus Christ. I can never let her meet Nanami. Give them ten minutes in a room together and they'd talk themselves into retiring to Malaysia. 

But then she continues, and I wish I could fly her to Malaysia myself. 

“They’d want me to m-make sure you f-finish ,” she says, tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes. “It's been a topic of conversation that— that our bloodlines—”

She can't finish. She doesn't need to. It's so cruel and yet so very unsurprising that rage rises in my chest, frightfully strong and burning like a house fire. I feel a terrible grin crack my face, and I don't need to see her terrified expression to know I look like a monster.

“I'm going to kill them, you know,” I tell her, half-manic. How dare they? She could kill them if she wanted. Instead, she lets them make her cry. Pathetic. “It's the least they deserve for treating us like dogs. Fucking eugenics— evil bastards.”

She shrugs.

“Once they've done for me, there will be no one able to stand in your way of it.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?

“Stand in my way.”

She thinks for a minute, then shakes her head. 

“No. No, I wouldn't, Gojo-san.”

I kiss her again. Her arms wrap themselves around my shoulders again, and I give into my desires. I pull away and murmur into her ear:

“Call me by my name.”

She hesitates.

“Gojo?”

I shake my head. 

“Not that one.”

I nip at her ear, so my name comes out as a gasp. 

“Satoru.”

My own name has never sounded so sweet. She trembles and shakes as I kiss her neck, and I think I have her. How could I not? She's so responsive and soft and sweet and lovely beneath my hands— but then she shoves me away. Or, she tries to. All she does is move my shoulder a bit. Still, I give her space, and I realize her tears have not stopped. 

“I don't play games like this. I don't— I don't. ” I can see her shaking still and ache to hold her. I restrain myself. “It's too cruel, Satoru. This play-acting at intimacy—”

She hiccups, and I realize she's drunk. 

“I've hated you,” she admits. Her eyes are tortured, and she stumbles as a dancing stranger bumps into her. I touch her arm to steady her, but she rips herself away from me. “I've watched you from afar and I have hated you because you're powerful. You're powerful and attractive and wealthy, and you're disrespectful because you can afford to be while the rest of us have to— to play by a different set of rules.”

I watch her with a new respect for her volatility. She's like a cornered dog right now, trembling and snarling with fear. If ever the gray-clad man were to attack, it should be now, while she's distracted with me, but he's nowhere to be found. I should be concerned about that, but I can't be. All I can think of is the memory of her smile, and what I might have done wrong to make it go away. 

“But today— today you're on my side against the elders. Today you call me pretty and you kiss me like— like I belong to you, and even after I admit to being told to— to kill you eventually, you just hump me and get off to what tortures me. It's wrong, Satoru! You don't like girls like me— ordinary girls, the kind that swoon over wealth and strength and opulence— and I don't like men like you!”

This feels… different. Usually when girls say they hate me, it's because they secretly wanna fuck me or be me. Now, though… I’m not sure. I try to think what Suguru might say if he were here, but it all comes out wrong. He might tell me that I've been foolish, to give the girl some space and let her work through whatever she's got going on without me. Or maybe he'd tell me I've been selfish, that I want her because I've been all but told I can't have her— because it wouldn't make sense for me to have her— and to think of her feelings instead of my own. Maybe he wouldn't even say anything at all. 

Whatever the case, there's only one thing I can do, one person still living that I can listen to. 

So I listen to myself. 

“And what kind of man am I?”

She eyes me warily. 

“A dangerous one.”

True enough. I dry my mouth from where her saliva still lingers, branding and marking me hers. 

“And you don't like danger?”

She hesitates. 

“No.”

It sounds like a lie even to my untrained ears. 

“Then you don't like it when I kiss you?” I take a step forward, advancing on her. “When I touch you? When I bite your ear and make you say my name?”

She shivers.

“No.”

Another lie. 

“You don't think it would be hot to take me home with you tonight? To prove your little barista right about me?”

“No.”

Lie. 

We're nose-to-nose now. I bend so she can see over the top of my glasses, and sharing her breath, I say,

“So then you definitely don't get off on siphoning my cursed energy— on touching the untouchable?”

“N—”

Before she can lie again, I grab her and pull her in close. 

“I think you're a liar. What's more, I think you're lying because all this time you've told yourself that you couldn't have me, that it would be a sin to want the man that everyone wants.”

I grin. 

“Well, you can have me. It's not a sin to want me. It doesn't make you less , or a drooling fangirl or something. It means you are human, and that you have the good sense to want the same things that I want.”

Well, maybe that's not quite true. I'm not sure that she wants to crawl inside my ribcage and live there, but then her best friend isn't dead and her life isn't one big, rich, god-like sex joke. If she had all the issues I have, I feel sure she'd want me in the same way. 

“I'm supposed to kill you someday,” she protests, and I laugh. 

“Yeah, and how's that working out? Feeling homicidal yet?”

Oh, yes— her steel backbone is coming back to her. I can see it in her eyes as she sizes me up.

“Maybe.”

“Good. I like that in a woman.”

She shakes her head at me, incredulous. I crack a grin. The music around us is still loud, and there are dancing bodies all around, but she and I are still. It's so silly that I can't help but giggle a little, and then she's smiling too. Before long, we're both laughing, and I hug her to my chest as we both cackle in hysterics. 

“Take me back to your place. I want to buy you a coffee.”

She looks up at me, perplexed but still giggling. 

“What?”

“I want to buy you a coffee.”

“Huh? Why?”

I move her to arm’s length away and look deep into her eyes. 

“Because I want you to remember everything when I”— blow your back out, fuck you so good you forget my name and yours — “make love to you tonight.”

***

“So, have you always played pretend like this?”

The incandescent light of the coffee shop illuminates her with a lovely golden light that does wonders for her eyes. As I watch her sip sleepily from a ceramic mug, I think the drinks combined with the stressful day and passionate making out in the cab has finally caught up to her. The caffeine will perk her up soon, but I almost don't want it to. Watching her settle back into the soft, comfy chair that the owner reserves for her is almost adorable and endearing enough for me to set aside my desire. 

Almost. 

“I don't think I know what you mean,” she yawns. 

“You have plenty of money, and you're an heiress to a large estate in the countryside. You could live there, but you don't. You could have your own car, or you could have a personal chauffeur, and yet your taxi whistle is unmatched. So, let me ask again— do you always pretend to be a poor person, or is this a new thing for you?”

She huffs a laugh. She doesn't know it, but she's glowing, radiant with the energy she's consumed from me today. Thanks to my reverse curse technique, I don't feel a strain from it at all— but of course, that's only her passive siphon. I have no doubt she could have drawn more from me if she had wanted.

“It's not new, exactly. When I turned old enough, I got myself emancipated from my parents and fucked off here to live in the city. They cut me off, naturally, but between my work with Jujutsu High and working weekends as a barista, I did just fine.”

Her expression falls. 

“Of course, I ended up with everything anyway, in the end. Funny how life works.”

I know what she means. 

“So, this is home now?”

She nods. 

“Always. It's… hard sometimes, knowing I could have more luxury in my life if I wanted it, but that lifestyle doesn't feel properly mine. No, I'm satisfied here— and hardly poor by anyone's standards but yours.”

Satisfied— not happy. Still, I think of my own empty home and shut the fuck up. 

“Well, I don't really expect you to understand though,” she says slyly, raising her brows. “ Gojo-sama . Do you ever play poor?”

The honorific is properly teasing, but it still hits too close to home.

“No, never. I like to do whatever I want too much for that.”

She hums. 

“I do envy your free spirit. Were your parents just as free-spirited as you?”

“No.” No one is. But that stands to reason— no one is as close to godhood as I am. “I learned to be this fabulous all on my own. Suguru always said—”

I stop myself, but it's too late. She doesn't push me, but she does offer me her hand. Palm up on the table, her hand seems softer than it has a right to be.

If she only had known how much like him she would seem in this moment, she'd never have been so kind to me; if she had known how that one single wordless gesture would make me ache, I know she would have spared me the pain of it. But she could not know. She could not know because we had been in different years in high school, and so she would never have known Geto Suguru the way that I did. And now he's dead. No one will ever know him the way that I did ever again. 

I place my hand in hers.

“Tell me about him,” she says. 

So I do. 

I tell her how dear he was to me, how very like a second self he was. I tell her how much I miss him. I avoid the worst parts, the parts that hurt and the parts that feel too good, but I make sure she knows the important bits.

“Did you love him?” she asks me, squeezing my hand. 

“Of course I did.” I still do. 

“No, Satoru. Did you love him?”

No one has ever put it to me quite like that. That she has done so makes her once again so Suguru-esque that it makes me ache and ache and ache . 

“I… don't know,” I tell her truthfully. “I don't know that I could… love a man in that sense. If I could, it would be Suguru that I would love. But he's gone now.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

The question catches me off guard. I shrug in self-defense.

“Anything's possible, I suppose.”

“I do believe in soulmates.” Her eyes are so impossibly soft, but not pitying. In this moment, I love her for that. “And I believe that's what he was to you. It doesn't matter if it was romantic or not, or if it could have been. From the way you talk about him, I believe he was a part of your very soul.”

She squeezes my hand again. 

“And that means that he's still with you. He probably always will be. But Satoru— you can't carry him alone.”

I don't trust myself to speak, so I just nod. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should share him with her, let her carry that part of me for a while. 

I consider that for all of two seconds before it occurs to me that she might like him much more than she likes me— Suguru was always more measured, more grounded than me— and in a fit of jealousy I dismiss the idea entirely. I don't care if it's insane. I couldn't bear to lose her to him or vice versa even in the recesses of my imagination. I've never been a jealous man— jealous of what? Of whom? Who could ever have more than me, something that I could covet?— but I'm green with it as I think of her sitting in his lap, straddling his broad thighs—

Now, that is provocative. 

I hate it. 

She's mine, and you're dead, Sugu. Let me have this. 

His teasing laugh haunts me, and my chest fucking hurts. 

“Steel yourself, Gojo Satoru,” she chides me as I grip her hand tight like it's a lifeline. “You don't look yourself when you aren't smiling.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“I killed him.”

“You’re a sorcerer. We're sorcerers. We often meet more gruesome fates than murder. At least it was by your hand and not by some curse.” She sets down her coffee cup and places her other hand over mine. “One day, you'll be able to forgive yourself. Until then, be merciful. You can do little else but live in spite of it all.”

I'm not in love with her. It's too much, too soon— but that's very much what it feels like when I look at her across the table and she looks back at me, through me once more. It wouldn't take much, I know, to fall for her. It wouldn't take hardly anything at all. 

“Come upstairs,” she says. “The shop is about to close, and I've got some sweets up there to cheer you up and settle my stomach.”

“Do you think we're soulmates?”

I feel myself ask the question before I've thought it through. For a moment, I fear I've made a miscalculation, but then she smiles at me, and all is well.

“I couldn't say for certain— it's probably too soon to tell. What do you think?”

“I don't know either,” I lie. “Guess we'll have to find out.”

When the door to her home closes behind her and the lock clicks shut, something in the air shifts. She turns to look at me, loose and languid, and I grin. She bares her teeth in turn, and a thrill of danger, run, turn back tingles its way up my spine. Not much can get my adrenaline pumping like this, I think. But oh, her eyes are sharp. 

