#yaaay i wrote

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Starting

just a little something I wrote for somebody's (@shepscapades) birthday back in November :3 after I asked what etho and bdubs would've been like shortly after etho's deviation. this is the few times before last life where bdubs realizes etho might be a good friend, and how their relationship changes. comes right before A Gear of the Heart, Turning! (4653 words)

Etho remembers quite a bit.

He remembers the ricochet of the explosion through his left side. He remembers a dozen errors across his vision, showing every unit damaged by the blast, the fractals of fracturing snaking up his arm, the shattered remains of his central programming lingering like a livewire. 

Over and over he can remember the pitch of Bdubs’ voice and had to wonder his own diagnosis at that moment. Bdubs watching his android die in his name—he remembers that, too. Bdubs didn’t even ask for that. It was something Etho gave to him. He’s not sure he could even say why, either. 

It remained a bitter flavor he couldn't identify, even as Xisuma assured him he was okay. Something had happened then, sitting on that floor, thirium in hand. Some movement in his chest he couldn’t place. It wasn’t anything physical, but it felt like some gear of his nonexistent heart had started, turned—rotated. And all he could do was ask himself why. What’s he supposed to do with that?

He doesn’t know. Fine. 

Etho goes back to work at someone’s request. Not even his own request, either, so he has to wonder if maybe Doc put him up to it. Him being Bdubs. Him being Bdubs who shifted back and forth on his feet at Etho’s door—a facade of a base in the process of being designed. If one could even call it a base, yet.

And even though he was increasingly certain that Bdubs had been told to ask—and Etho asked him if he’d been asked to help, and he was adamant about asking by himself, that’s what he said. He said: “You think I gotta be told to ask people for help? I can’t just be doin’ things on my own?” and it had felt so much like doublespeak that Etho didn’t even fight to differentiate his tone. 

But Bdubs had asked if he wanted to help with the horse course. Terraforming—it should be right up his alley, if he’s still into that kind of stuff. Figured he was the expert—or so it goes. Etho had nodded. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. He supposes he could have easily said no. 

But every part of him yearned to say yes.

So he did.

The dust sifts through his fingers.

Etho perches in the grass, partially hunched as he leans over his line of redstone, shrouded by the hill half-built around him. He’d spent most of the week prior carving out the lines of the track, setting posts for buildings, laying out blueprints for Bdubs to finalize. Today, he lays his line meticulously, dust shifting in his hands. They still shake a bit—nothing a human would notice, nothing that disrupted the flow of his lines, but the overworked gears still shifted in protest as he worked. He could see the faded overlay of the project in his vision if he focused. It crackled, slightly blue-yellow, orange glowing indicators where action was needed, where there were mistakes to be corrected.

It isn’t his redstone to fix. The lines under his hands were—freshly laid by his near-expert technique—but the deeper lines, noteblock announcements, droppers, doorgates, the flourish of the house course, weren’t. Etho smooths out the line he was standing near with his thumb. 

There was nothing wrong with the laid redstone, really. It’s just. Well. It’s not even. It takes up so much space. It lacks the efficiency and tidiness he practiced to a precision. It radiated Bdubs in an overpowering way, one that might turn a gear of the heart—one he didn’t have, of course. Etho’s lines are neat, rigid, conforming to his perfect mental map. 

He lets down his section of dust, drifting over to the dispenser system. He pushes a line further into place, brushing dust back from the side. Further on, where the line crosses, he readjusts it, he smooths them from start to end of line. His hands work where his mind recalculates, looking for errors along the redstone already laid out by Bdubs. Programs bubble up to assist; he dismisses a message, and another as he works. The line straightens from source to sink. 

As he passes, searching for another correction, he hears someone above him. In the corner of his vision, another message notification pings: from Bdubs.

They’re all from Bdubs, actually, now that he notices in full. He blinks, mouth twisting into a frown. Whoops.

He hears someone—Bdubs, he realizes, as he notes the fall of his feet, and the sigh he hops down from his horse, the shuffle of said horse, hooves on grass—clear their throat. Bdubs shuffles around as Etho moves back over to his finished redstone, dusting his hands on the sides of his pants. He lifts the small bag of dust, twisting the tie shut around his fingers as he travels back up the line to recheck the connections. 

“Etho?” Bdubs calls. Etho straightens, just on instinct alone, glancing up at the stretch of sky he can see. It’s bright blue, barely dotted with clouds, and the grass looks warm with sun. He fixes where the dust starts as he sections off the end, tossing the rest of the redstone over to his sling bag.

“Under the hill!”

Bdubs leans over the edge, tilting his head at Etho as he peers into the dark. It takes him a moment to find Etho’s face, partially obscured by black fabric and the fluff of wool around his collar. Etho tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

“Did you need something?” he asks, arm hanging loosely by his side. Bdubs frowns, too, watching Etho’s expression. As his eyes seem to adjust to the dark, his gaze falls on the lines of redstone. He pauses there for a long moment. In that moment, Etho feels something in his chest grind, almost to a noticeable ache. If he could pull in a breath to settle it, he might have, but the sensation and minute sound passes as soon as he moves his hand to press flat against his regulator. Bdubs is gone when he looks up, reappearing only as he drops into the cavern, catching himself on the wall. He readjusts his cloak around his shoulders, shuffling into the low-light.

“Etho,” he says, still frowning. Etho looks him over. He watches Bdubs set his hands on his hips, but his heart rate stays even and his temperature level. The only thing that changes is the tone of his voice, fluctuating with a pattern Etho recognizes as forcing something. Bdubs takes a long breath in and lets it out. Etho’s eyes find the twitch of his fingers as he folds his arms, rather than the sharp curve of his mouth.

“Yes?” Etho asks. He feels his pump work a little harder. It kind of hurts still, whatever’s stopped working in his chest. He flicks his eyes, recalling a diagnostic, setting it to run in the background as he closes out of the overlays and the world returns to yellowish-grey. Bdubs is still frowning.

“You mind tellin’ me what’s wrong with this redstone?”

Etho blinks. The diagnostic comes up clear.

“What do you mean?” he says, his expression shifting into something copying amusement. He’s trying. He’s at least trying to mimic the emotions he sees. Soon enough it’ll feel natural, he’s certain. “What’s wrong with it?”

Bdubs snorts, which turns into a laugh, which turns into Etho smiling a bit wider, a bit more confusion lingering in his expression as he leans around Bdubs to check his meticulously placed line. Bdubs turns away from him, facing the system, the clock that linked the start gates to the timer below.

“What’s—” Bdubs scoffs, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with it? Etho—” he holds out his hand, waving Etho over. Etho lingers at his shoulder as he steps forward, peering over the curve of it and the moss and small leaves and flowers draped over his neck. “It’s too perfect.”

Etho makes a sound like a scoff now, a caught sound in his vocal unit, a stuttering start to his sentence that doesn’t form right away. He’s trying for surprise, the pitch of his voice rising unexpectedly.

“It’s too perfect?” he asks. 

Bdubs nods. After a moment, Etho thinks he sees his expression shift, the high of his cheek rising. When Bdubs turns his head to look at him, just for a second, Bdubs is smiling.

“Bdubs,” Etho says, sighing, turning away from him, to his bag on the far side of the room. He shakes his head. That something-nothing in his chest flutters and fades and disappears all at once, instead replaced with the urge to smile back. Bdubs laughs, and Etho can imagine him tipping his head back, mouth curved up as he giggles to himself. Etho shakes his head. As he starts to pull away from Bdubs, he feels him catch his sleeve, holding fast to his elbow.

“Etho, wait—” Bdubs giggles. “It looks really good.”

Etho raises his eyebrows. Caught in Bdubs grasp, all he can do is look at him, head tilted, trying not to let the amusement show on his face. Bdubs giggles, face breaking again as he does.

“Etho…” he tries again, fighting back a smile. Etho tilts his head the other way, as if to prompt him further, looking for anything. He stays silent. Bdubs hand lowers slowly, that smile faltering just a fraction. Maybe he thinks Etho’s upset with him. There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You gonna say anythin’? Or you just gonna stand there?”

Etho smiles, finally. He shrugs a little, glancing over at the fixed lines of redstone.

“I fixed your redstone,” he says cooly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. Bdubs blinks. He jerks away as Etho’s smile grows, shoving him hard in his shoulder. Etho wobbles for a moment, smiling to himself, scrunching up his face as Bdubs’ expression morphs. He does laugh, after a beat, poking Etho in the shoulder as he does. Etho hopes he can see the smile in his eyes. He saves, logs, keeps this moment. He’s sure in the low light that his LED spins yellow for a moment. It feels right. If there’s any feeling to catalog.

Bdubs huffs. Etho thinks he hears him say something under his breath. It sounds a lot like thank you.

It’s out of habit, rather than obligation, that Etho finds himself back at the horse course. Of course he ends up here, his feet moving him about as if his brain-not-brain had no thoughts of its own. Man. Some days, it really felt human.

He wanders across the plain, eyes lingering on fully-built buildings, knowing the schematics and plans, watching as those plans-now-buildings stretched higher above his head, where they nearly threatened to pop the sky wide open. 

Bdubs had sat down with him earlier that week, papers spread out between them. He’d stopped by, actually—worked his way up the mountain to the base Etho had finally finished, papers in hand, looking like he was on the verge of collapse. He’d dropped the blueprints on the largest table Etho had managed to clear, spreading out the designs for huge, complex buildings. Etho watched him explain, listened for the inflection of when to offer suggestions, heard the way Bdubs’ voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial, as he explained his palette. There was something methodical in the way Bdubs spoke, not only in the approach to his colors, but to his style. As much as it seemed eclectic and strange, he watched the pieces fall together as Bdubs spoke of his gradients. There was something deeper there, a precision that Etho, all of a sudden, in that room, craved to emulate. To write to disk. To save. To do more than just copy. 

