#transformers: edge of infinity

[xoxochb]

౨ৎ 𓂃 this might suck majorly cuz I’m on a time crunch studying for my last finals tomorrow so I apologize 😞

“let’s play sharks.”

you furrow your brows, looking down at a soaking wet percy who looks up at you from your thighs. his forearms rest against them as he grins.

you run a hand through his dark locks while your other holds you steady on the edge of the pool. “and what does playing sharks consist of?”

percy shrugs, melting into your hand as it cups his cheek. “sharks. what if I’m a shark and then I try to eat toy because you’re a smaller fish? maybe… a mackerel!”

“what is that?”

“a fish.”

“are they ugly?”

“I’d never make you play an ugly fish.”

you match his wide smile and peck his mouth. a year’s worth of marriage had kept you used to his silly pool games.

“or why don’t you take a break from swimming. you’re shriveling.”

you take one of his hands, displaying them over your legs to show him how his hands are transforming.

percy frowns. “I’m the son of poseidon, I’ll be fine.”

you give him a look of no arguments. and like his loyal self, percy lifts himself out of the pool to sit beside you on the ledge. you indiscreetly stare at his flexing biceps during the process.

with a gentle sigh, you climb into percy’s lap, slipping your arms around his shoulders to rest your head on one tiredly. the shining sun and ninety degrees fahrenheit weather will do that to a person.

percy snakes his arms similarly around your waist, keeping you sitting close. his head, however, rests on top of yours.

“sweet girl?”

“hmm?”

“how much do you love me? on a scale of one to ten?”

he’s up to something.

“why?” you lift your head up to stare questioningly into his pretty sea-green eyes.

percy pinches your waist. “just answer it.”

“infinity.”

“I’m glad.”

though before the word ‘why?’ can even exit your mouth, you’re being thrown in the water just before percy jumps in right on top of you.

totally called it though.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring. 

You walk along the street. 

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into. 

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops. 

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?” 

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils. 

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them. 

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique. 

He pulls back, falling into step with you. 

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.” 

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement. 

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?” 

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with. 

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering. 

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.” 

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh. 

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely. 

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat. 

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it. 

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet. 

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?” 

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night. 

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better. 

He doesn’t answer. 

You stop walking. 

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.) 

Still, no answer. 

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare. 

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means. 

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him. 

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded. 

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought. 

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races. 

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way? 

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum. 

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always. 

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.” 

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne. 

This is bad for your feelings. 

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.) 

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold. 

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly. 

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you. 

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly. 

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.” 

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day. 

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin. 

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder. 

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek. 

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter. 

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place. 

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching. 

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?” 

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.” 

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.” 

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too. 

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it. 

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.” 

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile. 

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.” 

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that. 

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again. 

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique. 

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.) 

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.” 

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not. 

. 

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood. 

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more. 

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter. 

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16. 

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’. 

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[sushibuild]

This stunning Modern Beach Villa combines sleek architecture with tropical serenity. Featuring floor-to-ceiling windows, natural textures, and open-plan living, the space is flooded with light and ocean views. The outdoor area includes a luxurious infinity edge pool, cozy lounges, and lush greenery—perfect for relaxation or entertaining. Inside, earthy tones, stylish décor, and spacious interiors create the ultimate coastal retreat🌊☀️

More info and Download link HERE🏝️

✨Villa Tour HERE

40 x 30 Lot in Sulani

Fully Furnished

3 Bedrooms (The master bedroom - master bathroom - Walk in Closet) , Guestroom & 4.5 Bathrooms

Property Features : Indoor And Outdoor Living Area, Kitchen & Indoor And Outdoor Dining Area , Infinity Edge Pool , Jacuzzi , Sauna & massage room, Bar Area outdoor , Home Office , Home Gym , Laundry room and Butler’s room

✅ Tested with the newest patch (29/04/2025) — fully functional!

Explore my collection to see all the builds I've released HERE

♡A huge thanks to the talented creators whose amazing CC transformed this house into a stunning space!♡

*Do not re-upload my builds and claim them as your own. Do not use my builds as a base to create another and upload them*

Socials : Patreon | Tiktok | Instagram

[pookalicious-hq]

˚₊‎‧welcome to the all-japan youth summer games‧₊˚

description: the all-japan summer league is a prestigious event that runs from may to the end of august, with only the best players from various sports associations, leagues, and clubs from across Japan receiving invitations. we hope to see you there.

guidelines: - only sfw // there will be suggestive things but no smut - you are free to send in requests about a certain character - each reader insert will be specific to their own story/fic (differentiated by last names) unless otherwise specified - this IS a crossover au

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ welcome - 0.0 (intro)

For years, a vast stretch of land just outside Tokyo’s beating heart had been draped in secrecy. It sat quietly, like a slumbering giant, only fifteen minutes from the city’s restless hum, yet worlds away from prying eyes. Tall walls and guarded gates kept it hidden, while the murmur of construction whispered through the air. It was as if the earth itself had been stirring beneath the surface, preparing for something grand, though no one quite knew what. Rumors danced through the city—some claimed it was the site of a new stadium, others a corporate headquarters.

Then, as if the secret could no longer be contained, the truth was finally revealed.

The land had been transformed—not into a simple complex, but into a world of its own. A sprawling, exclusive sports facility, rivaling anything ever seen before. This was no ordinary venue. The gates would not open to the public, nor would casual spectators ever stroll its paths. Instead, a self-contained village now stood where dirt and machinery had once ruled—a place carved out for only the best of the best.

Here, in this enclave, Japan’s finest young athletes were to be housed, nurtured, and tested. Handpicked from high schools across the country, they came not just to compete, but to stake their claim on something far greater. This was the All-Japan Youth Summer Games—where talent would be sharpened to its finest edge, and where the fire of competition would burn hottest under the summer sky.

sports clubs to watch out for:

haikyuu (the monsters)🏐

MonstersJV is a Japanese volleyball league that spans from U14 to U19. This elite, non-profit organization represents the pinnacle of Japan’s youth volleyball scene, showcasing the nation’s top players on a global stage. Athletes from across the country go through rigorous tryouts, where they are selected to form a rotating roster of elite teams. These teams compete against one another within the league, constantly pushing the limits of their abilities in preparation for international exposure.

miya atsumu... ˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚first glance... 2.6k words: atsumu realizes love at first sight is a real thing when he falls victim to it himself. tags/tws: crossover au, insta stalker atsumu, swearing, fighting, love at first sight, jjk!mma!reader ˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ loading...

blue lock (the infinities)⚽

Blue Lock Academy earned its invitation to the All-Japan Youth Summer League following its explosive success in the Neo-Egoist League. Known for its revolutionary approach to developing strikers, Blue Lock has handpicked its top players to form elite teams that will represent the academy in the AJYSM. These players, already sharpened by fierce internal competition, now stand ready to showcase their unique talents on an even larger stage, further solidifying Blue Lock’s claim to producing Japan’s next great soccer prodigies.

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ loading...

kuroko's basketball (the miracles)🏀

KNGenBasket was established to spotlight the key players who transformed Japan’s youth basketball landscape. Over the years, the league expanded, bringing together more exceptional individuals to form elite teams. However, its true rise to fame came with the emergence of six extraordinary players, each possessing unique strengths that captivated the nation. Now, these teams represent the very best of Japan’s youth basketball, standing as a testament to the league’s evolution and the incredible talent it has fostered.