“Bedroom?” I suggest, cheeky. 

She raises a brow over her predatory grin. 

“So eager already?”

“What, is several hours of prolonged foreplay not enough for you?” I tease. “Should we go back to the privy council and let them get your blood up first? I do so like passion in a woman.”

She walks toward me, body slow and graceful. At first, I think she's going to kiss me, but the moment I lean in, she curves and steps in a circle around me. Tease. I have no doubt that if she were a cat, her tail would be swishing. 

“You are aware that this isn't one of your regular hookups, yes?” she says, her voice at once light and serious. She comes round to stand in front of me again, and a pointed forefinger presses into the center of my chest. “You can't expect this to be normal after all we've said today— unless I’m wrong and you regularly exchange trauma with your hookups, it seems to me that we're doing a bit of a different thing here.”

“Very different,” I assure her. “Can you handle that?”

She flashes me a steel-sharp grin.

“I cut my teeth on men like you, Gojo Satoru.” She drags her finger down my front, tracing a line of sensation from my chest down my to my stomach and all the way to the place where my happy trail meets my pants. “I told you, I'm a lover girl. How else do you think the elders expected me to seduce you if I hadn't whetted my blade on sex and heartbreak? Whatever comes, I'll be just fine.”

The implications of that are too much for me in this moment. To think that the elders had gone so far as to manipulate her love life— I have no doubt that they arranged for certain boyfriends to teach her what they wanted her to know, then to hurt her, break her heart and treat her like shit until…

I don't want to think about it. Those men have no place here. They aren't me, and I am not them. 

“Good to know,” I say, “Except, you're forgetting something.”

A brow raises. 

“Oh?”

I lean down until our breaths are one. 

“There are no men like me.”

I kiss her then, and she kisses me back. At first, I expect shyness, a modest timidity that builds into something more bold. She very quickly turns that expectation on its head. She kisses me with clear intent, one hand fisted painfully in my hair and the other touching me through my pants. She's wild and harsh and beautiful. I am already half in love with her when she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, and I fall the rest of the way when she pushes me backwards and orders me onto the couch. 

She mounts my lap. I squeeze one of her breasts as she settles. She's soft and sweet under my touch, and when she finally sits fully on my lap, the delicious pressure of our clothes sexes pressed against one another is almost too perfect. 

We kiss filthy, dirty, nasty— she sucks on my tongue, and I pull her hips forward, guiding her into grinding. She touches my cheek, my jaw, my ear, the base of my skull; I hiss as she pulls my hair sharply. I move with the pulling on instinct, baring my neck, and she licks a long, hot, wet line up my throat like a vampiress about to sink her teeth into her victim. Her hips move on their own now, and I feel flayed alive by the freezing, searing heat of her siphon. 

“You're so easy,” she murmurs in my ear as my cock strains in my pants. “This all it takes to get you going?”

She says that like she isn't plucking my strings and playing me like a harp— but then she's taking her shirt off, and I start to lose my mind. Her tits are perfect — as soon as she unhooks her bra, I make sure she knows it. I suck on them, play with them, and leave perfectly-shaped hickeys all in a row, marking them mine ; the gasps and heady moans she gives me for it is almost as good as the act itself. 

Suddenly, she moves. It startles me, and I find myself bereaved, wishing for her warmth. I'm not sad for long, though. 

“Bedroom,” she says breathlessly, chest heaving, “and lose the pants.”

She leads me to her bed, losing clothes as she goes. Her shoes, socks, and shorts soon litter the hallway like shrapnel, and I follow suit. In the doorway to her bedroom, my boxers get hung on my foot; she's apologizing for something— I catch the words messy and been busy — but then the world narrows as a shadow darkens the window next to her nightstand. 

The gray man has come. 

One instant he's at the window, the next he's leaping at his quarry with a knife. By the time he lands, though, she's no longer there. In the space of a fractured blink, she’s behind him, stepping into his moon-thrown shadow, and before I can do anything, her bare hand flares sun-like with cursed energy and she plunges it fully into the man’s back. He makes a sound like tires screeching, but the sound stops as suddenly as it began. 

She rips his spine from his body. 

She tosses it aside like so much garbage. Where she stands, the moonlight should illuminate her, but curiously, she stands in a perfect circle of shadow. Abruptly, I realize that she has not revealed all of her hand to me. Her technique isn't just a siphon, and it doesn't just absorb cursed energy. It's a vacuum. 

It's a black hole. 

I stare at her, stunned. 

Then I grin. 

“My, my,” I purr, “What on earth was that?”

She looks at the mutilated corpse on the floor and then back up at me. Then, she shrugs. 

“I played a lot of Mortal Kombat as a kid.” 

A hyena cackle escapes me before I can even think. No wonder the elders thought mixing our blood would be so beneficial. I am a shield, bright-flashing in the dark like the moonlight. She is a blade in the shadow, swift and sharp. With the kind of power she's putting out now and the new information I've gathered about her technique, I'm sure that she could level a city with sheer cursed energy output. 

In a flash of euphoric homicidal urge, I wonder how long it would take the two of us to destroy the entire world together. A day? No, not that long. Hours. 

It's so funny that I laugh until tears are squeeze out of the corner of my eyes. 

As I work to calm my hysterical laughter, I survey the corpse on the floor. I did not think that the elders would use a human unblessed by cursed energy to do this job. It seems too cruel, even for them— but she does not seem to care. She looks up at me from her kill with dark-bright eyes, and with her hands still covered in viscera, she reaches up to touch the sides of my face. I'm still hard for her, and grow harder as she touches me again, melting my infinity again . I am powerless against her. My greatest weapon, my ultimate defense, is shattered under her soft, pliant hands. 

It gets me off. 

We kiss. This kiss feels different than the others, though. Somehow it's deeper, more intense; it leaves a hollowness in my chest, a burning-freezing-empty feeling that sucks inward, pulling and pulling—

I breathe her name. Again. Again . She's not listening. Her eyes are half-lidded as she draws deeply from my cursed energy, and I panic as I realize that the empty, sucking, hungry feeling is the sensation of her draining me past what she should be, past what I can bear—

I shove her away from me. That seems to jolt her out of it, but her eyes are still so very distant that a thrill of fear shakes me like airplane turbulence. 

“So much,” she murmurs, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s an ocean. How do you bear it? Adrift? Floating?”

She means my cursed energy. Of course— I remember when I was first awakened to that great and terrible power. My reaction was not unlike her own. Distantly, I wonder if I was as frightening as she is in this moment. 

“Anchored,” I answer. “You must anchor yourself. Find your moorings, pretty thing, and the storm will pass.”

I hold out my hand to her. When she lowers herself to her knees instead of taking it, I'm startled. For a brief moment, I contemplate whether or not letting her touch me again is truly wise, but then she kisses the head of my cock, and all thought shatters. Her tongue traces my slit, and I'm lost. 

Whatever I had expected, it was not this. It was not a submission so powerful that it feels like dominance. She has a hold on me so powerful that I find myself genuinely frightened. 

As she places her hands, bloody and warm, on my trembling thighs, I am subsumed in her. She touches me like she loves me, like she is me, and her mouth is sweeter than anything I've known. Her hands grip my ass; she uses that grip to guide my hips, pushing me deeper into her throat. She takes more and more of me, sucking and licking and making a mess, and then in a stroke of real genius, she dips down to suckle at my balls, letting my cock rub sweetly against the side of her face. She is filth and sin and salvation, and in her, I am undone.

I come too fast, but she is not dissatisfied. Her hands move to her own chest, touching in sweet circles, and she shudders, letting her head fall back. Her skin shines red with blood as she finger-paints her own pleasure. I imagine that the temptation to touch herself even with those bloodstained hands is hot and tight in her chest, quelled only by her iron will and a fear of an unfortunate hygiene mishap. 

Oh, but I am not and never have been one for much restraint. I'm a rich son of a rich son. I wait for nothing I want, and I see no reason why she should either. 

She startles when I move closer to her, crouching. Her eyes widen as I suck my own fingers into my mouth and then press them against her sex. It is as though she did not expect me to want to participate in her pleasure.

As if I'd pass it up. I'm the strongest after all— in the streets and the sheets. 

“Lay on the bed,” I tell her, pressing deliciously against her clit. My mouth is next to her ear, and she shudders at my breath. “I'll even our score.”

She shudders again, but she obeys. 

Against her pillows— satin, I note— she relaxes pseudo-naturally. She lays lightly, propped and positioned like a princess, like someone posing for a painting. Elegant, demure. 

I don't want that. 

I tell her so. 

“Drop the act,” I say, pacing around the bed to approach from the foot of the mattress. I note with some regret that I leave a bloody footprint on her floor. “It isn't fair like that— my defenses melt at your touch. Yours should melt at mine.”

My knees touch the mattress. I climb onto the bed and pry apart her knees, the modest and lovely joints that press themselves together, hiding my prize from me. She is wet for me, and I salivate for her. 

“Give me something real.”

It's not a request. 

She looks at me, eyes wide. Suddenly she looks smaller than she ever has. No longer the lioness, she looks more like a frightened kitten, hackles up but trembling and soft. She's expelling cursed energy slowly but steadily, and reality is coming back to her. It's a hell of a crash— I know it must be— but she's taking it like a champ. I know grown men who would handle it with less grace. 

I reach out, dragging a finger through her sex from hole to hood, and she goes to pieces in an instant. 

Oh well. So much for composure.

“Please,” she says, slumping. Her legs widen, and I touch her again, gentle and slow. “ Please , Satoru.”

As I touch her lazily, her chest heaves with heavy breathing. She begins to shake, and, transfixed, I watch one of my too-long fingers breach her entrance. She's so warm. So tight. She whines as I press another finger inside, and I tear my eyes away from my work to watch her face. 

To my surprise, she's crying.

“Please,” she keeps saying, as though it's a litany against the darkness that creeps ever inwards from the night. “Please, please, please. ”

I touch her face with my free hand, and she leans into the skin of my palm. Her face is hot with tears, and I readjust myself so that I can kiss her fevered lips. 

“How long?” I ask, knowing it's unfair. 

She shakes her head. 

“A long time.”

I kiss her again, this time with lust and tongue and filth. It's dirty and mean of me, but I ask again. I need to know the weight of the burden I want to carry for her. 

“How long? How long has it been since your last lover?”

“Years,” she whispers against my lips, and my fingers slow inside of her. 

It's criminal. Absolutely illegally unfair that she has gone without tenderness like this for so long.

I kiss her again. Her arms come around my shoulders, and our bodies press against one another. She is warm and soft. Her tears fall freely, and I mourn for what I know to be the truth. 

I could leave tonight and find a worthy lover— a woman who would hold me gently, keep my secrets, and guard me jealously against harm either real or perceived. Yes, there is a certain… appeal that I carry, and there are many bad apples, but my experience remains that women are natural strongholds, bastions of kindness and strength and stability. On the whole, they are good. Or, they have been to me.  

I think of the men I know, of the men I trust, and the list falls frightfully short of where it should. 

It is the terrible truth of the inequality of our sexes. Years, and there has not been anyone for her. There has been no one  that she can trust, because she is vulnerable in a way that I am not. Her body and mind both are capable of too little and too much to risk.

It may not be man's natural instinct to destroy, but he does a damn good job at it despite his contrary design. 