He’d built the horse stable first—all to his own specifications. It was Bdubs later who came in to detail, tilling up the dirt around to plant grass and flowers, sectioning off parts of the empty stable. It was almost difficult to compartmentalize that Bdubs was finished with it now. That they’d worked each line of the redstone and Etho had supervised the first steps of building, and now he could look up and see the very top, or almost, if he were to strain, of the spikes above the buildings. 

And in just a few weeks, Bdubs was onto another project. Etho smiles to himself. He can’t help it. There was something rather comforting about that. Something about Bdubs dragging him along to help, pointing him toward the thing he was good at, and asking for help. Bdubs showing up at his door with plans. Bdubs cracking jokes with him, and looking for a laugh Etho couldn’t replicate yet. It’s like something clicked. Or was just on the breach of it. And Etho liked it.

Etho clears his field of view, taking in, instead, the stretch of sky where it met the ocean, along the line of hills and grass and flowers, and further still, to the smudge that looked like Bdubs. He blends in too well—the green of his coat barely noticeable against the field of grass that splayed out from the side of his build. There were still materials strewn about—chests half opened, shulkers stacked waist high. 

Bdubs stands to the side of a dark grey and white horse, one hand placed on its nose, the other digging through his bag. Etho watches for a moment. Bdubs fishes around for that entire second that he lingers, searching for something, until he pulls out an apple. Another falls to the ground, rolling away from him. He holds out the fruit for the horse as Etho clears his throat. 

“Hiya, Bdubs—” he says as Bdubs startles, twisting around to see him. He huffs, an immediate frown coming to his face. Bdubs turns to fetch the dropped apple, holding it high above his head as the grey horse nudges its nose into his empty hand. He pats it instead.

“Etho,” he says, tone thin. He sighs, shaking his head. “Scared the life outta me, you know that? You gotta make some noise when you’re walkin’ around.”

Etho smiles, a nice and easy reaction to the annoyance in Bdubs’ voice. It’s getting easier. At least a bit. The smiling part, that is. The inflection that comes with being happy.

“I’ll try next time,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. His hands find his pockets as he looks around, eyes following the path around the buildings. He’s sure the pollen and moss will be stuck to his clothes for days before he gets them out.

“Mm,” Bdubs hums, unconvinced. “I’m sure you will. Now, what’re you doin’ here? You don’t have anything better to do?”

“That’s a good question,” Etho says.

Bdubs turns back to him for a second, just a glance over his shoulder as he cocks his head to the side. He raises his eyebrows before he turns back to the horse, who’s started to nose at his bag. He drags his hand down its nose.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t have an objective right now?”

“I never have an objective, Bdubs.”

Bdubs snorts again . Etho steps over, slow, minding the horse. It sniffs as Etho holds out his hand, nosing his gloved palm. He pats the horse's nose, somewhat stilted, smoothing over the soft bridge of his nose.

“Right,” Bdubs hums. When Etho glances over to him, Bdubs glances away, as if he’d lingered as Etho stepped over. He’s not moved from Etho’s side, which. Makes something fit into Etho’s chest in a way he isn’t expecting. He rests his hand on the horse's head, looking over at Bdubs in full.

“I can’t come see how the horse course is looking, now that you’re done?” he asks. Bdubs makes an embarrassed sounding noise, watching the rise of the buildings to their left. The horse sniffs, and Etho lifts his hand away, letting it fall to his side.

“I—I got excited about it,” Bdubs mutters. If Etho leans enough, he can see the beginnings of a flush creep over his cheeks, up the shell of his ear. Something about that, too. Etho looks beyond him, though, studying the rise of the buildings as Bdubs does. He nods to himself.

“I can tell,” he says, amusement slipping into his voice, almost naturally. Immediately, Bdubs whips around again, face twisted in offense.

“Hey!” he snaps. “You makin’ fun of me?”

Etho shakes his head, spreading his hands out in front of him as he does.

“No, no. Not at all,” he says, hoping the smile he’s giving is reaching his eyes. “I’m saying we make a pretty good team.”

Bdubs makes a little huff of a sound, but his posture and expression softens. Etho studies it from the moment it appears, trying to place the emotion behind it. He seems upset—but not from anything Etho said. He almost looks guilty.

“We’ve always made a good team,” Bdubs mumbles. Etho blinks.

“Since when have we been a team?”

“Since—s…” Bdubs blurts, then backtracks, folding his arms over his chest. “Well we’re a team now!”

Etho raises his eyebrows, stepping away from the horse and more around Bdubs’ side. He leans in a bit as he stands by his side, bumping their shoulders together. Bdubs doesn’t recoil. Instead, he pushes back, just for a moment, and they jostle. Bdubs hums, sighing through his nose.

“Are we?” Etho asks. Bdubs nods, short and firm.

“Mhm! ‘Cause I said so.”

Etho nods with him. There’s that thing again, a turning, jostling, in some part of his chest that really shouldn’t turn or jostle. He can feel his temperature tick up just a few degrees, a fan kicking on to settle the temperature, thirium sludging warm to cold through his limbs. A team, huh? He couldn’t beat Bdubs’ conviction, that’s for sure. Maybe it was a bit of guilt, then. Maybe something in Bdubs had realized Etho was much more of a help than a hindrance. Maybe Bdubs wanted a friend. Maybe he just felt bad and the feeling bad got to a point where he had to just do something about it. Etho didn’t know. He didn’t live inside Bdubs’ brain. And picking at Bdubs’ every emotion was a task enough to drive his processor into the ground. He could already feel another spike in temperature, LED glowing yellow-blue. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Etho sticks his hands in his pockets.

“I’d like that,” he says, finally pushing out the words as his programming jumps into gear, “What’s our next project then?”

Bdubs goes back to jostling him before he turns away, moving from Etho’s side to collect his horse. Gathering the horse's reins in his hands, Bdubs pauses.

“Ooh…” he says, frowning a little. Etho watches the little furrow of his eyebrows—thinking. Bdubs is turning the idea over in his head. Bdubs steps back over with the horse in tow, already walking in the direction of the horse stable. Etho jolts forward, taking several big steps to match Bdubs’ pace. “Well why don’t you come back to the clock and we can talk about it, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

Bdubs makes an affirmative sound, leading the horse around and into the stable. Etho watches him unlatch the gate, ushering the horse into the pen.

“I can put the kettle on and everything,” Bdubs says. He lifts the bridle out of the horse’s mouth, running his hand along the length of the horse’s nose. Etho doesn’t mean to watch him as he does, but the action is so purposeful. There’s a moment where Bdubs’ expression is unreadable—unreadable as in Etho simply can’t place anything on it. Unreadable in the amount it changes—something softer than he’s seen, something far away. Bdubs’ whole demeanor seems to shift as he stands still for a moment. Etho isn’t sure what to do with himself. He’s just standing in straw and dirt and stones, all of which he can feel under his shoes. He shuffles a bit, back and forth, to make his presence known, before he says:

“You know I can’t drink anything, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs rolls his eyes, squinting over at him, stepping away from the horse to hop the gate.

“Well you can at least fake it,” he grumbles. He folds his arms again, wrinkling his nose at Bdubs as Bdubs leads him out of the pen and into the open field around the horse course. The shadow of the buildings above them hasn’t changed, yet. The sun is still high and warm in the sky.

Etho laughs. At least, he makes a sound that he thinks passes as a laugh. Bdubs laughs too, though, so it must sound pretty convincing. He nods, the smile on his face feeling much more natural than he ever could have expected. 

“I could fake it,” he laughs. “Sure.”

Bdubs grins at him. It’s nice. It makes the walk back to his base a little more bearable.

By the time Etho gets his invitation to the life game, he’s grown accustomed to being at Bdubs’ side again. He wanders around Bdubs’ base like he knows it, makes it a spot he chooses to map, to memorize. Bdubs checks in on him when he isn’t around as much—asks him how his builds are going, wonders if he needs help. Bdubs lingers in his spaces too, like a plant trying to root, gives himself reasons to stand in doorways just a bit longer, just enough to extend their goodbyes. It feels right—in a way that almost gives reason to Etho’s deviation. Maybe, deep down, from their first introduction, Etho had decided to glue himself to Bdubs’ side and not become unstuck. Maybe he’d simply put that decision, his first ever decision, into motion that day. It didn’t matter much as to why anymore.

When Etho gets his letter, he doesn’t open it. He holds it between two fingers, turning it over and over. He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says. There’s a dark red seal on the back, shaped like a heart. He makes a little sound, some sort of click in the back of his mouth, before he stuffs the letter in his pocket, half-folded.

He finds Bdubs exactly where he expects. Bdubs is sitting cross-legged in his garden, hands in the dirt, when Etho arrives at the crescent moon base. If he looks closely enough, Etho can still tell that Bdubs’ own letter sits on his window sill in the kitchen, unopened. But he’s really squinting to notice, so he writes it off for now as a flaw in his own sight. 

Bdubs turns to him as he walks up. His hair is pushed back away from his face with his bandana, and his hands are covered in dirt, and he’s got a streak of black soil across his forehead that Etho tries not to look at for too long. Bdubs shoots him a toothy grin, going back to his bright orange tulips. If Etho looks long enough, he could probably guess the soil mixture, and tell him if it's good enough to be planting orange tulips in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes to stand behind him and Bdubs hums in greeting.

“Etho,” he says, looking up again, wiping the dirt from his forehead. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Etho says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He forgets who he picked the gesture up from, but it’s become part of his natural body language patterns now, so he won’t be stopping it anytime soon. “I just came to see how you were doing.”

“How I was doin’, huh?” Bdubs asks, amusement trickling into his voice. Etho smiles, feeling his face pull.

“Mhm,” he says. “That’s right. I can’t come and check up on a friend?”

Bdubs laughs, sticking his spade in the dirt.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” he says, still giggling as he turns around. “I thought we were just a team.”

Etho watches him lean back on his hands, legs coming out from under him. He tries to read Bdubs’ expression and voice for any note of insincerity, or play, or teasing, but doesn’t find anything he normally associates with Bdubs. This just feels true.

“I mean, I figured with how much we’ve been working together…” Etho starts, to which Bdubs startles, waving his hands.

