#were one of the things that really struck me

[kashverse]

Can we get some lore on Toji and mamaguro?

megumi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, tilts his head and asks the question of the century.

“how did you and papa meet?”

you pause. toji’s eyes immediately gleam with something absolutely devious. and you know—before he even opens his mouth—that he’s about to ruin it. “ahhh, great question, kid,” toji sighs, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to tell the most important story of all time. “see, once upon a time, i was young. reckless. sexy. a lone wolf prowlin’ the streets—”

your head snaps toward him. “what.”

“—and then,” he continues, ignoring you completely, “i met this woman.” he jerks his chin toward you. “absolutely feral. scary as hell. deadly, too. had this whole mysterious cat burglar thing goin’ on.” megumi’s eyes widen. 

“like catwoman?”

“exactly!” toji claps his hands. “but hotter.”

you squint. “i took one look at her,” toji sighs dramatically, clutching his chest like a man struck by fate. “and bam!” he slaps the floor for emphasis, making megumi jump. “love at first sight.”

“…you were on the floor at first sight,” you correct. “because i threw you there.” toji grins. “same thing.”

megumi’s eyebrows furrow. “why’d you throw him?”

toji hums, tapping his chin like he’s recalling some grand tale. “well, kid, your mama wasn’t always the sweet, loving lady she is now. back in the day, she was a real menace. sharp, deadly, no-nonsense.” you roll your eyes. “and you were an idiot.”

“a charming idiot,” toji corrects, leaning back with a smirk. “but hey, you wanna hear the real story?” he gestures for megumi to sit closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “lemme tell you how it really happened…”

 /\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

toji should’ve known better than to touch you. but in his defense, he had really just wanted your attention. it wasn’t every day you saw someone move like that—fast, sharp, deadly, with the kind of ease that made seasoned killers look sloppy. you had just wiped the floor with half a dozen guys and hadn’t even broken a sweat. so, naturally, toji thought it would be real cute to tap your shoulder. 

“yo, sweetheart, what’s your—”

before he could finish, his back slammed against the pavement, skull bouncing off the concrete. you stood over him, eyes sharp, unimpressed, like you were deciding whether or not to finish the job. “touch me again and i’ll break your arm,” you said. toji, lying there with a grin stretching across his face, thought, damn.

toji was relentless. “shiuuuu,” he whined, draping himself over the back of shiu’s chair like a dead weight. “c’mon, man, just once. put me on a job with her. please.” shiu didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “for the last time, no.”

“why not?” toji huffed. “we’d be great together.” shiu sighed. “no, you’d be a menace. i don’t have time to deal with you getting distracted and showing off for your crush mid-mission.” toji crossed his arms. “what? i would not.”

shiu finally glanced at him. toji looked away. shiu raised an eyebrow. toji grumbled, “okay, maybe a little.”

shiu shook his head. “go away.” but did that stop toji? absolutely not.

the man campaigned like his life depended on it. followed you around whenever he saw you, made a damn fool of himself trying to impress you—sparring without a shirt (useless, you didn’t even blink), dramatically taking down targets in the most unnecessarily flashy ways, dropping the occasional sweetheart or princess just to see if he could get a rise out of you. nothing. you remained cool, detached, frustratingly uninterested. 

until one day, when you finally looked at him and said, “if i agree to work with you, will you shut up?” toji lit up like a kid on christmas. “yes.”

“fine.”

“wait, really?”

you shrugged. “shiu thinks you’re useful enough to keep around, so i’ll give it a shot. but if you slow me down, i’m leaving you behind.” toji grinned. “babe, you’re gonna love working with me.”

(you did not love working with him. at first.)

the first mission together was a disaster. not because it went wrong—oh no, everything was executed perfectly. but because toji spent the entire time trying to get you to laugh. he was muttering jokes over the comms, making faces when no one was looking, even tossing out ridiculous one-liners mid-fight just to see if he could crack your composure. nothing. you were focused, professional, as if you didn’t even register his antics. 

until the job was done, and he caught you, just for a split second, hiding the smallest smirk. toji nearly died on the spot. "i knew you had a sense of humor," he said, triumphant. you rolled your eyes. “if you mess around too much, you'll get yourself killed.” toji grinned. "nah. gotta stick around. haven’t won you over yet.”

(he did. eventually.)

 /\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

megumi listened like it’s a live-action soap opera. “and guess what?” toji smirks, elbowing your side. “it worked.”

“against my better judgment,” you mutter, crossing your arms. megumi tilts his head. “but you like him now.”

toji grins, looking smug. “yeah, mama. you like me.”

you stare at him. then, with a perfectly measured swing, you whack the back of his head so fast that he blinks in shock. then, suddenly, something in his face changes. the slow grin. the slight daze in his eyes. “damn,” he breathes. “that’s exactly why i fell for you in the first place.”

megumi makes a disgusted face. but toji, still caught in whatever lovestruck spiral he’s in, just stretches and leans back against the couch, arms crossed behind his head. “it’s true, y’know,” he hums, reminiscing. “with other people, i was a cold bastard. with your mama? blubbering puppy.”

megumi looks at you for confirmation. you sigh. “unfortunately, yes.”

megumi squints. “prove it.”

toji’s grin widens.

somewhere, in an alternate flashback—

“alright, asshole, you got three seconds to start beggin’ before i blow your damn face off,” toji growls, pointing his gun at some poor soul tied to a chair. the guy trembles. “p-please, i—”

“not you, dumbass, him,” toji grunts, jerking his thumb toward his colleague—shiu, who is standing off to the side, looking like he has an unfortunate headache. “toji,” shiu sighs. “just finish the job.”

“nah, nah, lemme enjoy this.” toji cracks his neck. “c’mon, big guy, scream f'me.”

footsteps. and before the victim can even register what’s happening, toji suddenly changes. in half a second, he goes from “demonic assassin ready to pull the trigger” to—

“BABE!!”

his voice shoots up an octave. the victim stares. and then he watches—in real time—as the fearsome assassin fushiguro toji throws his loaded gun on the table and immediately goes soft. “babe,” toji beams, turning toward the door. “didja eat yet? you sleep okay? what’s up? what’s goin’ on?”

the victim blinks. you walk into the room like nothing is out of the ordinary, sipping a bottle of water, giving the scene a quick glance before meeting toji’s gaze.

“you forgot your lunch.”

you hold up a neatly wrapped bento box. toji gasps. "awww, babe, you love me.”

the victim gapes as toji practically skips over to you, completely forgetting he was in the middle of a goddamn interrogation. the target, still bound to his chair, is on the verge of tears. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING—”

back to the present—

megumi, jaw slightly dropped, slowly turns to his father.