So I do my best to chip away at her loneliness— to destroy only that which is meant to die— and let her feel my warmth. I grind against her, and she gasps. I nip at her lip, and she moans. These sounds I pluck from her until there is a gentle euphony of pleasure in the air as sweet as any song. Her legs are soft as they press against the coarse hair of my thighs; I let her twine her fingers in my hair and I revel in her touch. 

“You're beautiful,” I tell her as she arches. 

She freezes, then huffs a laugh that is too sharp-edged to belong in her bed. 

“Not beautiful like your usual dates, but I do alright for myself.”

I frown. It takes effort not to be pissed off. It's not exactly polite to bring other people into your lover's bed, even just nominally. Still, though, she is wounded. Patience is not my forte, but for her, I try. 

“No,” I agree. “You're beautiful like you.”

I like to talk, but there are, I admit, more efficient uses of our time. I kiss her, then put a long finger into her mouth. She takes it, and I wonder who managed to convince the world that models and actresses and pop stars are the only beauty in the world. It is as disheartening to imagine a world filled only with them as it is to imagine a world without them. 

Her mouth is hot and warm around my middle finger. I ease it in and out, watching the way her mouth works around it. It's so remarkably lovely, the shape of her mouth— my cock begins to stir at the sight. I add another finger, and then another, and then, satisfied, I remove them. 

“Put your legs over my shoulders and hold onto my hair,” I tell her, sure that my grin is a sharp and feral crack across my face. “I want you to guide me.”

I shift our positions so that my head is between her legs. My fingers return to their wonted place, fucking in and out of her pretty pussy, and my mouth settles over her mound. Gods, but her taste! I suck at her clit, and she jerks, yanking my hair as though I've zapped her with electricity.

“Do that again,” she gasps in perilous-sounding wonder, and as I obey, I look up at her. My gaze must be hungry, I know, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes stay on mine, and it's a pleasure to watch bliss slowly overtake her until she's a million miles away from her thoughts and achingly present in her own body.

It takes less time than I thought it would to make her arch and cry out her pleasure into the dark of the night. Her orgasm is hot, heavy, and draining; she collapses backwards into her pillow as though I'm the one that's been draining her of energy, not the other way around. Still, though, the accomplishment makes me feel peacock-proud as I watch her chest heave and her body quiver. 

“When you're ready, you should go clean up,” I tell her, kissing her brow. “I'm going to take care of the body.”

She frowns at me, but I smooth the crease in her brow with my thumbs. 

“Don't worry, this is easy for me— and besides, we're not done yet.”

This— round one— is just a warm up, a little taste to whet our appetites. Before the night is over, I intend to have her in every position I can think of. I might not be able to time-travel back and fuck her every day for all the nights she spent alone and lonely, but I can make her forget she ever was so lonely, even if that's only for tonight. 

With a speed usually reserved for hare-beating tortoises, she climbs out of bed and eases her way to the adjoining bathroom. When I hear the shower start, I set about my work. By the time the shower shuts off, the only thing left to do is mop up the blood (so much of it! Really, the Mortal Kombat move was cool, but dreadfully messy), which I do once I find her mop (hidden strangely in a corner of her kitchen between the refrigerator and the counter). Once she's out of the shower, her bedroom is restored to order and our clothes are stacked neatly on top of her dresser. Most importantly though, she's clean, and so am I (well, mostly, anyway). 

Now, we can get to business. 

“It looks really nice in here,” she comments, glancing around. 

At least, that's what I think she says. I'm too busy staring at the place where her towel doesn't meet itself to really listen. She seems to sense this, because shortly after, she crawls onto the bed where I am and settles into my lap. She drops the towel, and then we are both delightfully nude. 

“I've got to figure out how to deal with those pesky old men,” she sighs, sliding her arms around my shoulders. “The audacity of them to send a non-sorcerer, as if I'm completely incapable of defending myself!”

“The nerve,” I agree, squeezing a double handful of her ass. In response, she spits into her palm and takes my half-hard cock in her hand. 

“We really could kill them, you know. If you were serious about that.”

She says the words so casually, and yet they reverberate deeply in my very bones. My heart beats hard and fast in my chest as she leans in to murmur in my ear:

“We could do it tonight.”

Her fist closes over the head of my cock, and I close my eyes. Desire thrums softly in my chest, a hollow ache. She's right. We could do it tonight. Together, it might even be easy. But should we, tonight? A move against the old fucks has to measured, calculated— but I've thought about it for so very long. Is that not measured enough?

It's not. I know it's not. We have to create structure first, something to channel the chaos into so that sorcerer society stays strong and stable. Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara aren't ready. The others are closer, but still so young. There hasn't been time to find any… bad apples. 

If I weren't Gojo Satoru— if I weren't the strongest— I would take this firebrand woman in my arms, kiss her, and remake the world with her. I would let her fill all my empty spaces and create some new creature who is not only Gojo Satoru, but more, impossibly and infinitely more. If duty did not weigh mountain-heavy on my shoulders, if I could but for a moment escape that great and terrible purpose, I would do all that I have ever dreamed. With her, it might actually all work out. She makes me feel invincible— a dangerous, deadly feeling, but euphoric. 

But it cannot be tonight… and we are promised nothing beyond that. 

I try to tell her this, but it just sounds like excuses. She says nothing. She just touches my hair, my neck, my back with her free hand. It stirs something deep and hungry within me, that silence. I want to take back every word and tell her that I'll make love with her over the ashes of those old fools and promise forever to her. I suppose that's the effect she wanted. Or maybe she really is speechless— I don't know. All I know is that I'm hard by her hand, and I shake as she kisses me tenderly. 

“You've been lonely too,” she says, resting her forehead against mine. “How is beyond me, but you have been. I can see it in your eyes. Is that why you really hide them?”

I have been lonely. I miss Suguru. He was the last person who could see through me like this. In moments like these, it frightens me how keenly like him she can be. It makes me afraid for her, afraid of her. 

I could really use my best friend's perspective on what to do about a new lady friend, too. At this rate, I'll end up marrying her and then where will we all be? I'll lose my forever-a-bachelor card. The horror! 

“I'm not now,” I tell her, bucking my hips to press more firmly into her hand. “Maybe we could—”

She twists her grip, and I hiss in pleasure. 

“Sorry,” she grins, terribly cheeky. “What was that, Satoru?”

“We could just scare them a little,” I suggest as she thumbs my slit. “The elders. We could— fuck — just set traps on their lawn, or set an orchard on fire, or—”

Fuck— am I really getting off to this? 

“Or egg their houses?” She teases. “No, you're not thinking big enough, Satoru. We're adults, not children. What if we kidnapped their pets and left a ransom note?”

“That's assuming they're not too evil to own pets.”

“But if they do own pets, I mean, don't we have an ethical obligation to rescue those poor animals from such harsh conditions?”

That thought never gets an answer. I'm too busy pushing her onto her back to talk.

She's so beautiful as she smiles up at me. It hurts to look at her. I sit back on my heels to align our sexes, and I take a moment to tease her, sliding my cockhead through her folds, up to her clit, and then back to her hole. I do it again and again, and then I press into her. I mean to go slowly, inch by inch, but her hot, wet heat takes me by surprise, and I take her faster than I mean to. She gasps at the intrusion, and I kiss her soothingly, apologetic. 

“Yes,” she hisses as I pull out and push slowly back in. “Fuck— ngh, fuck yes!”

I pick up the pace. It's incredible, the way she feels around me. My hands move all over her body, indecisive— every part of her is so perfect, so infinitely touchable, and all of it is an expanse of frozen fire begging to be explored. Her hips I squeeze gently, feeling the curve of them in my hand; her stomach I caress with fondness. Her breasts, of course, occupy much of my attention— not only because of their sweet softness, but also because of the sinful noises she makes when I brush a thumb across a pebbled nipple. She arches beautifully into my hands, and, unable to help myself, I slow our fucking to lean down and suck at her left nipple. 

“That's it,” I say against her skin as her hands tangle in my hair. “I want you to pull it.”

That much is true, but it's not all there is to say. Thankfully, she seems to sense what I'm really asking; her hand curls into a fist around the hair near my scalp, and she pulls my head backwards so that I'm looking into her eyes. 

“Fuck me while you're looking at me, Gojo Satoru,” she commands. The words send a shiver down my spine. “I want all six of your eyes tonight.”

What can I do but indulge her?

I hitch one of her legs upward around my hip, changing the angle of our coupling. She exhales a soft oh, and I fuck her deeply now. Those soft ohs build and build until they're a melody, a steady refrain of pleasure that drives us both towards our inevitable ends. 

“Stay with me tonight?” she asks as I push into her a bit more roughly. The question is swallowed by a sharp inhale, and I soothe her with a kiss. 

“Nothing could make me leave.”

Even the second coming of Sukuna could wait until tomorrow. Tonight is ours.

She doesn't ask me for anything past tonight. She doesn't have to. The answer is in the way that I hold her as we fuck, cradling her gently despite the intensity of skin-contact. Every inch of us is touching. We are connected so deeply that it becomes ludicrous to try and sort out what part of us belongs to whom. 

“Oh,” she exhales again as I press my thumb against her clit.“ Oh. ”

She cries my name like it's a prayer as I kiss the side of her neck. I do it again and again until she is keening quietly in euphoric pain and terrible ecstasy. I slow my thrusts as she clenches around me, and it is an exercise in willpower not to come undone inside of her like an overeager teenager. It is not lost on me that I could die like this, that she could kill me like this. Somehow, that makes the experience even more erotic. 

“Are you close?” I ask, breathless. “I'm close. I really hope you are too. If not, that's embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” she gasps. Her hand in my hair tightens. “Yeah, baby, I'm close.”

“Good, yeah, that's good.”

I start to ramble. I don't even know what I say to her— probably something silly, or cheesy, or maybe just something true— but I know it's a downhill slide from there to orgasm. It does not occur to me to stop and think, stop and ask , before it happens, what she would prefer. Instead, instinct gets the better of me, and I come inside her in ropes of intense ejaculation. I swear it takes years off my life, the way she milks me— but it's so, so worth it to watch her eyes roll back in her head, body all a-tremble. I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

“God,” she cries out in a high-pitched whine. “Oh, god… ”

I am not a god, contrary to popular belief. Still, in this moment, I wish I was so that I could lay claim to the broken way she calls out to a higher power than we. 

We're a mess as we recover. We're both sticky, shaking, and clinging to one another. Somehow, it feels like we didn't account for the intensity of it all, and I wish dejectedly for a pack of crackers to help bolster our blood sugar. 

“Oh, Satoru,” she says, touching my cheek with a soft hand. “Look at us. We're ridiculous.”

We are. I grin. 

“Oh, undoubtedly. Give me half an hour, and I think we can make it worse.”

She giggles, and I kiss her nose. 

We clean up together. The process is surprisingly intimate. Her hands clean the scratches she left on my back; my fingers comb through the snarls in her hair made by the intensity of our fucking. It's so nice to hold, to touch, to know— it's why I've always loved sex. With her, though, it's different. I've just never stuck around super long afterwards, and on the rare occasions where I did, I never felt like I needed the care and attention that my partner usually did. Tonight, though? Tonight I need her to touch me, to know me, to… to hold me. 

It's so strange. 

Later, as we lay entangled, I ask her what she's thinking about. I can't shake the feeling that I need something from her, something to prove she's here even though she's in my arms. 