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ loading...

jujutsu kaisen (the curses)🥊

The Jujutsu Kaisen Curse is an elite MMA gym that exclusively trains and houses the top fighters in Japan. Known for producing ruthless and extraordinary athletes, the gym has earned a fierce reputation within the global MMA community. After years of dominating the sport, The Curses were invited to the All-Japan Youth Summer League to showcase their raw talent and unrivaled power on a new stage. Each fighter that steps into the ring under their banner carries the weight of the gym’s legacy, feared for their relentless strength and skill.

sukuna ryomen... ˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ bestest friend... 2.5k words: they've always been best friends since anyone could remember, what's changed now? tags/tws: crossover au, childhood friends to lovers, swearing ˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚loading...

attack on titan (the titans)👟

AttackElevate stands as Asia’s most elite and expansive Track and Field club, rising from Japan’s competitive landscape to earn international recognition. From the age of 10, the club selects only the most promising young athletes, putting them through rigorous training with one goal in mind: to reach Olympic-level excellence. These athletes, forged through years of intense discipline and competition, represent the pinnacle of track and field talent. Now, AttackElevate has been invited to the All-Japan Youth Summer League, where their relentless pursuit of greatness will be put to the test against Japan’s finest.

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ loading...

more coming... (send an ask)

[youryurigoddess]

Teal We Meet Again

Teal seems to follow Aziraphale through the ages. Ever since the Arrangement, it’s always lurking on the edges of his embroidery, his cravat, his tartan, finally taking the full form of a magician’s cape. A promise woven into the fabric of his heart, displayed openly only once in 1941.

There’s something extremely endearing and so unapologetically Aziraphalean in the way he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but rather drapes it over his shoulders like people do with their flags during Pride.

The love that he had to hide from the world, Heaven and Hell combined, magically transforms into a shield after it finally gets itself known. A sparkly, glittery shield of the true hero, embellished with stars like the ones his beloved hung in the sky on the day they met.

If only that night had ended differently, with no demonic interventions apart from the book-saving miracle in the church, this combination of teal and stars could have stayed with him to the present day…

Good Omens 2 soundtrack by David Arnold, double LP on ‘Divine & Demonic’ coloured vinyl designed by Silva Screen Records, 2023.

Interestingly, greens and teals appear to be a part Crowley’s visual identity just like shades of white and the infamous combination of Cosmic Latte and Songbird symbolise Aziraphale, both in the show itself and in its promotional materials.

The colour itself gets its name from the Eurasian teal (Anas crecca), a migratory water bird and a type of duck with a teal stripe on its head and wings that apparently has crows listed among its hereditary enemies. Teal represents the infinity of the sea and sky and commonly symbolises loyalty (as well as rejuvenation and rebirth).

But where did this behaviour come from? The Garden of Eden? The Flood? Sometime afterwards? A teal snake pattern slithers on Bildad’s embroidered belt as the first speck of color in Crawley’s usual palette of blacks, greys, and reds… never to appear again until 1941, when the tiniest suggestion of something blue-green appears instead of a regular black on his tie. And who knows, maybe it will reappear sooner than later.

[n1k0laa5]

please can you explain death as a concept?

Death

Noun

The permanent cessation of all the vital bodily activities (as the beating of the heart and working of the brain) : the end of life.

Death as a concept is influenced by your beliefs—so let’s see it through different lenses.

1– NONDUALITY (ADVAITA, NON-DUAL TEACHINGS)

The core belief is there is no real seperation. Death, like life, is part of the illusion (maya) of duality, just a transition or transformation, not an ending. The true Self (Consciousness, Awareness, The Absolute) never dies because it was never born. Death only seems real from the perspective of the ego.

So from a nondual lens: death is just a concept. What dies is the body-mind, not the “I” that you really are.

Death ≠ loss. Death = shift in form or perception within the dream.

“The dreamer doesn’t die. Only the character within the dream ends.”

2– LAW OF ASSUMPTION / LAW OF ATTRACTION

Since you are the operant power, God themselves, death doesn’t have to hold finality unless you accept it as such. Some interpret death as a transition of state or reality. If everything is a state, then death is just a state you can shift out of, or into. There’s no objective death, only a concept that gains momentum through collective belief or personal assumption.

In LOA: If you assume death is not the end, it won’t be. If you assume it’s reversible, it is. If you assume someone isn’t “gone,” they’re not. Many use this understanding to script realities where their DR selves or loved ones never die. Therefore, you decide what death is. Do you accept it to happen?

“Nothing is fixed unless you fix it in belief.”

3– SHIFTING REALITIES

Many in the shifting community interpret death as a transition between realities. There are stories of people who’ve shifted after traumatic events, during near-death experiences, or while feeling like they were at the “edge.”

Some report shifting to places where they never died—where that car crash didn’t happen, where they recovered, or where that person is still alive.

So in shifting, death can be:

• Optional

• A change of scenery

• A “wake up”

• A launching point

“You shifted at the brink because the version of you that died no longer matched your dominant state.”

4– SHIFTERS WHO CHOOSE TO LIVE FOREVER

Some deliberately script immortality, whether symbolic such as never aging, literal such as eternal life, or consciousness-based such as retaining awareness across timelines. Others use DRs as a way to “live forever,” letting their CR body go or keeping it in stasis.

“For them, death is a fiction. A chapter they skipped.”

THE GOD PERSPECTIVE

So what is death, really? If you are the God of your reality, then death is only what you define it as. You don’t die unless you allow the state of death to take root in your consciousness. You don’t lose people unless you accept their loss. You don’t end unless you write yourself out of the story.

You get to decide: Is death a doorway, or a full stop? Is it a new beginning, or just a chapter break? Is it reversible? Optional? Avoidable? Do you return? Multiply? Never leave at all?

In your reality—you are the authority. Not death.

I personally don’t like thinking about death, infinity or maybe even immortality. For now. Last time I did, I had the worst panic attack and existential crisis. ^_^

Hope this helped, my love!

[beautyinsage]

A Pattern

You just can't help it.

gojo x reader.

cw: smut, fem!reader, oral (f!receiving), edging, pettiness as a love language, begging

The first time was a fluke. It was never supposed to happen again. The second time even, you could brush off as high tensions and just a release. But that was it — there was no fucking way you were letting this man into your bed again. 

And yet, here you are, legs spread, with a man whose ego is the size of Saturn in between them. 

“You know sweetheart,” Gojo murmurs softly, suckling gentle kisses on your inner thighs as he glides your panties down your legs, “you’ve got a lot of attitude for someone whose pretty lil’ pussy is practically dripping for me.”

He faces you, lips still a few inches away from where you want him most, when he suddenly shifts back. You make a sound of slight indignation and glance down to meet his crystal eyes. You recognize his signature smirk — the smirk that on a normal occasion, makes you want to slap him so hard that even his precious infinity can’t protect him  — and the slightly devious look in his piercing orbs. “Imagine,” he says menacingly, tempting your reaction, “if I just stopped here.”

Anger flashed through your veins at the thought of Gojo thinking that he could have that much control over you. “Oh, fuck you Goj—ahhh!” Your words were quickly interrupted after his tongue pressed a singular long, flat stroke against your core. 

“You can call me Satoru now, don’t you think? I mean we’ve come so far,” he teased. “Now ask me nicely for what you want.” 

You stubbornly held his gaze with gritted teeth, legs quivering in his arms as he gripped at your hips. You tried to stay strong, you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t need this — didn’t need him — but the feeling of his hot breath grazing your center, the promise that he held in his words, the urge to feel his tongue against you just one more time, had you swallowing your pride as you bit out the word, “Please.” 

He chuckled darkly, leaning forward and lightly tracing your clit with the tip of his tongue. A scream of frustration threatened to escape as you ground your face forward — silently asking for more; your efforts were fruitless as he held your hips down and he quirked an eyebrow at you. “Oh? What is it pretty girl? What do you want?” 