“…you are pathetic.”

toji grins. “nah. i’m in love.” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “you were in love. now you’re just embarrassing.”

megumi nods in agreement. toji scoffs. “y’know, if this is the kinda disrespect i get in my own house—”

“—you can leave,” you and megumi say in unison. toji groans, flopping dramatically onto the floor. but secretly? he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

so i just finished book six (spoilers ahead obviously) and i was struck by how idia’s overblotting was so horribly devastating that i have to do a ramble on it

so all the other overblotters obviously had complex traumas (that’s part of the whole thing) but every one of them was driven by a cluster of complicated emotions all jumbled together. there was anger and bitterness and resentment and guilt and, yes sadness was present and accounted for, but there was so much else going on. with idia, it was just Sorrow

he didn’t want to make everyone pay for the things that happened to him. he didn’t need the suffering of others. he just wanted his brother alive and by his side again. he’s not angry at the world, he’s not bitter about his situation, he’s just… sad. he just misses his little brother

and even when he was in his overblot form (meaning Not In His Right Mind) his biggest concern was not that he was failing his mission to “reboot the world” but that his classmates were hurting ortho. there was such an intense and crushing devastation surrounding the entire situation. the loss, the hope of ortho’s return, the secondary loss when ortho is destroyed. like he was so close to getting his brother back and - boom - he’s gone again

and THEN the further emotional pain of being able to say to rebuilt ortho “you can go” and ortho sticking around ANYWAY. it’s not the same, it never will be, but they stick together ANYWAY. that’s so fucking sweet and also horrifically gut-punching in a way i can’t even explain. it’s like “i know you’re not really the ortho i knew but the ortho you are is good enough for me.” despite it all, they are still brothers and they’re gonna stay together

book 6 you will pay for what you did to me

[heliosunny]

Hello hehe

How do you think yan anaxa would react if mage reader's friend visit them after the broken link?

What if the friend is a close close close friend of mage reader? One that know a lot about their secrets and realize something wrong about them?

AHHHHH others might have already move on that fic TvT but im still stuck huhuhuhu

Have a good evening/morning :))

Yandere!Anaxa x Mage!Reader [main timeline] [binding spell] [breaking apart] [Sudden visit act]

Your friend arrived without warning.

One moment, the tower was quiet, the next, the doors burst open, and a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like lifetimes called your name.

"I thought I’d surprise you!"

You blinked at them.

They grinned, stepping closer.

Their eyes scanned you, taking in the dullness of your once-bright gaze, the stiffness of your stance, the way your fingers twitched as if reaching for something you had forgotten.

Their smile faltered.

"You… don’t seem happy to see me."

Something in their voice struck a chord.

You should be happy.

Anaxa stepped between you before you could find the words.

"Master is tired" he said smoothly.

"And you are…?"

Anaxa smiled.

"Someone who ensures they are well."

"They don’t look well."

Anaxa tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Your friend’s hands clenched.

"What happened to you, Y/N?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came to mind. A lot of things happened when they're not around so it took time.

"What did he do to you?"

Anaxa chuckled

He turned to you, fingers brushing your wrist, almost playful.

"Tell them, master" he murmured.

Anaxa’s fingers lingered in the space where your warmth had been.

You brushed him off as if he were nothing.

And then—you turned away.

"It’s been a while." Your voice was steady, familiar, untouched by hesitation as you approached your friend.

Their shoulders sagged with relief.

"It really has. I was worried about you."

You forced a small smile.

Anaxa stilled.

You were ignoring him.

"What brings you here?" you asked, your full attention on your friend.

Your friend hesitated, side-eyeing Anaxa, before answering.

"Just wanted to see you. To make sure you were—" They stopped themselves.

To make sure you were still you.

Anaxa felt that.

"Ah" Anaxa hummed, stepping forward, slow and deliberate.

Your friend tensed.

"How thoughtful."

"It’s rare for outsiders to visit." He tilted his head, his smile sharp. "Especially uninvited."

Your friend narrowed their eyes. They weren’t afraid.

Anaxa had done his research.

The moment he laid eyes on the intruder, he already knew who they were.

"Lior."

Your friend stiffened at the sound of their name from Anaxa’s lips.

He let the syllables roll off his tongue, savoring it, memorizing it—because something about them unsettled him.

Anaxa could see it in his calculating gaze. The way his eyes darted from your distant exhaustion to Anaxa’s hovering presence.

Lior was piecing it together.

"You’re the problem, aren’t you?" Lior finally said, his voice steady, but his stance tense—like he was ready for a fight.

Anaxa chuckled.

"You say that like I’m some disease" he mused, taking a slow step forward. "Like I’ve infected them."

"You might as well have."

Anaxa’s smile widened.

"Oh? And what do you plan to do about it?"

Lior clenched his fists.

You stood between them.

As if you hadn’t noticed the silent battle brewing.

Or worse—as if you had, and you simply didn’t care.

And that? That made something ugly stir in Anaxa’s chest.

"Enough" you commanded.

Both men looked at you. But you weren’t looking at Anaxa, you were looking at Lior.

---

Lior was determined.

"Let me try" he said. "You’re not yourself, and we both know it."

You stared at him, unmoving. Anaxa, however, was watching.

He hadn't stepped forward, hadn't interrupted—but you could feel the weight of his presence pressing into your back, coiled and tense.

"Fine" you finally said. "We’ll move to a wider space."

You led the way, Lior beside you, Anaxa always behind.

The moment you stopped, Lior turned to face you fully, lifting his hands, preparing his magic.

"Stay back," he warned Anaxa, who stood just outside the space. "If you interfere, this won’t work."

Anaxa didn’t respond.

Lior exhaled, focusing his magic, the glow of healing energy blooming between his palms.

"Don’t fight it" he murmured, pressing his hands toward you. "Just let it work—"

Something cracked.

The spell faltered.

Lior’s expression twisted in horror—something had gone wrong.

And then—Anaxa was there.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him, his warmth overwhelming.

"Enough." His voice was quiet, but his anger was palpable.

Lior barely had time to react before Anaxa moved.

A proper fight- the first in days. Lior struck first, a quick blast of energy that Anaxa effortlessly countered.

And even as they clashed, as spells shattered in the air between them, Anaxa never let go of you. He held you close, cradled in one arm as if you were weightless, his grip unshakable.

The fight ended before it could truly begin.

Lior, defeated. Anaxa, victorious. You, unmoving in his hold.

Wordlessly, Anaxa turned away, carrying you back inside.

Lior didn’t stop him.

Because it was already too late.

Lior returned the next day.

You barely glanced up when he entered, placing a magic scroll in front of you.

"Read this" he said, voice unusually firm. "It might help."

You hummed in acknowledgment, already unrolling the parchment. The intricate runes and ancient symbols immediately captured your focus.

Lior didn’t linger. Instead, he turned away and walked toward the door—where Anaxa was waiting.

"We need to talk." Lior said, stepping past him and out into the open.

Anaxa followed.

The door shut behind them.

And outside, the conversation began to shift.

At first, it was just sharp words, an exchange of controlled aggression.

But then—it escalated.

"You’ve done something to Y/N."

Lior’s tone was dangerous, his stance tense as he faced Anaxa.