“No, no!” Bdubs yelps. “Etho, I thought the same thing! I just wasn’t expectin’ it from you.”

Etho blinks. It feels owlish, small, almost a wrong reaction to hearing Bdubs say something like that. But it’s what immediately happens, before he tries to open his mouth, and no sound comes out. He waits for a moment. He assumes his LED spins, maybe even red, as Bdubs watches him, face paling.

“Oh,” Etho says quietly.

“We’re friends,” Bdubs says, voice much smaller than Etho’s ever heard it. “‘S that alright with you?”

Etho feels like the proper response would be to laugh, if he could really feel anything at all besides every gear in his chest halting and restarting themselves. He makes a noise that sounds almost like a cough.

“Mhm,” he says. He watches Bdubs’ shoulders relax and finds that his own posture sinks with it. 

“Good,” Bdubs says, nodding along. “Was there anything else you wanted to scare me with?”

Etho knows this tone—playful. Teasing. He works up a smile and fishes the letter from his pocket, slightly bent. Bdubs’ eyes flick right to it, right to the red seal pressed into the paper. Immediately, he scrambles up, reaching for the note in Etho’s hands. Etho lets him grab it in his dirt-covered fingers, even as Bdubs tries frantically to dust off his hands as he notices. Bdubs turns it over itself, glancing up at Etho.

“It’s for you?”

Etho nods.

“It was on my doorstep this morning,” he says. “I can see you’ve got one in your window?”

Bdubs snorts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I haven’t opened the damn thing. I’m excited up until the point I’m not, ‘cause I know I’m gonna lose again.”

Etho hums. As Bdubs hands him back the letter, Etho rests his hand on his shoulder, giving it a hesitant, light squeeze. Bdubs looks quickly down at it, before he’s back to staring at Etho’s face.

“Don’t worry, Bdubs,” he says, hoping his voice is full of amusement and affection like he feels like it is. “You’ll have me there this time!”

And Bdubs laughs, full and warm in his chest, and Etho jostles him around as he does, until Bdubs is smacking his shoulder and wiggling free. He picks up his fallen hat and his tools, and Etho follows him around the side of the house as he puts things away. As he shuts one of the chest, Bdubs says:

“You mean that, though? You wanna be on a team?”

Etho smiles, feeling his eyes squint, forces every ounce of new feeling into his words when he says:

“I don’t think I wanna team with anyone else, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs’ grin in excitement is more than enough to convince him he’s made the right choice.

It’ll be a long two weeks until the death game starts. When he returns home later that night, Bdubs’ plans for success turning over in his brain, recording for later, Etho reads over the letter enough to commit the page to memory. He keeps it safe internally as the letter finds its way to his bookshelf, half-sealed. Through him, like it’s just under the skin, runs an emotion he’s not yet familiar with. He hopes it's a good one, at the very least. He hopes so, as much as an android, a machine, someone just now familiar with the idea of free will, can hope. 

It feels good, though. And something makes him think that everything will turn out just fine.

[peachversace]

feed the beast - gojo satoru

He’s insatiable.

You can see it in his eyes — Satoru wants to ruin you.

[milkbreadtoast]

fluffy golden hair prince...

[timelessmulder]

31 Days of Horror day 10: Briar

Once upon a time, there was a huntsman.

Once upon a time, there was a witch.

And once upon a time, there was a little town in a wide and sprawling valley, that stood on the knife's edge of destruction.

When the sun sank below the hills, casting the rolling greens and dotted trees into shadow, the townsfolk sequestered themselves in their homes. They locked the wooden doors and placed a lantern on a windowsill to cast the glow of flickering bulb onto the street below. An hour before, when the sun had only glanced against the top of the hills, the streetlamps lining the roads were light, so the officers could sequester themselves in their homes by nightfall.

The town would plunge into darkness, and creatures of inky black and twisted shadows would fold out from the darkness. They would twitch and writhe across the veins of the towns, down alleyways and up garden paths. They never entered the homes, though each night they grew bolder. Claws scraping at the doors, a viscous tendril slipping into a slim fracture in a window to drip onto the floor below.

In harried town meetings the people spoke in hushed tones, as if the things plaguing their homes would creep out of the shadowed cracks of the floor and be upon them. They spoke of moving. Of searching for unholy things to combat these things they only caught glimpses of from the corner of their eye.

It took a turn one morning, when a family awoke to find dark paw prints in their foyer. Stalking paws with splayed toes like a diseased animal; they could almost imagine a hunched figure pacing, swinging its head too and fro in a jittering manner. As if pieces of the movements themselves were missing.

A dread hush fell over the town. Life such as it was, pretending that all ways fine and routine beneath the light of day, ground to a halt. Those who could packed their things, loaded them into carts and the trunks of battered cars to make their way to the next town, only an hour away by horse. Plenty of time to get there before night fell and darkness swallowed the town; no one spoke of the possibility that they would be followed in the long shadows.

The huntsman watched as the people of the town left in a steady trickle to towns beyond, leaving behind a profound stillness and silence. He waited in his own car, fingers tight around the metal steering wheel and jaw set. At noon, he began toward the witch of the woods.

She lived in the woods a few miles from the little town. He would drive his car as close as he was able over cobble giving way to dirt to dying grass. He would park there, and make the rest of the way on foot through a wood frozen, holding its breath. The huntsman had been in the woods before, in areas that did not impede upon her land. He knew of the vibrancy of life there, the chattering of squirrels and the holler of birds.

He knew of the sudden shriek of movement that fell into silence when a predator was spotted.

But he crept through the woods on tender feet, as though he were hunting a deer with its twisting ears looking to catch anomalous sounds in those long hairs. He marked the trees, just a nick, to mark his way. The shadows of the woods deepened and the hair on the back of his neck prickled; he was being watched but he could not see the source. His own straining ears could not make out a noise. He readjusted his grip on his knife, and he kept moving in the direction he knew the witch's house to be.

He did not know how he knew of this. It was simply a knowledge that stitched itself into his head, like a parasite taking root in soft rolls of flesh.

"hello woodsman."

The voice was a brush of wind across his cheek. A rustling in the leaves yet to fall despite the autumn chill. The woodsman jumped, he turned, nearly toppling to the ground. There the witch stood in a plain, hand stitched dress. She laughed, a tinkling of glass on, when he stumbled and tried to regain his footing.

"come now. im not a threat."

He scowled, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brows to take in her shape. Her form slipped in and out of focus, her dark hair and dark eyes shimmering with mischief as he struggled to make her out.

"are you here about the creatures that haunt your village?" she did not wait for his reply. She already knew the answer; she watched him and pulled apart his seams to look at the molding stuffing that made up his innards. "what would you do for them?"

"Anything. My life for theirs."

The witch did not speak for a moment. She prowled around him, a great predator preparing to pounce upon prey. "anything you say?" she mused. "huntsman, i have a better plan for you. You will keep your life, and your town will be kept safe." She reached for the belt hung around her waist and the bag that dangled from it, neither of which he had noticed. The air shimmered around her.

This was a mistake, he thought.

"swallow this," she said, holding out her hand to drop three seeds into his palm. "and you will keep your town safe."

"How do I know this isn't poison?"

"do you have anything to lose, Huntsman?" Her voice rattled through him, like a command.

He examined the three seeds resting in the lines of his palm. His heart quickened. He steeled his nerve, lifted them to his mouth, and swallowed.

The change struck all at once. A knot formed in the back of his throat, something blooming and searching for space and pressing against fragile barriers of flesh in an acute agony. Tendrils poked at fissures in his throat, reaching long and searching fingers through him. They wrapped around bones and joints, finding nerves and muscles to fold in. This spreading thing twitched and began to pulse, first asynchronously and then in time with his heart.

The huntsman fell to his knees. Bones snapped and reformed into something bestial. Skin split like an overripe fruit, the growth of bramble bush spread up and across, overtaking the torn flesh until it hung in thin strips from dripping thorns. Teeth fell from bleeding gums to be replaced by long canine thorns, mouth breaking and stretching into a muzzle.

He could not even scream for agony, the roots wrapping around his throat to control his voice. It was him and he was it and he was becoming a monster.

The witch watched him twitch and writhe as the transformation took hold. She watched as he shed his human form to become a beast of the woods. She did not regard him with fear, nor with disgust, just a scholarly curiosity. She had never seen the effects of the seeds on a mere man before.

The transformation came to its agonizing conclusion. The huntsman lay on his side, lungs wrapped in thorns taking in great gasps of air before the brain could comprehend what had been done to it. Where did the man end and the forest begin? He did not know, anymore. He did not need to know such things anymore.

The pain subsided. He climbed to paws, and regarded the witch for a long moment. Trying to determine what to do with her, she supposed. His long wolfen ears twitched, and he turned, loping off into the darkness of the woods and back to town. Cursed to remain a beast, in return for their safety.

[grokebaby]

Ayooo what if I WROTE something yaaaa

[hellhoundlair]

could we have some more thoughts on ruby posessing deans body post-s3?

how would dean react when he returned?

thank you for asking, my lovely little anon. i totally forgot i had mentioned this a while back and being reminded of it has made me go holy shit.... my mind.....

(putting a cut here because i wrote a lot)

i think it all would have started very shortly after dean died. the entire foundation of sam and rubys relationship at this point has been that sam has reluctantly agreed to be rubys ally for the sake of saving dean. ruby KNOWS how far sam is willing to go for him and is already using that to manipulate sam from the moment they meet. she knows. like she knows knows. maybe just from being around him or from stalking him or from a hearing it from a little birdie whos been in sams head before. but she knows.