You glare at him, but he simply tsks at you before continuing his light, feather-like strokes. Finally, the sexual frustration ends up overtaking your ego, and the words bubble out of your mouth. “Please Satoru, please give me more—need your tongue, need you—”

His mouth was on you before you could even finish your sentence, his impatience becoming clearer than ever, and you reached down to fist his soft hair as you held on for dear life. You didn’t even have a second to breathe again before he began to eat you out mercilessly, feasting on you like you were his last meal; considering his quick wit and sharp logic, it shouldn’t have surprised you that the man was talented with his tongue, but even then, you couldn’t have known just how talented. 

Unconsciously, your hips began to rise off the bed, moans echoing throughout the room as you clutched onto him while he brought you closer and closer to the edge, faster than you had ever known was possible. A strong hand pushed down your stomach while the other remained tightly clasped at your hip, forcing you to stay down and in place as his skillful mouth continued his actions. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Satoru,” you managed to choke out between whimpers, eyes screwed tightly in pleasure as the coil deep in your stomach began to tighten, “I—oh fuck—think I’m gonna—”

He hums against you, almost as if he already knew that, and tugs you impossibly closer, giving you one last solid stroke with his tongue before pulling away. A cry of frustration sounded from your lips, the build to a satisfying release forgotten, but it quickly transformed into a breathless moan as, after a moment, Satoru once again began to suck at your clit, lapping at your folds, as your thighs trembled with a desperate need to release.

And so it happened—again, and again, and again. Satoru slowly built you up, making sure you were on the precipice of falling, before suddenly denying you, leaving you empty and whining at the loss. 

“Please,” you found yourself begging, pride long forgotten as you clutched on to him, tears filling your eyes, “Please, Satoru—ah!—let me come.” 

Your pleas went ignored, and you felt almost faint as you pointlessly did everything you could to maybe just fall off the edge faster, all whilst using the arm that wasn’t clutching onto his hair to cover your eyes. 

After what felt like eons, Satoru’s hand left your stomach, and one finger entered you suddenly, curling just right, causing you to jolt at the sudden added feeling. “y/n,” he drawled, “Look at me.”

You immediately opened your eyes to meet his gaze, whimpers leaving your lips and tears trailing down your cheeks as his fingers repeatedly brushed that spongy sweet spot, wetness practically gushing out of your as his lustful icy eyes stared deeply into your own. “Come.”

At his permission, you finally cried out and fisted the sheets beneath you as you came, rolling your hips mindlessly as euphoria coursed through your veins. “That’s it pretty,” he mumbled, his grip around your hip becoming impossibly tighter, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” You sobbed out your pleasure, your legs shaking from the weight of the orgasm; all the while, Satoru maintained his position, continuing to lap at you long after you had finished.

It was only after you managed to whimper out a soft, “Satoru, baby, t-too much,” that he released you, slowly making his way back up to your lips to kiss you with such fervor you thought you would break.

“That was mean,” You managed to rasp once he pulled away. 

Satoru snickered condescendingly. “You like me mean.” 

a/n: don't worry, next time it won't be you begging

[geometrymatters]

The Polynon: A Geometry of Consciousness

How Consciousness is a fundamental substance and everything else, including the Observer, is it's function of self-reflection within a complex construct and hologram.

Introducing the polynon:

A polynon is a conceptual geometric entity, a polytope of which vertices are non-events and its edges, holograms. A polynon contains all the holograms of that which can be projected as a polytope. From tetranon to dodecanon, and special cases such as dinon and nullanon.

The epistemological foundation of the polynon is a non-event, hence multi (poly) non-events. The ontological foundation is a noumenon, both in its negative and its positive aspect.

Collapsing the noumenal realm into a single dimension results in the conceptual noumenal monad, where the perceptual border is equal to the infinity of noumenal possibilities, as well as the phenomenal something.

Or, as "a cercle with the centre everywhere and circumference nowhere". A monadic embodiment of the thing and the non-thing, the visual expression of the substance of consciousness.

The neutral monistic approach enfolds the ancient knowledge of the self, and the contemporary science of consciousness, from a Vedantic self reflected in Indra's net, to a multi-dimensional implicate and explicate construct of Bohmian orders.

Also encapsulated in the formulation f(f)=f, akin to an Ouroboros mathematical formulation symbolizing a form of autopoiesis or self-production ad infinitum, a self-referential Fichtean process where the self (I) is both the creator and subject of its reality.

The eternal aspect of consciousness, a timeless monadic essence, is described as the perceptual continuum of f=0, signifying pure, timeless potential.

"Eternity isn’t some later time. Eternity isn’t even a long time. Eternity has nothing to do with time. Eternity is that dimension of here and now that all thinking in temporal terms cuts off." - J. Campbell

The wavefunction is defined here as a layer of the noumenal monad, a transition between epistemological and ontological, given by the limits of the Observer's senses and perception.

In this context, |ψ(x)>*n, with n not strictly equal to 2, transcends its conventional mathematical role within Hilbert space and diverges from standard quantum mechanics, suggesting that different values of n represent distinct dimensions or layers of noumenal collapse.

Each wavefunction is a layer of the noumenal lens, of which border is (n+), or consciousness C; it’s contents are negative noumena (n-) and it’s holographic centre “collapsed” onto a phenomenal Observer O(n) as function of noumenal self-reflection of consciousness.

Furthermore, the Observer is envisioned as a holographic projection sitting at the core of the noumenal lens, emerging from the focus and diffraction of noumenal probabilities within the noumenal lens.

The perceptual border of positive noumena (n+) reflects and focuses noumenal probabilities (n-) into the hologram of the Observer O(n).

A rotation of noumenal lens reveals the noumenal essence (n+), hidden under the superposition of the noumenal lenses (n-) and the hologram of the Observer O(n).

The observer’s perceptual focus, directed through Cognitive Gravity G and visualized with noumenal g(n) and cognitive gradients g(r), refracts the essence of Consciousness, transforming noumenal vertices into discernible edges like light through a prism.

As the number of noumenal collapses increases, the complexity and breadth of the observer’s perceptual dimension diminishes, resulting in a progressive refinement and narrowing of perceptual prowess of the observable construct.

A cognitive threshold marks the evolution from a purely phenomenal observer to one with phantasiai and developed cognitive functions. This threshold varies according to the local conditions of the observer’s cognitive gradient and gravity and the overall noumenal function.

The hologram of a polynon enfolds within it the reflection of the noumenal substance, that both originates and reflects consciousness. It encapsulates the entirety of consciousness in each of its vertices and edges, as projections into a perceptual reality.

The concept of “consciousness nodes” describes (n+) zones between noumenal lenses (n−), revealed as vertices of the polynon, equal and identical in nature.

The Observer O(n) is in superposition with the phenomenal p+, epiphenomenal or phantasiai p-, negative noumena n- and noumenal vertices (and centre) n+ of the hexanon as a function for self-reflection of consciousness C.

The polynon is abstract and elusive, residing beyond human imagination yet within its grasp. No heavier than a fleeting idea, but far too heavy to be understood. A palindrome for language and thought, mirroring itself in perpetual paradox. Beginning the same way it ends.

From the "Polynon: A geometry of Consciousness", by Tib Roibu Read the paper here.

[writerfromcz]

The Wedding of Magnus the Red

The wedding of Magnus the Red, primarch of the Thousand Sons, would be a mystical, intellectual, and Warp-infused spectacle. As a master of knowledge and sorcery, Magnus would transform the ceremony into an event that transcends the physical realm, celebrating the union of minds and souls. Here’s how it might unfold:

Location: The ceremony would take place on Prospero, the homeworld of the Thousand Sons, within a magnificent pyramid of crystal and gold, its walls reflecting a thousand colors. The hall would be filled with libraries, ancient scrolls, and ethereal projections of star charts. The Warp would permeate the air—a subtle mist of energy linking reality with the unseen.