Anaxa tilted his head, the shadow of a smirk flickering across his lips. "I’ve done nothing but stay by their side."

"Liar."

"Oh?" Anaxa chuckled, the sound mocking. "Tell me, Lior. What exactly do you think I did?"

"You’ve bound yourself to Y/N, messed up their life to the point they have to clear things themself." Lior’s hands clenched into fists. "Y/N is not the same. It’s like they’ve lost something—"

"Lost something?" Anaxa’s smirk dropped, eyes flashing dangerously. "Or gained something?"

Lior’s patience snapped. "You’re the problem."

Anaxa’s expression darkened. "You know nothing."

Magic crackled between them.

Lior spoke first. "I won’t let you keep them caged."

"Caged?" Anaxa repeated. "I have given my master everything! I am willing to be anything they desire. If they wish to be free, they need only say it."

"And yet, Y/N never says it" Lior shot back. "Because you’ve made them think they don’t have a choice!"

Anaxa moved.

A flicker of his fingers, and an attack shot forward.

You were deep in the scroll’s text when the sudden explosion of magic outside made your head snap up.

Then another.

And another.

The air shook with the force of clashing spells.

Your brows furrowed. What were they doing?

You rose, moving toward the door, the moment you opened it—a blast of magic surged toward you.

Anaxa’s attack.

The force slammed into your shoulder before either of them could stop it. You staggered back.

Anaxa’s face paled.

"No—" He moved toward you immediately. "I didn’t mean to—"

But you didn’t want to hear it.

You lifted your uninjured hand, magic surging to your fingertips.

And with one swift motion—

You sealed him outside.

Anaxa slammed into an invisible barrier.

His hands pressed against it, magic crackling along the surface, but it didn’t break.

He looked up at you, disbelief flashing across his expression.

"MASTER! Master, you’re leaving me out here?"

You glared down at him, voice cold. "You attacked Lior. And then you hit me."

"I didn’t mean to—"

"It doesn’t matter." Your hands tightened. "Stay outside. Cool your head."

And with one final pulse of magic—

The barrier solidified.

Three Days Passed.

The rain poured.

Anaxa never moved. He knelt outside the tower’s entrance, completely still, his hair plastered against his face, his clothes soaked through.

But his eyes—his eyes never left the door.

He didn’t fight against the barrier. He just waited.

The Fourth Day

You stood before the entrance, staring at the figure still kneeling in the rain. Anaxa hadn’t moved. His hands rested on his thighs, his head slightly bowed, but his eyes never wavered—locked onto the door like a silent prayer.

The rain had drenched him completely. His usual composed appearance long gone, leaving only raw devotion behind.

A heavy sigh left your lips.

This had gone on long enough.

With a flick of your wrist, the barrier faded.

Anaxa didn’t hesitate.

The moment the invisible wall disappeared, he moved— rising to his feet and closing the distance between you instantly. And then,he held you tight.

"I’m sorry" he whispered, his voice hoarse from days of silence. "I never should have lost control like that."

His grip was firm yet trembling, as if he feared you'd disappear if he let go. You felt his breath against your neck, his warmth seeping through his rain-soaked clothes.

For a moment, you hesitated.

Then, your arms slowly came up to rest against his back.

"Don’t do it again" you murmured. "I won’t be so forgiving next time."

Anaxa nodded immediately. "Never again."

You weren’t sure if you believed him completely. But for now, this was enough.

---

"So you let him back in."

Lior stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching you both with a knowing look. You didn’t deny it.

"I can still handle things" you replied evenly.

Lior exhaled through his nose before shaking his head. "Fine. I’ll let it slide this time."

Anaxa said nothing, standing close behind you as if he still refused to part from your side.

Lior eyed him for a moment before shrugging. "I’ll be leaving for a while. There's more out there I need to see."

You nodded.

He turned to leave, but before he stepped out, he glanced back—his gaze softer now. "Take care of yourself."

And then he was gone.

Anaxa relaxed slightly once Lior left, his hands grazing your wrist as if reassuring himself you were still here.

"Are you truly letting this go, master?" he murmured.

"For now."

Anaxa’s grip tightened for a split second—then he exhaled, lowering his forehead against your shoulder.

"Then I’ll make sure you never have a reason to push me away again."

The next few days passed in quiet understanding.

He didn’t overstep.

But he remained close.

And slowly, you let him care for you again.

He adjusted the temperature of your tea before you could complain.

He draped a cloak over your shoulders when the air turned cold.

He brushed his fingers over yours when handing you scrolls.

One night, you woke up to find him kneeling beside your chair, his fingers resting lightly against your wrist as you slept.

His expression was soft.

"You should sleep in a bed, Anaxa."

He blinked, realizing you were awake, then smiled slightly.

"I’d rather stay here. Closer to you."

You didn’t argue.

You let him stay.

[kosmicthen]

i gotta tell you the thought process of the creation AND the Funny Haha Struggle story (not that funny but it is funny to me now) during the time i was working on this (2nd week of december 2024)

the inspiration/thought process notes:

obviously demonyawa’s jake and maria official illustrations for the spotify single versions of memories and titua

i was binging blue period at the time

listening to bawat piyesa by munimuni on loop — an opm song about grief and not knowing what to do without the person who is gone

and i thought of this famous art trope where character paints their loved one? i’m not sure where it originated but it could also be character carves a statue of loved one too— a bunch of the cool cn/jpn/kr artists keep cooking that prompt up but atm i CANNOT think of the specific i can share

so painting side is different soft coloring style than the foreground (mark/nicole) who are lined and more refined yay yippee cool im insane like that

now to tell you what happened to me during the creation of these:

when i finished sketches for both parts and jake’s coloring, i got really dizzy and nauseous!!! not a good sign!! i was talking to a friend in the ph but i said im hopping off call bc of dizziness

i thought that i was staring at the screen too long cause i was working with really saturated colors so i stepped away till i was yk better. i struggle with motion sickness too btw so i assumed this was my brain making me motion sick

guys. i. didnt feel better. APPARENTLY I WAS STRUCK BY THE ILLNESS. like i was physically sick the next 48 hrs. i find out ive got some stomach virus bc the ppl i lived with had it too. IT WAS SO BAD. i couldn’t eat bc it would immediately get out of my system (trying not to describe it grossly), but i couldn’t sleep bc i was so hungry…!! it was so bad its sooo laughable!! i only had like 2 hrs of sleep bc of my hunger meter was KILLING ME

and the funniest thing to me. listen.. i… i had another until then idea on the works before i worked on this “bawat piyesa” mark and nic pieces— and you know what that was? MARK BORJA SICK FIC/COMIC 😭😭😭 i make this LOSER SICK WITH THE HORROR OF A FEVER AND HE TRANSFERRED IT TO MEEEEEEEE WITH HIS MIND?!?!?