I dont know how long the gap between ruby being possessed by lilith and ruby coming back would be, id imagine a few days, giving sam time to grieve dean or at least to accept the fact that hes dead before ruby shows up in a brand new (or all to familiar) body.

i wont pretend to understand how possession works, especially when its happening to a dead character. i dont think the writers knew either so itd be safe to make up my own rules about it. but its deans body. polished and buffed with not a scratch on him.

sams reaction would be similar to the one we see in the show. hed think dean was undead (technically right) and try to kill ruby before she can get a word out.

and ruby would explain it to sam like hes an idiot, like the reason behind her possessing dean is a no brainer. shes keeping deans body warm for when they get him back. otherwise who knows what will get to him first? this isnt possessing someone and controlling their body against their will. this is a favor. and sam will feel stupid and concede that shes right even if hes uncomfortable with the idea.

it starts immediately. sam treating ruby like she really is dean. without even thinking about it sams already agreed to work together with ruby in bringing dean back and theyre running off together without a word into an all too familiar routine - the only difference being that sam sits in the drivers seat now, and even that is back to normal after sam gets injured on the job and ruby drives them both to safety, a hand clutching sams bleeding shoulder and telling him hes gonna be alright and theyre gonna get back and patch him up and he'll be good as new. and its all too achingly familiar that sams holding her hand on top of his wound and letting himself fall asleep, putting trust in her that he would only ever put in dean.

its the same, but its not. ruby for the most part leans into the dean-isms, but jolts sam back to reality sometimes when she lets her eyes linger while sams just out of the shower bent over looking through his duffle for clean clothes, when shes giving him a hungry look that sams only ever seen dean direct at girls in bars that makes sams stomach flutter. when ruby moves in for the kill it takes suprisingly little convincing to get sam okay with the idea. like hes been waiting to just be told that its okay to want it this entire time.

before they know it deans back (despite bringing dean back being against rubys plans) and in his own body (she has to keep her promises) and ruby has plucked the body of a legally dead jane doe to parade around in. and its. different. dean takes sams new affinity for physical contact as a reaction to finally having dean back, that he needs to feel that deans really there to believe it, but its a lot. a lot more than hes used to from sam.

he doesnt know. not for a while. he wouldnt think to suspect it. until eventually the truth comes out and deans fucking pissed that no one thought to tell him a fucking demon was piloting around his body for a few months, but he doesnt understand the level of reaction that sam gives. how guilty sam feels. until the guilt and the touching and ruby acting like sams jealous ex starts coming together in deans mind.

even if dean has feelings for sam or wouldve done the exact same if he was in sams position, i think it would still feel like a violation. sam took something that dean didnt give and for dean to realise that right after coming out of hell by the only person in the world he would trust not to violate him that way? itd be a lot to deal with. he'd push down his panic over it and laugh about it and make fun of sam for it and stop the conversation when sam sees straight through him and tries to have a genuine heart to heart about it because dean cant fucking handle the thought of having to talk about the repeated brutal rape and torture sessions he both endured and enacted in hell, or to console sam over it when he might fucking snap and beat him with a crowbar if he has to see sam acting like a kicked dog when hes the one who raped him.

it'd take a lot for them to work through. it wouldnt be sunshine and rainbows while they kiss and both declare their love for each other. dean doesnt talk about hell but they both know the memories consume him, a newfound violence in the way he kills, the effective coldness in the way he tortures and interrogates. the distance in his eyes when sam tries to talk to him when hes in that mindspace. thered be a lot of acting like they used to, then eventually dean snapping either because hes frustrated with feeling like he has to act like things are normal and that hes okay with what sam did, or frustrated that things do feel normal and that he still feels safe around sam.

they fight. its bad. not in a property damage way but in an emotions way because it all comes out. and then they slowly and gently work through it one step at a time.

[rhyme-tyme]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Hollow Knight (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Original Hollow Knight Character(s), The Pale King (Hollow Knight), Vessels (Hollow Knight), White Lady (Hollow Knight), Broken Vessel | Lost Kin, Greenpath Vessel (Hollow Knight), The Knight (Hollow Knight) Additional Tags: Custom Lore, Stuff Happens for sure, My First Fanfic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Some Vessels choose pronouns and some don't, Barely anyone from the actual games shows up but they do show up later on, vessels dying you know how it is Series: Part 1 of Tales From The Undergrowth Summary:

You've heard the tales of the Hollow Knight and Other Distant Tales, But there is so much more to this world, Allow me to show you my stories I've collected over my time in this life.

I am the Chronicler. Keeper of Knowledge and in time i will tell you stories of Great heroes and Kindhearted Scoundrel's

But First i'll ease you in with something familiar, Stories of the Pale Wyrms Spawn and their adventures around this world.

[object-yaoi]

OBJECTUM COURIER WIN

YEAAAGGGHH BABY

[cornybunbun]

Summary

Under the gaze of the Bone Tower, all are equal. Human, Demon, Fae... Death does no discriminate.

Sebastian has a job to do: he is to infiltrate the Human Realm and find out the source of their magic. The easiest way to get access to the Human Realm is by arranging a marriage and then seducing the human pitiful enough to be bound to him.

However, on his wedding night Sebastian finds himself collared by a child with magic burning in his eye and contempt written across his face. Now he is Ciel Phantomhive's dog, and although he wants to carry out his job for the Demon Realm he finds himself entranced by the way his new husband commands him to kneel

Read More

[sadistpet]

     ❛ hm. useful. ❜

it is not natural, nor even common, for him to find himself in the company of the boss without some kind of other party involved. typically he would linger obediently at the colonel’s side, studious and silent, watching every moment with a dutiful gaze. it was a façade, of course — a pretty face is always disarming, unassuming, even when the beholder has blood on their hands ( or their teeth. ) his leg muscles always primed for movement, his fingers twitching for the trigger of his makarov.

the boss is american. defector or not, her blood runs star-spangled, and raikov cannot bring himself to believe in her supposed allegiance to their cause. the colonel would chide him if he knew, the same as he had when ivan had expressed such disdain and concern at the sudden appearance of sokolov's mistress. and it is that which keeps him silent.

ever glowering, he meets her gaze.

          ❛ ... stop looking at me like that. ❜

it comes snappier than he anticipates. eyes shadowed by the brim of his cap scan the woman before him top to toe, his upper lip curling in instinctual disgust. teeth only slightly bared, brow only fractionally wrinkled. he rolls his eyes, head following suit when icy blue irises meet the corners of his vision - mechanical, doll like.

     ❛ if you're looking for the colonel, you could just ask. he's — busy. ❜ his body shifts, straightens, hands linking behind his back with the subtle creak of leather, fingers gripping each other and cracking the bubbles of air between his joints. ❛ with her. tatyana. ❜ teeth grinding, jaw tense, he tries his best to focus his mind far away from what his lover could be doing with that whore. ❛ you're close with her, aren't you ? both defectors, anyway. ❜

@sadistpet : starter call , the boss !

❛ they're called the star of bethlehem, a type of lily. ornithogalum. ❜ it's mindless. wrinkled brow maintained with a prominent frown. gloved hand holds a singular one, spinning stem between index and thumb. movements are always done in just a way that makes her seem, sharper, more aware than others. in fact most wouldn't have heard the approach, but there's a reason she is, who she is after all.

❛ they're poisonous. ❜ gaze shifts, acknowledging the other finally. narrowing look as if to ask where volgin is. but she is a good soldier, doesn't act unless it will work in a way that is favorable to her. the flower is let go of, the more whimsical younger girl locked away within her would sentimentally watch it drift away. but she cannot spare that sort of vulnerability. not here.

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 10

Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

check out part 11 here ✨🆕

W.c: 3.4K+

not proofread ⚠️

a/n : Hi everyone, I'm back with another part yaaay, I hope you enjoy it. I need a good cry so I wrote this, where are my Angst enthusiasts at? this part is for you, but no worries I'll make it up for you I promise 😭🩵.

Music Suggestion 🎧 I highly recommend The Neighborhood - Softcore to match the sadness 🥲

You gradually regained your consciousness; you felt a dull throb in your head. You blinked slowly, struggling to focus, your surroundings initially a blur of shapes and colors that gradually sharpened into clarity.

You tried to move, to rub your temples but your heart beats quickened when you realized you were bound to a chair, your limbs securely tied with coarse ropes. Panic surged through your veins, your eyes widening as you struggled against your restrains, each tug to break free was met with resistance. Ropes tightly wrapped around your wrists and legs, a burning sensation, only serving to deepen your sense of helplessness.

“Fuck, fuck” you muttered.

Breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in wild rhythm. You scanned the dimly lit room, searching for any sign of escape. But there was none, and you found yourself trapped in a nightmare worse than your reality.

Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the silence, coming from behind. A tone that sent shivers down your spine,

“No need to struggle princess”

The words dripped with menace. You were too scared to look behind not knowing what to face. You bit your lips that were quivering. From the shadow, he emerged. With hesitation you looked up to see the tall figure that concealed the dim light from you. His muscles taut beneath his shirt, a sly, dirty smirk tugged at the corners of his scarred lips. His dark black hair fell on his face gracefully, looking directly at your soul with his narrowed eyes. for a split second, you thought it was a more aggressive version of Megumi.

His presence, the way he stood in front of you, looking down at you sent a chill to your whole nervous system, making your breath hitch up.

“W-who are you? What am I doing here?”

He reached to grab your chin with his long fingers, forcing your head up to look at him.

“Shh-hh, don’t ask questions! Lemme introduce myself first” he paused, bringing another chair and sat right in front of you. “I’m sure you’ve heard about me…they probably warned you, I’m-”

“You’re Toji Zenin?!” you interrupted him

With a mocking tone, he leaned forward and said,

“I go by Fushiguro now! So don’t say Zenin ever again…so? Did you sleep well”

You stayed frozen in place, each inhale felt like shards of glass scraping down your throat. Consumed by fear, realizing that the man who’s been searching for you all around Tokyo, just to take your life away finally found you and was comfortably sitting in front of you. Your world narrowed, maybe it’s the end.

*flash back*

With a heavy weight in your heart, you left Jujutsu High in the dread of the night. Spending the night stargazing in the balcony wasn’t enough; you wanted to get completely detached so you left for some fresh air away, far away from Gojo.  The echo of what Gojo said to you still ringing in your ears. “you failed your family and now you’re failing everyone else in Jujutsu High” those words never left your mind.