“Just you,” she answers.

“Oh? What about me?”

Her eyes meet mine. They are equal parts fond and fearful. 

“There is coldness in you, Satoru. I always knew that. You're the strongest, and with that comes a certain… detachment to the rest of us.” 

My heart sinks. Thankfully, though, she continues before I can decide to kill us both where we lay along with half the city block. 

“But there is warmth too. The coldness I know, I understand— but I think it is the warmth that frightens me the most. I can weather the cold, wrap myself in layers against cruelty. But the warmth in you, the kindness… you burn me, Satoru. I'm afraid of what you could make me feel.”

There it is. She has managed to articulate to me the fear that nestles in my own chest; the fear that, when morning comes, she will disappear like smoke between my fingers. It's a great comfort to know that she feels it too— that we, in this as in much else, are equals. That comfort gives me the space to think logically, and I come to a conclusion about our coupling with a quickness that surprises me. 

What we have may not be love just yet, but it is more than lust. There is an uncommon depth to us that I want to sound to its limits. I will stay the night here and tomorrow, I decide, she will stay at mine. Eventually, we'll choose a place that we both like. More convenient that way, for sure. And of course, I think, we'll need matching toothbrushes. 

I tell her that last bit. She laughs at me and flicks my forehead. I squeeze her bum, and she turns her back to me— as if that isn't an invitation to spoon, pressing the lengths of our bodies together. I hold her there, and time loses meaning for the evening. Darkness overtakes me, and I sleep, holding her close .

[kittenmittenmeowchu]

Overdo

Kafka accidentally breaks your family jade.

and you slapped her.

ughh please help this is my first written fanfic diashudhw

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Gripping on your waist Kafka thrusts her hips against yours, sounds of skin slapping mixed with the plastic strap squeching in your pussy, your moans bouncing off walls vulgar noises syncing with the scrapping table legs on the floor.

Sticky liquid drips off your thighs, splattering when she thrusts again, you we're practically a drooling mess, back on the table and legs around her hips, voice hoarse from moaning since the moon lowered for the Sun.

You started on the bed, then in the bathroom, and again in the kitchen. It wasn't long before she decides to get back in bed after hearing you whine about your back hurting.

So she lifts you up, arms around her neck, legs trapped to her hips, walking on the way there you whimper from the silicon dick still buried inside. She teases you and somehow your reaction made her fuck you on the way there, ending up to push you against some cabinet, making the cabinet shook it drops a little jade from the very top.

Shattered on the ground, you both stare at the broken pieces.

"...ah"

"..."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

After putting on some clothes Kafka quickly called Silver wolf and made her fix the jade in exchange of helping Silver wolf steal―buy a game she wanted two weeks prior. Silver wolf was excited but dumbfounded.. its not normal for Kafka to do this.. though perhaps it may also be because she noticed the a clear handprint mark on Kafka's cheek, tinted to a rosy color.

You took a shower as they talked things out, when silver wolf left you were on Kafka's bed, hugging one of her pillows and burying your face to where her scent was strongest. Slowly you succumb to the feeling of exhaustion resting your eyes and falling into deep slumber... Forgetting about the recent events, i mean it's not like you didn't get your revenge..

[wayfayrr]

Hello! I love the self-aware stuff you’re doing for the links. Love that stuff.

Now don’t feel compelled to write anything about this. I just think it’s funny to think about :)

My switch has been acting kinda weird recently. Not broken or anything too major. But a corner of the the touchscreen is coming off, a very small part. Pretty sure it’s because of the heat and the glue or something? Anyway, it’s also been glitching sometimes. Colored lines will go across the screen in handheld mode. (Truthfully it’s sometimes annoying, but it’s kinda old so go figures it’s gonna start acting weird)

But could you imagine with the links??? Like they start realizing that the console is malfunctioning, or a piece of the screen is breaking? I can see them being like, “YES YES, PROGRESS!!!”

Idk it’s just funny to think about sometimes

(Again don’t feel compelled to write anything. Wanted to give a fun little thought I had :])

I mean if the switch is breaking when they're ready then they're going to be ECSTATIC - if it's already breaking then surely you won't be as bothered when they hop out and finish it off right? not like there's going to be a severe change in the cost of getting it repaired from a minor break to the entire thing being completely unusable

but they don't even worry about the cost! It's not even something that registers with them cause well - no money could possibly make them living with you a bad thing right? besides they could just sell some stuff or get a job to make it up to you.

it'd be intresting to think about them continuing to glitch post getting out of the game too, like they stand there unbreathing, unblinking different coloured lines running across them as their body tries so desperately to belong in this new world now. their voice even glitching, static surrounding them near constantly as they try so hard to belong failing every single time.

maybe if they were more patient they could have been whole. right. not some half broken mockery of a person holding onto their life with all of their energy.

maybe it wouldn't have done a thing to wait and they would have simply been trapped in their non existence even longer

it's not something they'll be able to ever find the answer for anyway

love the idea of them clawing against the screen so so so much too, scraping at it until their fingers are bleeding, with no progress beyond the fact that they are bleeding, something new to them so it must be working right? it has to be. so they ball their hands into fists in their last attempt to get this one last remaining obstacle out of their way, crying and screaming with their newly found voice. begging for help, from you, from hylia, from anything as long as it gets them out. until crack by crack, glass shards digging into their skin, it shatters.

the only ones that really have a less bloody way out are tears and wild, just because their tech and ability offer them other solutions to it. The rest aren't as lucky

[luffyvace]

Hello hope your doing well, I had this idea for a while now but I can please request Red hair pirates x male reader with heterochromia(serach it up if I don't what it is) where the reader is ashamed of their eyes and hides from the his new crewmates.

You also don't have to acppect my request. But anyways have a good day!💛

HIII I AM GOOD!! YOU? of course i accept your request anon!! :) dw i know what heterochromia is 😎😋

just for the record i’ve done research on the main 4 (shanks, ben, yasopp and lucky) in the past to get to know them better. so i’ll talk about them specifically and address the rest as “the crew” if that’s okay :)

THEY NEED MORE SCREEN TIME PLSSS

thank goodness for the one piece live action for a lot more gifs of all of them 😭💥

thank you so much for your request!! :) enjoy anon <3 and thank you for being patient!

so you just joined the red hair pirates recently

and you hide one of your eyes with an eye patch or your hair

shanks does wonder about it but doesn’t wanna bother you if your sensitive about it

bets it’s a scar

lucky and yasopp notice you hide your eye but they all have they’re personal reasons for stuff they do

so they assumed this was one of yours

ben thinks it could be a scar or you could just like to style your hair that way

but from the way it looks—how you try to keep it hidden so well and refuse to move it at all

he pretty much figures something happened

shanks and ben talk it over all the time

they never let you hear

just so your not uncomfortable

shanks will probably be the one to ask if curiosity gets the best of him

(it will)

”hey m/n, why do ya’ hide your eye?”

he asked it casually, drinking all the while

”oh..uhhhh, hide? i’m not hiding it..”

”so what do you call it?”

”it’s nothing shanks, i just…..like to style my hair this way”

”oh really?”

he pokes at you about it for a while

the other members kinda just watch as shanks playfully questions you

they figured he’d get it out of you

especially with his pushy yet teasing nature

and after a while…he did!

now idk how it went down since your so bent on not showing anyone

but!!

you slowly moved your eye patch/hair out the way to reveal your heterochromatic eyes!!

whoa!!

🤩

😗

we’re the reactions

it looked so cool?

so pretty?

wow it’s so unique i’ve never seen it in person?

woah how do you have two different colored eyes?

let me see!!

turn this way!

okay okay! stop pestering m/n!!

ben had to calm the rave about your eyes since he could clearly see you were a bit overwhelmed

everyone was admiring you and your eye

wondering why you didn’t show them sooner

which is what lucky asked

”i don’t know…i just..it’s shameful..my eyes aren’t even the same color!”

WHAT??

literally everyone’s reaction

wym 😐🤨

do you even know what your talking about right now??

ANYWAY

how’d you get it? we’re you born with it?

i don’t know how it works…how does it?

it’s kinda rare right?…wow…

everyone moves on because clearly your tripping

no but fr if you express your seriously upset about your eyes

the crew shares all types of embarrassing yet fun and heart warming secrets n stories to make you feel better

ben tells you there’s nothing to be ashamed about and that none of the crew would ever judge you for anything

”ain’t that right men?”

a loud uproar of “yeah’s” and cheers can be heard in agreement

yasopp definitely makes you laugh with some of his stories

turns out he’s just as goofy as his son

which he rants to you about said son for hours

makes you forget all about your troubles 😂

lucky and shanks lightly tease you for being so embarrassed over ‘somethin’ so silly’

but it’s all in good fun

in the end you all have drinks and get wasted

‘cheers to your eye! m/n!’

:)

KINDA SHORT BUTTTTT YEAH

i’m really happy with the ending i hope you like it too<3

[xxlady-lunaxx]

it had been completely run on by alcohol. unless the alcohol had only loosened his tongue, letting the words he’d reigned in finally slip free. it would make sense, really. sanemi had been acting more distant recently. even so, giyuu hadn’t paid it too much mind. until now. until sanemi had drunk one too many sips of sake and had laid his thoughts out on the table.

“i don’t think we can keep doing this,” he’d said, turning to look at giyuu. he spoke casually, a small smile playing on his lips. he looked half out of it.

“doing what?” giyuu gently pushed the sake away from sanemi’s reach.

“this. us.” sanemi waved vaguely between them. “us dating.”

giyuu froze. “what do you mean?”

“it’s not really working.” sanemi sighed, sitting back up and shifting on his chair to look at giyuu. he shrugged. “you know?” his hands tucked between his thighs, fiddling with his sleeve. “i feel like we clash badly. like colors. like, uhm… i dunno. what colors look bad together?”

“but… why?” giyuu pressed, ignoring sanemi’s ramble about colors.

sanemi leaned back—only to jolt up again as he realized there was only empty air behind him. he scrambled to turn, his back resting against the counter. his head tilted back and his hair made a show of swooping down. “why? ‘cause… you know. we’re both boys. we’re gonna die anyway. how many years…? two left? also we never worked well before, yeah?” sanemi mulled this over. “i used to hate you. ‘cause you were so annoying and i thought you were an arrogant piece of shit. i don’t hate you now, but still. don’t you hate me for hating you?”

he crossed his legs, sitting back up and cocking his head towards giyuu. “you’re not stupid, giyuu. i think.” he paused. “oh yeah. i’m the stupid one. you’re the educated one.”

he laughed. held out his hand. “where’s the sake?”

giyuu shook his head. he was in some state of shock, so it took him a moment to catch up with everything. “you’ve wanted to break up? for how long?” he asked, his voice hitching slightly. he reconsidered the questions. “why do you want…? i thought we were doing well?”

sanemi huffed, scanning the counter for the sake. his eyes lit up as he caught sight of it and he reached over. giyuu intercepted his attempt, holding him back and simultaneously shoving the sake away. sanemi shot him a look but gave up, apparently too tired to bother.

“are you going to answer me?” giyuu said with a slight frown. he had to ask before the alcohol left sanemi’s system.

“answer what?” sanemi slumped onto the counter, glowering at the sake that was much too far for his liking. somehow, he’d forgotten he could walk. so he resorted to resting his head in his arms. he closed his eyes, letting out a breath.