Proceedings:

Ritual: Magnus would treat the wedding as a cosmic merging of two souls. Vows wouldn’t just be spoken but shared telepathically—an exchange of thoughts and visions, revealing their deepest desires and knowledge. He might incorporate a Warp ritual, such as conjuring an ethereal flame together or crafting an astral projection of their future. The proceedings would be accompanied by recitations of ancient texts in a tongue most guests couldn’t comprehend.

Feast: The food would be exotic and symbolic—fruits from unknown worlds, wines that shift flavor with the drinker’s mood, and dishes prepared through alchemical means. The Thousand Sons would stand as guardians, their armor glowing with runes, and guests might feel their minds opening to new ideas simply from Magnus’s presence.

Atmosphere: Ethereal, dreamlike, and faintly unsettling. The air would hum with energy, whispers of the Warp occasionally audible, and guests would experience visions—some beautiful, others terrifying. It would feel like standing on the edge of infinity.

Magnus’s Behavior: Magnus would be majestic and charismatic, his single eye glowing like a red sun. Towering in a robe adorned with occult symbols, his voice would resonate as if echoing from another realm. He’d approach his partner as an equal scholar, expecting curiosity and courage to face the unknown. Though proud and perhaps arrogant, his love would be profound, wrapped in intellectual passion rather than physical tenderness.

Symbolism: The wedding would celebrate knowledge, power, and connection to the Warp. Magnus might gift his partner an artifact—perhaps a book with infinite pages or an amulet infused with a fragment of his essence. Everything would revolve around transcending human understanding.

Impression: Guests would leave awestruck, feeling they’d witnessed something beyond comprehension. Some would be inspired to seek truth, others haunted by what they glimpsed in the Warp’s shadows. It would be beautiful yet perilous—much like Magnus himself.

Post-Fall to Chaos: If the wedding occurred after his allegiance to Tzeentch, a layer of dark mysticism would emerge. The ritual might involve sacrifices or a pact with daemonic forces, and guests would risk losing their sanity. Magnus would be even more steeped in his tragedy, though his pride would shine just as brightly.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

New World (10)

Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fluff

Summary: The world War has met its end and Itachi has returned to his village. He questions whether he should set down his roots here when he meets a stranger. Or rather, a stranger is forced upon him by fate.

Warnings: embarrassment

Word Count: I deleted Hinge. Turns out I am too lazy to talk to boys and set up a date to hang out with them. Guess I'll be single for a good time. Also I have some unknown allergy that won't stop making me cough. Fanfic Gods! If you can see this, make this go away! We need to complete so many works!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Are you still mad about failing to complete your mission?" The children play in the temple grounds, cackling under the morning sun with clear skies and a day that feels lighter than usual. It feels so mostly because their parents are not after them, hissing them back inside their homes. Instead, the men are out gathered by the local tavern, drinking their homemade wine, while the women are collected under the community tree playing cards while smoking pipes. The bamboo village feels like a welcoming place today. Fukaboshi sits on the top of the stairs which is the entrance to the sacred ground. He is looking at Toge, who sits next to him, lost in some thought while he continuously flips a coin in between his fingers. Fukaboshi is patient, looking at his student with nothing but adoration. Toge finally tsks, throwing his coin down the edge of the hillside. "It's not your fault, Toge." Toge closes his eyes with an internal wince. "Tell that to my conscience," he grumbles before getting up and walking down the hill towards the village. Fukaboshi sighs, lowering his head, knowing his internal dialogue is no different than his student's. A crow sits atop a nearby tree, watching the events unfold before taking flight towards the next hill, gliding down the roof of one of the cottages where the Konoha citizens stayed the night. With one smooth transformation, the little creature morphs into a human, entering the room through a window.

The room, unlike last night, is empty. The bed, where Itachi had left you last night, has been made, the duvet neatly folded and placed at the end of the bed, the pillow fluffed up and the sheet crinkle-free. Itachi stands there for a long minute, revisiting the chapters he memorised last night, all of them comprising of every tiny feature of your face. But as much as he flutters through the pages in his mind, the images do not seem enough.  He walks out of the room and through the hall towards the other rooms; only to be met by Nami and Naruto midway. Both are carrying their bags, ready to set out. While Nami is nibbling on a tiny piece of sugarcane, Naruto has his face stuffed. “Where’s Y/N?” Naruto tries talking through his full mouth but Nami shuts him up with a smack of her hand to his stomach. “She’s already left. With Kakashi.” No hint of emotion passes through her features. But her brows morph into confusion when she witnesses Itachi go blank. No emotions surface behind those dark eyes. Just a neutral blink before his head finally gives in and does a 45-degree tilt, akin to a puppy wondering about this new situation. “I didn’t see them-“ Nami takes in a lungful. “Kakashi took her out of the village under the radar. She…did not want any more attention. They will reach the inn in about two hours. We are travelling with you so you better keep us safe, Uchicha-san. That’s a threat.” Nami nods and signals Naruto to walk out with her. Itachi does not follow them. Instead, he stands looking into infinity with brows that are too uncomfortable to be furrowed for such a long time. Why did she travel back with Kakashi, Itachi’s brain is already calculating multiple scenarios to justify such an act where his chest does not squeeze with such pain. Why am I not travelling back with her? A crow caws somewhere outside to fill in the silence of this cosy guest house that is suddenly empty.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A day passes. Then two. Then three. Everyone has returned home. Itachi has joined Kakashi at the Hokage’s office to submit the mission report and enlighten her about their sensitive information being leaked by opponent villages. She is not here, he finds his internal voice declaring the fact out loud to this existence. “Itachi, of course, was quick to respond to any threats,” Kakashi’s voice breaks his subconscious monologue of reasoning your absence; never wondering why Nami and Naruto were not there. Tsunade hums. “We need to do something about the rock village before they get on my nerves," the Hokage fumes slowly behind her desk. "The Anbu are already on it." "And who else do you think knows about our-" Tsunade inhales, rolls her eyes a little and waves her red nails generically in the air- "empath, for the lack of a better word." "The information was sold to five villages-" Itachi does not wait for a pause- "Mist, Sand, Bamboo, Wood and Seashell." "Seashell doesn't sound-" Tsunade pauses her quip with Kakashi's little wave of hand. "They feed their enemies to eight-foot giant crabs." She does not say it but her face tells she sounds impressed. "I thought Sand Village was a friend." "They are," Itachi adds, "Gara was the one who forewarned us about the leak." The colours of realisation bring a positive glow to the Hokage's face. "That's why you two knew what was going on this entire time. I like that kid." She taps her nails on the table in a rhythmic tone. "Are the other villages a threat?" "We have prepared infiltration teams to visit these villages and bring us any intel we can get that might pose a threat." Kakashi leans on the window sill with his arms crossed over his chest. "Tell them to execute the infiltration at the earliest." Kakashi looks up at the Hokage, blinking for a second. "Oh, they are already out. In about three hours, they'll be entering the respective villages." Tsunade narrows her eyes at the former Anbu. "I knew I would get your permission for the mission," Kakashi shrugs. Itachi clears his throat to bring attention to him before Tsunade can eat Kakashi's ears out. "If that's all..." Without another word, Itachi opens the window and disappears into thin air. "What is wrong with him?" the Hokage points at the open window with a mix of offence and worry. Kakashi throws his head back in defeat, his palms trying to soothe the pain caused by the burden of carrying the team on his shoulders for the last few days. "Ugh. Let's discuss this after I've had a nap. And we will need at least three bottles of sake." Tsunade guffaws, slapping the table with excitement. "Meet me at Ichigo's restaurant at eight," she declares before swivelling her chair towards the window. Within a second, her excitement morphs into a sour affair. "And don't you two dare use my window as a gateway after this! You delinquent little shits!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Itachi's crows scour the Konoha skies looking into every street, under every tree, all koi ponds, and riverside. It is one of the crows soaring over the local marketplace that signals the former Akatsuki member before disappearing. And Itachi does not waste time, walking faster than usual in that direction. His body automatically halts when he sees you in the crowd. You are sitting on the stairs of the open shops where different types of nuts delivered from outside the village are being sold. Your arms are wrapped around a black cat with the most beautiful fur. Children are gathered around you in awe of the little furry creature; their curious minds asking you all sorts of questions. Itachi's permanence comes to a standstill. All his senses seem to revolve around you. His eyes can see the  y/e/c glow of your iris, his nose can smell the coconut oil rubbed on your skin. His ears can hear the croak in your voice that still heals from the adventure. He wants to stay still and bask in your presence but this uneasy feeling in his heart wants him to step towards you. Like the pull of a string, your head instinctively rises in the direction Itachi stands. You watch him inhale the guilt of being found out- of brazenly watching you from a distance. And just as he sees you...he can see you. A flash passes inside his mind for barely a second. Your shoulders are bare, your face marred with dirt, your hair a mess. Your eyes are red with tears. And just as it comes, the fash vanishes. And with it, you vanish too. The black cat with the beautiful fur is left on the steps for the children as you are nowhere to be seen.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