“He’s right..I even failed myself” you muttered to yourself.

You walked through the streets, each step was a painful reminder that you’ve got nowhere to go, completely lost, nowhere and no one to turn to, feeling that you don’t belong anywhere. The darkness of the night enveloped you like a cloak. Your feet carried you to an unexpected place, standing in front of the big wooden door, you didn’t dare to knock, you just stood there in front of your parent’s house, memories flooding your mind. Maybe your parents were right for keeping you locked inside. Maybe someone like you was never meant to leave the safety of their house, maybe your parents knew that you would get hurt. But your family, who spent their life keeping you in the darkness of your room pushed you to marry a stranger, a man you never knew, never met; Gojo Satoru, just because of his good reputation, because he’s the strongest, maybe your parents thought he would keep you safe and will protect you, but he ended up slit opening a deep wound within you, once again awakening your trauma that you worked hard to learn how to live with.

“I was only a burden to everyone” you said to yourself,

You heard giggles so you stepped closer, peeking through the window. Your heart sank as you saw your family again, after so long. You didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad at their sight. Your parents and siblings, gathered together in the warm glow of the light. Carefree and content, laugher filling the air, a bittersweet melody to your ears. Their faces illuminated by smiles as they talked together.

You stood there, a silent observer on the outside looking in. A tear rolled down your cheek , a broken smile drawn on your face,

“They look happy without me”

You felt a sting in your chest,  loneliness washing over you again and again, it actually never left, loneliness was the only companion you had. It was as if you were peering into a world you had once knew, yet now felt completely disconnected.

History repeating itself, once again your family managed to make you feel like an outsider, a complete stranger. You felt as if you were a completely forgotten fragment of their life, a faded memory lost in the depth of time, as if you never been a part of their past.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned away from the window, unable to bear the ache of being invisible to them your whole life. As you turned, you were met with a pair of glowing eyes looking directly at you, a tall masked figure that made you gasp , but before you could react, you got hit on your head with a metal bar…falling unconscious.

*End of flashback*

“Was that your parents house?” asked Toji

But you completely ignored his question, looking away from his intense gaze,

“What do you want from me?”

“Kill you, obviously… now answer my question..Was that your parents’ house?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“As you can see, I feed on other’s suffering .. so it would be nice to learn more about your miserable past”

You frowned your brows in confusion,

“I had a normal, not miserable past" you lied, keeping your traumas to yourself,

“Oh hoho, let me guess, abused? Discriminated? No no ignored? That’s the right word… no one ever recognized you right? No one made you feel welcomed cuz you were different and people are scared of things that are different” he started

How did he know that? How did he know about your past? How could he describe what you've felt so accurately?

“N-no!” you lied again

“Come on don’t lie to me.. I know very well the face of someone who’s been discriminated their entire life for being  different”

“Have you met someone like that to judge so confidently?”

“No, but I look in the mirror everyday”

You looked at him in disbelief, you didn’t dare to say a word. Whatever he was trying to do, was successfully making you feel uncomfortable. Is he trying to torture you before taking your last breath away? But you already gave up, there’s no way you can escape this place, tied hands and legs, him sitting right across you., and probably no one would look for you.

“If you’re gonna kill me then do it already, and spare me from talking about the past”

“Woah, so you give up already? Who pushed you to your limits to the point that you greet death as an old friend?” he asked

“No one, just do it. This is what you captured me for.. SO DO IT” you yelled.

“Hm, interesting! I think I know where all of this is coming from..Gojo Satoru? Did your husband add to your trauma?”

“enough” you whispered weakly

“What? It must be hard to live with him; especially that he’s the strongest. Lemme guess! He made you feel weak at any given chance, reminding you again and again that you’re nothing” he said offensively pushing you to your edge.

“St-op”

“That’s what sorcerers do, they claim they protect the normal, oh I’m sorry the monkeys like us, but in reality they use their power to belittle us…and you’ll soon be like them, soon you’ll turn into your real form; a sorcerer with an immaculate power but ugly usage..and this is my chance to spare the world of the normal from your ugliness”

“What are you talking about? I’m no turning into a sorcerer-”

“What?”

“It’s been weeks and nothing happened, that prophecy they talked about was nothing but a big lie”

“But your curse-”

“Fate is my only curse” you said, your eyes blankly staring at him, completely worn out.

*Back at Jujutsu High*

Satoru’s eyes blazed with fury as he walked towards Mei Mei and grabbed her by the arm, his grip tight and violent. He yanked her aside aggressively,

“You! You’re the reason she’s gone” he spat with anger.

Mei Mei’s face etched with annoyance, narrowing her eyes at him,

“Don’t you dare blame me for this! It’s  your fault Gojo not mine” she fought back.

“You did that on purpose didn’t you? Leading me to your room cuz you know Y/n will be there, you’re trying your best to have me, but you can’t and you never will” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“You started this in the first place. You asked for my help to push Y/n away, and when I succeeded in giving you what you wanted, you started blaming me? Is this your way to say thank you?”

“I already told you to stop, I said that I no longer in need of your help that you got paid for, but you kept pushing, you wanted more than pushing Y/n away, you wanted me to be yours, but too bad for you, I don’t want you Mei Mei _ and if something happens to y/n I’ll end you! Do you understand ?” he threatened and turned his back to leave.

“Do you love her?” asked Mei Mei making Gojo stop in his track. “There’s only explanation for this, you fell for her Gojo: you fell for Y/n!”

A moment of silence washed over the place, making a hundred of thoughts flow in Gojo’s head. But he ignored her; he doesn’t have time to think about his feelings, when the one he has feelings for is missing because of him. So he started walking away to join the others and start their mission to find you.

…..

“We’ll split into three groups and cover as much ground as possible” suggested Gojo and all of them nodded in agreement.

“Megumi and Maki come with me” he added

“I’ll take Yuji-kun  and Panda” said Nanami

“Inumaki and Nobara you’ll go with principal Yaga” ordered Satoru

“What about Mei Mei, where is she? Isn’t she coming with us to look for Y/n-sensei?” asked Maki with suspicion, she never liked her anyway.

“I’ll go with you” said Mei Mei as she joined them in the common room, “Let’s find y/n”

Satoru ignored her presence and left the room, the rest of them walked outside. Spreading across Tokyo streets, searching everywhere for a glimpse of you. Ready for any possible encounter with Toji Zenin.

Satoru walked with powerful step, determined to find Toji’s hideout and save you from his deadly grasp.

“We’ll find her..don’t worry Y/n is strong, she can definitely handle it” said Megumi in a comforting tone, after noticing how stressed Satoru was.

“I know… she’s strong” he finally admitted.

Hours stretched on into the night, Gojo and the other sorcerers students and teachers combed through each and every corner of the city.. every alleyway, every secluded spot that Toji could possibly use desperate to find her, but for nothing.

Despite their exhaustive efforts, the outcome remained unchanged; you’re nowhere to be found.

With heavy hearts and weary bodies they got back to Jujutsu High as principal Yaga called off the search.

*2 days later*

“The higher ups called for an urgent meeting” said Principal Yaga

“We’ll join the meeting!” said Yuji

“No it’s only for the teachers”

“NO! we care for Y/n-sensei, and maybe more than all of you! If this is about Y/n-sensei then we’re joining” said Yuji with a sad tone

With a sigh, principal Yaga nodded, guiding all of them to the meeting room.

*At the meeting room*

Tension hung in the air, faces drawn and expressions grim as they waited for one of the higher ups to speak,

“Any clue? Any hint? Any progress?” asked one of them.

All of them shook their heads in defeat, their silence spoke volumes, conveying their helplessness and the frustration of their failure.

“We expected nothing less from Toji Zenin, it’s already crystal clear-” he added coldly, his words cutting through the silence once again.

“We won’t give up! We’ll go back tomorrow and this time we bring her home and bring Toji to his trial again” said Gojo in fraustartion, his words dripping with venom.

“You’ve been looking for two days but for vain, there’s no point in wasting any more time and effort, once she’s captured by Toji we knew she’s already gone, she’s already dead” said one of the higher ups.

“SHE’S NOT DEAD” yelled Satoru slamming his fist on the wooden table,

all heads turned at his direction at his sudden rage.

“I know it’s hard to swallow, but it’s your fault for letting her wander outside without keeping an eye on her, it’s your fa-”

“YOU THINK IM NOT AWARE OF IT? YES YOU’RE RIGHT IT’S MY FUCKING FAULT FOR LETTING HER GO, IT’S MY FAULT FOR PUSHING HER AWAY FROM ME, IT’S MY DAMN FAULT MY HURTING HER SO MUCH TO THE POINT THAT SHE FAVORED FACING DANGER OUTSIDE THEN STAYING BESIDE ME…stop blaming me because I know, I messed up, I fucked up and I admit it…but you can’t ask me to give up on my wife-” said Gojo his voice cracking.

Without further words, he left the room. Nanami followed him trying to help him,

“Gojo stop…hey stop” said Nanami “Where are you going?”

“To find her”

“Gojo you know you won’t find her…” said Nanami apologetically

“You once told me to treat her as a real wife, so here I am doing , let me for once care for her like a real wife”

“Gojo don’t do this to yourself, I know you still have hope, we all do but the higher ups won’t allow it”

“Well fuck them the higher ups..I won’t rest till I bring my wife home”

“Alright I’ll come with you”

*At Toji Zenin’s hideout*

“Wakey wakey…” said Toji splashing cold water on your head

You gasped for air, completely startled, completely drenched

“W-what the hell!!” you exclaimed

“Someone wants to meet you”

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you glanced towards the door in anticipation. Who could possibly come to meet you? Is there someone else in the dirty game that Toji is playing?

Your heart skipped a beat as the door creaked open, revealing a familiar silhouette that slowly emerged from the shadow to the light.

“M-Mei Mei?” you said in shock

Your mind raced trying to make sense of the whole situation, your eyes didn’t leave hers as she looked down at you. But the smirk on Mei Mei’s face offered no answer,

“I hope you had fun these two days here with Toji”  

“W-what?” your voice almost inaudible.