“why do you want to break up?”

“i do?” sanemi sat up, looking suddenly alarmed. he stared at giyuu. “since when?”

“oh. uhm. well, you were heavily implying it.”

sanemi thought that over. “i don’t want to break up. i just think we’re not gonna end up well. not a lot of relationships do. i’m just being realistic.”

“more like pessimistic,” giyuu mumbled. “how won’t we end up well, though? we’ve been fine.”

“it’s just…” sanemi hesitated. he shook his head. “my head doesn’t fucking make sense. can’t think.”

giyuu sighed. “sometimes, i don’t understand you.”

“me neither.” sanemi went back to resting on the counter. his eyes fluttered close again. “‘m just worried that i’ll fuck up and leave you with the consequences or something. never mind. gonna sleep, now. night.”

[exorcqism]

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; the painter‘s hidden identity is made known. wc, 3.42K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back with this storyyyy. getting near the good part which also means the end but not just yet sooo just keep reading. hope ya enjoyyyy and reblog to support meee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART THREE

the art class was bustling with students, the scent of paint and clay wafting through the air. choso sat at his usual spot stealing glances from you. the professor announced a small project; drawing and painting your partners. but there was a twist—only two colors could be used.

choso’s heart raced as ideas began to flood his mind. everyone scattered around to their new seats and the male instantly scooted next to you. he smiled at you. it was something about that shy smile he gave you before he quietly asking if he could draw you.

“let me draw you first,” you smiled. “i don’t want you getting caught up with me and i completely forget to draw you.”

“oh, i don’t know…i’m not really good with posing or anything. and i’m not able to sit still for very long.” choso warned but you only smacked your lips as if the boy was spewing nonsense right out of his teeth.

“quit doubting yourself. you got nice style and your face would literally be perfect on a magazine cover maybe even in the art show that’s coming up.”

“art show?” choso raised a brow. for someone that loved art contests and taking trips to museums just to stare at the portrait hanging on the white walls encased in an embezzled gold frame, he seemed surprised about this information.

“yeah. don’t know how you haven’t heard about it but i was thinking of putting my painting of you in once it was finished.” you looked down at your blank canvas that was resting flat on the table just as it did when you first arrived to class.

“oh, no, you shouldn’t—i mean..you can if you want to it’s your painting but…i really don’t like being the center of attention. i don’t really like being stared at.” choso explained. he bit down on his lower lip and he sighed.

“come on, it’ll be a powerful piece.” you beamed. “i feel like it’ll really make an impact on the audience. and i promise i won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

choso hummed, his lips pursed before speaking again. “um…well if you think so highly of the piece then i guess i can’t say no. just promise you won’t tell anybody it’s me.”

“sure. now just hold still for me.” you say with a smile.

classes finally end for the day and the two of you made progress on your art pieces. you decided to ask choso to spend the rest of the day together, to which he agreed to without hesitation.

you both gathered your items and headed out into the bustling city of tokyo. the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. you and choso arrive at a cozy cafe and settled into a booth by a large window, surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

the two of you had been there for a good thirty minutes talking about whatever came to mind, bouncing from topic to topic and bookmarking whatever part of the conversation you thought was interesting for another time.

“so, choso, you’ve always been into art?”

“yeah, well, i’ve always had a creative side, but i never really pursued it until recently. art helps me express things that are hard to put into words, you know?”

you nod. you never seen his art before and you just wondered how he had done things. your eyes travel over to the tote bag that was sitting flatly beside choso’s thigh. you fixed your lips to speak but a camera flash went off. you were pretty used to his off guard photos ever since the two of you started to hang out more often.

“can i see?” you leaned your body over the polished wood table before choso lowered his camera.

“not yet.” he answered. “mmm…i’ll show you when the project is complete. until then, i’ll have to hold off on showing you.”

you pout but you could understand why choso was being a bit selfish with his crafts. instead of begging to see a photo of yourself, which you prayed you didn’t blink in, you pointed to his bag.

“why don’t you finish your sketch? i mean, we have a lot of privacy right now and we don’t have any classes tomorrow. i also wanna watch you paint. its something about watching an artist in action is just so satisfying.” you say.

choso, lost in the depths of his own world, takes a sip of his green tea when he hears your unexpected statement. he recently started drinking it a bit more since that was the only thing he actually liked besides ice water.

feeling a surge of nervousness and excitement, choso shifts in his seat. painting in front of someone, especially you, made him feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to.

“i’m not sure…” choso looks down at his cup half filled with tea, which still had smoke billowing from it because of how hot it was. “i’ve never painted with someone else in the room before. it’s a pretty personal process for me.”

“c’mon, please? just for a minute.” you pleaded, clasping your hands and intertwining your fingers to be dramatic. choso chuckled at your silly behavior and simply sighed.

“let’s head back to the school and you can watch me work in my room, fair?” choso looks at you, awaiting an answer. of course, you agree.

back at jujutsu tech, you and choso were settling in, slipping your shoes off once you entered the room and placing your bags together against the wall.

you were amazed at how much space he had and how organized he was. the books on the bookshelves were all in size and color order and so were the cute little jars of paint that were on another shelf but you noticed that there was no red paint.

the desk was neatly organized also with choso’s laptop and ipad with its stylus side by side, charging. there was a mug with a bunch of pencils and pens and another cylinder item that looked handmade and painted with brushes in them. you assumed choso made it.

there was an easel in the corner of the room by the large windows that had blinds that would be shortly opened to let in some of the remaining light as the sun set. choso grabbed a few brushes and the rolling chair that sat at his desk and pulled it over in front of the easel and sat down. the male then reached for the canvas that had the drawing of you from his bag and placed it onto the easel. he looked pretty prepared now.

“you mind filling me a cup of clean water from the faucet?”

the question snaps you out of your awe-stricken mind and you nod. you went to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup that didn’t look like it would be used any time soon and filled it with water then brought it back to choso. he directs you to place the cup on the desk before thanking you for the simple gesture.

you noticed choso had his eyes closed now, taking a few breaths before removing the bandage on his nose and trashing it. you saw how blood shot from the black mark running over the bridge of his nose and onto the palette that was in his lap.

choso picks up one of the brushes and dipped it into the crimson liquid that had also been running down his face and began to paint. once the brush hits the canvas, all his nerves seem to dissipate, replaced by the familiar focus that comes with creating.

as choso dips his brush into the blood-infused paint, the room falls silent. the only sounds are the soft scrapes of the brush against the canvas and the occasional drips of paint.

you watched as colors of red and black filled the canvas. you weren’t familiar with the meanings of specific colors but the way you were drawn on his canvas as royalty, you could see sophistication and passion. choso put the brush down and rolled up his sleeves and began to use his fingers to paint. smearing the colors together with his knuckles.

your eyes sparkled, entranced, as choso’s knuckles danced across the canvas, blending the deep reds into the black that was present. the male was aware that he was in need of a palette knife but he’s never gotten the time to buy any.

“the way you use blood for your art is actually unique.” you spoke, breaking the silence. “i guess it adds depth and richness that’s hard to describe. it looks like the painting is alive almost.”

you were seeing it with your own eyes, his art style was hauntingly beautiful. you never seen anything like it. this whole scenario made you wonder if blood was often used when he painted or was this just a perfect coincidence. you slouch in your chair, in thought once again.

“blood has always been a part of me. a part of everyone, i should say. but mine is a curse and a blessing. incorporating it into my art feels natural to me. it’s like i’m putting a part of myself into each piece.” choso murmured.

“um…you know, i never heard you talk about your parents much, only your brothers. they must be really proud of you…you being all smart and artistic and such.” you say softly.

choso’s hand freezes mid stroke, his expression darkening. he sets down his brush and turns to face you. you see how that empty expression of his appeared onto his face again.

“my parents…they’re not in the picture. my mom isn’t alive and my dad was never proud of me. he only saw me as a tool, a weapon to be wielded. i’m happy he left me behind…”

your expression softens. on the outside, choso looked like he had it all. he was attractive, smart, talented, hell if he wasn’t the smartest guy around he probably would’ve gotten in just for being attractive and talented. he seemed perfect. but in reality, he was living in a fucked up world holding on to his creations for comfort.

“i’m so sorry, choso. i probably shouldn’t have brought that up and make you relive painful memories. but despite your past, you managed to create something beautiful out of the darkness. that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

choso nods, his gaze returning to the painting. he picks up his brush once again, lost in thought. he exhaled from his nose. though the topic did hit a nerve, he felt like he could trust you.

“it’s…fine i guess. it was a while ago. my brothers were the ones who helped me escape that life. we all live for each other and nothing can make me change that narrative. they’re my family and we’ve been through a lot together.”

“they must be really important to you, huh? you see them often?” you query. choso nodded again.

“as much as i can. i don’t really have the funds to constantly take train rides back and forth from my house to here and vice versa. we try to stay in touch, the most i can do is call them each night. yuji and eso are busy with their own business and you know they have to keep kechizu close because he’s pretty childlike and clings to eso like he’s his savior.”

you noticed the small smile on his face as he spoke of his brothers. him being the eldest, you would’ve expected him to severely despise his brothers but it seemed like he couldn’t even say the word ‘hate’ when talking about them. it was actually pretty sweet.

as the evening comes to an end, you find yourself standing outside of choso’s room and he’s leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves still rolled up, revealing thin strips of stitches along his forearm.

“what happened to your arm?” you point, making choso break his gaze and follow your finger to where you had been pointing. he only shrugged.

“a stupid accident. nothing too much to worry about.” he answered, rubbing the brand new bandage he had over his nose. his cheeks were still a little red from the blood that had been running down his face earlier.

“you should keep your bandage off. that mark is a part of who you are, and you know i accept that.” you say. choso is taken aback by your words, his hand instinctively touching the bandage again.

“it’s…not easy. people have always been afraid of me because of what what i am. it’s just easier to keep it hidden.”

“but you don’t have to hide from me. i see you, choso, for who you are, not what you are. you’re a human just like any other person here. and i think your mark is pretty cool, actually.”

choso couldn’t help but smile at your words. maybe—just maybe you had a point. maybe it was time for him to change his ways. get out of his comfort zone a little.

“um…yeah, thanks. i’ll think about it. goodnight.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“and this one would be called ‘the blood painter’.” the announcer spoke as the crowd followed around. it was perfect. better than anything else being displayed. choso stood in front of the painted canvas, staring at his own face looking down at his own partially painted portrait with a crimson liquid dripping from his nose and onto the canvas. there was a white cup filled with tea, which had been leaking from the sides as if it were overfilled.

his hair flopped down into his face before lifting a hand to brush it back with his fingers. he was awestruck. how could you have painted something like this with almost no experience. he could’ve sworn you said you were horrible at this kind of thing…maybe his memory was faulty.

“it’s perfect….” you hear him mumble as he stepped closer to the portrait. he was so tempted to touch it but he abided by the rules of not touching or taking any photos of the paintings being displayed. “how did you do this? you couldn’t have—no, you did…but this is so different from your drawing.”

“it was only a sketch. a way to get your features and everything properly. but a few days ago when we hung out, i thought i’d make something more expressive.” you grinned.

