#this post was supposed to be better but i accidentally deleted it and had to do it again

[mintyys-blog]

sinister mark x zatanna! reader & full mask! mark x raven! reader

WARNINGS: injury, blood, fighting, kidnapping, loss of magic

A/N: this was a request but I accidentally deleted the post, btw had to nerf their powers

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

The city burned. Explosions painted the skyline in hues of fire and smoke, and the screams of the dying filled the air like a symphony of suffering. The Invincible War was in full force, and amidst the chaos, you stood your ground.

You, the lover of Mark Grayson, were no ordinary fighter. With the power of magic bending to your will, you were a force to be reckoned with. The air shimmered with your words as you uttered backward spells, striking down the invading Viltrumites who sought to tear your world apart.

But then, you felt it. A presence—a predator lurking in the battlefield, his gaze locked onto you with an unsettling hunger.

Sinister Mark.

He emerged from the smoke, his suit stained with blood, his eyes void of anything human. He looked like Mark, your Mark, but there was something twisted in his expression. Something wrong. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest.

Sinister Mark smirked, licking the blood off his knuckles. “Oh, but I am. And I’m here for you.” Your stomach twisted. You had heard about him—this psychotic version of your lover. He had torn through dimensions, slaughtered billions, and now he stood before you, utterly fixated.

“You think I don’t know you?” he continued, stalking closer, each step deliberate. “I had you once. In my world, you loved me.”

You clenched your fists, the glow of magic crackling at your fingertips. “If that were true, I wouldn’t be standing against you.”

His grin widened. “I killed you, you know. By accident. Snapped your neck too hard in the middle of a fight.” He tilted his head, watching for your reaction. “But that was a mistake. One I plan to fix.” Your pulse pounded. “You won’t touch me.”

“That’s cute.” His voice dripped with mockery, but his eyes burned with something raw. “Your little spells won’t stop me.”

You didn’t give him a chance to move. With a flick of your wrist, you spoke, your words flowing in reverse: “Erif morf nruter ot su!”

A wall of flames erupted between you, but Sinister Mark didn’t flinch. He burst through the inferno like a monster stepping out of hell, his hands reaching for you. You barely managed to teleport away in time, reappearing on top of a crumbling building. He was on you in a heartbeat. A fist came flying, and you countered with a spell: “Kcatta m’I tub, raeppa su sevol!”

His punch faltered, his body seizing for a split second as love—false, manufactured—clouded his mind. His smirk twisted, his body trembling with forced affection. Then he laughed. Low and guttural. “That’s dirty,” he admitted, shaking off the spell like it was nothing. “But I like dirty.”

Your heart pounded as he lunged again. You barely had time to shield yourself before the building gave way beneath you. The last thing you saw before falling was his eyes—obsessive, unrelenting. This wasn’t just war to him. This was personal. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you.

You hit the ground hard, but a whispered spell softened the impact. Dust and debris filled the air, but you didn’t have time to recover—Sinister Mark was already there, descending like a meteor.

“Pots!”

Your voice rang out, and time froze around him, suspending him mid-air. He sneered, muscles twitching as he fought against the spell. His Viltrumite physiology resisted magic better than most, but he was still caught—for now.

You exhaled sharply, backing up. This wasn’t like fighting other versions of Mark. This one was a monster. Sadistic. Unrelenting. And he wanted you for himself.

“I can feel it cracking,” he taunted, his voice eerily calm as he strained against your spell. “Won’t hold me much longer.”

You needed to end this. Now.

“Llaf dna emirc otni a eloh!”

The ground beneath him shattered, opening into a bottomless void. A pocket dimension spell. If you could trap him inside, you might have a chance to regroup— But then he moved. One moment, he was suspended. The next, his body jerked violently, muscles tearing as he forced himself free. Blood spattered from his nose as he broke through your magic, lunging forward just before the void could swallow him. You barely had time to teleport. “Tropele!”

You reappeared a few feet away, but his speed was insane. His hand caught your throat, slamming you against the wreckage of a destroyed building. The air rushed from your lungs as his grip tightened. “You’re fast,” he murmured, tilting his head, examining you like prey. “Smart, too. But I’ve fought you before. And I always win.”

You gasped, struggling. Your fingers trembled as you reached for your magic. You just needed a second— He leaned in, voice dark and possessive. “You smell like her. Like mine.” Rage burned through you. You gathered all the power you had left and spat out the words: “Ezeerf!”

Ice exploded from your hands, coating his arm in a thick layer of frost. His grip faltered just enough for you to twist free, and with a fierce cry, you sent him flying with a concussive blast. He crashed through a skyscraper, but you knew it wouldn’t stop him. Nothing would. You needed Mark. Your Mark. Before you could call for him, a blur shot past you—mainstream Mark, your Mark, slamming into Sinister Mark with enough force to send shockwaves through the city.

“You okay?!” Mark called, hovering protectively in front of you. You wiped blood from your lip, glaring at Sinister Mark as he rose from the rubble, a sick grin spreading across his face.

“I am now,” you said. Mark clenched his fists. “You’re not taking her.” Sinister Mark chuckled darkly. “Oh, I am. I just have to kill you first.”

Sinister Mark moved too fast.

One second, you were preparing your next spell—magic crackling at your fingertips—ready to end this nightmare. The next, a cold blade pressed against your throat.

You barely had time to react before he sliced.

A sharp, burning pain tore through your neck. Your eyes widened, a strangled gasp escaping as blood poured from the wound. Your hands flew to your throat, fingers slick with warm crimson.

Sinister Mark leaned in, his lips at your ear. “You can’t cast spells without talking, right?”

A choked sound left you—half a gasp, half a sob—as your vision blurred. Your knees buckled, the world tilting as you collapsed.

“Y/N!”

Mark’s voice was raw with panic. A blur of blue and black shot past you, slamming into Sinister Mark with the force of a meteor. The impact sent shockwaves tearing through the city, cracking the pavement beneath you.

You barely registered it.

Your breath came in wet, ragged gasps. You pressed harder against the wound, but the blood wouldn’t stop. It spilled through your fingers, soaking the front of your costume, choking you.

You were drowning in it. Then—warm hands. Mark was suddenly there, gathering you in his arms, cradling you like you were something fragile. His eyes were wide, frantic, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

“Hey—hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, pressing his hand against your throat to stop the bleeding. His fingers trembled. “You’re gonna be okay. You have to be okay.”

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound. Mark’s face twisted in anguish. “No, no, don’t talk—just hold on. I’ll get you help, just—” A deafening boom cut him off.

Sinister Mark came flying back, streaking across the sky before crashing into the rubble. Dust and debris exploded outward, but you barely saw it—your vision was tunneling, darkness creeping at the edges. Mark turned back to you, his hands pressing desperately against your wound. His breathing was ragged, his body shaking.

“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “Stay with me, Y/N. I can’t— I won’t lose you.” Your body felt so heavy. The world was slipping away. And Sinister Mark was getting back up.

Your eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling above you was unfamiliar—smooth, sterile, nothing like your bedroom back home. Panic surged through you as you sat up too quickly, your head spinning from the motion.

Your hand flew to your throat, fingers trembling as they brushed against stiff bandages wrapped tightly around your skin. A deep, aching pain pulsed beneath them. Your breath hitched. You tried to speak. Nothing came out.

Your throat burned as you forced out a hoarse, broken sound—something between a whisper and a sob. The pain was excruciating.

Your vocal cords were gone. Tears blurred your vision. You clutched your throat, your breaths coming in sharp gasps, your mind reeling. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t cast spells.

You were powerless. A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the doorway. “Oh, you’re awake.”

Your blood ran cold. Sinister Mark leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk curling at his lips. He looked completely at ease, like he hadn’t just destroyed your world, like he hadn’t just stolen your voice, your magic, your life.

You scrambled back against the headboard, hands trembling as you instinctively tried to summon a spell—anything. But without your voice, nothing happened. Nothing. Sinister Mark laughed.

“You’re still trying?” He shook his head, amused. “That’s cute.” You clenched your jaw, fists balling in helpless rage. Your body shook with the effort to do something, fight back, but all you could do was glare at him, breath shuddering.

He stepped closer, and you flinched. “Don’t worry about your Mark,” he continued, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “I made his death quick.” Your heart stopped.

The room blurred. Everything tilted. No. No, no, no— A broken, strangled sob tore from your throat, pain flaring through your body as you tried to scream, tried to deny it. Mark was gone. Your Mark was gone. And you were trapped with a monster.

The sky was torn apart. The city trembled beneath the weight of a battle that had yet to truly begin. The air crackled with unstable energy as a figure stepped through the fractured fabric of reality—Mask Mark.

Blood-stained armor, tattered Viltrumite uniform, and eyes filled with an unfathomable hunger for destruction. He had seen the one thing that kept him going, the one thing that haunted him across dimensions—her. But this version of her wasn’t the one he had lost.

She stood before him, floating above the ruined streets, wrapped in a cloak darker than the void, her eyes glowing a deep, foreboding amethyst. Shadows writhed at her feet, responding to her emotions like living extensions of her soul. This was not his love.

This was an enemy.

Behind her, the mainstream Mark—her Mark—stood ready for battle, fists clenched, jaw tight. “You don’t belong here,” he growled. “You’re not taking her.”

Mask Mark’s lips curled into a wicked grin beneath his cracked helmet. “You don’t get a choice.” And then he moved.

Faster than sound, he closed the distance, a blur of crimson and brutality. His fist swung toward her—his love, his obsession—but it met a wall of solid black energy, a barrier born from her soul itself. The impact sent shockwaves through the streets, shattering windows and splitting the pavement.

She didn’t falter. Her voice, laced with ethereal power, rang out: “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

Dark tendrils surged forward, wrapping around his limbs, pulling him back mid-strike. He snarled, muscles tensing as he fought against them, but these weren’t just physical restraints—they were draining him, siphoning his very essence.

“You’re not real to me,” she said coldly, her gaze unwavering. “You’re just a ghost of someone I never knew.”

Mask Mark growled in frustration before his aura flared, a burst of raw Viltrumite strength breaking him free. “I am real. And you—” He pointed at her, his voice a venomous whisper. “—you were mine once.”

Mainstream Mark shot forward, intercepting with a devastating punch to the side of his skull. Mask Mark barely moved, his head snapping back before he grinned, spitting blood. “Cute.”

In a blur, he struck back, sending mainstream Mark hurtling through three buildings.

She barely reacted. Her focus was singular, unwavering. Mask Mark turned back to her, his expression shifting from amusement to something darker. “You don’t belong with him,” he said, voice softer, almost persuasive. “You belonged with me. I lost you once. I won’t let it happen again.”

A cold wind swept through the ruined battlefield. The shadows around her pulsed, responding to the growing storm of her emotions. The weight of his obsession, his twisted grief, it disgusted her.

Her voice was steady. “You’re not taking me anywhere.” He lunged again, but this time, she was faster.

A wave of dark energy crashed into him, tendrils wrapping around his torso and dragging him into the air. His vision blurred as a crushing force gripped his mind, his very soul. It was her magic, burrowing into the depths of his being, pulling apart the fragments of his fractured reality.

He screamed—not in pain, but in rage. He fought against it, fought against her, but she was relentless. Shadows filled his vision, his mind slipping into an abyss of nothingness. And then, silence.

Mask Mark’s body hit the ground, unmoving. His breaths were ragged, his limbs twitching. The battle was over. She hovered above him, her cloak billowing in the wind. Mainstream Mark landed beside her, wiping blood from his mouth. “What did you do?”

“I trapped him in his own darkness,” she murmured. “He’ll see nothing but his past, his failures, over and over again.”

Mainstream Mark exhaled. “That’s brutal.” She finally looked at him, her expression softening. “He wasn’t going to stop.” Mark nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I know.”

The battlefield was silent, save for the crackling of unstable energy lingering in the air. Mask Mark lay on the ground, his breath ragged, his body motionless. She exhaled slowly, lowering her hands. It was done. But then— A tremor.

The shadows around her flickered unnaturally, twisting and writhing as if rejecting their hold on him. The weight of something dark, something primal, pressed into her mind. She gasped, clutching her head as a searing pain lanced through her skull. And then she felt it. His pain. His fury. His despair. It flooded through her like a raging tide—raw, overwhelming. It wasn’t just anger. It was grief, a loss so deep it had hollowed him out, leaving only this monstrous shell behind. The depth of his suffering crushed against her empathic senses, forcing her to her knees.

“Ngh—” she gritted her teeth, fingers digging into the cracked pavement. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. It was too much. The sheer force of his emotions was suffocating, a hurricane of loss, rage, and desperation.

She could barely register Mark calling her name before— A sonic boom. A fist colliding with flesh. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see Mask Mark punch mainstream Mark full force.

Her Mark was sent flying, crashing through another building, the impact sending debris flying in every direction. The shock jolted her back to reality. She gasped, struggling to her feet as Mask Mark turned toward her, his breath heavy, his pupils dilated with unrestrained obsession.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he growled, stepping forward. His voice was rough, trembling—not with weakness, but with something else. “You felt everything I lost. Everything that was taken from me.”

Her fingers curled into fists. Her head still throbbed, her chest still ached from the weight of his emotions, but she forced herself to stand.

“That doesn’t make this right,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Mask Mark’s expression twisted. His teeth clenched. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, shadows curling around her fingertips. “I don’t. Because the man I love—he would never become you.”

His eye twitched. For a moment, just a second, there was something vulnerable beneath all that rage. Then it was gone. A storm erupted around them, her darkness clashing against his brute strength once again. The battle wasn’t over. Not yet.

The battle raged on. Mask Mark was relentless—faster, stronger, more brutal than anything she had ever faced. But she held her ground, shadows striking out in waves, reality bending at her fingertips.

She could feel his desperation fueling every attack. He wasn’t just fighting to win. He was fighting to take her. Then, something changed.

Mask Mark suddenly stopped mid-air, his expression unreadable. Before she could react, he reached into his belt and pulled out a small, blackened amulet. It pulsed with an eerie red glow, its aura thick with dark magic—magic that made her stomach twist in instinctual dread.

She barely had time to teleport away before he closed the distance, slamming it against her chest. A surge of pain shot through her body. Her powers—her very essence—burned.

She screamed as something latched onto her soul, twisting, locking, sealing. The shadows around her vanished. The weight of her magic, the connection to her abilities—gone. She collapsed, gasping, fingers clawing at the amulet. Her body felt… wrong. Hollow. Powerless. No. No, no, no— She tried to say the words. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

Nothing happened. She looked up in horror. Mask Mark stood over her, his lips curling into a satisfied, hungry smirk.

“You’re mine now.” She gritted her teeth, still clawing at the cursed object. “You—won’t—get away with this—” A green portal flickered to life behind him, swirling with unstable energy. Her heart pounded as realization dawned.

“No,” she whispered. He grabbed her by the wrist. She thrashed, kicked, did everything in her power to break free, but without her magic, she was just—human. Her Mark recovered, shooting toward them, desperation in his eyes.

“NO!” His hand reached for hers— Too late. Mask Mark yanked her backward, and they fell into the portal. The last thing she saw before the portal closed was Mark’s outstretched hand, his face contorted in horror. Then—darkness.

When she woke, the air was wrong. It was colder, heavier, filled with an eerie silence that made her skin crawl.

Her body ached as she pushed herself up—only to freeze when she saw him. Mask Mark stood over her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His mask was gone so now she got a good look at his face. The dim light cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes, the barely contained tension in his posture.

She gasped and scrambled back, heart pounding. Her body moved on instinct, driven by fear, but it was useless. The moment she tried to teleport away—tried to summon even the smallest flicker of power—she felt it again. The emptiness. The cursed amulet still hung from her neck, its weight suffocating.

Her stomach dropped. She was powerless. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Stay away from me!” she spat, still trying to do something, anything. But without her magic, she was just human—and he was still him. Her Mark wasn’t here to protect her.

Mask Mark crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied her. “You’re afraid.” His voice was softer now, almost… pained. She glared at him. “Of course I’m afraid! You—you kidnapped me! You ripped me away from my home, from Mark—” His expression darkened at that name. His jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured. “I had no choice.” She scoffed, bitter and furious. “No choice? You expect me to believe that?”

He met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw something beyond his twisted obsession. Grief. Raw, festering grief. A wound that had never healed. “I lost you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I lost everything.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt it again—the remnants of his emotions pressing against her empathic senses, even through the cursed amulet. It was buried under layers of rage and violence, but it was there. A deep, suffocating sorrow.

“I watched you die,” he continued, his hands curling into fists. “And I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t strong enough. So when I saw you again, in that perfect little world of yours—” His lips pressed into a thin line. “I wasn’t going to lose you again.” Her chest tightened. “That doesn’t justify this.” His eyes darkened. “I don’t care.” Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “What do you want from me?” His expression softened, but in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. “I just want you back and now I have you.” he had the same face as her lover. His lips brushed againist hers, “I would do anything for you,” then he kissed her. She pushed back but it was useless— as long as her powers were trapped in the amulet she was just useless. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She was trapped.

[winterarmyy]

winterarmyy's masterlist

Disclaimer: This masterlist may contain works with adult contents that is not appropriate for those who are under the age of 18. Please proceed at your own risk. Thank you.

Taglist: I do not use taglist system for my work anymore. You may follow me and turn on the notification for new updates. Don't worry about spamming, my blog posts are only consist of fic updates and asks replies.

Navigation: For now I only write for Bucky Barnes and all of my works are complete unless stated otherwise. Each of the work under a specific universe are listed chronologically based on the story's timeline.

Genre tags:  🥀 - angst    ⛓ - smut    🐇 - fluff    🖤 - dark

FRIENDLY REMINDER

• I will block you if you...

MY WORK

Plot Twist Universe ft. mafia!bucky

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

♥︎ Plot Twist (🐇)(⛓) - Part I | Part II | Part III

♥︎ Around My Scars (🐇)(⛓) (🥀)

Behind The Facades Universe ft. avenger!bucky

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

♥︎ Behind The Facades (🥀) - Part I | Part II | Part III

And You're Mine Universe ft. alpha!bucky

How grumpy chubby alpha!bucky finally found his omega.

♥︎ Must Be Fate (🐇)

♥︎ And You're Mine (🐇) (🥀)

♥︎ Baby, Fever & Cuddles (🐇)

♥︎ Steal Me Away (🐇)

Welcome Home... Soldat? Universe ft. winter soldier!bucky

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

♥︎ Welcome Home... Soldat? (🐇) (⛓) - Part I | Part II | Part III

♥︎ Welcome Home, Daddy (🖤) (🥀) (🐇)

Promise Me Universe ft. 40s!bucky / tfatws!bucky

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

♥︎ Promise Me (🥀) (🐇) - Part I | Part II | Part III

Thin Walls, Thin Lines Universe ft. fuckboy!bucky

What will happen if a fuckboy falls in love with a hopeless romantic?

♥︎ Thin Walls, Thin Lines (🥀)(🐇)(⛓) + Deleted Scene

Against All Odd Universe ft. medieval!bucky

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky

♥︎ Against All Odds (⛓)(🐇)(🥀) - Part I | Part II | Part III

A Series of Bucky Drabbles

♥︎ Until Then (🥀) (🐇) ft. 40s!bucky / avenger!bucky

A mission back in time brought Y/N to an unexpected encounter with the man she fell in love with. (Inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift)

♥︎ I'm Not Like Her (🥀) (🐇) ft. avenger!bucky

Y/N had her heart broken when some agents made fun of how her body looks and Bucky came in clutch with the rescue.

♥︎ Never Lie To Me (⛓) ft. winter soldier!bucky

In which Y/N's sinful thoughts towards the Asset is reciprocated. (Inspired by I Can See You by Taylor Swift )

♥︎ My Person (🐇)(⛓) ft. tfatws!bucky

In which Sam's question forces Bucky to reveal his true feelings to his so called "friend", Y/N.

♥︎ Kiss It Better (⛓)(🐇)(🥀) ft. avenger!bucky

In which the reader refused to let Bucky go down on her lately because she's embarrassed of the chafing marks on her inner thighs.

♥︎ He Hates Me, Doesn't He? (🥀) ft. tfatws!bucky

You hurt Bucky's girl, and now he hates you.

♥︎ Sleepy Heads (🐇) ft. tfatws!bucky

That time when the reader accidentally fell asleep on a stranger’s shoulder in the subway ride home. The stranger in question, however, is none other than the former Winter Soldier, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

♥︎ A Fucking Treasure (⛓)(🐇)(🥀) ft. avenger!bucky

A date gone wrong? Same old, same old. But, having Bucky pinning her against the wall, now that’s new.

♥︎ I Knew It Then (🐇)(🥀) ft. avenger!bucky

If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?

♥︎ Most Precious (🐇)(🥀) ft. avenger!bucky

In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

More drabbles coming soon...

A Series of Random Bucky Blurbs

Midnight Rain (🥀) ft. 40's!bucky

Breast-pumping Routine (🐇) ft. avenger!bucky

Forced Marriage (🐇) (⛓) ft. duke's illegitimate son!bucky

Dark!Bucky stalking the reader (🐇) (⛓) ft. dark!tfatws!bucky

Reader shuts down emotionally (🥀) ft. avenger!bucky

MY RECOMMENDATIONS

Support other writers here: #fic rec

All my recommendations are consist of Sebastian Stan's characters.

[thatsprettylane]

Making my own post about this because I accidentally derailed a post about aces who have sex (misunderstood sex positive as just not being sex repulsed. Whoops!) OP kindly asked me to delete and I obliged because even though there’s an overlap, aces who have sex deserve their own space. So!

Some of us experience sexual attraction without the desire to act on it. I’m aegosexual, which means sex without the self. I love sex as a concept, but engaging with it directly? I’m not really into it. To take from @eisly, I’m a fan of football, but I don’t want to be down on the field playing it.

And because of the misconceptions out there about ace people, it took me a really long time to figure out. I had the same fantasies and attractions as anyone else growing up, but when my friends started having sex, I still didn’t want to. At first I thought I was just “better” than them (we were in high school! We shouldn’t be doing this! Sex is bad!) and then as time went on and I found myself in a serious relationship in college, I started to think maybe I was broken. I wanted to please my partner, and while I enjoyed the closeness between us that sex led to, I still didn’t like it the way I was “supposed” to. I started to wonder if maybe it was my partner, or us together, but deep down, I knew it was me.

Finding out that asexuality is just as much of a spectrum as any other sexuality was a lifeline. Not just for me, but for my partner, too. I realized we just weren’t compatible and we broke up. Now he’s married with a child and happier than ever. And I know who I am and what I want.

[sillygoofyqueer]

Papa, me want more movie (fish x doctor (Leviathyuan x Mu Qingfang)). /ref /nf

I had a funny response to this yesterday, but then I deleted the entire post accidentally so joke cancelled, let me just tell you about the stupid freaks (affectionate). Okay so Mu Qingfang and Leviathyuan bond first through learning about Leviathyuan's weird ass anatomy, and then through learning about the many different flora and fauna of their world together because Leviathyuan already adores listening to him reading the books that he has in his office, and Mu Qingfang loves talking about his special interests. And learning about Leviathyuan's love of monsters. Also, Leviathyuan has this terrifying method of learning through shoving different plants into his mouth and seeing what happens! This, paired with how he plays with other beasts/monsters (following them around and then getting into roughhousing so violent that even Bai Zhan are horrified when he comes back covered in blood and sporting a slightly manic grin), means that they also learn about how they all affect demons differently! ("there is no agony from that plant..I ate it yesterday" "yeah, but you're a demon, it can affect you differently" "I'm not the only one who ate it!" *cut to Bai Zhan disciples writhing on the floor*) I suppose I moved onto how they fall in love next because my next bullet point here says that Mu Qingfang falls for the needlessly kind and gentle soul who enjoys listening to him, and "LVY falls for THAT ASS!! (and everything else cool, I guess)" See, unlike 'normal, base model' Shen Yuan, Leviathyuan has no qualms with being attracted to men because demon norms and human norms are completely different, so I'm basically giving you a sick as fuck demon who is heavily attracted to men and will deploy any courting methods necessary to get that freakish doctor man! For Leviathyuan, his falling point is watching this always calm but often stressed out man standing up and defending him against a snide sect leader who keeps making horrid accusations towards him. it might be a bit basic, but Mu Qingfang has told him many times that he thinks arguments are pointless and that a structured discussion can make everything so much easier, and then there he is, the first to stand and get ready to verbally (and possibly physically, judging by how he grips the hilt of his sword) decimate this nobody who isn't even worth his time! Of course Leviathyuan wants him carnally, he's a demon! He's seen how demons of the lake courted each other, violence equals affection!! For Mu Qingfang, his falling point is being on a mini, low stakes mission with Leviathyuan and some disciples, and then seeing this demon - someone who actively learns through touch and taste from his time in the dark lake - drag a few disciples away from a dangerous plant after they go to touch them and then start scolding them. This is this something that Mu Qingfang always has to do because most others don't care to educate themselves on plants that don't cause death. Leviathyuan is pushing aside his natural demonic instincts of learning to make sure that these children of a different race don't do something stupid, and his disciples are actually listening to him. GET HIM THE WEDDING ROBES!! (The original post was so much better...I'm so upset.....)

[mao22716]

bonus comic ( wooo clap clap clap)

no overlay ver:

can u even see the difference....

commenting on my drawing u can ignore (pls do)

omg all my comments r gone bc i accidentally posted and i deleted it out of panic 😭😭😭😭😭

overall im very happy with this its around 80% of what i originally had in mind

in my imaginagtion i wanted the picture to look more blue bc its morning and its bright but if i put a lot of overlay the colours wont look interesting anymore i am conflicted

so ill post both with some blue overlay and without it

im gonna wait until the day after i make this draft to post so that i can see if theres anything i can improve on it has been a few hrs since i first made the draft and i made some changes to the drawing

i actually changed a few things already like the hair ribbon (it was blue previously) and the umbrella handle (it was a dark brown like the bag)

i also put some pink in the umbrella bc i thought it was too plain i hope it looks good to everyone else who might be seeing it

i want kurikos face to be the focus but i find it hard to do that bc the umbrella is also a light colour so i tried to put more shadow & hopefully theres more contrast

the bag is easier to focus on.... this is sad

the ribbons on the bag r also sad but they look like ribbons so thats good

im not good at perspective so the bottom of the skirt might look out of place but i did my best to fix it by rendering

it looks messy but its supposed to be like that pls believe me

the hair was so fun to paint theres so many colours that go well tgt and looks pleasing

mao cafe hahhha im so funny lolol

i think i could have painted the nose better but idk how to make it look better

aaaa i wanna go back and change it & put bigger dust and sparkles around the character i looked at it too long and its boring

i should redo the mouth too maybe

also i have an idea that saiki was made to wear lolita dress as kuriko bc yumehara and aiura bribed him with expensive coffee jelly

i want to make small comic i dont have confidence but ill do my best

^^^ i did it..... i hope u will like it its very messy but i think it shows what is happening clearly

[harumasa-wifey]

MAY I REQUEST HUGGING REN FOR UR GOAL SPECIAL PLS PLS PLS

An accidental Hug?

Ren Shiranami X Fem! Reader

Warnings: none just fluff and a bit of crack/mentions of haru and Towa

Note: i was writing an angst fic before this which was supposed to be my first post but Google doc being a bitch and with my stupidity when i tried to copy it i deleted half of my progress and couldn't bring it back I want to cry I was so done with that but here is your request anon i hope you like it.i have not proofread this pls tell me if you notice any mistakes!

He couldn't believe the position he was in right. How did he even get so close to her?Their faces inches apart almost about to kiss her hands wrapped around his shoulder and his on her waist. He wanted to say something but his words were stuck in throat .He couldn't bring himself to pull away starch that he didn't want to pull away at all. But then…

*BZZZZZZZT* “ARRRGH”he woke up with scream sweating and heavily breathing he frantically looked around to see if he was still in his room which he was he glanced at his phone alarm still ringing which was weird because he usually wakes up before his alarm well against his will because haru breaks into his room to wake him up every morning.

“Heck of a way to wake up a guy…” he muttered, calming down and deciding to forget what happened and get fresh and have his breakfast before class. As he went his way down the stairs he heard a familiar voice calling up to him.

There she was doing what he was supposed to this morning to get all tons of those blankets in. He looked at her as she wished him. “Good morning ren!” and Oh boy his next steps weren't so clever as his mind flashed him all the images he had dreamt of. He tripped over his next step down.”WOHA REN”she yelled in surprise as he fell on her and they both ended up in the pile of clean blankets she was bringing in. Maybe this was the exact position he dreamt of or even better as it's coming true. Their faces inches apart with him on the top of her with several blankets covering them in and her hands wrapped around his shoulders wincing in pain as they both tumbled down the stairs. They both went stiff as their eyes met but it wasn't uncomfortable at all, (Un)Fortunately the silence was broken by a worried haru with a worried peekaboo who rushed over after hearing her scream “[name]!! Are you alright!?” “booo” They both quickly got off each and the blanket mess covering them by which haru wasn't able to see the position they were in at all. “ I am fine!! It's just Ren tripped and fell down the stairs” she replied hurriedly Turning over to him to check off any injuries from the fall. While she was getting up Towa came from the back ripping the blankets off ren who was still processing what happened and making him fall on his face again and handed those blankets over to her with a smile “~~~⁠♪”. “ARGH, can you not do that!? Dude i just woke up” he yelled already feeling pretty much annoyed he can't even look her in the eye without having flashbacks which were just more embarrassing. “Hmm mm!” Towa said in disapproval and pulled him up from the ground while Haru was asking her if she had any injuries. He glanced over to her but she was already looking at him with a small smile. Oh he is never going to live this down.

[amberlink]

Scrapped chapter from How To Jeopardise Your Friendship With Remus Lupin!

This chapter was the original chapter 15 (now called Marlene Makes a Very Nice Sign). The deleted section starts after Remus, James, and Sirius come inside the castle after playing in the snow.

Original chapter name: A Minor Marijuana Mishap

Original chapter notes: This chapter has the vibe of a sitcom episode (their behaviour is extra fictional lmao, and there is more humour than there is actual contribution to the plot) (<- this is why I scrapped it. It's ridiculous.)

If I had actually gone through with posting this, it would’ve undergone far more editing and revising, so this is a pretty raw version.

CW for unintentional drug use (they accidentally ingest marijuana - no one is purposely drugged)

Word count: 5,161

They made their way back into the castle, stopping for a quick breakfast before heading back up to the dorm to change and shower.

The girls were awake, and all three of them looked up from where they were gathered around the fireplace as Remus, James, and Sirius stepped through the portrait hole. Peter was sitting with them, too.

Marlene raised her hand, holding something round, crumbs falling. “You guys want some?”

“What is it?” James asked, already heading over.

“They’re biscuits,” Marlene said, breaking off a piece of it and popping it in her mouth. “My brother’s friend gave him a bunch of containers of ‘em, and he gave me one to bring to school.”

“They’re magnificent,” Mary confirmed, nodding as she took a bite of her own. They were all picking them out of a square tin dish.

“They really are,” Peter said. "And they're chocolate, Moony."

“I’ll have some,” James said, accepting one from Marlene.

“You’re eating these for breakfast?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow at them. “Lily, you’re eating these for breakfast?”

Lily threw her free hand out in defence. “What, like there are rules!”

“Evans is right, there are no rules,” Sirius said, taking the open seat next to Peter on the double-person chair.

“Okay,” Remus said, because he didn’t care enough to argue. Everyone would just have to deal with James and Sirius hyped up on sugar during Potions. “I’m gonna go have a shower, then.”

“You’re missing out,” Mary sang after him.

“Maybe next time,” he said over his shoulder.

He showered, meaning to be quick but definitely standing under the hot water for longer than usual, not thinking about anything. Not thinking about Sirius in the snow underneath him, or his thumbs pressing through Remus’s coat. 

Remus turned the water cold.

He got out, scrunching his hair with the towel. It was longer than he had ever had it before, so he had to actually put in an effort to care for it, not wanting it to look too matted or frizzy. He stole James and Sirius’s hair products and massaged them into his scalp, not sure what any of them did.

His friends still weren’t here, but sometimes they didn’t shower between exercising and class— no matter how much Remus encouraged that they did. But he supposed they had only played in the snow, so they really just had to dry off and change.

Remus got dressed in his robes, and he was searching for his tie at the bottom of his wardrobe when there was a knock at the door. He found his tie, straightening and starting to put it on.

“You can come in,” he said, confused because his friends never knocked. “You two better hurry, you’re gonna be late for class. Especially Sirius.”

Whoever it was knocked again, slower this time.

“Hello?” Remus said, staring at the door. He finished tying his tie as he walked over to open it. “What are you—”

“Moony got the door open,” Sirius said, smiling up at him. “He’s so smart.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “What is wrong with you?”

James suddenly gripped Remus’s shoulder, pulling him close and poorly whispering, “Moony. Moons. Can I call you Remus?”

“...Sure.”

“Moony, there might possibly be a…” He lowered his voice even further, tugging Remus so that their foreheads were almost touching. “Situation.”

“What the hell are you talking—”

Then he smelled it.

“Oh my god,” said Remus, his eyes wide. “Are you guys high?!”

“No!” James said, sounding terribly offended.

Sirius burst into a fit of giggles, nearly falling over.

“Oh my god,” he repeated. He grabbed each of their arms and dragged them into the room, kicking the door shut after them. “What the hell were you thinking, getting high before class? Are you bunking off, then? It’s the first bloody day.” 

He sat them both on Sirius’s bed. Sirius fell to lay on his back and James looked like he might cry.

“Where’d you put the joint?” he asked, annoyed. “How much did you smoke?”

“No, Moony, we didn’t,” James said, pleading with him. “We swear.”

Sirius sat back up. “I remember what I was going to say,” he announced.

“What, Sirius?”

Sirius stared at Remus’s tie in thought, his eyes unfocussed. “I forgot again.”

There was another knock on the door. Remus pointed a finger at the boys to tell them to stay, then turned to go answer it.

It was Lily this time, holding the tin biscuit container that only had crumbs in it now. Her lips were pressed together so tightly that they were turning white.

“Lily?”

“We ate them all,” she whispered, horrified.

“I see that,” Remus said. “What’s wrong? Do you not feel well, because maybe that’s why people don’t eat chocolate biscuits for breakfast.”

“There are so. Many. Stairs,” Marlene panted as she came into view, and she wiped her eyebrow even though she wasn’t sweating at all.

Remus stared at her. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

Marlene leaned in the doorway, reaching a hand over Lily’s head to grip the frame. “Hey, Lupin,” she said, smiling at him. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“Hey!” Sirius shouted from inside.

“You’re gorgeous, too, Sirius,” James assured him.

“Did you all get high?” Remus asked, swivelling his head between them in disbelief.

Marlene tapped her finger on the empty bottom of the tin box in Lily’s hand. “I think— I think,” she said, tapping it again, “that my most dearest, most idiot brother gave me the wrong box of biscuits.”

“Situation,” James echoed.

Remus’s mouth hung open, then he snatched the container from Lily’s hand, lifting it up to smell the inside of it. It took him a second, then he got a hint of the earthy scent of marijuana.

“Do you have a super nose?” Marlene asked.

Remus looked at her, and he reached a hand up to pull at his damp hair as his stress multiplied. This problem just became so much bigger. 

He tossed the box on the floor of their dorm. “Okay,” he said. “Both of you get in here.”

Lily was shaking her head, her hands covering her face. “Remus, we have class. We have Potions class.”

“I know, I need a second to think.”

“I hate when people think, I get so bored,” complained James.

“This is the worst,” groaned Sirius. “All you ever do is think, think, think. And how often do you think about me? I bet it’s never!” 

“Black, shut up,” snapped Marlene. “No more talking!”

“Hey, don’t talk to my friend Sirius like that!” said James.

Remus was ignoring them. He coaxed Lily into the room, and he led her to Peter’s bed. “Sit,” he commanded, pushing her shoulders down.

“McKinnon, get your shoes off of Moony’s bed!” Sirius began shouting. “He doesn’t like shoes on his bed!”

“Sirius, shh,” Remus said. “It’s fine for right now.”

“Her shoes are your bed,” he tattled, pointing at where Marlene was laying on her side on his bed.

“Marlene,” Remus said, grabbing her shoulder to make her roll on her back. He hovered over her, trying to keep her attention. “Do you know how much weed was in the biscuits? Did they have anything else in them?”

She blinked at him slowly. “Your guess is as good as mine, Lupey.”

“How many did you eat?” He straightened to address the rest of them. “How many did all of you eat— Where are Peter and Mary?”

“I don’t know,” James said proudly. 

“You don’t know what? How many biscuits you ate or where Peter and Mary are?”

James’s face screwed up in concentration, squinting at Remus behind his glasses. “Er, yes?”

“I had two,” Lily piped up. “Or three, or four. One of those.”

“Mary’s from Liverpool,” added Marlene.

“Alright, no one move,” Remus said, gesturing to everyone. “I’m gonna go get Peter and Mary. Then we’ll figure out what the hell to do.”

“‘What the hell to do,’” mocked Marlene, making her voice hoarse and scratchy.

Remus sighed frustratedly, and he hurried from the dorm, hoping to find Mary and Peter civilly sitting on the sofa. He came into the Common Room to find that they were definitely not doing that.

Mary was on her hands and knees at the top of the stairs to the girls’ dorm, giggling loudly as Peter tried to climb up to get to her. He took a running start towards the staircase, sprinting up the first few steps, then the whole thing turned into a chute and Peter fell forward, sliding down on his stomach until he reached the bottom again. He was also laughing hysterically.

Remus weaved through the people that were leaving the Common Room to go to their first class, and he wrapped his hand around Peter’s arm before he could have another attempt at the stairs.

“Pete, hey.”

Peter looked at him for a long second. “Ouch, Moony,” he said.

Remus let go. “Oh, fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Peter took off running again now that he was free. He leaped up a few stairs, scaling them quickly and almost making it to the top that time.

“I was so close!” he said triumphantly, sitting on the floor a few seconds later.

Mary pumped a fist in the air. “So close!”

“Alright, guys, enough,” Remus said, walking forward again.

“I am not a guy,” Mary said seriously. 

“One more try,” Peter said.

“No, do you want another biscuit?”

“Oh my god, those biscuits were so good,” Mary said, coming down the steps to join them.

Remus waved them on. “Well, I found more in the boys’ dorm, so let’s go.”

When he finally managed to get Mary and Peter to the dorm—practically dragging Peter up the stairs because he was convinced they were going to turn into a slide—he found that Lily was missing.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, where did Lily go?” he asked the rest of them. He directed Peter towards his own bed, and Mary towards James’s, and instructed them to close their eyes and rest if they wanted another cookie.

“I’m not tired,” Mary said, looking at him like he was an idiot.

“Then just pretend,” Remus said.

He checked the bathroom, coming up Lily-less, and asked where she was once again.

“I don’t know,” Sirius said. “But we listened, Moony. We didn’t move one time. Look at Prongs, even.”

Remus looked at James, who was sitting with his mouth half open and his hand held mid-itch at his jaw, frozen in place. 

“Prongs, you can move. Just stay sitting.”

James let out a dramatic exhale, dropping his arm. “Thanks, Moony.”

“Marlene, did you see where Lily went?”

“I had my eyes closed,” she said, laying on her back on Remus’s bed with her eyes still closed. She had her arms crossed over her chest like she was in a coffin.

“Okay, well, did she say where she went?” Remus asked, exasperated.

“Yeah. She went to class.”

Remus tipped his head back with a silent groan. “Okay,” he said. “We’re already going to be late, but we can’t all skip class, or Slughorn will notice something’s up.”

“Oh, no,” whispered Peter. “We’ll get in so much trouble.”

“Not you, Pete,” Remus said. “You and Mary don’t take Potions, so you can sleep until lunch.” He closed the curtains around Peter’s bed, shutting him inside. “Goodnight.”

“Gracias a Merlin,” Peter said sleepily.

“Lily’s already on her way,” Remus continued, thinking aloud. “So she’ll be there…probably. And I’ll have to go, and… Marlene, you come too. James and Sirius can stay.”

All three of them groaned loudly about this plan.

“We can go, Moony. We’ll be good,” Sirius promised. 

“Snivellus is going to ruin our potion,” James said grumpily.

“No, you won’t,” Remus told Sirius, “and no, he won’t,” he told James.

“That was so confusing,” Marlene whined, sitting up and scrubbing her face.

“I’m not even talking to you,” Remus said. “But, c’mon, get up. Meadowes will hopefully take control of your table.”

Marlene scoffed, her expression darkening. “Ugh, Meadowes.”

“Probably shouldn’t have brought that up,” Remus muttered under his breath, looping his arm through Marlene’s.

“Stupid Meadowes, and her stupid smooth skin, and her stupid eyelashes, and her stupid mouth,” Marlene continued grumbling.

“I get it, you think she’s stupid,” he said.

He stopped on his way to the door, turning to James and Sirius. “Listen, you two just hang out here. Take a nap, okay? I’ll be back after class, and… Why don’t you give me your wands?” he added, having a sudden vision of returning to their dorm in flames.

He collected James and Sirius’s wands, putting them in his robe pocket with his own, took his school bag from beside his bed, and then grabbed Marlene’s wrist to pull her the whole way to the dungeons. He was rushing, not wanting to be more than a minute or two late. The less attention on Marlene, the better. He wondered how Lily was managing, if she had even made it to the classroom.

Thankfully, Slughorn hadn’t started lecturing yet when Remus and Marlene walked in, and he was still bustling around the storage room behind his desk. Remus was out of breath, and he steered Marlene towards her table in the back.

“Go and take your seat,” he whispered. “Don’t bring any attention to yourself. Let Meadowes handle anything involving a knife.”

“Get off me,” Marlene said, shaking her arm free of his hand. “I’m fine.”

Remus watched nervously as she took careful steps to her table, walking around Dorcas and pulling out her stool so that it scraped loudly on the floor. She gave him a smug look as she sat down, silently saying, ‘See?’

Remus rolled his eyes, and he accidentally caught Meadowes looking at him. Her dark eyes were intimidating, studying him, and she didn’t care to break eye contact. Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, raised a hand in a sort of half-wave, then spun around to go to his own table.

Lily was here, sitting alone at her and Sirius’s table in front of Marlene and Dorcas. She had her elbows on the surface and her hands bunching up her hair on either side of her head.

Remus placed a hand on her back. “Hey, you alright?”

She dropped her hands and looked up at him with wide eyes, her hair frizzy where she had been holding it. “I need help. Please help me.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t know what else had been in those biscuits.

“My hair’s not working,” she said, grabbing a handful and shaking it frustratedly. 

“Oh,” he breathed out.

“I can’t pull it back, my hair bobble doesn’t work,” she went on, her voice wavering. “It’s in the rules. My hair has to be pulled back for Potions class. It’s in the rules.”

“Okay, it’s okay.”

“It’s in the rules!” she insisted.

“Shh. Okay.” Remus looked around her stuff scattered on the table. “Where’s your hair bobble at? I’ll help you.”

Lily raised one of her arms, shaking it so her robe sleeve fell and revealed the black band around her wrist.

Remus took the band and slid it over her hand, then tried his best to gather Lily’s long hair at the back of her head. He had no idea how to do this.

“What is going on?” asked Snape, moving from his table across the aisle to the end of Lily’s. He looked at Remus, eyes full of loathing, then looked back to Lily with concern. “Lily, are you okay?”

“Yes!” Lily said. “I’m okay. Remus is just helping me. He’s really nice.”

Snape did not look convinced.

“He’s much nicer than you,” she continued matter-of-factly. “He’s never called me a mudblood.”

The blood drained from Snape’s face. “Lily…”

Remus fought a smile, tying Lily’s hair in a knot at the base of her neck. They were probably going to have to cut the band to get her out of it.

“Lily,” whispered Snape, looking around. “I’ve apologised for that. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Apology rejected,” Lily said. She held a finger up at him, waving it back and forth. “Black told me what you say about mudbloods like me.”

“How the hell would Black know anything?” hissed Snape. “And you’re different, I’ve told you—”

“Snape,” warned Remus, staring him down. “Back off.”

Snape clenched his jaw angrily, ready to retort, but Remus walked towards him and the boy took a few quick steps back, bumping into the end of his own table. Remus just calmly went around Lily’s table, heading to his and Margot’s in the front.

“You’re late,” Margot stated, looking at him.

“There was an emergency,” he said. He started to unpack his books and parchment from the bag around his shoulder.

“Lily Evans is acting weird,” Margot said, turning to look at the girl in question. “Why were you pulling up her hair?”

“She’s, er, not feeling herself. She was having trouble.”

Margot looked up at him, raising her eyebrows a bit. “You did a terrible job.”

Remus laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Alright, class,” said Slughorn, finally emerging from the storage room with two giant jars, one in each arm. “Sorry for the delay.” He set them on his desk, then brushed his hands on his chest. “Let’s get started.”

Slughorn announced the plan for today’s class, explaining that they were going to be learning the proper technique for dissecting the eyes of carnivorous cows. They’d need one removed lens for the specific potion they were going to start on Friday, but both students at each table should dissect their own cow eye for practice. There were detailed instructions to follow in their textbook.

“Yes, Miss McKinnon?” Slughorn said.

“What?”

Remus winced, turning around to see Marlene blinking at Slughorn in confusion. Her hand was in the air.

“Did you have a question?” clarified Slughorn.

“Oh… Yes!” she said, nodding as she lowered her hand. “I seem to have forgotten my textbook.” She patted the surface in front of her, which was empty of any books, parchment, or quills. She frowned. “I seem to have forgotten everything, actually.”

“Well, that’ll be five points from Gryffindor for unpreparedness,” Slughorn said, unphased. “You’ll have to share with Miss Meadowes.”

“Bleh,” said Marlene, summarising her feelings about that.

Slughorn started to travel around the classroom, going to each student to pass out a metal pan and scoop an eye from one of the jars. He started at the table across the aisle from Remus and Margot’s, heading towards the back of that row.

“Psst, Remus. Remus!”

Remus turned around to look at Lily, who was leaning across her table. Pieces of her hair stuck out in arcs on her head, and her eyes were frantic as she very poorly whispered to him.

“Remus!”

“What?” he whispered back.

“Remus, I’ve never been high in Potions class before,” she said, picking desperately at her fingernails.

He shook his head at her, leaning closer. “Have you ever been high before?”

“No! Remus, I’ve never been high before! I’m so nervous!”

“Lily, you are talking so loud right now.”

“Sorry,” she squeaked, pressing a hand over her mouth.

Then the door slammed open.

James and Sirius were standing in the doorway of the classroom, beaming with pride. Remus smacked a palm to his forehead, then dragged his hand down his face, looking at his friends between his fingers.

“Boys,” Slughorn said. “You’re late.”

“Or are we early for next class?” Sirius said, pleased with himself.

“You’re late,” Slughorn repeated. “And neither of you are in your robes. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

“Ah, bollocks,” James said, looking down at his muggle hoodie and joggers like he just realised he was wearing them.

Slughorn gestured. “Please take your seats. Any more disruptions and that’ll be points off your dissection. Seek help from your table partners for today’s assignment.”

“Oh là là, Evans,” Sirius said, grimacing as he approached his table. “What happened to your hair?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” she said worriedly. “It wasn’t working before.”

“I think it looks good,” James told her, rapping his knuckles on their table as he passed. “Evans, you’re like a fire princess.”

“He’s lying,” whispered Sirius. “It looks bad.”

“You’re like a phoenix,” James continued. “But one that’s a human. You're like an angel with no wings.”

Lily frowned. "So like a person?"

“Prongs,” Sirius hissed. “You have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, Ronnie!” James said excitedly, nodding. “Her eyes are like if emeralds were bright blue.”

“What are you two doing here?” Remus asked through gritted teeth. “Are you trying to kill me?”

James looked at him, eyebrows arched, his voice genuine. “No, Moony. We would never want to kill you.” He grabbed Remus’s arm and looked him in the eye. “We love you, you have to believe us.”

“Yeah, Moony,” agreed Sirius. “If we wanted to kill you, it’d be so easy. We sleep in the same room.”

James made a clawing gesture at his neck. “And Padfoot’s teeth could just rip your throat—”

“Stop!” Remus said, frantically waving his hand. He pointed James towards his table. “Go sit down! Please don’t say anything else. To anyone. Ever.”

Sirius started giggling, and Lily started giggling because Sirius started giggling, and Remus was sure that none of them were going to make it through this class.

“Great, you’re here,” Snape drawled, bowed over his cow eye as James shuffled to his place beside him. “Thought maybe your big head finally got stuck in one of the doorways.”

“You…” James said, and he took a second to look Snape over, “might be the meanest person in the whole world.”

“Potter,” scolded Remus. James had been doing really well ignoring all of Snape’s jabs until this moment.

“What?” James threw his hands out. “He is! He was mean to you, Moony, and you’re, like, as threatening as a… a…”

“Earthworm,” finished Sirius.

Snape scoffed. “I would say that there’s a much more obvious animal that Lupin compares to in threat.”

James whirled around to face him. “Don’t you remember when I punched you?”

“An earthworm,” Lily corrected.

Remus pressed his hands together, like in prayer. “James, James, just— Let’s calm down. Look at your cow eye, stay on task.”

“It’s disgusting,” James said, poking at the gooey pile with one of the tools. “Kinda looks like you, Snivellus.”

“Oh my god, what is that thing?” Marlene’s voice rang out, repulsed.

“It’s…your cow eye, Miss McKinnon,” Slughorn said, scooping a second eye onto the metal pan in front of Dorcas.

They still had two hours left of class. This was not good.

Lily and Sirius managed to keep it together while Slughorn gave them their pans and eyes, with only one incident of Sirius saying, “Thank you, my good sir!” 

Remus was so distracted worrying about the others that he was working at half the pace of Margot beside him. He kept turning around to check that they were still poking and slicing at their cow eyes without cutting their fingers off or threatening their table partners. He froze when he saw Marlene tap Dorcas’s arm with the end of her scalpel, but she was only trying to get her attention.

Which was not a better situation.

“Meadowes,” she said, jabbing her with the tool. “Meadowes, look at me.”

Dorcas huffed and spun towards her, looking so furious that Remus would have disintegrated if he were Marlene.

“Slytherin versus Ravenclaw,” Marlene said slowly, signing clumsily as she audibly drew out the words, her hands bobbing up and down a lot more than when Pandora or Regulus did it. “Two weeks. You are going to lose.”

“Tell her, McKinnon!” James said supportively. 

Remus watched tensely, waiting for Dorcas’s reaction, but Dorcas only looked disarmed. Her lips were parted as she watched Marlene sign, her hardened expression broken with shock.

Then Marlene went on, signing something else slowly, mouthing silent words as she concentrated. 

Dorcas’s jaw locked again, her dark eyes flashing. She picked up her little knife, and Remus really thought she was going to slice off Marlene’s face or something. But she just stabbed it through the middle of Marlene’s cow eye, destroying the lens she was supposed to remove.

“Bitch,” Marlene said. Remus was sure Dorcas could read that word. It was enunciated perfectly.

Dorcas pulled the knife free, wiped it clean on Marlene’s robe sleeve faster than Marlene could react, and went back to her dissection.

“Uh oh,” said Sirius, turning back around to smile at Remus. 

Remus was about to smile back at him, but then he saw Lily. She was extra focussed on her cow eye, staring at it closely and hovering over it with the scalpel. Her elbow rested on the table and she pressed her other hand to her forehead.

 “Lily?” Remus asked cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

“So ironic,” she mumbled.

“What is?”

“That my eye is having so much trouble seeing this eye.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Why did no one say that the earth was going to spin so fast today? Shouldn’t they tell us things like that?” 

“Okay,” Remus said, deciding something. He drew his wand from his pocket, then subtly leaned around Sirius to point it at Marlene, casting a spell to cause hives to erupt on her hands, eventually spreading to the rest of her body. Then he did the same thing to James.

“Whatcha doin’, Moons?” Sirius asked. His cow eye was mostly untouched on the table in front of him.

“Don’t move,” Remus said, casting the hex on him, too. Then Lily. 

To finish, he pointed his wand at his own hand, and immediately felt a painful itch begin, as if barbed wire were wrapping around his hand and snaking up his arms. He put his wand away and raised his hand.

“Professor Slughorn?” he said.

Slughorn looked up from his desk. “Mr. Lupin?”

“I think I might have an allergy to the cow eye.”

“What do you mean?” said Slughorn, furrowing his eyebrows.

He held up his hands. “My skin is really itchy, and there’s this rash starting…”

James gasped. “Oh Merlin, I have the same disease!” he said. “I can’t lose my hands, I need them for quidditch!”

“An allergy is not a disease, you imbecile,” Snape said, scowling at him. “I hope your head falls off.”

“I need my head for quidditch, too!”

“Oh dear,” Slughorn said, taking Remus’s wrist and twisting it to observe the raised pink welts.

“Oh, it’s spreading!” Sirius said, looking at his hands in horror and trying to back up. “It’s on me!” He looked at Lily. “Ah, it got Evans, too!”

“I think there are ants all over me,” Marlene whined, shaking her arms. “Bad ones. With really sharp teeth. They’re eating me!”

“Alright, okay,” Slughorn said, laughing nervously. “If you’re experiencing some sort of reaction, why don’t you please head to the hospital wing to be treated.”

“Our cow eyes,” Lily said.

“We’ll just have you do an essay on the dissection process instead. We’ll make sure everyone has a lens for Friday.”

“Ants everywhere,” groaned Marlene.

“Alright, to the hospital wing! Let’s not panic!” Slughorn insisted, sounding panicked.

“I can make sure they get there, Professor,” Remus said, sliding his things from the table to his bag.

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin. Hurry, now.”

Remus gathered his friends, ushering them out the door, and heading in a stumbling, giggling crowd to the hospital wing. He had Lily’s hand in his, the girl completely spacing out, her eyes following things that Remus couldn’t see. 

“What’d you say to Meadowes?” Sirius asked Marlene. 

“Oh, um… I was trying to say that Slytherin was going to lose to Ravenclaw… And that they were both going to suck Gryffindor balls,” she said. “But I must’ve signed it wrong, because she got so mad at me.”

“I would bet that you got your point across just fine,” Remus said.

Madam Pomfrey opened the door when they got to the hospital wing.

“Mr. Lupin,” she said, smiling kindly, then her gaze travelled over the posse he had brought with him. “What…is going on?”

“We have a situation.”

Remus decided to tell the truth, but he didn’t specify who brought the biscuits, just said that a family member had sent them and his friends had eaten an unidentifiable amount. 

Each of his friends were put into their own hospital bed to monitor their vitals, better safe than sorry because no one knew how much marijuana they had ingested or if there were any other drugs—muggle or magical—laced in the cookies. Madam Pomfrey assured him that they all seemed fine, that they were just experiencing the dramatic effects of a lot of marijuana, and she gave them all a Sleeping Drought so they could sleep it off. She asked him to go fetch the other two.

Remus didn’t even have to go to the Gryffindor Tower, running into Peter and Mary on his way up, who were both sitting on one of the staircases.

“Moony,” Peter said. “Look.” He waved a napkin held in his hand, stuffed with a biscuits. “We went to the kitchen and the elves made us more biscuits.”

“We were starving,” Mary said, nodding and eating a biscuit of her own.

“Oh… Well, yeah,” Remus said. “Makes sense.”

He got them to follow him to the hospital wing, and, for the first time ever, he was the one sitting in a chair and waiting for them to be cleared for release. He worked on the essay he’d have to do for Slughorn now, and then he wrote three more for James, Sirius, and Marlene (Lily would want to write her own).

“Moony,” someone called from their bed. Sirius’s voice.

Remus got up from where he had been sitting inside Lily’s curtains, moving next door to answer Sirius.

“Hey, Padfoot,” he whispered.

“Moony,” Sirius said, sounding a bit loopy, smiling from where he was reclined against his pillows.

“What do you need?”

“Just wanted to see your beautiful face.”

Remus smiled back. “You’re still high.”

“High on you.”

“Case in point.”

“Hey, Moony?”

“Yeah?”

Sirius bit his lower lip, then released it with an exhale. “I like you a whole lot, you know?”

“I like you, too, Sirius,” he said softly.

A beat of silence.

“I wish it were real,” Sirius whispered, staring at Remus with piercing grey eyes.

Remus swallowed. “You wish what was real?”

“That you liked me.”

He laughed quietly. “I do like you, you idiot. I just said so.”

Sirius turned his head to look at the ceiling, sighing heavily. 

Remus watched him for a moment, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, then said, “Get some rest, Padfoot.” He closed the curtains and added that conversation to the list of things that he was not allowed to think about. 

References: Grey's Anatomy, Barbie, The Office US. "You're like an angel with no wings." "So like a person." is from Season 2, Episode 17 of Parks & Recreation.

[leashybebes]

I am so excited about all your wips I can't pick so I'm going to ask you to post about whichever one you haven't had a chance to talk about yet!!

that's so sweet of you, bless you!

so, yapping about you plus me. i originally thought this verse was the only thing i'd write but that was before i got pulled deeper into fandom than i have been in over a decade lol. there are a BUNCH of fics in this in various stages of doneness/abandonedness so here's a rundown:

kink discussion except they keep accidentally getting horny about it and buck has done Research (aka spiralled while tommy slept) and he knows you're supposed to have these discussions when you're not actively having sex. featuring clipboard buck having feelings (positive ones. lbr horny ones) about his own relative lack of knowledge

buck meeting tommy's friends because i decided he needs friends. queer friends! connections! people who love him!

buck having feelings about being too needy, tommy having precisely ZERO PROBLEMS being needed <- yeah this one is like four lines of dialogue lol

zany madcap proposal fic where everything that can go wrong does but it's still the single best day of tommy's life because buck is trying SO HARD to give him the romcom moment of his dreams

maddie and buck talking about their parents - how they are as parents, how they are as grandparents to jee, how they might be as grandparents to any kids buck and tommy have in the future

triple date fic with hen and karen and eddie and marisol. largely abandoned but just...cute flirting and a counterpoint to hen and karen's deleted scene with tommy where they grill buck instead

buck bottoming for the first time. unsurprisingly he is VERY EAGER but tommy is very concerned about making it good, making it okay, making it right and buck slowly driving him insane talking about like, how much he likes the feeling of tommy on top of him, how into pegging his ex girlfriend was etc etc. honestly, this is just an excuse for various smut scenes loosely tied together

fic where tommy's sister (who buck didn't know existed) turns up out of the blue and precipitates big conversations about why the fuck tommy can't just TELL HIM STUFF <- started writing this way before we learned just how shut off canon tommy really is, i feel like i jinxed myself lol

5+1 fic where they get to know each other better via different activities/locations in and around LA. basically i was pining for the city and taking it out on them lol

tommy's dad dies, and they navigate their way through it including things like whether he goes to the funeral, how the hell he feels about it etc

possibly 5+1 maddie pov fic where she's trying to figure out who the hot pilot is by talking to other people about him, and then finally talking to him

disaster fic where buck and a civilian are stuck in the rubble of a collapsed building having conversations about love and queerness while they wait for rescue

[eyrina-avatar]

Kinktober

Gas, Cash, or Ass

prompts: #27 anal

pairing: adult neteyam x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, nsfw, smut, possessive/dom neteyam, anal. proofread once

this was accidentally posted like a month before because tumblr decided to change the scheduling date and posted it without me knowing and I had to run to delete it. So if you saw it the first round, no you didn't🫠

"Hi Nete!" you waved as the tall Na'vi came to a halt on his direhorse.

"Hey! What's up? " Neteyam watched as you struggled with the jug and basket in your hands.

"Not much... Just on the way to fill this water jug for Mo'at and then I have to catch some fish for the festival later."

He chuckled, "I don't think you'll be able to carry both at the same time."

"Well, it would have been better if I found a pa'li like you did... but I was in a rush and haven't really perfected my mounting skills yet."

"I suppose you need a small favor then?" He smirked as you nodded.

Neteyam saddled the items in place and helped you up the pa'li.

"Thanks," you looked down as your cheeks blushed a light purple.

"No problem," He gave his pa'li a tap before making way to the river.

~~~~~

"Alright, I hope you enjoyed your ride." Neteyam stopped his pa'li by the riverside and handed you the basket and jug after you got yourself down.

"Thanks... I really appreciate it!" You smiled as you got ready to collect some water. Placing the basket on the floor you turned around only to find Neteyam in front of the river, blocking you.

"Pay up," was all he stated as he looked down on you from his seat.

"What?" You cocked your head in confusion, not sure if you heard him right.

"You heard me. Pay up. Gas, cash, or ass." Neteyam crossed his arms, causing you to stare at him dumbfounded.

"The fuck do you mean gas, cash, or ass?" You furrowed your eyebrows together. "Neteyam your pa'li doesn't even use gas! And you don't even know what cash is. How could you possibly know what that phrase means?"

"It's just like that little sticker thing on the sky people's helicopters. Almost all the guys have it."

"And what, you're a sky person now?" You rolled your eyes at him.

"No, but it seems like a good system so I adopted it."

"Yea whatever, you're not getting any." You tried walking away but Neteyam parked his pa'li in front of you again.

"Nu-uh, you heard me. Gas, cash or ass."

"Are you for real? Am I supposed to get food out of no where and feed your pa'li when it can get food itself?" You put the jug down to cross your arms.

"Well then, cash or ass." He responded nonchalantly.

"But I don't have any cash on me!" You exclaimed in frustration. "Plus, what could you possibly need cash for, huh? There's not much use for it here on pandora. The most you could get is some pricey soft toilet paper at the avatar facility, a lolipop for Tuk, or a cigarette that the military guys are always smoking?" You crossed your arms.

"Well I don't need cash for a cigarette when I could just get one from Grace's drawers. From what I saw, she was always puffing like there's no tomorrow." Neteyam shrugged.

"Na'vi's don't smoke. Plus, Kiri wouldn't let you anywhere near Grace's things in the first place."

"You're right, I don't smoke and there's no use for cash here. So... ass." Neteyam gave you a small smirk. "That or I won't be giving you any more free rides."

"Says the one who's asking to be ridden" you murmur in a low voice.

"What was that?" he cocked his head in question.

"Nothing, nothing." You clarify.

"Well, you heard me. Plus, who's going to help you back to home tree after you finish your fishing. Are you just gonna go on that hour long walk carrying that heavy basket and jug?"

"No..." you let out in a small whisper.

"Then you're gonna have to pay up. That or a long burdensome walk."

"But that's not fair! Na'vi's are supposed to help each other out. Do you expect this form of payment every time I ask you to take me somewhere?!" you let out.

"Umm, yes." Neteyam grinned, knowing you had no choice.

"Screw you! You know what?! Next time I'll just ask Tsrüyem to help me out with my hunt! He's kind and strong, and he certainly won't be asking for any of those favors of yours in return." You huffed away, smirking as you got a glimpse of neteyam's slick smile wiped off his face at the mention of Tsrüyem.

"Wait, wait." He hopped off his pa'li and grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"How about just this one time, and I'll take you anywhere you want, whenever you want. Want to go to home tree, I'll take you. To the avatar facility, I'll take you. To the hallelujah mountains, I'll take you. It doesn't matter if it's guiding you there, giving you a free ride on my ikran or on a pa'li. Just once and I'll take you anywhere you want." He pleaded with you, eyes looking directly into yours.

You worked hard to hide the smirk that threatened to grow on your face. Perfect, just what you wanted. Neteyam begging and you making him your personal travel man, taking you anywhere you wanted, whenever you wanted.

"Hmm, I don't know... even in the middle of the night?" You questioned, scrunching your face as you pretended to debate within yourself.

"Yes, even at night! Whenever you want." Neteyam let out as his tail swished left and right excitedly.

"Even if I want to trade with the Tayrangi clan, all the way to the seaside, by the cliffs? You'll have to take me there whenever I want..." You cocked your head to one side.

"Yes, yes! I said whenever and wherever, didn't I?"

"Fine. You have yourself a deal." You made your way towards him and trailed your slim fingers over his torso, running them up and down before stopping at the hem of his loincloth and trailing them back up to his neck.

"On one condition, sweetheart..." he let out in a purr.

"Hmm, and what's that?" your warm lips hovered his ear.

"That I'm the one in charge now." And with that, he turned you over and grabbed your wrists behind you with his one hand while he used the other to push you on a nearby rock, causing you to let out a yelp.

Your face and breasts were squished against the low rock as your legs supported you. He gave you a light smack as your ass stuck up.

"Neteyam, what do you think-"

"Don't worry, I won't go all in at once. I'll let you adjust."

"And who said you could be in charge???" you barely managed out as Neteyam gave your ass a nice squeeze, making you whine.

"A deal's a deal, princess." And with that he pulled your beige shorts down, reveling your pretty plump bottom.

"Aha, so that's why you haven't switched to using a loincloth yet. Hiding that cute little butt of yours huh?" Neteyam bent down to give your ass a wet kiss, letting his tongue run sloppily all over your bottom. You couldn't help but moan as his mouth ran wild and his hand played with the hem of your underwear.

"Oh fuck..." you let out in a breathy voice.

"Enjoying that, ma'syulang? Huh? Let's see what's under these cute little panties of yours." His hands let go of your wrists, allowing you to support yourself on the rock as he ran his fingers along your panties, pulling it down while he inched his crotch near your rear. A light hiss escaped his lips as you reached behind you and began rubbing his length through his loincloth.

"Fuck..." he closed his eyes in bliss as you palmed him. You inched your ass closer to him and moved it up and down, rubbing your bottom on his hard member.

"Looks like someone's excited." You couldn't help but chuckle as you pulled his loincloth down, causing it to drop on the floor. Neteyam reached for the red plant next to him and broke it in half, causing a slippery substance to flow out of it. He applied the liquid on himself and wiped his fingers on it before applying some to your hole as well.

"Be easy okay, it's my first time doing... anal." You looked behind, watching as Neteyam almost fingered you.

"I thought you never had sex with anyone before?" He tilted his head in question.

"That too..." You looked down and he couldn't help but chuckle. You were just too cute, Neteyam couldn't decide if he wanted to break you in half or eat you up.

"Alright, I'll go slow. Let me know if it hurts." You nodded at him and he slowly entered his length inside of you.

"Nghh" you couldn't help but whimper at the odd and painful feeling of your ass being stretched out.

"Fuck" Neteyam groaned as he continued pushing himself in until he bottomed out, getting his full length inside.

He paused for a bit, "You good?"

"Mhm," was all you managed as you got used to the feeling. You squirmed a bit in place and moved your ass a little forward then backwards to signal that you were ready. Neteyam pulled out a bit before slowly pumping himself back in.

Your mouth fell open as his hips kept on moving, slightly hitting your ass as he thrust inside of you.

"I think you can go faster." You let out in a breathy voice.

"You sure?" He stopped, making sure he heard you correctly before continuing.

"Yes." That was all he needed for hips to start moving faster. Neteyam repeatedly pulled out before slamming right back inside of you. His hands held onto the rock as his thrusts grew faster and groans escaped from his lips.

"Shit. Baby, you're so tight." His face fell into the crook of your neck. The both of you were now in doggy position and the sound of the few moans that betrayed him only made your core grow in wetness.

"Ah... ah" you couldn't help but whine as Neteyam's thrusts hit you at an ungodly pace. You turned your face around and were met with his, grabbing his cheek with your hand you pulled him in for a kiss while his cock used your poor asshole.

"Fuck..." Neteyam moaned into your mouth as his hips hit your bottom, filling the air with the sound of skin smacking against each other.

"Oh my god!" you dropped your head down as Neteyam's cock hit your insides, making you weak in the knees.

"Fuck, y/n... I think I'm about to burst." He placed wet kisses all over your neck as his hips started moving frantically and sloppily, a sign that he was about to reach his high.

"Fuck... You *thrust* take *thrust* me *thrust* so *thrust* well!" His head dropped onto you the crook of your neck as you felt his cock twitch inside. Neteyam's teeth sank slightly into your shoulders, earning a light hiss from you as felt his his warm liquid ooze inside of you.

As his high washed over him, Neteyam's movements slowed down until he came to a complete halt. Out of breath, the both of you made eye contact, causing you to let out a small chuckle in unison.

"How's that for payment?" You smirked as he grinned.

"More than enough." Neteyam chuckled as he pulled out, making you groan at the lack of warmth.

"Yeah well, you actually have to pay me back." You grinned as you turned yourself over, laying yourself on your back.

"Yea?" He scoffed. "That was pretty much it, no?"

"You're done when I say so." You pushed Neteyam back, causing him to land on the mossy ground.

"Wait hold on, I still need to recover from the orga-"

Untying your top, you seated yourself on his thighs. "Then get to work limp dick."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

has anyone seen those bumper or window stickers on cars that say gas, cash, or ass? yea, I made this based off of that

as always, comments/reblogs are always much appreciated as they help support and motivate your favorite writers, thank you❤!

tags: @daeneeryss , @eyweveng , @vee1728 , @pandoraslxna

@justonesadlonelymoth @skywonder

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

© eyrina-avatar

colors used: {29, 157, 238} and {31, 87, 255}

[itoshiexx]

HI BB CAN I REQUEST 41 FOR THE KISS PROMPT W ISAGI AND FEM READER??🥺🫶

even when it rains

synopsis: yoichi is always by your side to shield you from the rain and help bring the sun once again.

pairing: isagi yoichi x gn!reader | words: 893 | warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort, bad days, fluff

notes: god i had to repost this bc i accidentally deleted the other one (kill me),,, anyways, ANYTHING FOR U AIMEE!! tysm for requesting and i really hope u like it, i wanted to do something a bit different! <3 and if anyone would like to request something from the kiss prompts just see this post!

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

masterlist

“it’s raining.”

your voice catches him off guard — it's hoarse and meek like he has seen just a few times before. isagi supposes it’s better than the suffocating silence that was coating your living room for quite a while now, but he hates the sad undertones of his favorite melody.

confused, he turns to look at the window, only to see the sky in a pretty baby blue color. there are a few clouds scattered around, but none of them is gray, instead being a fluffy white that reminds him a lot of cotton candy. lastly, the sun shines and spreads its scorching heat through the town. there’s no indication that it’s raining whatsoever. 

“baby,” he starts, a bit hesitant. “it’s sunny.”

you’re not looking at him. your eyes are out of focus, staring at something that only you can see, and his heart breaks a little at the sight. that’s probably why he scoots closer to you, his arm circling your shoulder until your head gently lays on his clavicle. your skin feels cold to the touch, and he starts to rub your arm.

“are you cold?” he asks, kind as always. 

you nod. “i’m cold. it’s raining, yoichi.”

he furrows his eyebrows. maybe he looked at the wrong side of the window? or maybe it was those small summer drizzles? but he was absolutely positive there was no water falling from the sky. was he going crazy?

your shoulders hunch like the weight you carry is getting more unbearable by the second. you sigh, exhaling a long puff of air that screams how tired you are. isagi swears you tremble a little. 

“are you okay?” he can’t help but inquire, thinking your behavior is odd. “i’m sorry, sweetie, but i’m sure it’s not raining. the sky is crystal clear.”

and then you turn to face him for the first time, and yoichi’s breath gets stuck in his throat. he has never seen your expression so hollow, so defeated. like you’ve been trying to fight countless battles only to end up losing the war. 

“it’s raining, yoichi… it’s raining inside of me.” your voice fails, but he hears you nonetheless. his chest squeezes at the tears accumulating on your lash line, and his arm hugs you a little tighter. “please, make it stop.”

he wishes he could. isagi hated to see you sad or in pain, and if he could scoop these unpleasant feelings out of you, he would do it in a heartbeat. he would do anything to see you smiling again at him, or singing softly while cooking, or feeling content watching your favorite show on netflix. truthfully, he would do anything for you.

“did something happen?” he needs to know. did someone hurt you? 

“no, i just… i’m so tired,” you answer, and he can feel your exhaustion on his own bones. he can only wonder what it feels like to be in your body right now. “so, so tired. i can’t take it anymore. it keeps raining inside of me and it’s like i can’t bring the sun again.”

oh. it was one of your bad days, yoichi realizes. he just took a bit longer to understand because you never actually used a rain metaphor to describe your feelings, but maybe that was the way you found to cope with them. and who was he to not indulge you?

he calmly pulls his arm off you and stands up, patting his clothes before going inside the house. you watch with curious eyes, slightly confused by his lack of words and sudden movement, and they widen when you spot your boyfriend coming back with a yellow umbrella in hand, smiling sweetly.

he takes his place next to you, swiftly opening the umbrella and putting it above your heads. and he stares at you like you are nothing but the sun, and not a confusing rainstorm that could wreak havoc and destroy everything on your way. 

“there you go! now we’re protected from the rain.”

your mouth is slightly agape — although you expected to be comforted somehow (because yoichi never failed to do so), that was not what you had in mind. 

but he’s just like this, you think. always kind and loving, doing his best so that you are comfortable and never, ever scared of showing yourself and how you truly felt. every time he did these little things, it was like he was saying trust me, i won’t  judge you. 

the tears fall, but they don’t feel like rain. not anymore. 

“yeah,” you say, smiling faintly for the first time. “yeah, we are.”

his gaze is fond, and his fingers tenderly wipe your cheeks to stop your crying. it’s soothing and grounding, but again, yoichi always is. with a smile, he cups your jaw, and, when his face grows closer to yours, you don’t think twice before connecting your lips.

the love you feel for him pours from your heart until is all you can sense, and suddenly, the sky is clear again. there is just you and him, and he’s kissing you, and maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so bad if you can have isagi yoichi to yourself like this. 

when you part, his whisper feels like a lifeline, “i’m here with you, baby.”

his hand finds yours, and your fingers interlace. 

“even when it rains.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[samarqqand]

hi! i recently discovered and have eagerly been reading (and re-reading) all of your fics - your writing is astounding and weaves a story so beautifully, you’ve quickly become one of my favourite silm writers ☺️ in a few comments/notes you’ve talked about other fic - bits you had posted on tumblr that i suppose have been deleted? and you also mentioned another maglor/melkor fic - would you ever post these tidbits? i’d really love to read them even if they’re unfinished!

but if not, thanks for sharing what you already have and know that it’s very much appreciated ☺️

hey hi hi -- i 100% cannot tell you what this message means to me!! seriously, i'm so humbled and so so pleased that these little fics have landed for you!! so thank you, thank you so much for taking the time to read. and! for taking the time to compose this thoughtful message. you've made my week. :']

i think a number of wip snippets or excerpts ended up deleted when i uhhh accidentally deleted my tumblr a while back (all that curation-!!). fie on me.

here's a chunk from early on in that melkor/maglor one -- it's extremely long, and even more extremely unwieldy (i've written myself into some tangles here), but the conceit is Melkor befriending & seducing Maglor in Valinor during the Noontide, & this secret companionship of course cedes to disaster (and monsterfucking, with Melkor's less porcelain, less pleasing form) once the Darkening hits.

again, thank you so much for your interest and superb-kind words. :] (& sorry for any wip-type mistakes in this except, and for the lack of the beloved ë in Makalaurë!!)

*

Tools to nurture or desecrate; tools to reap and sow. Tools to convert. Sharp tools, dull tools.

Melkor gathers each one according to his design, wrenching each free of its moorings and testing its mettle.

He follows Makalaure and two of his brothers home as a dark breeze: harmless as hearth smoke if not for its whispers of the East beyond the Sea. 

The three Noldor princes fall over themselves laughing, made pliant with drink. Casting aside pretense in Tirion’s streets, they join hands and circle into a dance. Makalaure demonstrates a complicated footwork that he insists is in vogue in Valimar; the preeminent bard would know, after all.

Maitimo is a fast learner, but over-tall: Carnistir yelps and shoves when Maitimo steps on his foot. Maitimo kicks at him, grinning. The two abandon the dance to gallop kicking at each other instead: carefree just beyond their majority and expectant of nothing more or less than this lukewarm paradise promised to them.

Only Makalaure, laughing, carries on dancing alone. He countervails his brothers’ happy warfare with defiant grace. A twist of his wrist, fingers upturned in invitation, and swift soundless steps, he entices the breeze.

He entices the breeze. 

And the breeze, enticed, curls in on him; it twists into his hair and swifts around his waist with a lover’s persuasion. Just there under its current, the suggestion of a gale: howling, hard-hearted.

And the breeze pulls.

Makalaure feels the pull. He halts and whirls around, the smile on his lips dying as he looks toward the vacant alleyways and doorsteps.

Maitimo and Carnistir take his hands again; they dance him away before he can wonder.

III.

It begins with a chime. 

The faint peal, spectral and displaced in Makalaure’s bedchamber, stills his composing.

Quill in hand and oud reclining across his crossed legs, he frowns down at the parchment as he listens. He holds his breath to better hear the tone and intuit its meaning.

He glances about his chamber. 

When he turns to his bed, he finds a jagged shadow sitting upon it. 

He quails back; the oud upsets from his lap and thuds against the carpet.

Such a dark. It rests in the way of a thing that has been biding its time.

“Do you know me, child of Fëanáro?” asks the shadow in a many-throated voice felt before heard. 

When heard, rich as velvet, beautified for Eldarin ears.

Makalaurë ducks his head against the sound, his eyes rapidly scanning his parchment and the polished oud as though to glean a means of escape.

Melkor’s voice is beautified for Eldarin ears, but it is not beautiful.

— Makalaurë’s voice is beautiful.

Melkor’s voice is —

The shadow moves to stand before Makalaurë, a penumbra stretching before his eyes.

Ruinous, Makalaurë distantly recognizes.

“Do you know me?” Makalaurë returns then, his voice level to counter the apprehension evident in the set of his shoulders. “Do you know my name? Or indeed is Fëanáro and his ire what you would seek, imposing so upon his house?”

A bright grin slices through the shadow.

“You have the wrong chambers,” Makalaure finishes, clipped.

“Impetuous are raised Feanaro’s sons,” arrives the low voice, accented with a moribund tongue. Makalaure shivers again to hear it; he slips his hands inside his robe’s sleeves to smooth at his arms. “Comforted by the futility of their lot, emboldened by the clutch of their captivity.”

Makalaure glances toward his door, meaning to depart, to hurry from his wing of the compound and call for his brothers. And yet he stays seated, cogitating on the divinity’s words so akin to his father’s. The similarity compels his cautious eyes to return to the Vala.

Fair-minded as is Eldarin wont, he responds to the familiarity with a pale hue of due respect for a Vala: “So what is it, then, that Melkor would request of Feanaro’s son?” 

“Fair is the second son of Feanaro,” Melkor speaks, “with his rare gift.”

Is it worship to share a gift?

“A song from his commanding lips.”

Makalaure grasps for his oud’s unfretted throat and straightens his back, immediately assuming a performer’s bearing even as incredulity creases his brow.

“A song.” He hesitates. “Want of a song compelled you all this way to my chambers?”

A rippling silence impresses upon the space they make between themselves.

“I do not understand.”

Such a dark. A dark new to him; for all Makalaure’s words, eluding description. He blinks into it.

“Which song would please you, Lord Melkor?”

“A song none but mine ears shall hear.”

Makalaure pauses again before he blinks down to his writing. He pages back the parchment once, twice, to where a composition’s scrawl trails into blank eggshell white, unfinished. With his eagle quill pick, he coaxes the oud’s coupled strings into a tentative rhythm. “I can offer you naught but a draft, then.”

When he drifts into singing, the wash of sweet words clear his uncertainty; they build a shelter from apprehension. Comfortable for now, commanding for now, he sings of silver inside the rock and silver from the Tree. Silver of the chattering runnels and silver of the fish that glimmer therein.

Of serenity he sings, the serenity of Valinor: all he knows.

And yet, while the words tide through well-trod sentiments, Makalaure still smiles through the sequence of satisfactions.

Telperion’s light winding through unbound hair; the silken shadows caressing fair faces.

The silken shadows caress fair faces.

Melkor smiles.

An oud string snaps.

The bleak twang rattles Makalaure out of his performance. He starts and clutches at his oud like a child he would comfort. “I am sorry,” he murmurs, distracted, “I have never known these strings to give — “

“Thy voice is the fairest in Aman, son of Feanaro,” Melkor intones again, a deep twist of sound. And suddenly he is crouched before Makalaure upon the floor, having closed in with such immediacy that Makalaure takes a moment to react to Melkor’s visage — a little intake of air — now freed of darkness and distance. Melkor is handsome, and  and unnavigable as a cliff’s sheer stone face.

Slowly, Makalaure draws up his knees around his oud, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. “You humble me,” he responds. He glances away from Melkor to guide the Vala’s attention to where Melkor’s flower, wilted now, rests on his writing desk. It had blackened away quickly upon its arrival at Feanaro’s house, insult for an insult.

“More sweetly I would reward thee, second son.”

Makalaure’s fingers press against his broken string. They look at each other.

A knock at his door. Makalaure turns to it furtively. “Yes?” he calls.

“Me,” Maitimo announces through the oak.

Makalaure looks back to Melkor. 

He finds himself alone in his bedchamber. 

His shoulders slump — an exhale — a tension untying. An emptiness that would leave him questioning if he had ever been anything but alone in this place.

He feels at the snapped string in his hand, considering.

Then he swiftly moves the oud out of sight, as though a shame he would hide.

[madame-fear]

Okay, so. Yesterday I received a rather extent anon message blaming me for, apparently, “not being neutral in the drama” because I’m mutuals with someone that had little involvement in the situation I think, and as I found out today, my mutual already clarified things and apologised.

I left my answer to the ask in the drafts, but today I opted to ignore the message and remove the drafted answer. I did this not only because I wanted to drop things already and not stir up any more shit, but also because I have a condition where I constantly tremble, and any extreme emotion — whether it’s good or bad — makes my shaking worsen to the point I can barely function even for basic things and I feel sick in the stomach.

It wasn’t worth going through that. I thought it would be better to answer ask messages of people ranting, or asking things about it that were within the reach of my knowledge.

Until today, that a burner account named @/quillantrophy (which, they accidentally exposed their real account @/wewereforever in one of their screenshots and now they both deactivated), thought they could do a “call out” post... Posting my answers to anon asks & basically treating me as a hypocrite over nothing?

And they said I should explain things because since I wasn’t commenting on anything they said on the post, I was “adding fuel to the fire” (that exact quote). I didn’t have time to explain things at the moment, but I do now and I will answer bit by bit. I will do this just to avoid possible misunderstandings.

I want to clarify that I don’t feel comfortable getting involved in things that I’ve never been involved in— and if I receive more messages about the drama itself, those messages will be deleted. I feel kind of bad about this since people have only been coming to my ask box asking thing about it confuses, or seeking comfort from the moment, but like we’ve been saying, it’s better to drop things already, and focus on the good things inside the fandom.

The answer to the post is below the cut. It’s going to be long, sorry, but I prefer to clear any misunderstandings. And I will highlight something extremely important down below, besides apologising deeply for any misunderstanding. And this is the last time I will be talking about it

“there’s no issue with this, but she claims to be neutral and is currently explaining/advocating on the situation whilst adopting this stance.” I am neutral on the situation. I will eternally remain neutral because as we’ve seen, neither side is good.

As I’ve said before, Cal had little to do with all of this huge mess. From what I learned today, she already clarified and apologised about the situation. Cal was dragged through the mud by both of the groups out of nowhere, and she also fell for their shit so she was fooled by them just like lots of other people— she told me herself.

“This is bullshit, there’s no transparency” huh? what does that even mean,, I just… Literally don’t have any involvement at all? What can I say or do about it? Both groups of people were already on my blocklist since last year lmao.

“She has connection to the drama purely through this even as she apparently didn’t participate — allegedly.” I’m sorry but the allegedly part is killing me too. I wasn’t even on their Discord groups, nor talked to any of the people involved, explain why the word ‘allegedly’ was even added?

also, how the hell am I supposed to be connected to the drama if, as you said, I didn’t even participate in it, only because I’m mutuals with someone who was named in it? What kind of sense does that make?

As I stated above, I am, and always have been a neutral onlooker about the situation, who explained the situation to the confused people, even posting the links with the full info and proof to not spread incorrect information accidentally.

“Does @bucknastysbabe even know or care you’re slamming her on main and then love bombing her the next?” Cal knows about all your post, and all my answers to each ask regarding the situation.

She knows I hadn’t seen her apology/clarifying video until today. She even cheered me up when I had an anxiety attack after this person made this post, only to then delete it and deactivate the account. So, yes, she knows pretty much everything and she knows it was a mere mistake of mine.

Then, the person posted this. I will show the screenshots of what they said, and what answered ask they were referring to using their own SS.

(sorry if the screenshot pics are switched of their right places) I had no idea that was a direct quote from Cal’s apology video, because I OBVIOUSLY HADN’T SEEN IT. I don’t know how else to stress this, but I’m not chronically online, and neither I see everything my mutuals post.

Either way, I literally re-read my own response to check what I had answered, and this was terribly misunderstood. The only response I had about Cal’s statement was “why am I not surprised?”, and in the rest of my response, I tried to be as neutral as possible— in the rest of my response, I was referring to the general situation of the drama, and in fact I was mostly referring to the things Bel, Fae, Em and Ange said + did.

But nothing else, thats it, because I wanted to speak about the situation in general and I was referring to the group of people— I didn’t name names and neither I referenced Cal’s statement any further. I deeply apologise for the misunderstanding, but sometimes I explain myself awfully mostly because English isn’t my native language.

if this was considered with any possible ill intention at all, I offer once again my most sincere apologies. I never had any bad intention, and the only thing I’ve been doing was answer the asks of the people who came to my ask box inquiring about what had happened, try to offer comfort to those who felt disappointed and heartbroken, and in general just try to provide as much positivity as I could amidst the terrible situation.

Some believe I was trying to gain attention from the situation, and that I was stroking the flames of the drama. I at no cost even thought of ‘getting attention’ from it, or that I was actually getting attention, I simply answered the messages I was receiving to interact with my own followers— I mean, it didn’t feel good to leave them hanging.

I do have to take responsibility that perhaps my actions continued to keep the drama up, but again, I never had this intention, and I’m terribly sorry if that’s what my answers and interactions caused.

Please I do hope you guys understand my point of view, and that I never intended for any of this to be understood in the wrong manner. I have to admit that despite all the lovely people and fun moments I had/have in the fandom, it’s also responsible for worsening my condition the 90% of the times due to the unnecessary drama, and this situation today made me feel extremely bad physically as it automatically involved me in a situation I didn’t want to be involved in, nor have anything to do with it.

And that’s why, from now on, I won’t be answering any message related to the drama anymore to not keep mentioning the things that happened. As I said all the way above, we should currently be focusing only on the good, positive things of the fandom— and hopefully, we will all learn to not be rude or gossip about other people over mere fandoms, or fanfanfiction.

Then again, thank you for reading and understanding. If I expressed myself wrongly anywhere in here, please feel free to ask me about it and I will glady re-explain it. I hope this can clear everything, and please, I don’t want to be involved any further in anything.

[tetsunabouquet]

The Brightest Beginning- Akashi Twins one-shot

A/N: Because of my previous headcanon, I felt like this. I had to rewrite it (see earlier post about accidental deleted progress) but I finally finished it with all the energy I have. Now I'm going back to praying to the toilet Gods for my IBS to chill.

"Yoshi-chan, you didn't need to make the class president of 2C cry," Seijuro said as he looked at his younger twin now the school council meeting room was left to the boys alone. "She needed to hear it. The bitch is incompetent." Masayoshi retorted without empathy and Seijuro sighed. Life with his brother was not easy. "You call everyone incompetent." Masayoshi rolled his different colored eyes, "Perhaps because usually, that very much is the case. Many are not born for the professions they covet." Seijuro could not argue with that, like he usually couldn't. His brother was too witty and eternally annoyed to ever lose to an argument whilst Seijuro did not nearly have the level of energy to be argumentative and petty like his brother was. He liked to be the cloud floating above Masayoshi's drama and antics, but reality seemed to refuse to cooperate. So Seijuro just rolled his eyes at his twin and sighed once more. "At least try to refrain from it next time. Once we're old enough to take over father's assets, we cannot be treating our employees this way. We need to show people we are better, which includes our attitude." Seijuro finished packing his things and stood up. Masayoshi gave him a half-hearted nod and stood up too, his own things already having been packed. "She's still an overtly sensitive, pampered little princess." Seijuro grinned, "She is but you don't need to tell her that." At that, Masayoshi chuckled and the twins left, their footsteps in synch as usual. Sometimes Seijuro wondered if this was because they were meant to be one person, that they always fell into perfect rhythm the way they did. He would never forget the day, where they learnt to move out of that rhythm to establish another rhythm that was out of synch but just as perfect.

It had been a sunny day, and Seijuro and Masayoshi had been about five years old. Because they had each aced their test that morning, they had been allowed to play outside for the remaining day. Their mother approached them, her eyes shining with enthusiasm as she held an orange ball in her hands. "Boys, how about we play a new game?" She asked, waving with the ball in her hands. Seijuro and Masayoshi approached her curiously, and Shiori handed Seijuro the ball before ruffling Masayoshi's hair. The boys smiled excitedly at their mother who proceeded to stand up straight. "Now this orange ball is called a basketball. It's a hard, bouncy ball that you're supposed to throw through a hoop. How about we practise your hand-eye coordination with a couple of pass- exercises?" Shiori said, and from her explanation it was clear how she had gotten Masaomi to go along with her plan for the day. The twins nodded and Seijuro decided to throw the ball towards his brother. Masayoshi catched it, stumbling a little backwards but he didn't fall over, the little boy would never do something as disgraceful as falling square on his ass. He aimed it at the ground, a few steps before his brother's feet. After all, if the ball could bounce, then it would bounce up to Seijuro right? The ball obeyed his command, and the elder twin scooped the ball up from the air as it skipped to him. Seijuro grinned at his little brother who already seemed to prepare himself for the ball to return. So Seijuro bounced the ball in Masayoshi's direction and his little brother caught it with ease. "Good one Sei-nii!" Shiori held her hands together, her eyes shimmering with pride, even if the boys were currently mastering basic ball play. She would never get any less excited at seeing them grow. Masayoshi and Seijuro continued to pass to one another that day, even learning how to dribble succesfully, much to their mother's joy. Shiori had not once stopped smiling that day and the twins would never, ever forget the brightness of that day.

[kanerallels]

For @chenford-prompts 2 Weeks of Chenford, prompt: Injured.

This is set sometime mid season four, and is obviously not canon compliant. It's also technically a deleted scene from a fic I'm posting later this week, but doesn't have any real spoilers. Oh, and it was inspired by a piece of art by @accidental-spice, that I will link here when it's posted!

(TW for hospitals and injury)

Tim felt like he spent a lot of time in hospitals for someone who wasn’t a doctor. Sure, it was bound to be a part of his job— hazard of being a cop was you got hurt. A lot. And he was fine with that.

It was when it was someone else who got hurt on his watch that things were different.

He glanced at the bed he was sitting next to, and his heart twisted in his chest at the sight of Lucy Chen, pale and motionless, hooked up to a heart monitor. He hated seeing her like this. It was unnatural for her to be anything less than bright and energetic and full of life.

She’d been shot on patrol. A shooter had gone after him, and she’d tackled him just in time. Just in time for him to be safe, and for her to be hit herself.

Tim could still feel the panic swelling in his chest at the sight of the blood welling through her shirt as he clung to her, begging her to stay with him. She’d been unconscious by the time the ambulance reached them.

But somehow, miraculously, she was alive. The surgery had been fine, and she was supposed to wake up by the next day. The others had been in to visit her— Jackson for a brief stint, Lopez and Wesley right behind him with Thorsen. Genny had been one of the more recent visitors, carrying a bag with his things, and had walked out again with Nolan. He’d stayed longer than almost any of the others— besides Tamara, who had been right there with him for hours, until the Greys insisted on driving her to their house, where she would stay the night.

Tim hadn’t moved from his spot in hours, and he didn’t intend to. Clasping his hands, he bowed his head, emotions swirling in his chest.

She’d taken a bullet for him. And that had landed her in the hospital. I failed. Again. I couldn’t keep her safe.

“Neck deep in the guilt spiral already?”

Tim’s head snapped up at the sound of Harper’s voice. Handing him a disposable cup, she said, “I thought I’d bring better coffee than what they sell here.”

“Thanks,” Tim muttered, taking a sip. 

He could feel her studying him, and elected to ignore it. Finally, she said, “It wasn’t your fault. Lucy knew what she was doing.”

“She was jumping in front of a bullet meant for me. If I hadn’t—”

“No,” Nyla said flatly. “Don’t try and take the credit for it. Lucy made the choice to protect you, and she wouldn’t want you to be worrying about it like this. Don’t make it about you.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Tim said. “I just— she shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have made the same choice any other cop would have made? Shouldn’t have protected someone she cares about?” Nyla snorted. “Sure. When she wakes up, I’d love to see you sell her on that.”

She turned towards the door, then paused, looking at him. “Accept the fact that she got hurt helping you, and then move on. Wallowing in it isn’t going to help anyone. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tim said, looking back at Lucy. Like it or not, he knew she would have said the same thing.

That didn’t mean he was going anywhere, though. Sliding his chair a little closer, he took her hand, lacing his fingers around hers. He felt Harper watching them for a minute, then she turned and left, leaving them alone together.

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Hunger

I posted this a bit ago, but I think I accidentally deleted it while cleaning up my blog. So I edited it a bit and thought I should post it again. I think it's a neat look at Majexatli and the fact they're a Malarite.

CW: Hunting, Violence, Everything you'd imagine would come with worship of Malar (a Chaotic Evil deity of hunting, bloodlust, bestial violence)

//

Majexatli wondered, sometimes, what drew them to the hunt. 

It wasn’t something they took the time to consider before the Nautiloid, when they prowled the Sword Coast in wildshape. Back then they rationalized it; it was much easier to hunt and eat in wildshape than to gather ingredients and make camp and cook something. Having most of their meals be bloody and raw made the ones they had outside of wildshape that much more special.

Now, though? They spent their days as a person, every night there was a camp with plenty of rations, there was wine and cooked meats and soups and bread enough for everyone. There were traders who could sell them any array of foods, there were greens and mushrooms a plenty along the road, abandoned campsites and kitchens with all sorts of meats and produce. 

Majexatli didn’t need to hunt, every night they could curl up by a fire with a full belly.

So what drew them to the hunt? Why did they still feel a hunger clawing at them? A restlessness in their own skin? 

Sometimes at night, Majexatli watched Astarion hunt while prowling in the shadows and lurking in trees. He was effective enough but clumsy. As much as he has grown better at stealth, at ambushing enemies with his bow or dagger, he was different when he had just his teeth, when his mind was preoccupied with hunger. It was quick and inelegant, never drawn out, he picked whatever animal he could find, it didn’t matter what it was so long as they had blood. 

It seemed wasteful.

Sometimes Majexatli entertained the thought of teaching him how to hunt properly, the art of drawing it out. Maybe they could have him hunt them, make him prove himself before spilling their blood. Never were his eyes more present and alive than when their blood was on his tongue.

They could teach him the rules of the hunt.

They shouldn’t, they knew, shouldn’t drag him down with them. They were supposed to be the kind and wise druid coaxing him back from the edge, rather than echoing the dark whispers in their mind and showing him the shards of divinity that could be in everything if you tore into the flesh enough, how if you swallowed holiness bloodied and raw enough it could fix you from the inside.

But Astarion was a vampire, undead, he needed blood to live. He had a reason for his bloodshed, he would starve without it. What reason did Majexatli have? 

If their hunt was just a supplication, a prayer, an offering, then why did they hunger? 

Was devotion making them a monster, or was their piety a justification for the monster they already were?

If they weren’t a monster, if they were truly good, then Majexatli would have been at camp, basking in the victory of the Shadow Curse being lifted, finding what pleasure could be found in the brief moments before they chased the Elder Brain to Baldur’s Gate. 

Kethric Thorm was dead, the Nightsong freed, Thaniel made whole again, Gale alive, Wyll would be free of his contract soon, Jaheira and Minthara had joined their camp. There was a veritable feast around the campfire, endless companionship, if they wanted they could be pulling someone away to somewhere private and chasing whatever pleasure they could.

Instead, they were in the forest, hidden in the shadows, following a trail of blood through the trees, the buzzing euphoria of the hunt dulling the hunger that had dug its claws into them. 

Slaying the young is forbidden.

The brown bear in their sights was full-grown, only slightly larger than Majexatli’s current form, the Dire Wolf they hadn’t let out since the gnolls on the Risen Road. In any other form, it would have been stupid, reckless to take on a bear. It might still be, but they wanted a challenge, wanted to impress. 

A bear claw was one of Malar’s holy symbols.

Make your kills long and bloody.

They jumped from the shadows, snapping at the bear’s hind leg, making sure to bite and tear its flesh enough for the bear's blood to spill on the grass below. They let the bear get a swipe on them, feigned a pained yelp as it spilled their blood in turn, ran off into the trees as though afraid and wounded.

Oh, Majexatli was disappointed when the bear didn’t follow, when it didn’t try to hunt them down in turn, but they could adapt. 

Keeping to the shadows, every so often they purposefully stepped on a twig, just to watch the bear stop in tense silence, sniff the air. In that tense silence, they would dash out, pounce and bite and then run off again before the bear could truly react.

Taste the blood of those you slay and never kill from a distance.

Majexatli shouldn’t have enjoyed it, they knew, but the only thought in their mind was blood. With every snap of their teeth, they relished in the sharp, warm rush of blood in their mouth, as they stalked they lapped at their muzzle and the blood soaking their fur. The promise of more blood, of tearing open flesh, of devouring raw and bloody viscera was intoxicating.

They followed the trail of blood through the trees, stalking, tracking, thrilling at the adrenaline in their veins that kept them warm and warded off the cold breeze. Majexatli let the blood lead them to the edge of a clearing, down to the river’s edge.

The bear was wounded, patches of its fur stained red and glistening in the moonlight. The wounds weren’t grave, bites and claw marks purposefully shallow, just enough to bleed, to distract it, to wear it down. There in the open, there were no twigs or dried foliage to alert the bear to their presence as it licked its wounds on the river bank. 

Crouching in the grass, Majexatli almost felt at home, they could almost forget about the Elder Brain and the Nautiloid. 

They let out a growl as they lunged, managing to knock the bear over as their jaw clamped down on the juncture of its neck, heart jumping and blood singing as they held it there, felt the bear thrash beneath them claws swiping at them blindly, weakly.

And then Majexatli’s blood turned to ice as they felt the fur beneath their teeth fade, muscles reshape and suddenly their teeth were sinking into a person’s flesh, so much more fragile, so easy for the flesh to give. 

The rush of blood in their mouth filled them with terror. They should have released immediately, should have let go of the shoulder as soon as they felt the change, as soon as they heard a cry of pain in a voice so familiar. They should have relaxed their jaw—but why? Did they want to let go and drop wildshape? Or did they want to let go so they could adjust their bite, shift their teeth from shoulder to neck, find the jugular and sink their teeth in—

A strong hand found the scruff of their neck somehow, even as now this form dwarfed the man beneath them. Blunt fingers dug into their fur, into the flesh and muscle there, more gentle than he had any right to be.

“Majexatli,” 

They could feel the vibrations of his chest beneath their teeth, Halsin’s voice slightly strained, yet firm and with none of the hatred Majexatli deserved.

Majexatli’s jaw relaxed, teeth pulling out of flesh and they knew blood was spilling from the wounds. They hadn’t felt any bones snap beneath their teeth, yet their mind raced with images of what they would see when they pulled away, visions of Halsin with his throat torn open, bleeding out before they could do anything. 

A memory surfaced, unbidden, so visceral even 20 years later, how quickly they had bled out, how they had spent those few seconds begging for Silvanus to save them, calling up every prayer they had memorized, every supplication and offering they had given. They had spent every breath striving for the balance Silvanus wanted and he had simply watched their lungs be torn from their chest, as if their slaughter was simply an accepted collateral in his divine plan. 

“Majexatli,”

There was a hand on their face, and it took everything in Majexatli not to snarl and snap at the gentleness.

They couldn’t bring themselves to meet his eyes, instead staring at his shoulder, the tears in his tunic, the bloodstains, the bite marks still lazily oozing blood. He must have cast something, a healing spell to stem the worst of the bleeding and coax the shallowest wounds closed.

“It’s nothing serious,” His voice was so genuine, “I’ve had much worse, it’s alright. We’ve all had moments where we lose ourselves to the beast,”

Halsin let out a slight laugh, but Majexatli could hear a slight pain, the way it was slightly forced, as though he was trying and failing to ignore the Dire Wolf that stood over him. He knew, he had to know that Majexatli could snap his neck with their teeth, that his blood lingered in their mouth. Majexatli wanted to be horrified, disgusted, and they were, but they also wanted to lick their lips and savor the taste.

“Are you alright?”

They finally met his eyes and recoiled, from the concern in his face, from the cautious but naïve trust. He should be running or shifting back to a bear that could snap them in half, they would deserve it.

Majexatli had the upper hand, though, they still had their teeth and claws and as much as the thought of Halsin’s blood on their tongue sickened them, as much as they wanted it to taste foul, the taste was divine. It always was.

They could taste more of it. All they had to do was bite again, all they had to do was let go. Their quarry was beneath them, unarmed, unarmored, the end of the hunt, of their hunger was within reach.

Suffer no druid to live, for they believe not in survival of the strong, but in a weak-minded balance.

Majexatli ran. 

Darting off into the trees, they ignored Halsin’s voice calling after them, blindly zigzagging through the forest as if they were trying to shake someone off their tail. But the beast they were trying to outrun was the one wearing their skin.

They crashed out of wildshape, into the dirt hard enough to skin their knees, their palms, though they could hardly tell their own blood apart from Halsin’s. Curled up on the ground there, they watched as the moonlight filtering through the trees slowly faded and was replaced by sunrise.

If your prey escapes, they have earned their freedom and whatever boon seems fit.

Majexatli didn’t know if there was anything they could give that would make up for what they did. But they weren’t sure if Halsin was the prey or if they were.

[starsarefire824]

We're Friends, We're Friends...

*I accidentally deleted this post while editing so please reblog if you feel like it. 😭

Chapter 10 of A Certain Slant of Light

Mike pushes the basement door open to find the upstairs of his house eerily quiet. As he pads down the hall and passes the living room he spots his Dad snoring in his chair already with the TV flashing blue light in his face. Holly is curled up in his lap and Mike's Mom is laying on her side on the opposite couch, wine glass resting full next to her on the end table. Her eyelids are heavy as she tries not to dose, and she’s holding out the clicker in the air surfing through the channels. 

“Hey honey,” she says, clearing the sleep from her throat, suddenly more awake when she observes him. 

“Hey,” he says lightly, pausing in the archway. “Have you seen Will?” 

She sits up on her elbow and squints at him. “I think he’s in the kitchen.” 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning around before she can ask him any more questions.

Mike treads heavily into the kitchen, eyes frantically scanning the room for Will. He is nowhere. The pizza box is on the counter and their trash is thrown away. 

“Will?” he says to the room. No one. 

Maybe he’s still in the bathroom.

“Will?” he calls again up the stairwell to the second floor before pulling hard on the banister and climbing the stairs two at a time. There’s still no answer and Mike sighs heavily.

It’s warmer upstairs. Nancy’s door is shut and he can hear the low bass line of whatever pop song she’s listening to. 

“Will?” he calls again. 

His room is dark. There’s definitely no one in there. He notices the hall bath door is cracked, and soft light from a nightlight his Mom had kept since he was little is glowing onto the worn tan carpet. 

He gently pushes the door open, eyes shooting towards the burgundy tile and hoping he isn’t interrupting something he shouldn’t. When the door fully opens he finds Will in the dark leaning against the porcelain sink, water running, and head bowed against his chest. His hands are gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles are white and Mike thinks that maybe Will might be sick. 

When he shoves into the room, Will startles, staring up at him with wide eyes and pulling his arms protectively over his middle. 

Mike freezes. “Hey,” he says awkwardly. 

Will’s gaze focuses on an invisible object in the corner of the room. “Hey,” he responds quietly. 

Mike tries not to shudder with how uncomfortable he feels. His cheeks relentlessly burn. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

Will shifts on his feet. “Yeah. I’m—I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Mike shakes his head, confused by Will’s defensive tone. “Did I do something?” 

“No, no!” Will blurts out, hands shooting towards Mike’s chest as if he wants to comfort him, but then thinking better of it, he instead hangs his fingers heavily on his belt loop, shifting back on his heels. “I’m fine— really. I just… needed a minute.” 

The hair on the back of Mike’s neck stands on end, and his first thought is that he has missed something, that something’s terribly, terribly wrong.  “Is it Vecna ?” he asks worriedly, stepping forward. 

Will’s brows go together harshly and he somehow looks…. disappointed ? 

“No— no ,” he replies, shaking his head and raising his hands higher, defensive, suddenly almost seeming annoyed. “I’m fine. Really.” 

Mike approaches him cautiously. “Will- you are not fine. And you haven’t been for a while. I mean—sometimes I feel like—” He huffs, frustrated and feeling more hurt by the second. “---like we aren’t even friends anymore.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Will asks him, voice breaking. 

Mike’s heart is racing now and it feels as if his chest is on fire. Will backs away from him further, pushing his spine against the tiled wall where the window is. He presses his palms against the tile, as if to ground his body, and Mike imagines the rabbit again, eyes frantically looking for an escape it will never find. 

“I mean—I mean…” Mike stumbles, “I thought we were a team. You said we could be a team again.” 

“Yeah, and I meant it,” Will tells him adamantly, his voice raising an octave and fingers fiddling with Karen’s old shower curtain. 

“Well, I don’t know,” Mike urges persistently, unrelenting in letting this conversation go. “Sometimes it feels like you would rather not even be in the same room with me. Sometimes it feels like just the thought of you being around me… repulses you, or makes you upset.” 

“That’s- that’s not—” Will stutters, dropping his hand from the curtain and finally regarding Mike directly. His eyes are dark in the low orange light, more brown than green now, and very grave. One side of his face is soaked in dark shadows. It highlights the way his features have sharpened over the last year, and beautiful seems to be only word that comes to Mike’s mind.

Beautiful? What the hell is wrong with him?

Will swallows roughly and his voice is coarse as he shakes his head at him. “That’s just not true , Mike.” 

Mike almost wants to scoff at Will throwing his own words from California back at him. Will never lies to him. But Mike knows from El that he’s lied about the painting. It seems like they’ve been drowning in lies since the summer before he left for Lenora.So many lies. 

He sucks in a breath, closing the distance between them, and swallowing down the scared look on Will’s face. He can’t escape, and Mike hates the fear and desperation in Will’s eyes. It makes his stomach turn. He hates how Will still can’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore. What has happened to their friendship? How has it become something Mike can’t even recognize? 

“You're lying” Mike professes, as he stares down hard at Will and holds his breath against the sob that threatens to escape. There’s a long pause and then he rests his palm along the cool tile behind Will’s head. Mike inches his face closer, keeping Will’s gaze on him, desperately scanning his face for something resembling truth.

"No,” Will swallows and shakes his head, his eyes shaded evergreen and determined. “You’re wrong.”

Mike’s eyes trace along Will’s jaw, down to the smooth muscles of his neck. They follow the constellation of moles there, watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down nervously, and his teeth drag over his full bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail of spit Mike wishes he could thumb away. It is as if he’s on fire, as if there’s an electric current inside Will that radiates from the surface of his skin, enveloping him completely.

It feels like nothing he’s experienced before, even with El in her bed on sunny afternoons, and he wants so badly to reach out and touch him; slide his fingers along the ridge line of his jaw, watch Will sigh into his skin, feeling his breath on the inside of his wrist. He wants to roam his hands over other places, places below his belt and off limits, places that the mere thought of makes his cheeks burn in shame. Mike wants to wrap his arms around him and whisper that lies were never necessary, tell him that there’s nothing that could ever make Mike not want him around. That he will always be his best friend.

Will lifts his chin to where Mike’s hand hovers indecisively between them, defiant in his confidence, and Mike feels as if he’s daring him to do something.

Their foreheads are almost pressed together, but instead of touching Will, Mike grips the edge of the windowsill with all his strength. He shifts forward, and the front of their bodies meet. The connection makes him purse his lips in anticipation, and he places his foot in between Will's legs to steady himself. The sensation of his knee brushing the soft padding of the inside of Will’s thigh shoots that, now familiar shock, through Mike’s body. It pools low in his pelvis with an excruciatingly dull pulse. Will stiffens against the wall and sighs out, and Mike feels Will’s fingers at the back of his hip, balling the edge of Mike’s t-shirt in his fist.

The fire shoots up Mike’s side again where Will touches him and before Mike can stop himself he closes the distance left between them, his hips connecting roughly with Will’s as he thrusts forward, his chin coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Will’s skin is smooth and hot and he smells earthy, like a forest after a rainstorm. A small sound, fractured and vulnerable, and like nothing Mike’s ever heard come out of Will echoes into the bathroom, and Mike can’t focus his thoughts on anything; anything except for the way Will smells like rain, or how the water left running can’t drown out how he sighs against his cheek. He can’t focus on anything but the way Will’s ribs feel beneath his fingers and how Will claws at his back; how his vision whites out at the sensation of Will's hips aligning perfectly with his. Mike can't focus on anything but how it feels as if some veil has been lifted from his eyes.This is how it's supposed to feel. How had I never known?

  Suddenly, Mike feels Will’s palm at his chest, unexpectedly strong and shoving him away.

“No,” he sighs quietly. Mike falls back against the edge of the sink, grasping onto the icy porcelain for dear life and humiliation creeping up his neck. 

“No, Mike.” Will says again, his voice now more sure and determined. Fierce. He glares at him, his eyes dark and resolute, but his voice cracks violently around his words. “You are the liar.”

Mike ? 

Mike recognizes Nancy’s voice, and the rhythm of how her feet pad down the hall. He turns his head and sees the light from the hallway turn on, shining brightly through the crack in the door. 

Mike ? Are you okay? —--I thought I heard–

Terror shoots up Mike’s spine and he can’t move, frozen and clinging to the sink. Will's body is still pushed up against the tile wall, arms drawn around himself and staring at the floor. His brow is deeply creased in what Mike thinks looks like something akin to terror. He notices Will’s hand trying to grasp for his belt loop is shaking. He notices it and hides it from Mike's view.

Will then regards Mike directly, and Mike squirms under his scrutiny. His chest rises and falls with heaving breaths, tear filled eyes turning black with anger and a hurt that makes Mike want to die. It's then that Mike realizes that he’s ruined everything. He’s misunderstood Will completely. His stupid feelings and disgusting urges have now ruined their friendship for good. Will must hate him. He wouldn’t blame him if he never wants to speak to him again. And now he knows.

Nancy opens the door and flicks the bathroom light on, drenching them in harsh light. Mike flinches, a terror as frightening as the Upside Down shuddering through him. Will pushes himself off the wall, squints against the brightness and stands up straight, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. 

“Oh,” Nance says, surprised. “Sorry- I- I didn’t know you were here Will.” She pauses a moment as she regards them. “Is everything okay?” 

Mike feels Will stare at him, his gaze searing Mike’s skin like a brand. He can’t bring himself to acknowledge him and studies the white tile on the floor instead. 

“Yeah,” Will tells her, sucking in a deep breath. “We’re fine.” Mike winces at the way he tries to hide the emotion in his voice. It breaks over him like a wave and before he can say anything, before he can beg him to wait, Will shoves past him, dodging Nancy, and bolting into the hallway. Mike hears his every footstep as he rushes down the stairwell. 

Nancy huffs behind him, and Mike sinks lower against the sink when he turns to look at her. 

“Mike?!” she demands, hands on her hips and blue eyes scalding him. “What is going on?” 

“Nothing!” he yells viciously, pushing past her roughly and retreating to his room. He slams the door before she can chase him and flops face down onto his pillow. The sobs come fast and hard and he hates himself more than he ever has before, unable to escape the scent of trees after a rainstorm, the lingering sensation of their bodies pressed together, and visions of green eyes calling him a liar.

Liar. Liar. Liar.