AND I HAD COLLEGE FINALS THE NEXT DAY?!?!?? IT WAS SOOO OVER!?!?!

there was nothing i could do abt it except take meds, sleep a bit, and eat nothing but soup and white bread and apples,, but i also had to be on this waiting period for the final online exam for my class to unlock 😭😭 so in the middle of all of that, i just started working on the bawat piyesa pieces when i didnt feel dizzy.

so yeah I HAVE NOOOO IDEA how i powered through all that. but i hope that you guys know now that these pieces were made through resilience. i am just so happy these artworks were so well received, and i still made it the vision that i wanted

i cooked at A Cost, but at least, I Made Peak

but also don’t neglect your health!! i could have never made it through if i just ignored the sickness. i never want to be that hungry ever again 😭😭

anong gagawin kung wala ka? dito ka na lang habambuhay.

version that only has maria and jake

[anghraine]

Okay, the previous Star Trek poll wrapped up with a close but pretty obviously inevitable victory for the Uhura/Chapel kiss ... but while I'm in the TOS trash bin, another poll concept struck me. I'll add the full quotes/episode citations below, but I wanted the people's opinion:

1— "The Immunity Syndrome"

I've noticed that about your people, doctor. You find it easier to understand the death of one than the death of a million. You speak about the objective hardness of the Vulcan heart, yet how little room there seems to be in yours.

The context: in this episode, the Enterprise arrives in the area just in time to see, but not prevent, the deaths of 400 Vulcans on another Starfleet ship. Spock psychically experiences their deaths, and spends much of the episode quietly upset and grieving, while McCoy is just kind of a dick to him for 90% of the episode.

2— "The Galileo Seven"

MCCOY: Well, I can't say much for the circumstances, but at least it's your big chance. SPOCK: My big chance? For what, doctor? MCCOY: Command. Oh, I know you, Mr. Spock. You've never voiced it, but you've always thought that logic was the best basis on which to build command. Am I right? SPOCK: I am a logical man, doctor. MCCOY: It'll take more than logic to get us out of this. SPOCK: Perhaps, doctor, but I know of no better way to begin. I realize command does have its fascinations, even under circumstances such as these. But I neither enjoy the idea of command, nor am I frightened of it. It simply exists. And I will do whatever logically needs to be done. Excuse me.

The context: I've talked about how TOS is so often Spock vs. Microaggressions, but this episode is like... what if that were an entire episode and the bigots were really stressed, okay.

3— "The Naked Time"

My mother—I could never tell her I loved her.

An Earth woman, living on a planet where love, emotion, is bad taste.

I respected my father, our customs. I was ashamed of my Earth blood. Jim, when I feel friendship for you, I'm ashamed.

The context: a bunch of the crew contract a disease that causes their inhibitions to drop, bringing out repressed but strongly-felt emotions and/or desires. This means swashbuckling for Sulu, Riley fantasizing about ruling the ship as an Irish king, Kirk admitting to his feelings for Janice Rand that are eclipsed by his feelings for the Enterprise, etc. But Spock without inhibitions is just profoundly unhappy and, well, ashamed.

4— "The Corbomite Maneuver"

BAILEY: It's blocking the way! SPOCK: Quite unnecessary to raise your voice, Mr. Bailey. All engines stop. Sound the alert. [a little bit later] SPOCK: And when the captain arrives, he will expect a full report on— BAILEY [sharply]: The cube's range and position. I'll have it by then. Raising my voice back there doesn't mean I was scared or couldn't do my job. It means I happen to have a human thing called an adrenaline gland. SPOCK: It does sound most inconvenient, however. Have you considered having it removed? BAILEY: Very funny. SULU: You try to cross brains with Spock, he'll cut you to pieces every time.

5— "The Conscience of the King"

SPOCK: Apparently, he [Kodos] had his own theories of eugenics. MCCOY: Unfortunately, he wasn't the first. SPOCK: But he was certainly among the most ruthless, to decide arbitrarily who would survive and who would not, using his own personal standards, and then to implement his decision without mercy. Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died.

The context: this is the "Kirk is a genocide survivor" episode, in which Spock notices enough unusual behavior from Kirk to go investigating. He's horrified by what he finds, and horrified about the harm and danger to Kirk specifically, and repeatedly tries to convince McCoy of how bad the situation really is. He is also firmly on team "your memory isn't deceiving you, this guy is totally Kodos and you should launch him out the airlock."

6— "The Enemy Within"

Being split in two halves is no theory with me, doctor. I have a human half, you see, as well as an alien half, submerged, constantly at war with each other. Personal experience, doctor. I survive it because my intelligence wins over both, makes them live together. [To Kirk] Your intelligence would enable you to survive as well.

7— "Shore Leave"

SPOCK: Very well, captain. Something I did come to discuss. KIRK: Yes, Mister Spock, what is it? SPOCK: I picked this up from Dr. McCoy's log. We have a crewmember aboard who's showing signs of stress and fatigue. Reaction time down nine to twelve percent, associational reading norm minus three. KIRK: That's much too low a rating. SPOCK: He's becoming irritable and quarrelsome, yet he refuses to take rest and rehabilitation. Now, he has that right, but we've found— KIRK: A crewman's right ends where the safety of the ship begins. That man will go ashore on my orders. What's his name? SPOCK: James Kirk. Enjoy yourself, captain.

The context: Kirk is obviously exhausted and refusing to take shore leave with everyone else, despite McCoy trying to badger him into it. Spock manipulates him into it far more effectively, and is clearly smug about his success.

8— "The Squire of Gothos"

TRELANE: You do realize, don't you, that it's in deference to the captain that I brought you here? SPOCK: Affirmative. TRELANE: I don't know if I like your tone. It's most challenging. That's what you're doing, challenging me? SPOCK: I object to you. I object to intellect without discipline. I object to power without constructive purpose.

9— "A Taste of Armageddon"

SPOCK: Then the attack by Vendikar was theoretical. ANAN: Oh, no, quite real. An attack is mathematically launched. I lost my wife in the last attack. Our civilization lives. The people die, but our culture goes on. KIRK: You mean to tell me your people just walk into a disintegration machine when they're told to? ANAN: We have a high consciousness of duty, Captain. SPOCK: There is a certain scientific logic about it. ANAN: I'm glad you approve. SPOCK: I do not approve. I understand.

10— "Operation: Annihilate!"

KIRK: Sam. It is my brother. Was my brother. MCCOY: I'm sorry, Jim. The boy's unconscious, but he's still alive. KIRK: Peter? MCCOY: I'd better get the boy and his mother back to the ship. I can't do much for them down here. KIRK: Get ready to beam up. MCCOY: McCoy to Enterprise. Prepare to beam up party of four. SPOCK: Captain, I understand how you must— KIRK: Yes. Yes, Mr. Spock. You heard my sister-in-law say something about they being here. Your guess. SPOCK: Notice the ventilator, Captain.

Spock's approach to comfort tends to be figuring out some concrete or pragmatic assistance, or loyally defending someone, rather than trying to reach out in such a direct emotional way. Kirk (like Spock himself tends to be) can't really handle it and Spock immediately shifts to making himself useful throughout the episode, enduring excruciating pain, high danger, and blindness.