“Did you think I’d let you win huh? Poor Y/n!”

“You!- you did all of this? What’s your problem with me huh?” you asked your voice trembling with anger.

“The thing is, you are the problem Y/n! I won’t let you have Gojo, I won’t let you turn into a sorcerer and become the strongest..I won’t let that prophecy come true”

“You’re insane!” you shook your head in disbelief

“Well call it whatever you like, but I won’t let you steal my dreams away”

“So you think that stealing my life away is the right thing to do?”

“YES YES” she leaned forward “I can’t bear to see Gojo look at you with much love in his eyes, I can’t bear to see him giving his heart to you-”

“What are you blabbering about? You know well what kind of relationship I have with Gojo, I already know that both of you have an affair”

Suddenly she started laughing hysterically,

“That’s what I wanted but that dick didn’t want me and never did, since you’re going to die so yeah lemme tell you truth, I got paid to do what I’ve done, he never touched me…it was all lie, all of them, I made that up to push you out of the frame, he wanted that at first but then he started to push ME out of the frame, maybe he’s got a liking into you, a liking that I didn’t like, when I noticed the way his heart started to beat for you, when a spark was born I had to intervene, I couldn’t help but release Toji out of prison, pay him a big amount of money  to abduct you and kill you”

“I’ve never thought you’ll get to this level of low” you spat

“Now you’re out of the frame, I succeeded, you’ll die.. Toji will kill you and I’ll work on making Gojo forget about you, I’ll comfort him when he mourns your death, I’ll be the shoulder he cries on and that’s how I’ll win his heart…to the higher ups you’re already considered dead and shortly you’ll truly be” she said happily, playing with her hair

Disbelief washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you disoriented. You struggled to voice your thoughts, lost in the overwhelming emotions so you started screaming at her,

“I’LL KILL YOU MEI MEI, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU”

You struggled to break free from the ties that restricted your movement to a minimum, completely going crazy, you hair falling on your face. With each tug and desperate lurch you felt your anger growing more and more, your heart hammering against your chest, redoubling your efforts, till you crashed on the ground, the chair toppled over with a resounding thud, hitting your head on the hard concrete. You laid there, disoriented and dazed, pain pulsed through your skull, world spinning around you. If you managed to break free you’ll make Mei Mei vanish from existence.

You saw in slow mo how Mei Mei was walking towards the door leaving the room, Toji crouched down, brushing strands of hair off your face, placing it behind your ear,

“It’s okay, it won’t be painful…but before I kill you, I’ll do terrible thing to you that will make you beg me to kill you”

You were too weak to answer him, you can feel yourself fading into the background, into the nothingness…losing touch  with what’s real. As you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the silence. His face emerged, Gojo’s features etched in your mind with crystalline clarity. Amidst the chaos, the threat, you were somehow happy and relieved that he did not cheat on you, that hadn’t touched Mei Mei  and that all what she said before was a lie to offend you that’s all. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, with each passing moment, your thoughts dived deeper and deeper in the memories shared between both of you, the closeness of your faces when both of you bickered, the way he was sleeping  next you but disturbed by his night terrors, you wished that you be there for him, comfort him and put him back to sleep in your arms, maybe you’ll be his dream and replace that ugly nightmare that haunts him every night. Maybe you can try again and be a real husband and wife.

You realized in that moment that you needed him, that you have already fell for him but that feeling needed something to be noticed, and this something is being far away from him. But is there a way back? A tear run on your cheek, a weak smile drawn on your tired face, fate is indeed your curse.

“It’s too late…I’m already gone”

With that you closed your eyes, drifting to sleep, your dream filled with visions of Gojo is your only companion.  

….

“Are you sure about this Maki?” asked Nobara

“I don’t know, but she’s been acting really suspicious, maybe we can find something?”

“You sure we won’t get caught?”

“No…but I’ll do it, if you’re not sure about this you can go I’ll handle it alone!”

“No I’ll be here, I’ll guard the place”

Both of them walked through the dark corridor like ghosts, gently turning the door knob, sneaking into Mei Mei’s room.

Taglist ✨:

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@thoughfullovercreator

[wavypotatochips]

hey, can I request kylian's dating a supermodel and she's modeling for savage x fenty so when her pics and videos of the show get posted online, his teammates jokingly mess with him to try to make him jealous but instead kylian just gets all smug bragging about his gf 😏 he's still lowkey jealous tho but only hakimi or ney notice bc of how well they know him 😂

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 | 𝐀 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: YAAAY FINALLY MBAPPE RECOGNITION !!!! Mbappe and NeymarJr deserves more requests !! My babygorls <3 Sorry if this is a bit short, as I wrote this specifically in response to your request rather than constructing a "story-like scenario" because I wasn't sure how to build up to this point. c:

I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

Kylian Mbappe is a young and talented French soccer player who has been making waves in the world of sports for many years now. Recently, he has been in the headlines not just for his skills on the field, but also for his relationship with supermodel, Y/N. When his girlfriend's pictures and videos from the shoot were posted online, his teammates couldn't resist teasing him to try and make him jealous. 

The team is currently unwinding and rehydrating in their locker room after practice, waiting for the team manager to arrive and speak with them as he promised to do later. Sergio Ramos stumbles onto a Savage x Fenty advertisement while relaxing and scrolling through Instagram. He smirks as he realizes that you, Mbappe's girlfriend, are the lady in the picture. Other than Hakimi, you haven't met the team yet because your modeling schedule prevents you from attending his games. Yet, he always shares pictures of the two of you online, so it's clear that he knows you exist. "Watch this," he murmurs, nudging Kimpembe. “Damn Kylian, is this what you'll be seeing when you come home?,” Ramos says while glancing at his phone. Kylian raises his eyebrow in confusion. Ramo flips the phone around so that the other teammates can view in addition to Mbappe. It's a picture of you on a bed wearing red lingerie for the brand. Kimpembe, who was aware of his plan, joined in by saying, "Y/N is fine as ever, why don't you let us meet her?" Verratti throws his arm around Mbappe and pokes his cheek while saying, "It's because he knows I can take her away,"

Mbappe felt a burning anger rise inside him as he listened to his friends hitting on his girl. He could feel their eyes lingering on her body, their words dripping with thinly veiled flirtation. It was enough to make him want to lash out, to tell them to back off and leave her alone. But he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't let his possessiveness show, not in front of his friends. He had to keep up appearances, had to act like it didn't bother him, even though it did.

As he releases Verratti's arms, Kylian makes a phony laugh, saying, "She has a height restriction, you have to be 5 '10." Verratti, who is barely 5 feet 5 inches tall, playfully pouts and walks away.  The boys laugh as Kimpembe says, "6' 0 is better thought," and daps up Ramos as they are the same height. They were all taken aback by Kylian's response, though. Instead of being unhappy, he grinned from ear to ear and began boasting about how gorgeous and wonderful his girlfriend was. Kylian shakes his head and says, "She's so beautiful right? I can't take my eyes off of her that's why she hasn't come around during the games ," maintaining his phony smile. He tried to focus on other things, to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling that was building inside him. He laughed at their jokes, made small talk, and tried to act as though everything was normal. But it wasn't. He felt like his friends were trying to stake a claim on something that was his, and that made him feel vulnerable. It was one thing to be jealous of a stranger, but when it was someone he knew, someone he trusted, it cut deep.

Once more, Sergio torments him, "You need to bring her next game so she can meet me. I'll show her what a real man is like."

“Trust me. You can't handle her like I can," he remarks, hinting at something sexual. Despite his smugness, Kylian was still secretly jealous of all the attention his girlfriend was receiving. He didn't like the fact that his teammates were constantly talking about her, but he didn't want to let them know that it bothered him. Only his best friend Hakimi noticed that Kylian was feeling a little lowkey jealous. Hakimi knew Kylian so well that he could see the subtle changes in his friend's behavior. 

Hakimi tries to divert the conversation by saying, "You are so focused on Y/N like you did not get nut-megged and scored on by Neymar during practice."  He did so successfully as everyone started to laugh and point at Ramos, some of the players even walked up to him and slapped his head. Mbappe was aware of Hakimi's actions and mentally praised him. Mbappe didn't want to seem possessive or insecure. He wanted to be the confident, easy-going guy that everyone knows him to be. So he kept his feelings to himself and tried to be the bigger person. He knew that his friends didn't mean any harm, that they were just being friendly and playful. But he couldn't help feeling like they were crossing a line.

You have always loved Mbappe's extreme possessiveness toward you. If you had been in the locker room, you would have been impressed by his ability to control his emotions.

[mothwingwritings]

Save The Date

F!Reader X Jean Pierre Polnareff

Today is my birthday!!! Yaaay! To celebrate, I wrote this self-indulgent, out of left field, Polnareff-kidnaps-you-on-your-bday-and-tries-to-force-his-love-on-you story because why not? I’ve been wanting to write more Jojo and I love Polnareff’s himbo ass sooo here it is. :D I decided to go back to my roots with this one, it was therapeutic loool.

This was a bit rushed because I want to get it finished by today, but I hope you enjoy!!! Thank you for reading and for being here! Love y’all~ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Warnings: Kidnapping, imprisonment, reader is restrained this whole fic, forced/nonconsensual touching and kissing, brief mentions of sex, delusional Polnareff, probably horrible butchering of French pet names (I am sorry any French speakers, forgive my google translate indiscretions (；´∀｀))

Everything was perfect.

From the varying balloons and streamers that dotted the room, to the bows he had placed so lovingly in your hair, Jean Pierre Polnareff had worked hard to make this presentation immaculate. It was what his baby deserved after all-it wasn’t like it was your birthday every day.

It took weeks of planning and organizing to get everything just right. He’d spent countless hours calling the best caterers and bakers in town, and spent all his down time consulting with party planners to make sure this soiree would go off without a hitch. He was even able to score the perfect dress for you from the fancy boutique down the street-the very same dress you had been casting wistful (yet furtive) glances at for quite some time. The moment the ornate frock had gone on sale he could barely conceal his excitement and ended up purchasing it right away. He was sure you would be thrilled to receive the gown as a gift, and also be touched by his intuitive nature, his knack for picking up on the things you desired.