“i’m impressed.” choso’s eyes sparkled. “it’s like you captured my soul onto the canvas. i mean, i’ve seen art that expresses the soul of another person but this one is—wow.”

the male looked at you and his cheeks flushed a little. “maybe i got a little too excited. you did a nice job on your painting. hopefully you got a passing grade on it.”

you smiled at choso’s excitement and love for the art you made of him. you both knew it was simply for an assignment that would be graded then tucked away forever or thrown into a nearby dumpster but this was a sentimental thing. it was like a piece that needed to be preserved.

as you both stood in the middle of the large crowds, you two could hear people praising the painting for its raw emotion and style. one patron mentioned that it gave off a bit of a edgy feeling despite the cozy looking background.

choso was a bit surprised and delighted by the positive reactions, he felt a sense of pride in his portrait and the artist that created it—you. he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“i never thought my own portrait would have an impact like this.” choso said shifting his weight onto one leg. “see, now i kinda regret not letting you reveal my name.”

“you’re okay. it’ll make you a mystery man like the mona lisa…well she’s a real person but you get it, don’t you?” you chuckle lightly and choso does just that right along with you.

“i get it. but i’ll never be as known as she is. i’ll only be a mystery man that’s occasionally seen in shibuya.” he said. you threw your arm over choso’s shoulder and waved your hand dismissively.

“sure you will. one thing will lead to another. when you start seriously pursuing art and get your name out there, people will realize that you’re this man in the picture.” you pointed to the portrait, lightly tapping your nail against it as it created a hollow sound. you knew that you weren’t supposed to touch anything but you didn’t seem to care that much. you even went out your way to take a quick picture of it—it was surprisingly clear.

“they’ll call you signore kamo.” you added.

“you know italian?” choso raised a brow, a bit surprised by your pronunciation and how casually you said that word.

“nope, i googled it.” you smile innocently. choso released a breath as if he had been holding it for a while and returned a soft smile to you.

the art show ends and you and choso found yourselves walking close by each other on the sidewalk. the streetlights and neon lights from buildings illuminating your way as you walked back to the university. choso saw that you were on the left of him, closer to the street so he stoped to trade places with you.

“what was that for?” you ask as you put your hands down into your pocket. you had a feeling on exactly why choso did what he did but you just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

“well, just in case something happens, i’ll be hit first and you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.” choso stated, glancing at the street littered with parked cars. your instincts seemed to be correct but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile anyway and you felt your face heat up a bit.

upon arriving back to the dorms, the two of you stood in the commons, your shadows stretching long in the dim light. since quiet hours were approaching, it was about time the two of you part ways once again until tomorrow. you turn to face each other, a mixture of contentment and longing in your eyes.

“i guess this is where we call it a day. thank you again for everything.” choso says and you nod.

“of course.” you beamed. “i had a really nice time with you today. and don’t forget that you don’t have to hide who you are around me. your true self is beautiful.”

“i’ll remember it.” choso replied before being caught off guard by your sudden hug. you flung your body into him and squeezed his sides a bit. his violet eyes widened as he contemplated on leaving you to cling onto him or hug you back. no one besides his brothers had ever given him a hug.

slowly and awkwardly his arms snaked around your body, finally returning a hug back to you. you both lingered there for a moment, holding on to each other before breaking away.

“hey, dinner on friday?” you ask.

“it’s a date.” choso replied, only making your smile grow. you both say your goodbyes and wave to each other before walking off in the opposite direction to head off to your rooms for the night.

but then another guy came along.

“hey, you got a second?” kashimo whispered. choso never interacted with the guy much but they’ve spoken enough to know how one another looked and each other’s names. sighing, choso obliged.

“i noticed the way you talked to that girl over there just a few seconds ago. you seriously scored.” the cyan haired male smirked at choso. “obviously, there’s something special between you two. maybe i could offer you some advice on that front?”

choso’s eyes narrowed, and as usual, his defensive walls go back up. he was never really comfortable with talking about his personal life, especially with someone he didn’t know all that well.

“i don’t need help with my love life, kashimo. i’m handling it perfectly fine.” choso crossed his arms. kashimo would put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“no pressure. i’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who isn’t directly involved, you know? sit with me at lunch tomorrow. we can discuss this later.” the other lightly punches choso’s shoulder before heading out of the entrance doors.

“he’s weird.” choso muttered.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[radianttulsibabe]

About me Post

This account seems to be making friends fairly quickly. So, I thought I'd share some things about me because that is a popular thing on here. I started this account because my husband thought that I would enjoy the site.

I was born on a Friday in a year of the boar on one of the hottest days of that year in a desert in the middle of the night. I believe my mom said that week was well over 100F and it finally got down to around 60F by the time I was born- under a water sun, with earth signs in the rest of my houses.

I have bright blue eyes that people always comment on and say they look like giant flowers or some say the moon.

The name my mother gave me means 'the victorious and beautifully bright one, born of the white sea'. She said she scrapped the other names she was considering when she finally held me in her arms.

I was born with a red forehead that gets more intense or less intense with my moods. I often cover it up with makeup that matches the rest of my skin tone so that people don't stare or ask questions, but recently, I had a slight mishap with the kumkum on my forehead spreading across my face...I blended it in with a beauty blender instead of setting powder and for some reason it made made skin look less red than when I was using setting powder so I just do that now and I feel much cuter than with the heaps of makeup. I also have a red lightning bolt/dragon shaped birthmark on the back of my head that grows down my neck when I'm emotional. It's just how I was born but my hubby said to include it in my about me post so it's there :)

My earliest memories are of my mother and I eating porridge with berries, sitting on the floor, where she would tell me the story of the Ramayana.

My favorite colors are deep red, aubergine purple, rani pink peacock teal, and gold. They have been my entire life except for a few years in my teens when I was adopted by saffron/ blaze orange.

My lucky numbers are 7, 21, & 13. My lucky days are Tuesday and Friday.

My favorite food is kheer. Laddoos take a close second, but kheer has my heart. I also love western style rice pudding and wouldn't say no if a reputable company decided to sponsor my love for rice pudding/ kheer because it is life.

I have a passion for textiles. I love hand loom, block print, hand embroidery because you can feel the generations of craftsmanship in the pieces. I have dabbled in textile work for a minute I sew, weave, spin, knit, crochet, embroider, etc. Not anywhere at the commercial level but for small projects, one off events and clients, friends and family. I am forever mesmerized by all of the beautiful textile creations from all people from around the world. Each region and culture bring so much beauty to something people use everyday. I am a supporter of slow fashion and reusing quality textiles. I love natural fiber and pieces made with love.

I love animals. And for some reason owls keep popping up in my life. I fought it forever but everyone I know was convinced owls were my favorite animals. I tried to tell people I liked elephants and dolphins and snakes, but they were convinced it was owls. Owls would follow me when I was a child and sit outside my window at night. My grandfather was colleagues with an owl handler and when I was a child they would let me take a great horned owl named Merlin to school for show and tell. Later I worked at a park that by chance had an extensive owlery. I was friends with the falconer and we had much fun with the birds. My university mascot for undergrad is an owl and at this point I've stopped fighting it. The owls and I have a bond that I can't explain and they are fun to have around. There is a small owl that has a seasonal nest in the trees outside my bedroom window. It's fun to say hello when it comes to visit.

I've ridden horses most of my life. I've ridden more horses than I can count. My favorite mare was a small red and white paint. My husband had a white horse forever until it spent its last years as a little girl's lesson horse- which I think is adorable. My grandfather would always joke that one day a tall dark prince would come to take me away and he'd ride a white horse and carry me away on a mustang. Turns out it wasn't exactly a joke because my hubsy is pretty tall, dark, handsome, and he had a white horse growing up- our getaway car at our wedding was a mustang. There may have been some foreshadowing there that child me thought was teasing. I didn't tell anyone about that until after we were married but my grandfather did get a good laugh at the wedding. Hubby said to share that too.

Speaking of...my husband and I met at a party on a Friday the 13th Valentine's ball where he introduced himself and then in the next breath proposed marriage- to which I promptly said no. At the time I was in school and also doing ambassador work representing the cattle/dairy industry. He was working at his family's farm and also in the cattle/dairy industry. We became good friends, then one day we had dinner together, attended an art show, and have since become more or less inseparable. Before we married he would drive me to events after his work day in this little gold car and we would talk for hours. Some of the best memories I have was going to the cattle and agriculture shows.

We tried to elope but had to wait until my ambassador work was done because I was under contract. Once it concluded, we were married within a couple months- much to the chagrin of my family. My brother had tried to get me to marry one of his friends- the fellow was basically my husband's cousin but the relationship didn't work out too well, and then my husband ended up obviously becoming my husband. My parents initially agreed to our marriage and then they removed their blessing after we had the date set with the priest. We proceeded anyways but they did not attend our ceremony at the temple, they did however attend some of the pre events and the reception afterwards. The entire week was mostly one big stressful blur, but we did end up married and that's the important part. One of the many interesting things about our wedding that- I feel inclined to share in this post as the entire event was one interesting thing after another- is that the actual ceremony's original scheduling was delayed by a couple hours due to the priest having an unplanned situation that overlapped with our original time. We ended up being married under the Makara sign instead of the planned Vishakha sign, and consequently due to the time change we were also married during a Tripushkar Yoga. My parents are still furious about the entire ordeal and it was a good number of years ago- enough to get over it by now. They had hoped I would have picked an attorney or doctor or decorated military man, over a cowboy/farmer, but when you know that someone is part of your soul, you can't exactly stop the inevitable. And apparently, the stars literally aligned for the moment so one really can't argue with Bhagavan on the time for something to be accomplished. What many deemed inauspicious ended up being auspicious for our marriage. There were over 1500 person at our wedding. We have since had multiple unplanned wedding ceremonies in front of different groups as they wanted to also see us married and couldn't attend our initial ceremony. Which upon reflection, the timing would make sense that the good deed done during that time multiplied itself. Since our initial wedding, we have traveled over 200,000 miles together and have moved over 11 times. We've met the most incredible people, visited some amazing temples, and have had some fairly wild adventures. Getting married was the most stressful day of my life, but the since then part has very much been worth it.

We both come from joint families. He grew up towards the mountains, and I grew up towards the lakes and rivers- we were separated by a forest and found out that we actually had many of the same friends. When we were dating we would meet in the middle or he would come visit me. A few times I would travel to his family home but he would usually fetch me and bring me back. We are the only couple on both sides who didn't live as a married couple with one set of parents for at least a year or two- in I think it's somewhere around 5 generations or more. So that's been an interesting situation to navigate- to say the least.

I studied engineering at university. It was the typical school is life and you will be an engineer story. If you are on this blog, you probably know what I'm talking about. I now teach privately.

During the lockdown I spent most of my time studying Traditional Chinese Medicine, Qui Gong, Ayurveda, Yoga, Traditional Thai Medicine, and Western Sports Science. I figured if I was going to be removed from my original plan for career development, I might as well turn inward. During that time I learned a lot and am so grateful for the few years of relative solitude I could devote to deepen those studies. Some of my classes were remote and some of my classes were social distanced in person with incredibly small class sizes- so the relationship with the teachers became incredibly intimate. It's a time in my life that provided incredible nurturing for the person I need to be today.