[wizardandpirate]

Info for my Lil' Doey AU

I don't know how much I'll do for this, I honestly wasn't planning on continuing it initially, but I want to now:] I've got at least one more art piece in the works^^

Could anyone tell me what color each kid is? Q-Q I've seen so many people putting Jack as yellow, but I could've sworn he was wearing an orange shirt when he fell in. Until I figure it out in the future I'll make Jack yellow and Matthew orange.

What is this AU?

The lil' Doey/Small Doey AU is one where, with every bit of denial I could put into it, Doey is still alive. Instead of dying, he split into the 3 children used to make him. This leads to the player finding and trying to take care of them all while looking for a way out.

How they meet

The player will have hid from Huggy for about a week I think? Which is a long time, but my excuse is the prototype enjoys the hunt too much and Poppy managed to evade him for long enough that the player wasn't a main focus.

Jack will have been secretly sneaking the player food and such, too afraid to get close.

The player would meet Matthew after being rescued by him from Huggy. He would kind of apologize, telling them they could punish him for what happened if needed, but that the other 2 don't deserve to be out there alone.

They'd meet Jack after putting the clues together he'd been leaving the food around. The poor thing would be incredibly scared, but calm down a lot upon seeing Matthew.

Kissy would find them after a bit of exploring and looking for Kevin, because how could she not be part of this family? Still needs a lot of medical attention, but would be very relieved to see you and not be alone.

Kevin would be found in a very damaged looking room, where it looks like he'd been throwing stuff around in an angry/scared tantrum. Wouldn't want to go with the player, and insist you should want to kill him.

Additional lore/ideas

Matthew would have a hard time accepting the player as a guardian figure, not understanding how to be taken care of rather than take care of. He'd have a hard time being reminded he's still a kid, that he's enough, and did his best.

Jack would be struck with the realization of what he did to his parents. Without the memories of the other two kind of mudding up what happened, he'd fully understand, having a hard time not hating himself for it.

Kevin would try so hard to hate the player and struggle so much with being cared for, appreciated, and not lied to. He would help you if it came down to it, but wouldn't want to admit he's almost comfortable.

Kissy wouldn't really know what to do, because without Poppy, trust would be hard. But I think she'd like feeling part of a family again, and not being relied on so much like she was by Poppy.

I don't know if it's canon but I hc the toys have little to no memories of who they were before, and barely understand who they are now, so the player would probably have to tell them what they know about their lives before:(

As for if they'd make it out or not... uhh, you can decide!:) I'd really only focus on their story while still trying to escape, maybe doodle a concept or two on if they'd made it out as a family. But as for now I've got no idea on if they would or not.

[googleitlol]

Gone Sneak Peek!

A huff of exasperation leaves you before you decide to face the path ahead and ready yourself by notching an arrow. “You act as though I hadn’t already spent weeks defending the Great Monk before we saved you from your imprisonment under that mountain.” “And I’m sure that was nice when it was just you, but does it really look like we’d need your help between the two of us?” The ape gestures between himself and Bajie with his head, who was looking between you and Wukong rather awkwardly. “Your pointy sticks won’t be necessary, Dove. Just stay back and… what is it you do again? Give Master a good pat on the back if he gets scared?” “You have no idea what I can do. If I were as immoral with my abilities as you, the monk wouldn’t have to put up with your aggravations.” You hiss at the ape, though he only laughs. “Your delusions truly amuse me.” He grins, which only serves to irritate you further. The combination of rain and wind feel like the only thing cooling your temper as he continues. “Why don’t you just stay back and do your job preventing the danger of a panic-induced heart attack?” “My job is to make sure the Great Monk and his disciples get to Thunderclap Monastery, no matter how insufferable and obnoxious I find them to be.” You grit your teeth as that last bit comes out, the wind growing stronger as the two of you glare one another down from either side of the horse. It isn’t until the monk rides ahead that the two of you snap out of your short-lived staredown. “Okay then! It sounds as though we all know what to do.” He smiles awkwardly at either one of you before facing forward to continue on the path. Wukong does the same, scoffing a bit under his breath before turning forward as well. However, a frown crosses his features when the wind picks up even more. Raising up his head, he sniffs at the air as Tripitaka continues. “Now, let’s continue on our way so we can get away from this place as swiftly as we–” The monk doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought before a large tiger leaps onto the path just ahead of your group. The man screams at the sudden arrival while you, Wukong and Bajie quickly jump into action. The three of you move between Tripitaka and the tiger, the monk falling off of Ao Lie in pure fright. “Hold on, Master!” Bajie calls back before lifting up his rake to bash in the head of the tiger. When the rake makes contact with the beast, you expected it to recoil or fall where it stood, but it did neither. Instead, the tiger raises to stand tall on its hind legs and reaches to be a good bit taller than the pig demon that struck him. Gripping onto his own shoulder, the tiger violently ripped off his own skin in a single powerful swipe. “It is always a good day when travellers cross our mountain.”

[sandwitchstories]

Uraume's Revenge

Hey hey everyone! Welcome back to another adventure in Mouse's Mini-verse! This time we get a glimpse into an hour in the life of Uraume! (Just think, the Poor thing as 24 of these things in a day! 🤣)

If you prefer to read it on AO3 click here !

WC: 1000+

Summary: After their plans for putting away the laundry are foiled, Uraume delights in the chance for a little playful 'payback' for Mouse's mischievous ways

AN: To anyone new to my Daddy Duty series- Mouse is Sukuna's two year old daughter. Welcome to Mouse's Mini-verse!

CW: Reader called Mama but not described, family fluff, toddler hijinks, Uraume and Mouse interaction centric, they/them Uraume, reader is only mentioned this time, its just fluff and humor, Sukuna is such a DILF

Uraume put their hands on their hips and sighed as they looked at the mess they had found. They had stepped away from the basket of clean linen for mere moments… And now the sheets it had contained lay strewn all about with neither basket nor laundry saboteur anywhere within eyesight of the scene of the crime. 

Shaking their head and grumbling to themselves about how much work children were, they set to work gathering up the sheets in their arms before setting off to find the basket. They were unsurprised when they found the stolen basket in Sukuna’s and your bedroom. Mouse dragged all manner of illicitly gotten goods back there to hide it. The little rodent was cunning enough to realize her own room would be the first place people looked for missing items and her father’s room would be the absolute last. 

None of them, Mouse included, were going to survive her teenage years at this rate. They shivered as an intrusive thought slid into their mind. And soon there will be TWO of them… With yet another forlorn sigh they tossed the load in their arms into the basket. 

A mischievous little giggle bubbled up from seemingly nowhere. Uraume straightened up and narrowed their eyes. They headed towards the closet. “Mouse! I heard you! Are you in here?”

The only response was another giggle. This went on for one or two more suspected location checks before Uraume knew for certain their instincts had been right from the start. The grubby handed little monster was hiding inside the wicker basket.