More days pass when you ‘miss’ each other; on the streets, at the Hokage’s office, in the village mart, and once right outside the Uchiha home. Itachi knows something is out of the ordinary. But not only with you.  He has not been feeling his usual self. His heightened senses seem to go into overdrive and shut down quicker than they should. His fast brain dissociates every ten minutes. His body is restless, unable to find peace at night, forget about getting an ounce of sleep. He sulks on the village rooftops unable to make sense of the hyperactivity that is frying his brain before he finds himself in the gym behind the administrative building with limited access. Like any other night, he walks into the gym from the backdoor at two in the dead of the night, finding two other men walking out of the locker room to begin their workout. “Who is that?” He hears one of them whisper, instinctively rolling his eyes internally and turning around to let the fresh Anbu meat have a good look at the infamous Itachi Uchiha. Much to his surprise, they are not looking at him. Instead, their attention is taken by another presence in the gym. Itachi changes into his workout clothes- a black t-shirt with grey joggers- and walks out of the locker room. From how the two men have their eyes away from their equipment, he can calculate it is someone new and quite possibly a woman. Turning the corner, his eyes involuntarily fall on the figure before returning to the treadmill- his original destination. It takes him a fraction of a second to register the figure doing crunches, using the rods holding the dumbbells as a pivot for her feet.

It’s the woman. Itachi has a clear view of you from his treadmill- with your back to him. You, on the other hand, are unaware of him. Your face is flushed, and sweat runs down your neck and back. All the rebellious strands of your hair mark the sides of your face and neck. The sweat stains on your oversized t-shirt and gym shorts show how long you have been working out. You finally stop and take a breather. He increases the speed of his treadmill. Itachi can see the Anbu boys tapping each other to bring their attention in your direction. You use the hem of your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face, exposing your abdomen. Itachi feels guilty for letting his eyes linger for a second longer at the lines of abs forming on your front. Yet a part of him fumes when he can hear the boys snicker at an inside joke before walking in your direction. The blonde one takes the lead. "Konnichiwa! My friend and I were wondering if you would like to work out with us." You bow a little, sending a little twist inside Itachi's gut. "Thank you for the offer. I am good." But the boys are quick to pester you again. "We think you are really beautiful and we would like to take you out for a meal after the workout." You ignore them and walk towards the bench. Even when you try to ignore it, you can hear them giggle and snicker behind your back. Tune them out, your inner voice tells you. Tune them out, tune them out tune them o- Your focus has been completely devoured by the boys who have turned a blind eye to respecting your personal space; and in doing so, you have picked up a ten-kilo dumbbell for your workout. Lying down on your back, you stretch your arms over your head to pick the dumbbell to start your set.

"How about we help-" Fuck! I should have brought my earphones!!! You have put all the focus inside your arms to raise that damn weight and take it over your head- and while doing so, you realise you can no longer hear the snickers of the boys. Your arms do pick the weight, but your brain gives the warning signal a bit late that the weight is beyond your muscles' threshold. A small cry for help comes out of your lungs but never makes it to the finale. you are half scared that the dumbbell might fall on the ground with a resounding boom. But that never happens. Instead, you feel the heaviness being taken away from your palms by a shadow behind your head. You raise your head back to find the dumbbell resting in the veiny hands of the man you have been avoiding this whole time. Itachi Uchiha. He is holding that dumbbell as if it weighs nothing. His shirt is covered in sweat and the strands of his hair not in the ponytail are out having the gall to stick to his exposed neck. His eyes are stuck on you, watching you with confusion and...was that concern? Don't be fooled. It might be murderous brooding too. We don't have enough experience to really tell, do we? you inner voice was thundering all over the metaphoric walls. Your heart rate is going up, more than it already has from the exercises. You take the support of your arm to get up, quickly reverting your gaze. But the screaming pain inside your arm brings out a wince from you instead. "Don't move," he commands in the Uchiha voice you have grown familiar with, "you have sprained your muscle." You do not dare to look him in the eye. "I'll spray some-" The former assassin, it seems, never waits for your words. Before you have finished your sentence, the gym's first aid box is seen being put down next to you on the bench. You can feel your lungs take a justified pause as Itachi gets down on his knee in front of you, making himself busy with the contents of the box. "I'll do it-" you give out a little squeak but the man ignores it, shaking the spray bottle in his hand. Without hesitating, he opens his free hand. "Arm." You, on the other hand, want to shrink and disappear into the bench, never to be seen again. "Y/N," he calls you out from whatever hell you are making in your mind for yourself. It bothers you even more that his voice is as sweet as it has been whenever you have interacted with him before. "Give me your arm." You do not want to move. Instead, you have started singing Naruto's favourite ramen song inside your head. Sparks fly inside your body when you feel the touch of Itachi's fingers trying to find their way under yours. And they do- having invaded the space between your fingers and the coarse leather of the bench. His usually pale fingers are red- mostly from the workout- and they are cautiously making their way to your wrist, rotating it to expose the other side upwards.

"Does it hurt?" Your gaze is fixated on his arms. The veins are popping under that pale, mole-kissed skin. There is a certain edge of satisfaction trailing the veins from his wrist up the bicep. People should be paying to see this, your inner voice sighs, never once averting her gaze from the sculpted beauty. You have reached the hem of Itachi's sleeves when you realise he has asked you a question. "Hm?" "I guess not." Itachi's face is flushed. How hard has he been working out? For a second, you think you see a smirk build upon his lips. But the moment you blink, it is gone; making you ponder if you were seeing things. Itachi's fingers go further up, resting right in the middle of your lower arm. His thumb puts a little pressure on the muscle underneath. There is a slight hint of pain. He can tell the way your brows furrow quickly and let go of the stress when he lifts his thumb from your skin. Itachi wonders how your skin has the right amount of suppleness and smoothness. And then he wonders why he is wondering about your skin. His fingers move further up. One hand lets your upper arm rest in itself. The other hand takes the liberty to feel the muscle. And that is when you let out a pain-ridden shriek before clasping your mouth. "It hurts," your broken voice reassures him. Itachi grounds your upper arm within his hold. You can feel his hand's intention of not letting go. "Face the other way," he instructs. You have heard him but the words have not yet registered in your head. And Itachi can tell from the blank look your eyes give him. Your eyes. The former assassin cannot get used to these eyes that look at him with zero micron of hesitation; no ounce of fear or mistrust. Zero thoughts behind those pupils and the intention to follow whatever he will say. A part of him wonders if your eyes do this for anyone else. And then that part makes his chest squeeze with mild annoyance. He raises his free hand and lets his fingers rest on your jaw, pushing your face in the direction away from your arm. The gesture surprises you, making your stomach do a summersault internally. You can hear the clicking of the shaking pain relief bottle before feeling the cooling spray over your skin. The affected part is then meticulously covered with a crepe bandage. "Do not use this arm for at least forty-eight hours if you cannot get an appointment with Sakura before that," Itachi clears, checking the bandage one last time.

"Thanks," you admit, about to get up. "It's natural," Itachi declares softly, not moving. Confused, you look down at your arm to wonder what is natural about it. "To have...thoughts that seem dark. And...filled with lust." Itachi finally looks at you and you can feel a cold wave pass down your spine, reverberating through every cell in its way. "It's simple biology," he continues, averting his gaze. "The only difference was that someone in your vicinity had the potential to see your thoughts. There is nothing to be embarrassed about." Oh, are you sure?!! Your inner voice shouts before pointing out at your racing heartbeat and flushed skin. Your breaths are starting to feel shallow. Itachi can sense the uneasiness. You get up with a jolt. "I should go." Even the whispered words of you come out shaking. "You can look inside my mind," Itachi announces before you can step away from him, "to even out the..." He does not finish the sentence. Look inside the mind of Itachi Uchiha. How many people have lost their lives to get the answer to this question? And here he was, offering it to you on a silver platter. "I should-" you bump into the bench behind you with the step you take back, scaring yourself for a second- "go." You dash out the door, leaving the man still on his knees. He sits there, experiencing you leaving the same redolence that he smelled off you in that cottage in the bamboo village. A smile builds up on his lips and no matter what he does, he cannot seem to make it stop.

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

(Chapter 45)

A Dangerous Proposition

She wasn’t going to go back.

She had told herself that the whole morning.

She wasn’t going to go back.

And yet, somehow, her feet carried her straight to the dungeon.

It was infuriating.

She had left yesterday with the firm decision to stay away. Loki had made his stance very clear—mocking, dismissing, lacing every word with barbed cruelty until they stuck.

She had been a fool to think she could get through to him. A fool to think he wanted to be gotten through to.

And yet, despite it all, something in her refused to let go.

So here she was.

Again.

She didn’t hesitate this time. If she hesitated, she might talk herself out of it. Instead, she moved forward, stopping just short of the golden force field.

Loki was already watching her.

Not with his usual smirk.

Not with the sharp-edged amusement that he used as armor.

No, this was different.

It lasted only a second before his expression slid effortlessly back into something detached, uninterested.

His head was slightly tilted, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to figure her out, like she was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit into his carefully crafted world.

He was quietly absorbing her transformation—her hair cascaded in loose curls down her back, a delicate braid forming a halo around her crown like a symbol of something sacred. The champagne and white gown draped elegantly over her figure, pooling at her feet where shimmering heels caught the light. No doubt they had dressed her for this. It was the first time Loki had seen her without the familiar armor of black leather and combat gear. Yet now, she glowed—effortlessly radiant—as if she’d always belonged here, one of them.

“Changed your mind?” he mused.

Y/N exhaled slowly. “Something like that.”

He studied her, his gaze calculating. He did that often, she had noticed—watching people like he was picking apart their weaknesses, dissecting their thoughts before they even had them.

Then, with a shrug, he turned away, settling back onto the bed.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not even going to ask why?”

He smirked slightly. “I find it amusing that you think I care.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “You do care. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Loki chuckled, but it was hollow. “Think what you like, Midgardian.”

Liar.

It was written all over him.

He was trying too hard.

The sharp words, the feigned boredom, the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee—he was fighting something, and she could feel it.

Fine.

If he wanted to play games, she could play too.

She took a step closer. “I have a proposition.”

His brows arched, interest flickering in his eyes despite himself.

“Oh?”

“A formal arrangement.”

He tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. “I do enjoy a good deal. Do tell.”

“We exchange knowledge,” she said. “I teach you about Midgardian customs, you teach me about Asgardian ones. A diplomatic effort.”

Loki blinked. Then, very slowly, he laughed.

It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. It was edged with mockery, smooth and sharp at the same time.

“…You do realize that sounds absurd.”

“And yet,” she said, tilting her head, “you haven’t said no.”

He studied her.

She saw the momentary flicker of something deeper beneath his expression, something cautious.

Why was she doing this?

Why was she standing here, offering him anything at all?

No one offered Loki anything.

They demanded.

They accused.

They punished.

But this—this was something else.

And it was throwing him off balance.

His fingers drummed lightly against the mattress. “And why, pray tell, would I indulge such an arrangement?”

She shrugged. “Because you’re bored.”

Loki exhaled sharply through his nose—something that might have been amusement if he let it be.

“You assume I am bored.”

“You’re the God of Mischief locked in a room by yourself,” she pointed out. “If you weren’t bored, I’d be concerned.”

A smirk ghosted across his lips before he could stop it.

Damn her.

She was too perceptive.

Too willing to press where others would retreat.

Too much of a threat.

He needed to get rid of her.

To push her away.

But something in him—the same foolish, reckless thing that had driven him into the abyss—kept him sitting there, listening.

He hated it.

“Let’s put your claims to the test then, shall we?” Y/N said suddenly.

Loki frowned. “What—?”

Before he could finish the thought, she moved.

Her form shimmered for the briefest second, and then—

She was inside the cell.

Loki’s composure finally cracked.

His eyes widened—just slightly—but she caught it.

“Well,” he murmured, tilting his head, voice quieter. “That was much more graceful than last time.”

Y/N grinned. “Thought I’d give you a controlled demonstration.” She dusted off her sleeves. “Impressed?”

“Mildly,” he admitted.

His gaze scanned her, as if truly seeing her for the first time.

There was power in her.

Not just in her abilities, but in the way she carried herself, the way she challenged him without fear.

He had underestimated her.

That was a mistake he would not make again.

“You’ve learned restraint,” he noted.

“That’s what Frigga keeps saying.”

The words were out before she could stop them.

Loki’s expression flickered—just for a moment.

But it was enough.

Y/N took the chance to sit down on the stone bench across from him, leaning back against the wall.

Loki raised a brow. “You assume I am bored.”

“So,” she said casually, “what do you do for fun in here? Stare at the wall? Count the steps it takes to walk from one side of the room to the other?”

“You just said you weren’t,” she shot back. “But I’m willing to bet you are.”

He exhaled sharply, something between a scoff and a reluctant laugh.

She had him there.

But he wouldn’t let her win so easily.

“I find ways to amuse myself,” he said.

“Uh-huh.” She leaned back. “That’s why you’re so thrilled to have a visitor.”

Loki exhaled through his nose again—almost a laugh this time.

A silence stretched between them.

For the first time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

She should have left.

He should have told her to.

But neither of them moved.

Loki watched her, something unfamiliar settling deep in his chest.

A strange, uninvited warmth.

Y/N exhaled, her arms crossed, tone sharp with honesty. “Well, if we’re being truthful for once—between my sessions with Frigga and Thor off romancing his precious Midgardian, as you so fondly like to call us…” She smirked then—really smirked. The first genuine, unguarded expression she’d offered him since they met. “I’m bored. That’s why I suggested this. But hey, if you’d rather spend the afternoon counting wall cracks and pretending you don’t miss real conversation, be my guest. I’ll find something better to do.”

She turned, already stepping away, that playful arrogance in her stride—

“Wait.”

His voice cut the air, sharp and sudden.

Y/N stopped, glancing back, brow raised.

“Just…” He sighed, irritated more with himself than her. “Wait.”

There was a beat of silence—drawn out and charged—as Loki warred with himself, visibly regretting the words before they’d even formed.

“You may come,” he muttered finally, like the syllables tasted sour on his tongue. His posture stiffened the moment he said it, as if opening the door—no matter how slightly—left him exposed.

Y/N offered only a smug little nod, nothing more. With a flick of her fingers, she vanished from his cell in a flicker of light, reappearing just beyond the barrier, her steps echoing as she sauntered down the corridor. But before she rounded the corner, she glanced back—grinning.

Loki stared after her, jaw tight. Then, with a quiet breath, he lifted a hand to his lips, hiding the ghost of a smile.

It had been a long, long time since he’d truly smiled.

And that—that—terrified him.

He would not let it show. Not yet.

He didn’t want to look forward to her next visit.

But he did.

[ashmeadow96]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TRANSFORMERS ONE AHEAD READ WITH CAUTION

This is the first time in a long time I am writing a fanfiction for the Transformers fandom since falling in love with it after watching Transformers 2007 and when Transformers Animated was still airing. Even then it was an OC-self-insert fanfic, so this is the first non-OC fanfiction I am writing for the first fandom I ever fell in love with.

It happened in slow motion. The sound of the blaster and crushed metal stretched into infinity, and the smell of burning Energon filled the air. D-16 could only watch his best friend and Conjunx Endura, his whole world, explode into thousands of pieces from a blast of his cannon. Screaming echoed across the plaza. He doesn’t know if they are his own, Bee’s, or Elita’s, but it doesn’t matter. Dee’s body moves faster than his processor does. Orion was falling over the edge and into the Well of All Sparks. The impact of Dee’s blast pushed Orion further from his reach forever.

AKA: D-16 shoots Orion and immediately regrets it. This is what happens after.

[misdeliria]

SATORU GOJO

Goes With This (0)

Satoru thought you looked pretty cool when he initially found you. A total badass that slaughtered everything that terrorized her–he respected the ruthlessness.

And when you woke up and couldn't even sense the waves of cursed energy he was emitting at you, he was elated for some odd reason. You were clueless about the waves of energy you reciprocated, and Gojo essentially enrolled you into Jujutsu Tech.

"You think anything's special about her?" Suguru questioned him at their hotel before their flight back to Tokyo. You were in the other room, putting on one of the outfits Satoru went out to buy–all you had were the blood-stained rags you wore in captivity and the gown from the hospital.

"There's something about her cursed energy," Satoru answers sternly, trying to convince his friend of his suspicions. "I just have a feeling, y'know?"

"I suppose you might have some reference to what you're saying," Suguru refuses to admit to Satoru might be right.

There's a knock at their door, and Suguru goes to answer it.

"Hey, how does this look?"

Satoru gives you a glance, and his face quickly burns. You're standing at the entrance in a comfortable airport outfit with slippers and baggy fabric. He thinks you look amazing, but he bites his tongue before it can slip out.

"You look nice. Comfortable," Suguru tells you in a nonjudgemental tone, the sweetheart he is.

-

Later that night, Satoru believes he experienced sleep paralysis (but he eventually learns it was you). He sleeps in the same room as Suguru, but they occupy separate queen-size beds. He stirs with his limbs rigid against the side of his body. A wave of anguish washes through him, and he strains to turn his neck to the side and call out to Suguru, but only muted choked grunts make it past his lips.

A head is popping out beside his bed, looking from the edge and staring at him. It's a woman shrouded in shadow with beady eyes and long horns edging closer up the bed to him.

Satoru activates his Infinity before the woman can get too close and notices she's wearing a worn-out kimono.

She doesn't move any closer or mutter anything he can understand, but then she slinks away.

And when he wakes up later that morning, he realizes his memory of her face is distorted and he shudders at his recollection.

You don't seem to have a clue why Satoru's staring at you so hard when he eventually sees you for the flight.

-

KIYOHIME

origin' A princess in Japanese folklore. She fell in love with a Buddhist monk named Anchin, but after her interest in the monk was rejected, she chased after him and transformed into a serpent in a rage before killing him in a bell where he had hidden in the Dōjō-ji temple.

[specterthief]

Fandom: SK8 the Infinity Characters/Pairing: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki, Hasegawa Langa & Hasegawa Nanako Rating: G Warnings: None Wordcount: 4089 Other Tags: Pre-Relationship, Haircuts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Crushes, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Rule 63, Gender Issues, Butch Hasegawa Langa, Insecure Kyan Reki, Developing Friendships, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Family, Autistic Hasegawa Langa Summary: “Huh?” Reki stammered out a little higher than she meant to. “No, no, you’re cool, uh… I was just—you know, I was just wondering what you did with your hair when you were snowboarding. Do girls all wear ponytails or something?” “Oh. No.” Langa pressed her lips together in a thin line, picking at the edge of Reki’s bandana. “Well, some girls do, but mine was always way too short.” — Reki gives her new friend a haircut, and learns more about Langa than she was expecting along the way. Nanako just wants her daughter to be happy.

new fic for the first time in a while!! and it's my first time posting a fic for the skateboard yuri AU. somehow i keep writing about characters getting dramatic haircuts and being gay about them

i'll try and arrange the series in roughly chronological order as i post to it, i want to write a lot more for this AU! it's been a labor of love to develop it so i hope everyone can enjoy it

[swagmagussupreme]

@whiterose-fans-blog White Rose in Bloom, Day 5: Fantasy AU

Jk it's the lazing in bed one. I've written 200k words of Whiterose fantasy AU lol, if you wanna read that, go here:

No content warnings for this one, just pure short fluff since work is On Some Bull Shit ™️ today. So without further ado:

Words: 879

Ruby hated Huntress’ Sprint. She hated infinity-scrollers in general because she should be studying instead of playing them. Alas, here she was.

The door slammed open. Ruby jolted, peering over the edge of her hanging bunk.

It was Weiss, her face bright red and eyes puffy. Ruby watched her shamble to the bunk below, then flop face-first onto the mattress, groaning. The team leader stayed where she was, despite the way her heart ached with sympathy— Weiss preferred distance. The amount of physical affection Ruby had gotten her used to was already a miracle. Weiss groaned.

Ruby leaned over the edge of her bed, ignoring the way it creaked. “Weiss? What happened?”

The heiress simply groaned.

“Was it Cardin?”

Surprisingly, Weiss shook her head.

“Oh. What was it, then? Did you get a surprise test or something?”

Weiss mumbled something into her mattress.

“Huh?”

Weiss patted her bed.

Ruby blinked. “What?”

Weiss aggressively patted her bed.

Tentatively, Ruby fell out of her bunk and smashed her entire idiot face directly on the floor, her features saved only by the grace of her Aura. That didn't make it painless. “Owwwwwww,” she moaned, peeling herself off the scratchy carpet. She found Weiss’ eyes staring more bemused than concerned, and tried her best disarming smile, which disarmed Weiss enough for her to flop her face back down into the mattress. “You… want me to sit with you?”

Weiss mumbled. Ruby took it as an affirmative— a denial would've been fervent and straight to her face— and crawled into the bed, sitting criss-cross beside her partner's head. Her hair was a mess.

Weiss dared to put a hand on her head, which didn't elicit any opposition. “What happened? You can tell me— n-not like you have to!” she hastily added. “Just, like, you can. If you want. I'm here to listen if you're here to speak. I'm also just… here. In case you don't want to speak. I can…” Ruby slowly moved her hand on Weiss’ head, stroking it in the same way mom used to do for her. “I can do this and be quiet. If you want. Y'know.”

Weiss’ head moved up, and Ruby immediately jerked her hand away, fearing vindication for overstepping their boundaries. A million apologies lined up behind Ruby's lips.

They all vanished when Weiss blearily grabbed her wrist and plopped her hand right back where it was, moving it back and forth demandingly. Everything in Ruby's throat died, leaving a hollow void that crept all the way to her chest. Nervous giddiness started to dance between her lungs.

“I had combat exams with Jaune today,” she groaned. “He beat me.”

Ruby rocked forwards to keep herself from recoiling back, which probably would've hurt Weiss feelings. “Oh,” was all she could manage.

The sky was green. Water was dry. Jaune Arc had beaten Weiss Schnee.

“How?” traitorously seeped past Ruby’s lips, which got a glare from Weiss. She didn't move the hand away, though, which was progress.

“Ruby, he threw me,” Weiss stated, her voice distant with horrified recollection. “He rushed me, slid over my ice— somehow— and he grabbed me around the waist and fucking threw me!” She weakly pantomimed such a toss. “I was so surprised I just… I couldn't get up in time and he got me. He got me. Me.”

Weiss sniffled, her hand dropping from Ruby’s wrist. Instinctively, the scythe-wielder’s hand moved to cup the back of her head, thumb gently rubbing her crown. “It happens to all of us,” she advised. “It's only our first year, there's plenty left to surprise us.”

“It's not supposed to happen to—” the heiress bit her lip, her shoulders hitching as she visibly held back a sob. Noticing this, Ruby let her hand drift down to Weiss’ back, where she patted between the shoulder blades. That opened the floodgates. “It doesn't happen to me-he-heeeeeee,” Weiss bawled, punching the mattress. “He— he’s just… a guy! Literal vomit-boy!” She wailed. “And I’m a scion of the Schnees! I— I got— f-fucking tackled, Ruby! There's gonna be videos everywhere!”

Ruby stared at her partner, mesmerized. She'd never seen Weiss open up like this, not to her, and she'd certainly never been allowed this close when she got so touchy. It felt a little wrong, almost, like she wasn't supposed to see this. “It… it's not okay now,” she tried to say smoothly. “But it will be. I promise.”

Weiss looked up at her, glaring wetly, snot dribbling down her nose. Her voice came out hoarse and thick. “What're you gonna do about it, huh?”

Ruby smiled at her. “We'll do more sparring, some hand-to-hand, even. I know I've been focusing on Crescent Rose too much, I need to focus on improving our skills. Together.”

Weiss grimaced.

“Next time he tries to tackle you, you're gonna be the one throwing him, okay?” Ruby moved her hand back to Weiss’ head. “I'll make sure of it, as your partner.”

“Not as our leader?” the heiress said, pouting bitterly.

Ruby schooled a serious expression over her face, her other hand moving to take Weiss’ with fervor. “No. As your partner.”

Weiss’ eyes went wide. She stared at Ruby. Ruby stared back. Through the crust of pain and tears and snot, Weiss blushed.

[aurorarions]

‘ morfydd clark, nonbinary, any pronouns, 35 / 350 , high fae. ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems AURION GALAHAD has been teleported to the summer court, the GENERAL OF THE ARMIES from DAWN COURT is said to be DETERMINED and is said to describe themselves with A SHARP GAZE SUNK IN SOFT FEATURES, GOLDEN LOCKS THAT FLOW WITHIN THE SUNRISE BREEZE & A MIGHTY SWORD VEHEMENTLY RISING TO THE SKY. and with all of this in mind their STUBBORN nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time.

penned by helium.

GENERAL DETAILS

FULL NAME: aurion 'the dawnblade' galahad ― NAME MEANING: originally a male name, aurion means ‘tomorrow’ and/or 'golden light' ― AGE: appears 35, 350 ― DATE OF BIRTH: april 9th ― PLACE OF BIRTH: dawn court ― CURRENT LOCATION: summer court ― GENDER: nonbinary ― PRONOUNS: any ― SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual, demiromantic ― OCCUPATION: general of the armies of dawn court.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM: morfydd clark ― HAIR COLOR AND STYLE: curly, blonde hair, usually loose. if not, then braided ― COMPLEXION: fair ― EYE COLOR: icy blue ― HEIGHT: aprox. 6'0 (180cm). ― BODY AND BUILD: muscular, slightly broader shoulders and toned arms ― TATTOOS: none ― PIERCINGS: various across their ears. CLOTHING STYLE: when off duty, aurion prefers loose and flowy garments in pinkish and sage tones. apart from her piercings, she does not use much jewelry ― DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: calloused hands from sword training and various battle scars on her back ― SIGNATURE SCENT: an odd mix between jasmine and petrichor.

PERSONALITY.

LABEL(S): general of the armies of dawn court, the sunrise warrior ― POSITIVE TRAITS: compassionate, determined, kind, loyal ― NEGATIVE TRAITS: stubborn, rigid, workaholic, sometimes a bit too prideful when things go her way ― LIKES: the refreshing touch of the breeze to her skin, singing when no one's there to listen, training during autumn and spring ― DISLIKES: dishonesty, bitter dishes ― FEARS: losing their loved ones, the infinity of darkness ― HABITS: early training, eating a sweet treat after a victory, nail biting ― GOALS AND AMBITIONS: tba ASTROLOGY: aries ― PERSONALITY TYPE: estj (the executive) MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful neutral ― PRIMARY VICE: obduracy ― PRIMARY VIRTUE: loyalty ― COLOR: sunset peach.

FAMILY & RELATIONSHIPS.

MARITAL STATUS: unwed ― MOTHER: alira galahad (alive) ― FATHER: oberon galahad (deceased) ― SIBLINGS: tbd, one younger sibling (wanted connection). ― SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none yet. ― EXES: tbd (wanted connection).

BACK STORY.

THE GENERAL OBERON GALAHAD had always desired his firstborn to be a healthy, sturdy boy who would carry on his legacy in the dawn army. yet, his newborn daughter’s first glimpse proved him wrong. his chest swelled with pride as tears of joy flowed. his love for aurion was absolute; past expectations and desires were meaningless.

ALTHOUGH A LOVING FATHER, aurion also recalls him being strict with duty. she woke up first time in the never-ending sunrise to train for endless hours as she, one day too, would face the challenges of leading her court’s troops. and yet, rather than despising an imposed destiny, the firstborn of the galahad family couldn’t be more excited to follow her father’s steps. since day one, aurion swore to be the very best and make her father proud.

LIFE’S INEQUITABLE, UNYIELDING. it just happens, quick and lethal as a thunder strike. this, aurion learned as she entered adolescence, when his father parted from this world to another realm. healers declared his magical battle wounds beyond repair. for many decades, aurion remained in denial. only time softened their grief, removing the bitter edges and transforming them into resilience.

LADY ALIRA GALAHAD HAD OTHER PLANS. she insisted on arranging a marriage for her firstborn once they’d be of age, as the widow would not bear losing more family to violence and war. for years, aurion refused every single proposal. fulfilling her father’s wish was all they had left from him, and no betrothal would make them relinquish it.

HEAD-CANONS.

THE ONLY ALCOHOLIC DRINKS he actually likes are honey ale & wine. others are just too bitter and too strong for him.

AURION REFUSES TO MARRY unless there's true love involved. problem is, even in the rare occasions when they accepted to meet a potential suitor, she just didn't like them that way. still, she remains friends with some of their ex-suitors.

SHE LOVES WORKING. some would say (her mother included) that's her way of burying some of the grief that still inhabits her body.

THEY MISS THE CLOSENESS THEY ONCE HAD WITH THEIR YOUNGER SIBLING. now, it feels as if they both keep drifting apart as time goes on.

INSPIRATION.

paladin class, from dungeons and dragons ― brienne of tarth, from game of thrones ― aragorn ii, from lord of the rings ― princess zelda/sheik, from the legend of zelda: ocarina of time.