As far as this account goes, I'm apparently here to share a bit about me and my adventures, but I started the account to share the beautiful Shri art that I find on the internet. I wasn't originally going to share anything about myself, but it came out organically and until I feel otherwise, I might as well share. I tend to stay relatively to myself so it's good to make friends who also love LakshmiNaryana.

Anyways. this is probably long enough for now. I may edit it as I go. I'm sure more "personal lore drops" will make their way to the blog as this progresses. but for now, blessings my friends and welcome to this blog that mixes my love for all things Shri with a little bit of me.

I hope you remember to dance and to go through life joyfully.

<3 Rukmini

PS for those wondering, I did eat chocolate chip biscuits and milk while writing this. If you were next to me, I entirely would have shared. I hope you know I thought about sharing with every bite.

[spacemagictea]

Beacon in the Dark

First of the stories I've written about my Drifter, Kaylessa and Amir Beckett. I plan to write more and it will all include some fluff, some angst and some sap.

TW: Sibling death

Stories will include spoilers from both the quest and the chats in one way or another to a varying degree.

I've not written things in like 10 years, and I've never shared things that I've written/came up with to be honest. I hope you enjoy.

If color coding makes things harder to read, then I'll remove it. Lemme know, please. <3

Spoken dialogue in -speak-, thoughts in 'thought', just in case.

March 14th,1999

The days in Höllvania were starting to get longer as winter slowly gave way to spring. Warmer seasons presented new challenges, but also new opportunities. One exceptionally calm evening in the central mall, Kaylessa was discussing a field hospital setup with Lettie.

-Alright, we seem to have the layout worked out.- Kay straightened out in the chair, gently pushing a rough plan drawing towards the medic. -How do you feel we discuss supplies tomorrow, maybe after lunch?

-Muy bien, come tomorrow whenever you aren’t busy. Get some rest for now. Gracias, babas.- Lettie nodded with appreciation, grabbing the piece of paper to take a closer look.

-Great. See you tomorrow, then.

The Drifter got up from the chair, rolling back her shoulders. At first, she considered walking straight to the backroom before an idea sprung in her mind and she headed downstairs.

‘Perhaps I should invite him to lunch. I think he’d like that.’

Recently, she talked over the KIM with Amir about what she jokingly called a “date idea” of having a talk about her past over a big plate of pasta. She came to appreciate the jittery technician a lot over the last weeks, finding a lot in common with him. Kay directed her steps towards the arcade, where he could be found in his time off. This time, she saw Amir hunching over some machinery, doing some tinkering on some kind of circuit board. In one hand, he held a soldering iron, in the other a pair of tweezers as he seemed to be adjusting or putting on a chip on the PCB. Kaylessa hated breaking Amir’s focus when he seemed invested in doing something, even if he never got angry at her regardless of her timing. 

This time, however, things went a bit different than usual as Amir looked up from the board and spotted her walking in, even though a second ago he seemed absolutely absorbed by his work.

-Heya! You need something, Kay? - Kay could swear Amir’s grey eyes lit up with a subtle spark whenever he noticed her coming up to him and this time was no exception. While normally she’d chalk it up to him being a cheerful guy, it felt like it happened only towards her. Or perhaps that’s what she wanted to think.

-Hey, Amir. I was thinking about our recent chat and uhm…- she stuttered a little in an unusual show of shyness -How would you feel about eating lunch together tomorrow?

This time, she couldn’t deny the joy she noticed in his eyes as he responded. Did her heart skip a beat now or was it just a feint?

-Yes! I’d love that!-  his leg started bouncing like an excited Kubrow puppy. -What time?

She wasn’t sure if she expected him to decline or if her brain just crashed under happy emotions because she realized she didn’t immediately have an answer.

-Uh, like, 14… I think? The hour I usually come to eat- she blurted out, feeling the heat of her cheeks as they turned a soft shade of red. -Time’s weird in this place.

-Heh, everything is weird in this place. See you tomorrow, then? - The enthusiastic response encouraged Kay, as she gave Amir a wide smile and an equally cheerful confirmation.

-Great! I’ll go ask Arthur to prepare something for us.

She headed out towards where Arthur usually operated, feeling like her head floated in the clouds, heart pounding in her chest. The sensation was odd, but she welcomed it. Suddenly, she felt Eleanor gently slip in her mind with a voice of worry.

‘You okay there, Drifter? Your mind suddenly started racing and I got a bit concerned.’

‘Yeah.’ she nodded as if she was replying to Eleanor face to face. ‘Just a bit… overwhelmed with emotions, that’s all. But positive emotions.’

'Ah, I see.' There was a brief pause as if Eleanor took a moment to realise what’s up.  ‘He could use someone like you in his life, you know? Someone who will help him acknowledge his worth. But do not worry, I will not spill anything unless I absolutely have to.’ The last words had the most teasing tone and Kay could swear her cheeks were not unlike the most pure rubedo in this moment.

‘Absolutely have to? I mean… I can’t even figure it out… just yet. But… thanks for keeping it safe.’ Her reply stammered, but the encouragement stuck in the back of her mind. As Eleanor withdrew with the same gentle grace as she got in, Kaylessa couldn’t help but start to ponder. She did know she cared about Amir, but this was unlike anything she experienced before. She had friends, but never anything more. Not that she got any opportunities to experience that before coming here. Quincy attempted to flirt with her day 2 of knowing her and it flew over her head like a rock launched from a catapult. Granted, it didn’t help that the first impressions of him were not so positive, but it was so obvious, when she later realized it, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, or both. Amir on the other hand didn’t try anything explicit, but she couldn’t help but read his behavior as his own way of trying to capture her attention. If he didn’t have his own tasks, he’d volunteer to go on missions with her, even if they wouldn’t normally be something up his alley. He often sought her out and even if they didn’t talk, he seemed to enjoy having her around. And Kay often returned the favor, sometimes spending more of her time off sitting in the arcade than in her backroom. Sometimes they didn’t talk for hours on end, yet there was a mutual feeling of “glad you’re here”. She’d chalk it up to wanting to be friends with him, but she never had a funny feeling in her stomach and sudden outbursts of awkward shyness when talking to her friends. This was something more, even if she was hesitant to admit if, if only for fear of it not being mutual.

She didn’t even notice when she got to the monitoring room. Arthur was his usual brooding self, standing hunched over some local maps with a pencil in hand, probably planning the routes for the next missions. Kaylessa approached the squad leader.

-Hey, Arthur. Sorry to interrupt.- Despite the rocky start to their relationship, there was already an air of mutual respect between them. Arthur was very much impressed with Kaylessa’s work ethic and the Drifter with how he managed to keep everything together in spite of all the odds against the Hex.

-Drifter. What do you need?- he acknowledged her, looking up from the maps. -How’s the field hospital planning?

-Good. We got the layout sketched out and I’ll help Lettie sort out a list of supplies we will need tomorrow so you can get us some leads. I’ve got a little request.- Kay tried her best to not betray the feelings the mention of the request stirred within her. Arthur didn’t seem to show whether he figured anything out and gave her a nod to continue. -For lunch tomorrow, would you mind preparing some pasta for two?

-Yeah, but can you be more specific? There’s many types of pasta, I assume you don’t want square spaghetti.- he chuckled.

-NO.- Kay’s eyes widened on the reminder of the horrible contraption. -It was called, I believe, rigatoni? No clue how it’s normally prepared. It’s for me and… for Amir.- she felt slight heat on her cheeks again when she finished the request. Embarrassed, she scolded herself in her mind. Thankfully, Arthur didn’t bring it up, whether he noticed or not.

-Okay. Consider it done, I’ve got a recipe everyone might like even.- he seemed to be quite enthused by the request. Drifter noticed that Arthur liked cooking and she was glad he had an outlet. He absolutely needed it. Thus, the request felt like she was doing a service to him as well. 

-Thanks. Take care, then.- she turned around and began heading to the backroom.

-You too. And, Kay? Thanks for being a positive influence on Amir.- Arthur’s sudden expression of gratitude surprised her, but she gave him a quick head bow before picking up the pace of her walk, hoping that her cheeks turning crimson again wasn’t noticed.

When Kaylessa returned to the backroom, she let out a sigh of… relief? She didn’t expect her request to be accepted, and yet there she was, her heart fluttering with joy and excitement. Preparing for sleep, she hummed a happy melody that she didn’t even know where she remembered it from. And she let the joyful anticipation lull her to sleep, even if she knew her dreams probably weren’t going to be so nice.

In the meantime, Amir paced happily around the arcade. Kay’s request was a bit unexpected, but it left him overjoyed all the same. His mind raced with questions and wondering what - and how - he should ask her about things. Was it going to be a date or a friendly talk? Regardless, he was going to embrace this opportunity to spend more time alone with her. Tomorrow was going to be good, wasn’t it?

—

March 15th, 1999

The next day, Amir was waiting in the food court of the mall since 13 ticked on the clock, his excitement making him unable to stay in the arcade. Surprisingly he hasn’t seen Kaylessa out and about yet on this day, but perhaps she was busy with something. The next hour came around however and he could feel his excitement replaced by anxiety as no sign of the Drifter was showing. His legs were bouncing and even his usual best game distractions didn’t seem to work to chase off the brain goblins.

“Maybe she forgot? Maybe she got really busy with something? Ormaybeshehatesmeactuallyandsetmeup-” his mind raced as minutes passed with no indication of change to her lack of presence. “Or maybe I should ask others if they’ve seen her. Yeahthatsoundsaboutrightshe’shelpingthemallalotafterall”. 

With this resolution, he got up, the race of his heartbeat rivaling the pace of his steps. He took a deep breath to try rein himself in or he wouldn’t be able to talk to others otherwise.

First stop, Aoi’s music shop. Aoi just returned from her mission and was unpacking her gear when Amir peeked into her room, looking as if he wanted to hide out of embarrassment.

-Hey, Aoi… Have you seen Kay today? I haven’t seen her and sheaskedmetoeatwithherand… she didn’t show up yet.-

-No, but that sounds unlike her to not show up. I’ve been out all day though so maybe ask the others?- Aoi looked up at Amir, soft worry showing up on her face.

-Okaythanks- he immediately raced over to Arthur, who was cleaning up after cooking.

-Hey Arthur, have you seen Kay? - Amir stopped his movement, but his feet kept tapping as if he wanted to keep on going, as if the matter could not wait for answers.

-No.- Arthur looked at Amir surprised, but his face immediately turned slightly concerned. -I was going to ask you the same since she made a special order for you two and she also didn’t show up to pick up any bounties today. I’ve packed the portions for you two into lunch boxes though, feel free to grab them.- He pointed at the two boxes and Amir took them before heading off. The smell of a cheesy tomato sauce was unmistakable and he immediately realised what’s in the boxes. On one hand, it made him happy that she thought of this, on the other, a sense of dread settled in his mind that something was wrong.

Quincy was still out on a mission still and even then, Amir wouldn’t risk asking. No need to subject himself to ridicule.

As he ran over to Eleanor’s residing spot, he didn’t even cross the doorstep of the former furniture shop as she immediately reached out to his mind, as if she already knew what he came to her for.

“Go check on her. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I can’t seem to reach her. It’s not like Kaylessa to not be up and about already and absolutely not like her to ask for someone’s time and not show up without notice.” Eleanor’s worried tone scared Amir, but also reassured him in what he already knew he should do.