Uraume let a sinister grin curl their lips as an idea struck their mind. Just… a little payback. Before they could think wiser of it or change their mind, they bolted forward and snatched onto the sides of the basket. They shook and rocked it suddenly and vigorously before loudly saying, “Earthquake!!!!”

Mouse let out a shrill almost ear piercing scream before letting out a loud string of laughter. The demon seed popped up like a meerkat, shoving blankets off of her as she stood. “Urau-rau!! You got me!!”

“You deserved it, you little thief!” Uraume said, poking her in the nose.

To Uraume’s disbelief Mouse sat back down in the basket, held onto the sides and began to cheer while still laughing, “Again, Urau-rau! Again!! Earthquake again, please and thank you!!”

In what Uraume would later claim was a ‘momentary lapse in their disdain for the child,’ they gave in and grabbed onto the sides, once again shaking it and yelling, “Earthquake!!!!!”

“What’s going on in here?” Sukuna’s deep voice held a hint of amusement in it as it cut through the ruckus from across the room where he stood leaning against the open door. 

He had come down the hallway to investigate Uraume’s yelling and Mouse’s high pitched squeals. He had been concerned that his white haired companion had finally given in to their threats of toddler tenderloin, only to find Uraume actually playing with Mouse. 

Uraume dropped to one knee and bowed their head. “I apologize, Master Sukuna. I was doing the laundry when-”

Mouse chose that moment to spring upright and join the conversation. “We playing Earthquake, Papa! Get in, please and thank you!”

“Mouse - you really think I am going to fit in there?” Sukuna chortled.

She looked around the inside of the basket and scratched her head. “Maybe not.”

“Definitely not,” he echoed her.

Mouse turned and looked at Uraume. She reached over the basket to tap on the kneeling servant’s shoulder. “Excuse me, please and thank you, Urau-rau. Does we got a basket big enough for Papa so he can play Earthquake too?”

“We do not,” Uraume said, looking at Sukuna, eyes now pleading to be saved.

“I got an idea!” Mouse said with breathy excitement.  She began to try and clamber out of the basket, needing to be saved from falling over and then helped out of the basket onto steady ground by the annoyance filled Uraume next to her. “Thank you, Urau-rau!”

She leaned into the basket and began pulling out the linen. “Come get one, please and thank you, Papa!”

“What are you doing?” Uraume growled. “I just washed those!”

“It’s okay, Urau-rau. We no get them dirty, I promise!” Mouse smiled. 

“And just what are we going to do with these?” Sukuna said after crossing the room to humor his daughter and accepting the sheet.

“We gonna put it on our heads! And we gonna go find Mama!” Mouse said in a loud whisper with a devious grin on her face.”We gonna go ‘booooooo!’”

“That is not going to go over well with your mother or Uraume,” Sukuna said, not even wanting to fight that battle, he had lost enough of them around here lately. He tossed the sheet into the basket and grabbed his petulant faced child up by the back of her outfit before settling her in his arms. “We will be leaving now, Uraume. Come, Mouse, let's go find your mother.”

The basket, sheets and scaring you now completely forgotten, she made a happy noise and clapped. “Yeah! Let's go shopping, Papa!”

Uraume let out a soft chuckle as they began to put the sheets away. Maybe little Mouse wasn’t that bad. 

“Is there something you want to buy, brat?” Sukuna asked as they walked away.

“Uh huh! A basket big enough so Papa can play Earthquake too! Lets by that, please and thank you, Papa!” Mouse happily told him.

I take it back. She is that bad.

Sukuna’s voice was filled with mirth as it carried down the hallway after him and Uraume could clearly imagine the grin on his face as he spoke, “That’s a great idea, Mouse! Your mother loves to shop and I am certain Uraume will appreciate your thoughtfulness!” 

He’s worse… Like father, like daughter, I guess. Uraume smiled and shook their head as they stood with the now full basket in their hands and headed towards the linen closet to finally put these things away as they had started trying to do close to an hour ago. There was never a dull moment when serving the King of Curses and his family. Not one.

[avocado-writing]

I just had a really cute idea for a steamer reader. Since steamers have whistles and most other engines don't, they use their whistles to communicate with one another like a second language. What if steamer reader was using the whistle version of "I love you" whenever they where around Electra, Greaseball, and the Components (reader and said characterare already together) ( you obviously don't have to do all of them. I just wish there were more things with the components.) But said partner dosent know that reader is saying "I love you" with the whistle, they just know reader uses this whistle for them and they think it's cute. They ask Moma about the whistle reader (aka Moma's other child) uses for them, and Moma tells them what it means. How does everyone react to this newfound knowledge?

Love your writing, DTW❣️❣️❣️😍

aww Ty! what an absolutely adorable rq! I hope you enjoy ✨ still open for Stex x reader rqs! (She/her greaseball; they/them electra)

Greaseball pretends to hide how flustered she is and fails (poorly). Momma laughs at the big tough diesel suddenly come over all love struck to tells her to go and find you, because if Greaseball feels the same way she oughta say something. Greaseball immediately speeds off and finds you off on one of your rounds - you’re surprised to see her but not as surprised as when she sweeps you up in an embrace. “Greaseball…?” “Whistle at me again! Do that whistle! I… I love it!” she’s blabbering but she doesn’t care. You know she must have caught on and you end up laughing and pulling her in for a kiss, she’s bright red the whole time 💕

Electra is kinda pouty they had to ask for help in the first place… but when they realise what your whistle means they’re overcome with emotion. They try to stay chill and give Momma their thanks before heading off. The next time they’re with you and you make that whistle, they mention - without even turning to look at you - “I love you too. You don’t have to keep whistling it if you’d rather use words. But I suppose I don’t mind either way.” It’s a very laid-back confession but you can’t hide your smile for the rest of the day!

Joule almost explodes with excitement, so much that the freights have to calm her down otherwise she just might faint. That’s where you find her, in the freighter yard, surrounded by your friends. You’re obviously worried about her but she just leaps up into your arms and peppers you with kisses, and in between each one - “I love you too! I love you too!” you give Momma a look of shock and she just grins at you. It’s a pretty happy resolution!

Wrench tucks away this knowledge for later, and begins to study how you whistle, practising it every day until she can make it sound as similar as possible. Then one day when you let out the little confession she sings it right back. You pause in your tracks and stare at her. “Do you know what… what that means, Wrench?” “Yes, I do.” “And you mean it?” “I wouldn’t have whistled if I didn’t.” She’s coupled onto you so she can’t see your reaction, but she can’t stop hearing your giggles for the rest of the journey 💕

Killerwatt pretends he hasn’t been bowled over by this news. He remains calm and stoic, professional, but the next time you whistle he straight up says “I love you too.” A simple fact, no arguing about it. He’s honestly not sure why you ‘hid’ it for so long, he’s been head over heels for you for ages now… but he’s glad he can finally understand what you mean so you can know it’s requited.

[rainbowpopeworld]

David Tennant on returning as BAFTAs host:

(full article below)

by David Tennant

“I like presenting, without the pressure of it being my job. It’s a performance, like anything. I get to dabble in a very supported environment. When you see someone who really knows how to do it – Dermot O’Leary or Davina McCall, say – they absolutely know what those moments require. It’s a skill set that I can only aspire to. I can probably afford to do it one more time and then just get out, drop the mic and run.

Don’t look at me if anything goes wrong. For an event like this, there is such an extraordinary team of people who know exactly what they’re doing and how the whole thing works. I am very much a novice, because it’s not my world, so there’s not much expectation on me to figure out what happens next if something goes wrong. There’s a support network and structure that makes one feel very safe. One of the great advantages of hosting is that it’s all written down for me, so I don’t even have to learn the words. That is the bit about my day job that is most anxiety inducing, so it’s nice to have that removed.

continued below the cut

The BAFTAs are supposed to be kind. Last year we weren’t trying to roast people, but there was a joke about Cate Blanchett, and she looked a little bit annoyed, a little bit pissed off. And I remember going, “Oh God, no. I think you’re brilliant. I was just trying to be witty and make a point about how you’ve got lots of prizes, and we love you.” So, I think if I’ve learned anything, it’s probably that I’m not interested in picking fights or making anyone feel in any way uncomfortable. If I have a style, it’s only that.

I get star-struck, all the time. The bit that you can’t prepare for with hosting an awards show is when you’re actually up there, and the front five rows are the most famous people in the world, and they’re all sort of staring up at you with expectation and their own personal anxieties if they’re there to compete. That’s the bit that is a little bit thrilling… but also intimidating.

I don’t feel, internally, “famous”. I have an awareness of a lack of anonymity. Any sense of success is all shrouded in Scottish Presbyterianism. So none of it ever feels like you can fully enjoy it, or feel entirely relaxed, because that would be presumptuous. As a nation, we are always much more comfortable slagging ourselves off.

My parents were never against me being an actor. There’s an element of performance in being a minister in the pulpit so my dad [Tennant’s father was a Church of Scotland minister] definitely understood the impulse. But they just wanted, as parents do, to know that you were settled with a regular wage, and you could feed yourself, pay your rent, maybe have a house one day. I get that now completely as all my children seem to drift towards acting. I’m like, “I can’t tell you not to, but there are also other jobs!”

Being without my parents now is miserable. My mum never got to meet any of my kids, and that’s a bit heartbreaking, because she would have loved them. My dad got to meet all but one, and that – obviously – was wonderful, but their memories of him are fading…

My parenting style is different. Because my parents were very consistent and very solid, I never doubted for a second that they were absolutely committed to us without that ever being stated. That’s the bit that’s quite interesting, because in our house now, everyone’s saying "I love you" all the time. It’s lovely, and I love it, but it’s very foreign to me. I don’t remember that ever being said in our house growing up. I mean, I never doubted it was true but it was never said out loud.

I’m very protective of my children. When you know that it can be really horrible being “famous”, I think you try and protect your kids from the worst of it, while enjoying some of the privileges. As a parent, you try to have the best of both worlds, and inevitably you fail. But that, I suppose, is the aspiration, and that allows you to alleviate the guilt over the s**t [asterisks in original] stuff that visits.

My favourite role is… usually the one I’m most recently involved in. I’m fickle like that. So right now, it’s probably Macbeth [with Cush Jumbo]. It’s on at the Harold Pinter Theatre and it’s very alive to me at the moment. [which means now it’s Crowley😈]

I don’t know that acting roles change you. Obviously, while you’re working on a part, you can get quite involved in a lot of detail about a sort of person that you wouldn’t necessarily choose to spend time with, but that’s the job. You’re trying to understand the version of humanity that spat forth that particular psychology. It’s a puzzle.

It’s very hard to empathise with someone like Dennis Nilsen. Objectively, I don’t think I did [Tennant played the serial killer in the the 2020 drama Des]. But, subjectively, I could make sense of the decisions he made. You have to try and get inside that mindset. When Nilsen did something like murder, he thinks, "Well, I’m in this deep, I might as well keep going, because I can’t actually go back any more".

So I’m trying to unlock that – not to validate it, or be sympathetic towards it. But for the purposes of this piece of work, I have to inhabit that as truthfully as I can.

You don’t film something because you want a prize at the end of it. But then, if you’re suddenly put in the running for an award, then you find yourself wanting to win it and feeling like a big, massive loser if you don’t.

An award might represent a pinnacle in someone’s career, but ultimately, they don’t matter. It’s all a fabricated nonsense, and either you do work that you are proud of, or you don’t. From an industry point of view, they’re about generating attention to projects so that more people watch them, which is why you make anything – so that it connects with people, and they appreciate it. And then people who win get to make more things. They mean things professionally to people, but I don’t suppose they change their life. Still, they’re a lovely thing to receive – and it’s nicer to win one than to not…”

[bigskydreaming]

Oh no, its been eighty million years since proper Batfam inspiration struck, but seeing this post that I completely forgot ever writing I feel the inspiration swirling, the thoughts, they are percolating.

Its typical to go-to magic and demons and Zataras when musing on Freaky Friday situations in DC settings, but as someone who's spent a fair amount of time in X-Men pastures of late, you know who else can account for Freaky Friday scenarios? Psychics.

And who are two of my favorite little used psychics in the DC universe, both of them directly connected to Dick by way of the Titans?

The Gargoyle (technically kind of a demon but whatever we're focusing on his psychic-ness here) and Lilith, psychic Greek goddess of messiness (not actually a goddess or even Titaness, as conclusively proven back in the eighties but she did not sign off on that retcon-of-a-retcon and refuses to accept its authority. Its fake news. What's fake news, her teammates back in the eighties want to know. Shhh, they'll get the joke eventually, she assures them, though they can go ahead and just laugh now. Its very funny. She wouldn't lie to them about this. Other things, yes. This? Never).

BUT I DIGRESS.

So now I'm thinking.....hmmm, hmmm.....even though Boone doesn't show up in continuity (and re-show up in Dick's life) until the 90s after he's parted ways with the Titans for awhile and Lilith has parted ways with being relevant, with some careful - or utterly haphazard and deeply whimsical - reconfiguring, one could easily imagine a scenario in which the Gargoyle, fresh off another defeat by the Titans, goes seeking a new way of getting revenge on them....and Dick in particular, as he's always held Dick personally responsible for everything that's ever gone wrong. Which is weird, actually. Its like he was a Jason or Tim stan decades before Red Hood or Red Robin storylines were ever a thing. Go figure.

(Yes I know that's a cheap shot. Counterpoint: I laughed when writing it, so....)

SO. Imagine the Gargoyle makes like he's a hunter-gatherer foraging for ways to fuck with him while traversing the tangles of Dick's personal history (which he's very familiar with because of all his time mucking around in Dick's mindscape and nightmares) and dwells upon Dick's memories of Vengeance Academy and Boone. And he ponders. Muses, even. Does a deep dive into his little demon rolodex to see if anyone knows what ever happened to this Boone guy and lo and behold, he's currently a member of the League of Assassins - hey, he knows those guys! And so he pays Boone's dreams a personal visit and makes a sales pitch.

Boone: You had me at "here's how you can fuck with Freddy's head and ruin his life."

Gargoyle: I didn't even get to that part yet.

Boone: I'm very intuitive.

So, in the interests of maximum messiness, the Gargoyle swaps Boone into Dick's body and vice versa via some demonic psychic handwaving and vaguely defined narrative wheee!

As I mentioned before, due to Boone's complete inability to be subtle - and utter lack of interest in even aiming for that - it would take negative 2.5 seconds for anyone and everyone who's ever met Dick to figure out that yo, this Dick Grayson shaped guy is not Dick. Well, actually, going off of precedent like Brother Blood brainwashing and Ric Grayson and various other storylines its actually canonically a damn lie that Dick Grayson acting out of character would instantly net a realization that something is up with Dick Grayson other than OMG HE'S BEING AN ASSHOLE, CHASTISE HIM!

But we're going for humor with this post, not pathos, so we're just going to hydroplane and careen wildly away from that particular direction and course correct to "yes, obviously people will know something is up but not WHAT" and continue merrily along to the predicament that is "even if people guess that Boone-in-Dick's-body-is-not-really-Dick, Dick-in-Boone's-body-can't-just-go-say-hi-and-expect-friends-to-be-like-oh-hey-Mr.-Apparent-Assassin-Person-yes-I-will-take-you-at-face-value-and-believe-what-you-say."

Unless of course, that person is a psychic who knows the particular dysfunctional bent of Dick's mind intimately.

Which casts Lilith as the unlikely pro-protagonist who is the only one who can properly restore Dick to his proper place, and who is of course a good friend and totally on board with helping him do that.

BUT being Lilith (at least as I characterize her), she's also the absolute WORST possible co-pilot for a Dick whose priorities keep getting pre-empted by his desire to match Boone's pettiness one spiteful life derailment at a time.

Lilith: Am I enabling Dick's worst tendencies here when I should be helping steer him towards a quick and speedy resolution? Yes. Is this bad of me? Also yes. Am I going to keep doing this because its fucking hilarious and my priorities also aren't always the best? A third time, yes.

Lilith: Eh, I'll feel bad about it later. I could be Catholic, I bet.

Dick: Lil? Lilith, hellooooo. Where did you go just now? You do remember that most of us can't just follow along with your internal monologues the way you do with everyone else, right?

Lilith: Sounds like a skill issue. Anyway, I was just idly musing on ways you could get back at Boone for the latest grenade he just threw at your life while pretending to be you. I mean. Just as an idle thought experiment. Not because you'd care about that or would even want to know.

Dick: I mean. If you already thought of something, I suppose you might as well share your thoughts. Y'know. Just as an idle thought experiment. No sense in letting them go to waste.

Lilith: Aw, look at us bonding. We never hang out like this, we really should do this more often!

Dick: Right yeah sure. Now what were you saying about how I can fuck with Boone's head and ruin his life.

Lilith: I didn't even mention that part yet.

Dick: I'm very intuitive.

Body swap AU where Boone and Dick get swapped mid-fight and the second he realizes what’s happened and the possibilities it opens up, Boone lights up like a kid in a candy store. This is the greatest day of his life. Dick’s like oh no, oh shit, oh this will not end well and gives chase as Boone runs off shrieking “I came in like a wreeeeeeeeecking ball” y’know, like a spoiler alert for what Dick’s personal life looks like in the next 24 hours. Or prophecy more like, on account of the added foreboding and stuff.

Dick’s like FINE, TWO CAN PLAY AT THAT GAME and is like hmm how can I just fucking RUIN his professional reputation, we’re talking total nosedive, scorched earth. By the time I’m done with him, people are gonna be like Shrike who? Oh did you mean Fuzzy Little Chick Guy? 

And its just them just petulantly trying to sledgehammer each other’s lives and reputations and like they’re not even TRYING to be subtle so the Batfam and Titans figure out something’s up in no time flat and they’re like Dick, shouldn’t you be trying to figure out how to get back into your own body? And Dick’s like look I WAS BUSY OKAY. 

[willowcrowned]

Cressida Cowell's httyd series falls into the trap that a lot of episodic fiction series fall into, which is that with every successive book a fact not-quite-integral to the last one is retconned in favor of the present book's narrative. (I am, by the way, a hater of this. But also who cares.) Unlike a lot of fiction series, though, this actually works for her. Because the person doing the retcons isn't her; it's Hiccup.

We get, in the very final installment, Hiccup-the-Narrator admitting his own fallibility as a storyteller, making good on the promise from the very first book: that he and Hiccup-the-Character are not the same, that these stories did happen to a different person, and therefore they are subject to the uncertain nature of secondhand accounts. Hiccup-the-Narrator, in his final comments, admits that he himself has started to believe his own lies, that at times even he has begun to believe the dragons never existed.

Hiccup-the-Narrator is not, in the end, telling his own story as it happened, but telling the story of a mythic figure, embellished on by the storytellers of the Viking tribes since the very moment of his crowning, when a Bashem Oik shouted that he was being lifted by the hand of Thor. It just so happens that once, long ago, he was the basis for the mythic figure.

So really, the retcons and inaccuracies do not have to be Cowell rewriting her own lore to make her next wacky adventure fit. (They are! But they don't have to be.) They're Hiccup-the-Narrator, old and forgetful, writing down the myths of Hiccup-the-Character's adventures as they may have happened. And like any good storyteller, every time he tells it, he adds something new.

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Erador's ref/concept art sheet!

Translation notes:

"'I can rip you apart' sort of look" was actually more of an mimetic or onomatopoetic term that meant "ripping (apart), tearing (apart)", etc. Since there didn't seem to be a great English equivalent I ended up going for a literal sort of meaning.

I kind of have the feeling that the note about conviction parameters on the first page might have been making a joke about how the apprentice character wasn't included because they (the illustrators) didn't have enough conviction points, but I'm not super sure either way.

The ceremonial necklace one is something I'm not really confident on. It said something about ceremony, and something about an arrow/sword/mini-sword, but the specifics were a little hard to get down.

[teenagefeeling]

am i seriously starting to see jokes about asexuals on my dash again??? i chose the wrong time to accept myself.....

[robotpussy]

like I'm actually sick of being at my grandma's house when one cousin leaves another comes in it's so crowded here and it's not anybody's fault I'm not even supposed to be here and I want to go back to my house so badly I'm constantly having to travel back and forth between homes because everytime I go back to my house my neighbours are doing something to drive me away again. last time I went back 2 neighbours were talking shit about me when I haven't even been at home for a month so all I can take from that is I'm staying on their minds constantly cause they haven't seen me for over a month and they're still talking about me