It was just your style, and he knew as soon as you donned it you would look nothing short of gorgeous. Envisioning you in it made his heart flutter, the smile that would engulf your face as you twirl around in it, giggling in sheer delight as the fabric swirls prettily around you, was sure to be a sight for sore eyes. It was hard waiting to see the dream become a reality.

When he finally got the chance to slip it on your body, he needed a moment to compose himself before he proceeded with the rest of the party setup. He had been correct in his assumption-you looked breathtaking, exactly like a princess in your new frilly, satin, dress. He wished he could have arranged to also have someone do your hair and makeup to really complete the look, but it was too risky to chance it. As much as he would have loved for you to wake up to a complete makeover, he couldn’t trust anyone to not be suspicious of the arrangement he had currently setup for you, and he dared not muck you up with his own mediocre skills.

But at the same time it didn’t really matter that he couldn’t have a cosmetologist stop by, you always looked perfect and ethereal, dolled up or otherwise.

Everything was splayed out before you, not a single item out of place. The table was neatly set with his finest dishes and cutlery, set at the ready to be topped with the feast that he was preparing for you. Vibrant bouquets comprised of only the fullest and brightest blooms of your favorite flowers sat on each end of the table, and fragrant candles cast flickering light over the scene, exuding a very romantic aura. Dinner (one of your favorite meals) was nearly done cooking in the kitchen, and its scent had begun to enticingly fill the room. He could practically hear your stomach rumble in anticipation.

The centerpiece of it all was an elaborate cake, decadent and rich, your name and a sweet birthday message sprawled on its surface in a pretty, curving script. It was far too large for just two people to consume, but that just meant there would be more to look forward to in the future. Maybe you would want to freeze some of it to share with him again on your next birthday, like some couples do with their wedding cake. The correlation made him blush as he fixated on it, giddy as he fantasized about all that lay ahead for the two of you.

With everything assembled, all he had to do was wait. He parked himself opposite you at the table, dressed to the nines to try and match you. As impressive as his finely tailored suit was, he didn’t hold a candle to your radiance. He sighed dreamily as he took you in, his eyes roving over your peaceful face while slumber still claimed you. You had a habit of incessantly frowning or shooting him questionable glances while you were awake. Whenever you noticed that his attention was turned your way, a grimace inevitably followed. This moment of peace where he could drink you in without any backlash was bliss, and as much as he was excited for you to wake up, he couldn’t help but relish this serene alone time he was sharing with you.

No kicking and screaming, no crying, no unnecessarily hurtful words flung his way when all he’s trying to do is show you love. Right now there was just you, him, and this lovingly crafted display of his affection that he prepared just for you, the love of his life. A small mountain of presents towered behind him, waiting patiently to be picked open by your delicate fingers. Most of them were little things he had picked up for you here and there that he thought you would like, trinkets and baubles he felt exuded a very ‘you’ aura and thus needed to be brought home to you. He used to try and give them to you the moment he purchased them, but you would always turn them away, telling him that he was spending way too much money on you. Silly girl, no amount of currency could ever be a waste on you.

The gift pile was a veritable array of goodies sure to delight you, teeming with big things, small things, and one very important thing that had been weighing heavily in his pocket for the past week. He had always planned on presenting it to you on your birthday (there was no greater gift than a perfectly cut rock signifying your eternal union, after all), but carried it around with him as a good luck charm of sorts, keeping it near till the moment he could give it to you. He kept it in his breast pocket as close to his heart as he could, childishly hoping that the placement would infuse it with the immense love he felt for you, each heart beat coursing through it making it shine more dazzlingly.

Though he enjoyed carrying it around with him, the time was soon approaching for it to go to its intended home, sitting prettily on your ring finger. Musing on it made him glance down at your hands as they rested daintily on the chairs arm rest. He tried not to focus on the straps he had placed around your arms, holding you in place to prevent you from bolting the moment you woke up. You were such a jumpy, shy thing, inclined to run and hide the moment you spotted him. He knew this setting would be overwhelming for you, that you would not take all the extra attention so easily, hence why the sedation and extra restraints were needed. As much as he wanted to do a more natural approach, there was just no way to keep hold of you otherwise. It was a necessary measure, but it was one he hated nonetheless.   

Knowing you would be upset when you awoke filled him with dismay, but ultimately the drugs and confines were all just a means to an ends. After the initial shock wore off, you were certain to be pleased by all his effort.

Hesitantly, he reached out to grasp your hands, holding them gently in his own. His thumb slowly grazed your knuckles, tracing small circles over your soft skin. Were they not strapped down, he would have chanced giving your hand a kiss, his lips yearning to make contact with you in any way they could. It truly was a shame that you were so adverse to touch, for he constantly longed to handle you tenderly, treating you so lovingly you would become putty in his hands, melt at his ministrations. He could clearly picture the expressions you would make while he busied himself, running his fingers gingerly across your flesh, memorizing every inch of you in faithful reverence, kisses following where his fingers once tread.

It was his most avid desire, but he had yet to act on the fantasy. His dream would come true someday, but first you had to get used to him. Ease into your new life.

It was a torturous process, waiting for you to warm up, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. Besides, with how bashful you were he figured he would be your first time for so many things, and that was exhilarating in its own right.

Suddenly, you stirred. Polnareff perked up, his eyes darting to your face as he watched your own slowly blink open. You scrunched your face in discomfort, groaning as your head gradually rose from its lulled posture. The after effects of the heavy drugs made your movements sluggish and groggy, another small groan slipping past your lips as you rotated your shoulders in an attempt to stretch.

Your gaze eventually landed on Polnareff, his face lighting up when you didn’t immediately look away. Still heavily sedated, confusion dominated your features. At this point, you were unsure where you were, what was going on, and probably perplexed by Polnareff’s presence, maybe even so bewildered you didn’t yet fully remember who Polnareff was. A warm smile graced his lips as he watched you come to, your befuddled state too cute to resist.

“Ma chérie,” Polnareff purred, his voice drawing you further from your hazy state, “I’m glad you are finally awake. It wouldn’t do to have you sleep through your whole party now, would it?”

Disorientation was giving way to realization, a look of fear and agitation morphing your lax expression into a sharp scowl. You began to pull against your bindings, your tugs becoming sharper the moment   you felt resistance, alarm mounting when you realized how trapped you truly were. Your eyes locked onto Polnareff’s, the haze that had clouded them gone, replaced with resentful animosity. It was painful being at the end of your enmity, but he reminded himself it was to be expected. You would be filled with contentment very soon, he just had to get you there.

“Jean what the hell,” Your words came out listless and slurred. As the final dregs of the drugs wore off, you struggled to get your baring’s. “Where am I? What is all this? Did you… did you fucking drug me?”

 Panic was starting to course through you, wide blown eyes filling with tears that you tried desperately to blink back. Your breathing grew labored as you started to thrash, trying your hardest to free yourself from the man who had imprisoned you, despite your compromised state.

Concerned you would hurt yourself, Polnareff gripped your hands tightly to try and sooth you, but it only caused your struggling to grow in intensity. Noting this, he quickly relinquished his hold, instead opting to cup your cheeks in a manner he hoped you would find more reassuring. Your skin was moist from your freshly fallen tears, his thumb easily sliding across its delicate surface, trying to wipe them away as best he could. You attempted to recoil from his touch, but the restraints and his firm hold kept you in place.

“Please amoureuse calm down,” he shushed you, worry reflected in his eyes, “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep pulling like that-“

“Fuck off,” you seethed between clenched teeth, “Let me go NOW Polnareff, or I swear I’ll-“

He clamped a hand over your mouth, halting any further commentary. A deep frown etched itself into his face as he stared you down, patience waning at the immediate vehemence you directed his way. Today was not supposed to go this way, he expected some backlash sure, but you weren’t supposed to recover from the medicine he had given you so rapidly. It was supposed to take time, fester a bit so that you would slowly come around, giving him plenty of time to explain things to you and have you get used to the arrangement naturally.

All the extra precautions were to help you see this for what it was, a true celebration to exhibit his unwavering dedication to you, and not whatever horrific falsity you had concocted in your anxiety addled brain. He cursed himself for not giving you the larger dose as he originally intended, he was just so concerned you may sleep too deeply and miss out on your special day altogether.

“You need to be quiet now, (Name),” His voice was low, a serious edge to it that froze your thrashing, granting him your full regard, “I know you are upset and confused, it’s only natural with how you woke up, and I don’t blame you for it. But there is no need for your ire ma cherie, look around you,” he released his hold, sweeping his hand across the room to show off his handiwork, “This is all for you bella. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for you because you deserve nothing less. Each decoration, accessory, snack, present-they were all assembled lovingly with you in mind. I’ve been preparing this for months, so please don’t be-“

“I don’t want any of this,” you once more cut him off, your voice choppy as you forced it out through shaky sobs, “I never wanted any of this. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t feel for you this way Polnareff? What you are doing is wrong, this entire ‘party’ is wrong! Please, if you really care about me at all just let me go and-“

Swiftly, he slammed his hand down on the table before you, rattling the dishes so violently it was surprising that none of them broke. Startled by the sudden upset, you lurched in your restraints, instantly shutting up out of fear. Your body quivered in distress, worried that if you said another word it would only further enrage him, and the assault next go around may not stop at just a whacked table.

“Stop it,” He annunciated each word, his eyes holding a sharpness that sent chills down your spine, “You don’t know what you are saying mon cœur, you are just blindly judging things before you even try them.” He took a shaky breath before continuing, “I have been patient, I have been kind, I have given you nothing but love, yet you constantly keep me at arm’s length, turning away from me in disgust even though I worship the ground you walk on. Please for one minute stop being so damn ungrateful and just be satisfied with all the hard work I have put in to meeting your lofty, unreasonable standards, or else you may actually have something to cry about.”

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as your panic-stricken eyes drank him in. Your bottom lip quivered, sniffles punctuating your breathing, but you didn’t speak another word. He felt momentarily guilty for going off on you (on your birthday, no less), but seeing the success his rare instance of harshness awarded him quickly overshadowed any negativity he felt, instead washing him in a feeling of victory.

Now that he got his point across, hopefully you could proceed as planned and things would be smooth sailing from here on out.

In the other room the oven started to noisily beep, signaling that dinner was ready to be served. He rose to his feet, hovering over you before making his way towards the kitchen.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he forced a smile, doing his best to hide the hurt your brusque behavior had inflicted upon him. He squared his shoulders, composing himself before continuing. “Here is how the night will progress, amour. I will prepare our meals and then we will enjoy them peacefully in each other’s company. Once we are done, we can dig into this cake I ordered especially for you from the gourmet bakery down the street, the one that’s so popular it has a wait list.”

He sighed dejectedly, hanging his head in defeat before continuing, “You may not care, but I think it’s important that you take into consideration just how much of myself I poured into this celebration before you make another snide, thoughtless remark.”

His eyes flicked down to the cake, a brief look of sadness wavering within them before he directed his attention back your way. “It’s lovely though, isn’t it? I am sure it will taste just as good. Don’t worry, if you haven’t calmed yourself in time to be let loose I will gladly feed you chérie. Even when you are being particularly… bratty, I would not want you to miss out on such a delicacy. Then, once our bellies are full you can start unwrapping this mound of presents behind me, and we will just pray that it doesn’t take us through the entire night.”

He chuckled, his demeanor beginning to soften as he spoke, appreciative of the obedience you were displaying and the lack of unwarranted commentary as he got through the itinerary for the night. “Finally, we will end the party with a gift that has been a long time coming, one that is a truly significant mark of our eternal bond. I know you will love it ma chérie, just as much as I will.��

He saw a shiver course through you at his words, a small, sad whimper tumbling from your lips as your shoulders sagged. The gravity of his allusion bore down on your small frame, shrinking you down in a poor attempt at hiding from your inescapable fate. He tutted when he saw your attitude shift, his hand again finding your cheek to give it a gentle stroke. This time, you didn’t flinch away. 

“I know this is a lot to take in ma beauté and I am sorry it frightened you at first,” he leaned down, planting a lingering kiss to your forehead before proceeding, “But you will come around very soon, I know you will. You are my sweet girl, and after you experience what a great time we are about to have you will be so overcome with joy that you will barely be able to stand it. In fact, you may already feel a little silly for giving me such a hard time, am I right?”

Suddenly, his expression turned bashful. A rosy hue illuminated his cheeks as he started to fidget uncomfortably, a slightly embarrassed looking smile gracing his lips. Your body turned cold as his hand slid from your cheek to your shoulder, idly toying with the thin strap of your dress. His roving eyes fell to your chest, a hungry look flashing through them before they found their way back to your gaze.

“And then, after you have finished going through all your gifts, to thank me for what a gracious lover I have been maybe… maybe I can unwrap something too?”

You shudder at his insinuation, a look of pure dread donning your features.

“Polnareff,” you choked out, strained words struggling to form one final, soft plea, “please.”

Before you could utter another word, his mouth aggressively claimed your own. He pressed hard against you, as if to engrain the scorching feeling of his lips on to your flesh. You whined, squirming against him until he pulled away, staring at you with longing, love struck eyes.

“Happy birthday, ma chérie. Let’s make this one to remember.”

[mercurytrinemoon]

Astro observations: celebrity edition part 2 aka latest news roundup

⭐️ Dua Lipa announced on her instagram that she's actually a Gemini rising as opposed to Libra. Now my Gemini detector told me that ages ago but I accepted the Libra rising just because it's my default token "plain good looking and polite" sign BUT it actually now makes much more sense in terms of house placements. Her Venus is now cazimi in the 3rd house - house associated with creative writing and thinking. The ever-changing and fast-moving Mercury is now in her 4th house of family and home situation and she's actually been always moving a lot between England and Albania. That healthy domicile Mercury as well as the Sun-Venus conjunction in the 3rd shows her close connection to family overall.

Funnily enough, her discovery took place during Mercury station in her 4th house. Talk about finding out your true roots (astrological, in that instance).

⭐️ We also now have the birth time of Elon Musk, who turns out to be a Cancer rising. Jupiter in his 5th house of children now makes perfect sense with his 11 kids (and probably counting).

⭐️ If you're wondering why Ariana Grande is the way she is, look no further than Moon conjunct Jupiter - aka her 7th house ruler multiply; as well as both being square to the Sun. Usually Sun square Jupiter can point to legal issues and excess while Sun square Moon often points to broken families. Now add that together and you have… a homewrecker, yaaay!

⭐️ I was thinking a lot about Blink 182 and Tom Delonge (his chart resembles mine a bit) due to him rejoining the band last year and now releasing a new Blink album. Natally, he has a retrograde Gemini Mars so I looked at his progressed chart to see the stationary period. Turns out his progressed Mars stationed direct early 2014, followed by progressed Sun entering Aquarius. Early following year the band announced that he left permanently. One of the things he focused on was research on the UFOs and work with the government. Of course, keep in mind progressed Mars stations for quite a while and his issues with the band lasted throughout the whole 2014 so it makes sense that the final split occured a year later. And why Mars? Well it can literally speak about our focus in life and our direction - where we put our energy. Not to mention Mars rules his MC so it brought him a massive turn in his career. So makes sense.

⭐️ Britney Spears just released a memoir book. Putting aside the questionable fact on who really wrote it, it stirred up a lot of drama. Her chart is one big mine but today I'm only focusing on current transits: she just had an eclipse in her first house of Libra. That eclipse landed right on her Pluto, which natally squares Venus (talking about toxic relationships and exposing them). Pluto itself is making last hits to those degrees as well as it's stationing direct in the late Capricorn. Interestingly I think Jupiter being in her 8th house can point to this as well - it lights up all the secrets and talks about working on past traumas. Now, you're also probably thinking, why was she involved with so many iffy people in her life? A lot of things in her chart point to that but what always struck me was her 7th house ruler - a malefic Mars - being in her 12th house of enemies. And it squares Neptune so they're also liars and exploiters.

⭐️ There's been A TON of celebrity breakups during this Venus retrograde season but I'm gonna quickly focus on Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner because their charts are an interesting example. Their synastry is mostly having planets in sister signs but this also means that if one of them gets hit with a transit, so is the other. Involve Saturn in that transit and you get trouble. Saturn is currently in early Pisces, where Sophie has some of her planets in the 12th house (loss, enemies). Her Mars (disputes, cutting) is at 4° of Pisces while Joe's Mars is at 7° Virgo - right opposite that. Saturn transit stirred up some proper drama: and Saturn is also coldness, being restrained and cut off. On top of that they also have their rising signs in the opposite signs of Aries and Libra and we just started having eclipses in those signs earlier this year.

Not to mention Joe's Leo Sun got hit by Venus retrograde and a Uranus square. Among other stuff.

FUN FACT: according to my research they met for the first time in October of 2016 when Jupiter was in Libra. So, interestingly, not only they had Jupiter going through their angles but Jupiter in their Davidson chart is in Libra.

⭐️ Taylor Swift is currently going through her 10th house profection year (Leo). It would make sense then that her career would take a turn this year considering that Venus was retrograding in Leo. Of course as it turned out she had a massive succes with her ongoing world tour, which is said to become the highest grossing tour of all time.

⭐️ A Vogue article popped up about Rita Ora's and Taika Waititi's wedding that took place a year earlier (they kept all the info and date private until now). Jupiter played a huge role in them getting married (as it often does, especially for a couple like them, who have it strong in their charts, which I wrote about HERE). At the time of their wedding Jupiter was at 8° Aries, which for Rita is that sweet spot between her Sagittarius Sun and Venus (4° and 10° respectively) and Leo Jupiter (13°) - as it completed a grand trine in her chart. Transiting Sun was also 12° of Leo, highlighting that trine even more.

Man I love astrology.

For Taika it was pretty prominent as well although his Jupiter aspects were more sign-based. He had a Jupiter return; his Moon is somewhere in the middle of Sagittarius so he received these fire trines as well. Interestingly, at the time of the wedding Saturn was at 22° Aquarius - exactly opposite his Leo Sun but also sextile his natal Jupiter. So for him it had a bit of a Saturnian flavour that called for stability and maturity.

⭐️ Similarly, I just read the other day that Frances Bean Cobain got married earlier this month. She has a Venus-Jupiter conjunction on top of her Virgo ascendant (interestingly Kurt had the trine between Venus and Jupiter - so seems like a family pattern). Also interestingly, transiting Jupiter is currently trining both her Venus and Jupiter (on the day of the wedding it was trining Venus exact), thereby her natal pattern got repeated. Jupiter is also her 7th house ruler.

Her now husband, Riley Hawk is having a nice transit of that Jupiter over his Taurus Moon - and remember, Moon rules the women in your family as well as your wife.

[sirshio]

Yaaay, I wrote my very first fic about Dakavendish! I mean, wrote the whole thing (because I'm in the process of writing two more fics).

I hope you don't mind reading with Google translator, because it's written not in English. Also I know there are some Russian-speaking MML fans, and I hope they'll notice my fic too.

(Русскоязычные фанаты ЗММ, я знаю, что вы здесь! ✨️)

This is a pretty small (ca. 1600 words) ficlet with a flashback of Cavendish's youth, and I so hope you all like it!

I'm so excited! ♡

P.S. I'm synesthetic, so I just couldn't help but gave this ability to Cavendish (since he's my huge kin).

[eddiegettingshot]

hiiii so. i wrote the accidental phone sex fic lol (https://archiveofourown.org/works/57014005 - my ao3 user is loveisawildthing). it's a bit different but still the same premise!

GASP!!!!! i literally gasped!!!! IT’S SO PERFECT YAAAY FOR ACCIDENTAL PHONE SEX ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️