-You’re always so good at giving advice, Eleanor. Thankyouthankyouthankyou- he responded out loud, turning around and straight up leaping onto the halfway point between the floors and sprinting through the rest of the stairs and toward the backroom. 

He passed the whispering Void doors with unease. Within the room there was nothing but calm and silence. Kalymos was sleeping near the stage monitoring area and Shale, Kaylessa’s kubrow, acknowledged Amir’s presence with a quick glance and a gruff snort before going back to sleep on the lounge couch left behind by Dr. Entrati.

-Atleastthedogdoesn’twanttoeatme- he halfheartedly mumbled to himself, his anxiety rising up again as he wasn’t sure what he was going to find upstairs. Taking deep breaths in futile attempts to calm himself down, he walked up and through the door to the lounge. He couldn’t help but notice how homely she made it feel with her decorations. Planters everywhere, pictures on the wall and… plushies. There were some plushies on the couch and a hint of a whole pile near the balcony. She even brought in some furniture that seemed otherworldly in a way. Perhaps brought over from the future or from Duviri? Was Duviri also future? Such thoughts didn’t matter right now, though.

Amir set the lunchboxes on the cabinet behind a soft armchair as he looked towards the part separated by curtains and he saw her on the bed that had the same styling as other furniture she brought in. His heart skipped a beat and sank a little in familiar sadness.

She was sleeping and she didn’t seem peaceful in that sleep at all, tossing and turning about, distressed gibberish escaping her mouth and her short crimson hair an utter mess. He immediately understood what was happening. After all, he was also often plagued with anguish in his sleep. At first he thought of waking her up by shaking her out of it but that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. He wasn’t even sure what was appropriate to do, but he decided to let his feelings guide him. Unusually carefully for him, he stepped forward and sat down on the edge of the bed. His leg bounced nervously as he slightly leaned, his hand reaching towards her. In the moment she was still on her side, Amir gently gave her cheek a soft caress, afraid of the touch startling her. It didn’t but it seemed to have some effect as her expression became more peaceful. 

He let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Carefully, he moved the hair that dropped on her face up, thoughtlessly enjoying the softness of the crimson strands. He sat a bit more comfortably before moving his hand to grab hers.

He wasn’t even sure why he did this, surely she couldn’t feel the same way he does, right? What if what he was doing would scare her off? And yet, why did it feel so right to give her these tender gestures? His mind raced with hundreds of thoughts per second, a different kind of anxiety settling in. But he couldn’t get himself to stop.

After what seemed like forever, Kay slowly stirred awake. She squeezed Amir’s hand without realizing it at first, before a soft “Huh?” as she noticed an additional presence. Amir withdrew, his anxiety making his heart feel like it’s going up to his throat, almost expecting a berating for being a bit too brave with his affections.

-Amir?- she raised her head and then sat up, perplexed at first. -What… oh. OH. I’m so sorry, Amir I didn’t mean to…- she immediately panicked as she figured out that she slept through their arranged meet time. -I couldn’t seem to get out of these…

-It’s okay, Kay, it’s okayit’sokayit’snotyourfault- he didn’t even know why his instincts told him to do so, but he immediately wrapped his arms around the clearly distressed Drifter. -You had nightmares, didn’t you?

“justlikeIdobutdidn’thavethegutstotellyouandnowi’mprobablyunwittinglyforcingyoutotellmeaboutyours” his thoughts continued without letting that out.

-Yeah…-Kay accepted the hug, surprised but also relieved he wasn’t angry at her. She leaned into the embrace, letting out a sigh. -They often plague me… I keep reliving the Zariman nightmare in my mind over and over and over again... and this time they wouldn’t let up. I felt as if I sank into darkness.- her emerald green eyes welled up with tears she clearly has been holding back for a long, long time.

-I…knowwhatyoumean.- Amir nodded, tightening the hug. His first assumptions felt so silly now but he was glad to be proven wrong.

-And then I felt as if something touched me and I saw a soft flickering light and as I reached towards it, the nightmares couldn’t pull me any further in. It then felt like a warm handle that let me pull myself out.- she continued, trying to hide the blush springing up on her cheeks.

He smiled. While he lacked the courage to ask about this feeling further, something about her words made him feel a warmth he never experienced before. -Thank you for checking up for me, Amir. I mean it.

-Anytimenoproblem- Amir blurted out as his cheeks turned a shade of red. -I grabbed food from Arthur so if you’re hungry, we can eat… anddontfeelforcedtospeakaboutanythingyoudon’tfeelcomfortableaboutokay?

-Talking about it is never comfortable, but you deserve to know at least part of it.- Kay gave him a soft smile and they moved to the couch opposite to the bed.

—

During the meal, Kay talked about the more mundane parts of her pre-Zariman incident life that she remembered, happily feeding Amir’s curiosity about the future. She told him about her older sister, Aurelia. Once they finished the meal, Kay settled more comfortably on the couch, but her expression seemed anything but. Amir looked a bit concerned.

-Kay, really, if you don’t feel comfortable…

-I’ve made up my mind. A lot of my nightmares involve her. My guilt about her death. Maybe… maybe this will give me some closure.- she didn’t seem sure if she believed her last sentence but it was clear she resolved to tell everything about this part of her story.

Amir shifted, his leg bounced anxiously. Carefully, he put one arm around the Drifter, hoping to offer her some extra reassurance.It seemed to be appreciated, as she leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a long sigh. He gently moved his palm, letting the soft crimson threads weave in between his fingers and leaned his head on hers.

-So. When the failed jump happened. It was all pure chaos. My sister was an adult by then. And she was… she was…- Kaylessa didn’t even know when her voice started shaking, tears that welled up before now starting to run down her cheeks. She swallowed painfully and continued. -She was among the first to turn to madness caused by the Indifference.

Amir wrapped his second arm around her, giving her a tight, reassuring squeeze.

-It was like watching an animal, a beast, a monster, wearing the body of my beloved sister. It… was… and yet… wasn’t her. My parents had not turned yet and I went looking for her and I…- she took a few deep breaths, trying to not sob - I got cornered by her in one of the classrooms. She was going to kill me. I tried to call her, tried to get to her, but there was… nothing… left…

She could not hold it in anymore, sobs wracking through her. He pulled her in closer, allowing her to cry freely. He was entirely focused on her, on comforting her, on letting her let out the pain she clearly held onto for far too long. While it felt odd to him that he was the one she decided to trust with this, he didn’t want to let her down, not when she expressed endless patience for his excessive rants and raves. She slowly regained her composure once more.

-My survival instinct kicked in. I don’t remember what I grabbed, it all happened so fast, what I do remember was kneeling at her corpse, weeping. It wasn’t her anymore when I killed the body and yet… I could not stop the guilt, you know? And that guilt made it so when my parents turned… I could not bear to do the same to them even though it would probably be a mercy.

-Oh Sol and Lua, Kay. I’m so sorry. Idon’tknowhowIcouldcomfortyoubut… you carry so much guilt you do not deserve to carry. AndIfeellike…- he paused, unsure if he should continue the thought running in his mind.

-Like I constantly put myself last as a result and neglect my own feelings and needs? Yeah. That isn’t a wrong assessment.- She sighed, seemingly a bit relieved as if she tossed a lot of weight out of her body. -Sorry for burdening you with this story, but… thank you for being here and comforting me. It… it means a lot, you know?

-Thank you for trusting me enough to share.- he gave her one last tight hug before letting go, reflecting on the fact he didn’t share his burdens with her yet. But he felt he could trust her with them, when he was ready.

-She always protected me. And at the time, I felt like I failed to protect her in return. I still do. I’ve since promised myself to not fail anyone like that ever again. To honor her.- Kaylessa straightened out, looking at Amir with pure gratitude.

-I think you’re honoring her well, even if I’ddisagreeaboutyoufailing - Amir reciprocated the smile she gave him, his thoughts finishing once more without speaking out loud “Idon’tthinkyou’refailingatanythingyouresuchawonderfulandperfectperson”

She chuckled before getting up, the funny feeling in her mind swelling up again.

-Well, I should go help Lettie with the list of supplies for the field hospital. Perhaps tomorrow, when Arthur gathers leads on them, we could run together to get as much as we can?- Kay tilted her head expectantly, deep in her heart knowing the answer already.

-YES! Gladly!- Amir almost jumped up, excited about the prospect of a joint mission. They headed out of the backroom to carry on with the day, both surprised none of the Hex called them in, even though almost two hours passed since Amir entered the backroom.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: creature of mine

"Dunno why, but s'not working this time. M'not resssponding to it." Crowley's eyes flickered with something entirely unreadable. "I need a warm body." "I see." "Can't even use my fingers properly with these bloody claws. Still, feels better to have something warm, something moving." Aziraphale attempted to make sense of Crowley's words, his head pounding viciously. A warm body. "Would you like me to... hold you again?" Crowley smiled, open-mouthed and beastly. His fangs glistened in the darkness. "Need you to fuck me, angel." Or: Aziraphale buys Crowley a snake plant, hoping to please Crowley with the appealing smell of its flowers. Its effects on Crowley are far more extreme than Aziraphale anticipated, and it’s down to him to face them head-on.

Length: 21,253 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: After Dark, Canon AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia

*Minor Spoilers* Buckle in, it's long post time. I admit to bias in the length of this post because I love this author, but above all, my enjoyment of this story is so genuine and I am so proud to recommend that you all read it too. This was written for the sex pollen event that has been going on recently (so many more for me to read!) and it's one I knew was coming but didn't know too many details about. So when I woke up to the email that it was posted, I knew I was going to have such a good morning, and oooh boy did I.

Caught outside in the rain, Aziraphale steps briefly into an exotic plant shop to stay dry. When he spots a beautiful flowering snake plant, well, he's free from Heaven now and free to buy his friend a gift. And what a gift it will be when they realize that the plant's pollen contains the exact pheromones that trigger Crowley's snake desires. Even though I knew exactly where this was going, the actual journey was so intoxicating. When the effects first take hold, neither of them knows exactly what to do. Both are locked into shame and embarrassment over the situation, but the trust and protection they have for each other is sturdy. Crowley struggles with losing control and the pain of vulnerability, while Aziraphale tries desperately to deny his own wants and desires. He represses it all to protect Crowley. And isn't this just the most beautiful metaphor for their entire relationship? As always, they get there in the end. It's as heartwarming as it is sensual. I will never tire of them completely surrendering to each other.

The thing I always love most about this narrative style is how it blends poetry and smut. It will paint with gorgeous prose and then snap our attention back with its explicit language. It's thrilling to me and a shining example of how rich smut stories can be. I'm awed and horny! And I have to say, this was such a clever and interesting take on Crowley's snake body! Naga/Monster fuckers, this one needs to be made a priority for you. It was described in excellent detail but also depicted gorgeously by the included art! I've still got goosebumps over the third piece of included art! The color palette! The bodies!! The emotion! I'm in love. Both author and artist have a talent for making me feel so at home in my own body with their works. I just trust them implicitly, and they make it so easy to imagine how everything would feel to my own skin.

This is an at-home, after-dark read. It will have you sweating and squirming, but also in awe of their closeness and the trust they have in each other. How endless their devotion is. How beautiful this story is. But let's be real, I'm also thinking about how fun their next round with this plant could be now that they're on the same page. Next time, with the walls completely down, they are going to have the most pleasurable night of their life for the rest of their lives.

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia