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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

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home is where the heart is

PAIRING: soft!Tangerine x fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

SUMMARY: you and Tan have a free day, deciding that you want to spend the cold day together at home doing cozy and domestic activities.

TAGS/WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff, pet names, swearing, established relationship, just cute domestic stuff. no mentions of ‘y/n’

A/N: unfortunately there’s no smut in this one, booo- I know I know. but I am planning another story that’s got lots of angst and a tonnes of dirty smut. I wanted to create a quick little cute story, that can be for everyone. it felt really weird to write something that had no smut, and just all fluff- so that was a challenge, plus ive been in a bit of a writing slump since my last post got deleted (yes im still pissed about it lmao) I was in a rush to post this, bc during xmas time I didn’t have much time to write this plus it’s 2023 (wtf?) also hope you enjoyed the holidays & happy new year💌 feedback is always appreciated. hope you like:)

masterlist + rules

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Frosty mornings like these were your favourite, waking up in his warm arms; the comfort and safety it brought you was something that could never quite be topped. Most mornings he’d ‘accidentally’ awaken you by playing with your hair, stroking your shoulders or tracing over your features. Today was no different.

Sometimes he’d wake up an hour before you, and he would become so impatient that he’d have to physically stop himself from opening your eyes.

Today he opted for a different route, growing restless; waking you up by planting kisses all over your face.

“Finally” he rasps as he sees your eyes slowly open “mornin'”

“Good morning” you sluggishly reply, still half asleep.

Noticing the sleep dust in your eyes, he swipes his thumbs in the corners of your eyes, softly removing the sleep crusties. “You look so pretty in the morning”

Shying your face away into the pillow “shut up” you muffle into the fabric before loudly groaning while you stretched in a starfish.

“Come back” readjusting you, so that your head rested on his chest- embracing you tight to him.

You adored the quality time you two shared, you could sit in comfortable silence for hours- just quietly enjoying each other's presence.

“What you fancy doin' today?” He asks, interrupting the ten-minute-long silent cuddle. Taking your hand, placing his against yours above the covers.

“We got the whole day together right? I kinda wanna have a chill quiet day in”

“Good, me too”

“Okay good good- alright let me go now, I’m gonna piss myself” you say, trying to push yourself away.

“No, five more minutes” he whines, pulling you back in.

“I am ten seconds away from wetting the bed”

“Just do it in my mouth” he jests.

His response caught you off guard making you guffaw, followed by a loud gasp.

“Don’t- that’s not funny” now ripping yourself from his embrace, speed walking into the bathroom.

“Babe? I’ll go feed the cat, I’ll be downstairs.” Tangerine shouts from the other side of the door.

Last year you and Tan rescued a ginger cat from a shelter; he was very reluctant on getting a cat- in fact, he hated the idea, instantly shutting it down. You begged him for months and months until one day when he finally caved.

You thought that the cat would be your own pet, considering how much Tangerine was against it- but that was not the case; he and the cat were practically inseparable. He even chose her name before you could get a chance- naming her Mandarine (Mandy for short)

You were feeling a bit sweaty and grimy from last night’s dirty escapades, deciding to quickly hop in the shower.

Drying off and putting on some comfy loungewear, before briskly walking down the grand staircase.

“Something burning?” you shout out, once making your way to the bottom of the stairs.

Walking into the kitchen, stopping in your tracks looking around the room as if a bomb had just gone off in there.

“I know I know, it’s a shithole” he admits, resting against the worktop looking defeated. “I tried making you breakfast”

“You did? That’s so sweet”

“When I say breakfast I mean a pile of shite, you might get ill if you eat it” he says looking almost embarrassed, sliding the plate behind him- hiding it from you.

“I want to eat what you made” you sweetly coo, trying to make him feel a bit better. “You took time and effort, so I’d like to try it”

Reluctantly he pulls out the plate, sliding it along the counter towards you, looking away.

You tried so so hard to show a poker face because you knew that it would crush him if you turned your nose up at it. It looked revolting- just straight-up foul, but he could never know that.

Taking a fork from the draw, and walking yourself over to the island chair to take a seat. You were trying to decide what would be the least disgusting thing to eat. The almost raw scrambled eggs? The charcoal-coloured toast? Or was it the burnt baked beans?

Begrudgingly you slide your fork into the beans, scooping a mouthful and taking a bite. In your mind this was you showing him how much you loved him.

“No stop, I can’t let you eat that. I don’t want you to get sick.” He announces abruptly, pulling the plate away from you.

“It’s okay, I wanna eat what you made” sneaking your fork onto the plate again, taking another bite of the beans- once again proving some kind of bizarre loyalty.

“What you doing you knob?! Don’t eat it. I will go and get something from the shop” he blurts “anyway I used up everything in the fridge making this shit.”

“Thank you for making it, I really do appreciate it” you reassure him. “You go to the shop, and I’ll clean up this pigsty, okay?”

He jogs upstairs to change. You look around the room trying to decide where to start.

Clattering comes rushing down the stairs “alright my love, I’m off.”

Walking up to you, kissing you on the forehead “I love you, be right back”

Smiling back at him, “I love you, be safe” waving him off.

With the door closing you spin on your heel in an attempt to clean.

Putting on some music to help get you in an energised mood.

You couldn’t help but feel something was off with Tangerine, usually, he’s a pretty good cook- quite organised too. But with the state left in the kitchen, you wondered if something was on his mind.

Being so occupied with the music and cleaning you had no idea that Tan had been watching you for the last couple of minutes- too busy dancing and singing along to your favourite songs.

A couple light taps on your shoulder snap you out of your trance, instantly frightening you. “AH-ohmygod don’t do that” you shriek, turning the music right down- almost muted.

Chuckling to himself “sorry sorry” pulling his hands from behind his back, handing you the most beautiful bouquet of flowers “sorry I took so long, I stopped by the florists”

“These are stunning! Thank you” you respond full of joy.

“Always welcome. I’ll put these in a vase for you. Put your feet up… and thank you for cleaning my mess”

“Of course! And no it’s okay, I’ll put the shopping away”

“Wait, before you do that, get my phone… in my pocket” noticing you look around in a confused way. “My hands are wet, my phone in my pocket.. my joggers- the ones I’m wearing.” He knew that sometimes you could be a bit slow, so he made sure to never lose his temper with you.

“Oooh” cackling to yourself. Reaching your hands into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“Okay good, unlock it… now go on photos”

Looking up at him slightly befuddled “are you sure? It’s your phone, I don’t wanna snoop”

“Yes- do it” looking down at you to see your reaction. “I know you love the sky… the sunrise looked beautiful this morning and thought you’d like a picture of it” focusing on you, trying to figure out what you were thinking.

“Why are you so thoughtful? I’m gonna send these to myself. It’s so pretty, thank you handsome” giving him a quick couple of pecks on the lips.

“Oooo wait- what’s this?” Finding a picture of him on a mission, showing him the selfie on his phone- mouth agape “looking good my friend, Jesus Christ you’re so pretty… I’m sending this to myself too”

Both beaming at each other. “These look good, right?” He asks, placing the vase on the accent table in the hallway, and adjusting them a couple times.

“They’re beautiful” smiling at him, from behind the fridge door. “Babe? Why so many eggs?” You ask.

“You talk about how much you want to bake again, I thought we could do that today” strolling over to you, standing behind you, and wrapping his arms around your waist. Resting your head back on his chest. “You are too cute sometimes, ya know that?”

Kissing you on the cheek, walking away to put the kettle on “fancy a cuppa?”

“Ooh yes please” you reply, closing the fridge and putting away the bags.

“Is that-?” Tan asks himself, walking over to your phone “it is” turning it up a bit. “It’s our song” it was live forever by Oasis.

Taking your hand, slowly swaying with you around the kitchen. You pick up Mandy, noticing that she wants if be included, holding her between you both as you step around the table. Smiling at each other, like a cute little family.

Once the song finishes you place the cat down on her favourite spot on the windowsill. Making your teas, taking a few sips.

“What do you wanna make?” You ask while looking through the cupboards.

“I’m partial to those blueberry muffins you make” he instantly responds, almost as if they were already on his mind.

“Ooh they do sound good right now actually”

Working together as a team, doing things as though your minds are connected- as if you both know what the other needs before they even know it.

Once everything had been washed up, you both waited impatiently for the timer to go off. You were sat on the counter and Tan was standing between your legs with his back to you, hugging around him, resting your face against his muscular back.

“Oh hurry up you stupid oven” you say out loud to yourself.

You could feel your face bob up a couple times from the vibrations of his chuckle

*ding*

Tan opens the door, pulling out the tray of muffins with the tea cloth, placing them on a heat pad. You rush over snatching one, raising it to take a bite. He cups his hand under your mouth because he knew what was about to happen next.

“Ashahsahash” you muffle, steam exiting your mouth, letting the piece of muffin fall into his hand.

“Hot?” He jokes, smirking at you.

“Yup”

Instead of throwing your bite away or putting it aside, he eats it straight from his hand. You hated to admit it, but that was so hot. Your eyes widened, looking away smirking.

“Go put sommat on the telly, I’ll be in there in a min- before you go, take in the drinks would ya?” he sweetly instructs.

You set the sofa with a few fluffy blankets, closing the curtains. Lighting some candles before flopping onto the sofa.

He follows not long after with a tray of goodies. The muffins, a bowl of pretzels and couple bags of chocolate. A few small oranges on the board to add some balance. He even decorated the tray with a flower in an empty beer bottle.

Setting it down on the coffee table. Plopping himself down next to you- adjusting the pair of you so that he was sitting in the corner of the sofa, allowing you to lounge into him.

Covering yourselves with the blankets. “What do you fancy watching?” He questions while picking up the controller.

In sync, you both suggest “Gavin and Stacey?” Which was followed by a laugh from you both.

With his arm draped over your shoulder, he lifted your jaw up so that he could give you a couple sweet deep kisses. Snuggling into him as the tv plays, Mandy joins- laying soundly on Tan’s lap.

After a few hours had passed, you wanted to get up to have a quick stretch and pee break. By this point, you were half laid on his chest and half falling down the back of the sofa. “Okay I gotta get up, my back is killing” you announce.

“Me too, I’ve been needing a piss the whole episode.”

“Quick break and rejoin in five?” You ask.

“Naa make it ten, I need a cig”

“Sorry, Mandy baby, mummy’s gotta get up” you softly say to the orange ball of fluff sleeping on the dip in your waist.

“Awh she’s so mean Mands, aww you poor thing, come to daddy” he jokes while picking her up, smirking at you because he loves winding you up.

“Evil” you respond to him shortly.

After your short break, gathering back together on the couch. This time his head rested on your shoulder as he cuddled into you, running your fingers through the length of his hair. Laying together in peaceful silence.

His phone rang obnoxiously, interrupting the quiet. “Hello? What?!” He snaps to the person on the receiver. Tan’s tone was always different around other people, he spoke to you in a gentle, caring, and loving way- he wouldn’t dare speak to you the way he does to others.

“Alright keep your fucking knickers on” he groans into the phone. “I’ll be right back love” he whispers to you, kissing your forehead before leaving the room.

Even though the door was closed you could still hear what he was saying, it muffled throughout the walls, but you didn’t want to eavesdrop.

“No! I ain’t fucking doing it. Find someone else”

Your eyebrows screwed together in confusion. “What was he on about?” you thought to yourself.

He re-enters the room, and you pretend that you weren’t listening to his call.

Slumping down next to you, looking irritated.

Turning round to look at him, you were concerned “you doing okay?” You question.

“Yeah. What you wanna watch now?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Hey? You can talk to me.”

“I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You could never” you reassure.

Huffing out a long breath before professing what was on his mind. “This Russian nut job wants me and Lem to collect his son and some ransom money in Tokyo. He’s been hounding us for days. I don’t want to do it- he knows about the Bolivia job and personally wants to hire us. But that man- he’s fucked in the head. I don’t want to get caught up in that shit.”

“Would it be selfish for me to say that I’m glad you don’t want to take it?” you admit. “I just want you safe. Why don’t you invite Lem over? You can talk it over in your office, I can make us all some dinner and maybe we can play some card games by the fireplace or watch some tv? He can stay over and hopefully it will help get your mind off it all?”

“Okay… we’ll try that. I’ll ring him now” holding your face, bringing it close to his- giving you a couple long kisses before leaving the room- going upstairs.

You hurry to the kitchen, looking through the fridge to see what to make for this impromptu dinner evening. Deciding on creamy chicken pasta with steamed veg.

Tangerine joins you a few minutes later, helping you cook the food. “He won’t be long, he’s already in the area”

“Good good, is his stuff up in his room? Or in the laundry?” You ask, wanting to make sure Lemon feels welcome when he arrives. A couple years ago you both turned a spare room into his room so that whenever he visits (more often than not) he’d feel comfortable and at home.

“His room” he replies like he’s trying to remember.

A couple echoing knocks come from the wooden door, and Tan rushes to it- unlocking it. A booming voice follows with footsteps towards the kitchen.

“Lem! Hi, welcome welcome. Hope you’re hungry” you gush, walking around the island to give him a hug.

“It smells fucking banging in here” he compliments.

“Thank you. Your stuff is upstairs on your bed, it should be clean and folded”

“Ah you are a gem”

“Dinner is almost done, babe you do drinks, Lem you do cutlery and I’ll serve” you instruct.

“You’re the boss” Tangerine says, saluting you.

Walking to into the living room, handing them their bowls, before taking a seat on the sofa between the brothers.

“What we watching?” Lemon asks before taking a bite. “Woah that’s fucking good,” he says with a mouthful.

“Thank you”

“Before you ask Lem, we ain’t watching fucking Thomas” Tangerine pipes up.

“What about Gavin and Stacey?” Lem questions.

Your neck whips round to face Tan, both bursting into laughter.

“What? Did I spit on you or something?” He asks sounding a bit embarrassed.

“No no! Just we’ve been watching that all day” you comfort.

“Yeah, I can watch it again” Tangerine chirps in.

For the rest of the night, the three of you plus Mandy lounged around. Watching tv and playing board games until it was time to sleep.

All of you getting ready for the night, saying goodnight to Lemon before heading to bed.

Snuggling into Tan under the duvet, using him as a hot water bottle.

“Thank you for taking my mind off everything today my sweet” he softly hushes.

“Anytime my love” you soothe.

“I’m fucking knackered. Goodnight Clementine, I love you” he whispers, turning around to tightly spoon you.

#bullet train #bullet train fanfic #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #aaron taylor johnson #atj

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cyberp-1-nk · 7 months

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REVIVAL. [P.1]

MASTERLIST / REQUESTS.

SYNOPSIS: Death was usually permanent. That was until Gojo met you.

PAIRINGS: Gojo x Witch! Reader

GENRE + WARNINGS: MAJOR spoilers for chapter 237, slight angst, death, this small series will eventually contain smut. It's mostly fluff rn.

A/N: This was most definitely created to cope with what happened recently. I hope the fluff helps everyone else. Might do this same concept with Geto or Nanami. Ignore any errors, isn't really proofread.

WORD COUNT: 6,576

The moon hung low, casting a soft glow over the desolate battlefield. The air was thick with the scent of iron; a grim reminder of the struggle that had happened. In the center of it all lay a body, cold and unmoving. It was a far cry from the vibrant and cocky jujutsu sorcerer the world knew. Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the man who was said to be invincible, lay motionless, the light in his usually vibrant eyes dimmed. The King of Curses had claimed his victory. The world had lost its beacon of hope.

Death has always been an immutable rule. In both the jujutsu world and the ordinary world, there is no coming back from its clutches. It is an absolute, a boundary that cannot be crossed. Countless sorcerers and ordinary people alike have tried, seeking to cheat death, but all have met the same inevitable fate. Gojo, with all his immense power and unparalleled skills, was no exception. His demise serves as a stark reminder that even the mightiest warriors are not exempt from this rule. There are no loopholes, no secret techniques, no hidden paths back to the realm of the living.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, the soft patter of feet following close behind. Cloaked in an unassuming garment, you stepped into the dim light, a sea of felines tailing after you, their eyes glowing like tiny lanterns in the darkness. The cat at Gojo's side looked at you, its gaze questioning.

You knelt next to Gojo's body, your cloak pooling around you like a puddle of ink. Your eyes, soft and understanding, studied him. He seemed so peaceful, so unlike the boisterous, charismatic man he had been in life. It felt wrong, seeing him this way. As your hand reached out, your thumb traced the contours of his cold, lifeless face, a frown etched deep into your features. You realized, with a jolt, that even someone as powerful as Gojo could fall.

Suddenly, a chorus of meows echoed through the area, pulling you from your thoughts. A small ginger cat had decided to climb onto Gojo's chest, its curious eyes staring into his blank ones. You shook your head, a small chuckle escaping your lips. "Oi, get off him, you little furball. He's not a bed," you said, gently lifting the cat and setting it on the ground. The cats around you mewled in protest, their tails flicking in annoyance.

You turned your attention back to Gojo. "Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, huh?" you murmured. Despite the gravity of the situation, you couldn't help but find humor in it. After all, it wasn't every day that the strongest jujutsu sorcerer turned up dead in an alleyway. "You always were one for dramatics."

A gray tabby cat, braver than the rest, inched closer to the body, sniffing curiously. With a guffaw, you shooed it away with a swift, playful motion of your hand. "No, Whiskers, you can't claim this one. I have other plans."

Your cats, a motley crew of felines that followed you around like your personal army, sniffed around Gojo's cut-in-half body, their whiskers twitching as they picked up on the scent of blood. One of them, a particularly feisty tabby, pawed at Gojo's white hair as if trying to wake him up. "Enough, Haku," you chided, shooing the cat away from the body. The other cats watched with wide eyes, their tails flicking in annoyance. "Respect the dead, why don't you?"

Reaching out, you hesitated for a moment before placing your hand on his chest. It was cold, almost as cold as the night air around you. You could feel the last remnants of his cursed energy, like a barely discernible ripple in a calm pond. "You were supposed to be invincible, you know?" you murmured, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. His eyes, once full of life and mischief, were now closed, his lashes casting long shadows on his cheeks. Even in death, he was undeniably beautiful.

There was a soft rustling, and you looked up to see one of your cats, a fluffy white Persian, looking up at you with curious eyes. "Yes, Momo, we're doing this. No, you can't help. Last time you tried, you nearly killed the poor guy." Momo huffed, turning away in what you assumed was feline indignation. Turning your attention back to Gojo, you took a deep breath, summoning your energy. Your cats, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, huddled together, their eyes wide and ears perked.

You placed your hand over his heart, your fingers glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Death was a rule, an unbreakable, unchangeable law. But tonight, under the watchful gaze of the moon and a crowd of feline spectators, you were going to bend that rule. There was a silent promise in your actions, the unspoken words echoing in the cold, quiet night. You would bring Gojo back, no matter what it took. The smile never left your face, even though the task was daunting. You were breaking the unspoken rule, but then again, who said you ever played by the rules?

With a sigh, you stood, brushing off your cloak. "Well, let's get this show on the road. Can't have you lying around here all night. You'll scare the cats," you said, your voice light and teasing, your eyes twinkling with a mischievous spark. Despite the grim circumstances, you had a job to do, and you were going to do it with a smile on your face. After all, you were the exception to the rule. You, who the jujutsu world didn't know. You, who straddled the line between life and death. You, who were about to bring Gojo Satoru back from the dead.

After all, death was a concept too boring for you.

The early morning light peeked through the gaps in the heavy linen curtains, casting long, slender rays of light across the room that danced against the rustic wooden floorboards. Gojo, the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer, found himself in an extraordinary situation. His azure eyes blinked open, his vision a blur at first, like a camera lens struggling to find its focus. He was sprawled on a bed that had a quilt of rich and earthy tones, with an odd sense of comfort that was too foreign to him. The last thing he remembered was feeling Sukuna's ruthless onslaught, the agony of his body being torn apart. Now, his body was intact, if a bit sore. He could feel the tight pull of bandages around his torso, the rough texture of the gauze against his skin. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the distinct fragrance of pine and something warmer, softer, and fuzzier…

Cats.

Everywhere he looked, there were cats. Fluffy Persians, sleek Siamese, rotund British Shorthairs, and yes, even a lion or two lounging about, their golden manes making them look like oversized, regal housecats. Cats perched on the window sills, cats sprawled across the furniture in the large room, cats napping lazily in the morning sun. They all turned their heads to look at him, their curious eyes studying him as if he were the odd one out. "This is new," Gojo muttered to himself, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

He pushed himself upright, wincing as pain ricocheted through him like a jolt of electricity. His body felt weak, as if it was made of paper, ready to crumble at the slightest touch. But that wasn't the strangest thing. It was the emptiness within him. The absence of the swirling, pulsating energy that had always been there. His cursed energy was gone. "No way..." he breathed out, a sense of dread washing over him.

One of the braver cats, a small tortoiseshell with bright green eyes, made its way over to him, its tail held high. The feline sniffed at his hand, its whiskers twitching before it let out a soft meow and nuzzled against him. This wasn't how Gojo had pictured his morning would start. He should be at the Jujutsu Tech, probably annoying somebody or teaching his students how to bend the world to their will. Not here, in a cottage filled with cats, devoid of his cursed energy and with no clue as to what had happened.

Gojo's snow-capped hair was a disheveled mess, contrasting against the dark green of the handmade quilt wrapped around him. His normally vibrant, ocean-blue eyes, now seemed dull and devoid of their usual spark. The last thing he remembered was the searing pain as Sukuna's curse sliced through him.

The room around him was filled with an uncanny silence, broken only by the soft purring of the cats and the distant chirping of birds. The wooden floor was covered in various patches of sunlight, making the dust particles in the air visible. The cats, with their sparkling eyes and swishing tails, watched him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Among them was a lion, its golden mane catching the morning light, with a few audacious kittens nestled in it.

"Am I in a Miyazaki film or something?" Gojo murmured, his voice hoarse from disuse. He attempted to push himself up into a sitting position, his muscles protesting at the movement. A sharp pang of pain shot through him, causing him to hiss and slump back onto the bed.

"I must've died and gone to cat heaven... or maybe…. maybe.. this is hell," he added, a hint of his usual humor returning to his voice. Despite his confusion and pain, Gojo couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of his situation. In the midst of all the chaos, being surrounded by cats in a cozy cottage was not the worst thing that could've happened to him.

The cats, sensing his distress, began to move closer, their whiskers twitching and their tails swishing. A calico cat, with patches of orange, black and white fur, hopped onto the bed and sniffed at Gojo, its green eyes filled with curiosity. Another, a black cat, with gleaming yellow eyes, rubbed itself against his leg, its purring a soothing rhythm in the otherwise silent room. "Okay, okay... I get it, I'm not dead," Gojo said, his words punctuated by a wince as pain flared up again. "But where am I? And why are there so many of you?"

With a sigh, he leaned back against the plush pillows, his mind racing with questions. How did he survive? How did he end up here? Why were there so many cats? He had to find answers. But for now, he was alive, and that's what mattered. Gojo Satoru was down, but he was not out. Yet. "Alright, kitties," he murmured, already formulating a plan. "Let's figure this out."

The first hint of dawn was just beginning to touch the tips of the trees, bathing the expansive property in a soft, rose-gold light as Gojo Satoru navigated through the seemingly endless sea of feline-themed decor. The former battleground had transformed into a peculiar sanctuary, an eccentric haven for the cat-obsessed. The interior was littered with framed pictures of cats in all sizes and shapes—lions, tigers, jaguars, house cats—each image a testament to the owner's peculiar fixation. Despite the peculiar theme, the house was charming in its own way, a cozy mélange of rustic furniture and verdant plants that created a homey atmosphere.

He limped through the house, his movements slow and cautious, a stark contrast to his usually confident stride. The energy in the house was calming, soothing even. The air was thick with the aroma of fresh greenery mixed with a sweet, almost irresistible scent that he couldn't quite place, inviting him further into the peculiar place.

The sound of humming trickled into the otherwise quiet house, a cheerful melody that seemed to be at odds with the situation. Turning towards the sound, he found another door, leading to what seemed like an expansive yard. Cats of all shapes and sizes lounged lazily in the sun, some playfully chasing each other while others simply basked in the soft morning light. A white tiger, as majestic as it was intimidating, lay sprawled on the grass, its eyes half-closed in a catnap.

Cautiously, he approached the source of the humming. At the center of the yard was a tall, magnificent tree, its branches heavy with leaves. He blinked, his blue eyes squinting against the sun, and then he saw you. You popped out from the tree-leaves, and smiled. You were hanging upside down from a branch, your [h/c] hair forming a shimmering curtain around your face. Your [e/c] eyes sparkled beneath the shade of the tree, full of life and mischief. Your [s/c] skin glowed in the dawn light, making you look ethereal.

"Gojo! You're awake!" you exclaimed, your voice echoing with genuine joy. "I mean, I knew you would be – I healed you after all! But, wow! You woke up so fast! I mean, I thought I'd have to wait a while longer, but here you are!" Your words tumbled out in a flurry, each sentence overlapping the other, punctuated only by the sound of your excited laughter. Before he could even form a response, you continued, "You know, when I saw you, I was like, 'Wow! This guy needs help!' And then I was like, 'Wait, is that Gojo Satoru? The one and only?' And then I was like, 'Of course it is! I should help him!' And then I did! And now you're here! In my home! With all my cats!"

Despite the initial shock, Gojo found himself chuckling, drawn in by your lively spirit. This was certainly not how he envisioned his morning would go, but he had to admit, it was far from boring. You jumped down from the tree, your full body coming into view— and it didn't help that you were even more attractive.

You smiled excitedly, "Oh wow, I still can't believe this— this is just like that one episode of 'Magical Girl Yumeko' where Yumeko finds the wounded prince in her garden! Except you're not a prince, you're a sorcerer. And this isn't a garden, it's a yard. And these cats aren't magical creatures, they're just... well, cats. But still!"

Your words tumbled out in an excited rush, your mind racing faster than your mouth could keep up. Gojo, on the other hand, looked utterly bemused, his visible eye blinking in confusion as he tried to process your rapid-fire speech.

"Am I... dreaming?" he mumbled, seemingly to himself.

"No, no! You're definitely not dreaming!" you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement. "Or at least, I don't think you are. Unless this is one of those shared dream things, like in 'Dreamwalker Chronicles'. Oh, have you read 'Dreamwalker Chronicles'? It's this really cool book about—" You slapped yourself, as if to get yourself on point. Taking a deep breath in, you happily make eye contact with Gojo. Suddenly remembering the situation, you cut yourself off mid-ramble, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. "Right, food! You must be starving! Come inside, I'll rustle up something for you. And don't worry about the cats, they're very friendly!"

"I was just about to make some breakfast. I can make pancakes! Or, or, do you like eggs? I have some fresh bread too! And coffee! I can make a mean cup of coffee. Do you like coffee? No, wait, don't tell me, it's a surprise!" You grabbed his hand, pulling him up with an unexpected strength. Gojo could only let himself be led, his confusion only growing. He was a powerful sorcerer, supposedly the strongest, and yet there he was, being babied by a stranger who seemed to have adopted him overnight.

"Come on, come on," you rambled on, your hands fluttering in excitement as you gently tugged on his arm, leading him towards the warm light of your home. You were already planning the breakfast menu in your head, your mind buzzing with the endless possibilities.

The kitchen was as quaint as the rest of the house, filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and homemade food. The cats were everywhere, yet surprisingly none of them dared to step into the kitchen, watching you with curious eyes as you moved around the kitchen with ease. Gojo watched as you rambled on, your hands busy preparing breakfast, your energy filling the room. It was a strange sight, a strange situation to be in. But for the first time in a while, he found himself enjoying the moment, the company, even if it was a bit overwhelming.

Surrounding him were cats of all shapes and sizes, lazily lounging around as if he was in some sort of feline paradise. Underneath him, he could feel the comforting plushness of a velvet cushion, the fabric surprisingly warm against his body. His limbs felt heavy, his body ached, and his mind was in a haze — the aftermath of a grueling battle that had left him dead and drained.

You bounced into the room, your eyes sparkling with giddiness and an energy that was almost contagious. Your hands were full with a tray stacked high with breakfast foods—toast, eggs, bacon, and a steaming pot of tea. The aroma wafted through the air, filling the room with a homey scent.

"I've prepared breakfast for you! You must be starving, right? Or maybe you prefer to sleep a bit more? But then the food will get cold, and I'm sure you wouldn’t want that, would you?"

Gojo blinked at your onslaught of words, silent but visibly amused by your excitement. You didn't give him a chance to speak, your words flowing like a river, leaving no room for interruption.

"And oh! Look at the kitties! They are just so cute, aren’t they?" you squealed, gesturing at the various cats lounging around the room, each one looking more comfortable than the last. "I hope you don't mind cats. They usually don't bother anyone, though. Well, except for that one," you pointed at a particularly grumpy-looking cat, "but he only bites when he's hungry. Or sleepy. Or bored."

A chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, the absurdity of the situation tickling his humor. He was used to being the one talking others' ears off, and your excitable rambling was a refreshing change. "You sure have a lot to say," he finally managed to inject, his tone laced with amusement.

"Oh, I do! I just can't help it!" you responded, seemingly unbothered by his observation. "Here, let me help you up. You need to eat and regain your strength." With a gentle tug from you, Gojo found himself being escorted to a dining table, the smell of the food growing stronger and making his stomach rumble in anticipation. As he took his seat, he couldn't suppress a small grin.

"Where am I?" Gojo asked, his voice still laced with slight confusion.

"Oh, this is my humble abode!" you said, setting the tray on a small coffee table in front of him. The aroma of fresh pancakes and coffee wafted through the air, making Gojo's stomach rumble unconsciously. "I found you outside last night, you looked pretty beat up…and uhm, dead? So I brought you in! Isn't that exciting? I mean, not your injuries, those are concerning, but like, you being here. I mean, it's not every day that you find the strongest sorcerer sprawled out on the ground."

He looked at you, surprised. You appeared to be a sorcerer, but one he has never heard of before. Considering your abilities, he should've at least heard about you once, right? You had managed to shut Gojo up.

"My cats and I are huge fans. Oh, speaking of cats, would you like to hold Mr. Mittens? He's the chubby one over there. He's very sweet. Or maybe you'd prefer Whiskers? She's a bit of a diva, but she warms up to people pretty quickly. Oh, but do try the pancakes first! I made them myself! And don't worry, I didn’t put any catnip in them, despite what Haku might have suggested." You continued rambling, every sentence punctuated with a giggle or a spark of excitement. Your words filled the room, like a colorful brush painting over the silence.

It was infectious, and despite his initial confusion, Gojo found himself intrigued. It was like he was caught in a whirlwind of your giddy excitement. He picked up a fork and tried a pancake, a smile of genuine delight spreading across his face. "These are good," he admitted.

"Well, of course, they are! I did make them after all," you winked playfully.

"Y'know," Gojo remarks, his voice muffled by a mouthful of the golden-brown fluffiness. His fingers deftly maneuver the fork despite his injuries, the syrup-soaked pieces disappearing into his mouth as if by magic. "Really thought I kicked the bucket this time,"

Your laughter rings out through the room, bouncing off the walls filled with cat portraits, "Oh, you definitely did, like mega dead." You flip another pancake onto a plate with gusto, your hands moving with practiced ease. "But you know, dead, alive, it's all very wishy-washy when you think about it. So, I just...you know...brought you back from the dead! No biggie, right?"

Gojo raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his visible eye. "And who might you be, the one who brought me back from the 'mega dead'?"

"Ah, well," you begin, absently scratching the chin of a tabby cat that had sauntered up to you, "you could say I'm a sort of... hermit? Yeah, that's a good word! I've been hiding. Or living. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes. I just kinda keep to myself, ya know? Sorcerers aren't exactly my cup of tea...no offense."

"From sorcerers?" His tone is light, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity, a desire to understand this strange person who seems to exist outside the world he knows.

You throw your head back, laughing again. "Oh no, not just sorcerers, from everyone! Well, except cats, of course. Cats are the best."

Gojo chuckles, the sound low and warm, "So why the exception for me? Don't you usually dislike sorcerers?"

"Well," you say, a playful glint in your eyes, "You're something else. You're like...coffee. I like coffee..."

Gojo chuckled at your analogy, his bandaged fingers tracing the rim of his teacup. "Is that so? I'm flattered. But tell me, do you always hide out here with your army of cats?"

You giggled, your eyes twinkling with delight as you pointed at a chubby tabby dozing off in the corner. "Oh, they're not all mine! They just like to hang around. Cats are good judges of character, you know. They must like you too, none of them have run away yet!"

His laughter joins yours, filling the room with a warm, comfortable atmosphere, the kind that wraps around you like a soft blanket. The moment lingers, a snapshot of tranquility amidst the chaos outside. "You're quite interesting, you know," Gojo says, his eyes crinkling as he gives you a flirtatious wink. "I must admit, I'm a little intrigued."

You blink at him, surprised, then smile, "Really? That's awesome! I thought you might think I'm weird or something. I mean, I live with a bunch of cats and resurrected you from the dead. That's not exactly normal, right?"

You can hear the soft purring of a tabby curled up in your lap, its contentment spreading warmth in the cool morning air. You glance over at Gojo, who's seated at the wooden table, nursing a steaming cup of coffee with his left hand - the one that isn't bandaged. His injuries are quite severe, but with his normally nonchalant demeanor replaced by a grimace, you can't help but be reminded of how human he really is. He's currently preoccupied with a plate of pancakes you had insisted on making for him, their fluffy golden-brown layers slathered in a generous helping of syrup.

Your eyes meet his exposed blue ones, a rarity in itself. You notice the faintest hint of vulnerability swimming in them before he quickly masks it with his trademark smirk. "Hey," he begins, his voice hoarse from the injuries, "do you think my cursed energy will come back when all this," he gestures vaguely to his bandaged body, "heals up?"

You consider him for a moment before letting out a soft sigh, your face falling into an uncharacteristically serious expression. The room suddenly feels a lot heavier despite the early morning tranquility, and even the cats seem to quiet down, their yellow eyes glinting with curious anticipation.

"I'm sorry Gojo but.. you'll never get it back." you say, your voice steady yet soft. His eyes widen slightly at your words, and for a moment, the room is filled with a tense silence. You watch as he swallows, his grip on his mug tightening. He looks like he's about to say something, but before he can, you burst into a fit of snickers.

"Gotcha!" You exclaim, unable to hold back your laughter any longer. The cats scatter as you almost topple over, your laughter echoing around the room. When you finally catch your breath, you wipe away a tear from the corner of your eye, a wide grin stretching across your face.

Gojo, on the other hand, is staring at you dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open slightly. "What the—" he begins, but you cut him off with another round of laughter.

"I'm just pulling your leg, Gojo!" you manage to say between fits of giggles. "Of course your cursed energy will come back. Once your body is fully healed, and that should be in a month or two, everything will return to normal. You'll be back to being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer and all that jazz."

Gojo blinked, before a slow grin spread across his face. "You're terrible," he commented, but there was no bite in his words.

You broke out into snickers, your shoulders shaking as you laughed. "Oh c'mon! I was just kidding!"

He stares at you for a moment longer before a playful glint appears in his eyes. "You almost gave me a heart attack," he grumbles, but there's no real anger in his voice. "You know, you're really cute when you're trying to be funny," he comments, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Your laughter finally subsides, and you give him a puzzled look. "I'm always funny, Gojo. You just don't appreciate good humor," you smirked.

Despite the injury, he wore his signature playful grin, watching your animated movements with amusement. "So," Gojo called out suddenly, his voice breaking through your excited chatter about a new cat toy you had ordered. "What makes me so special to you, compared to all the other sorcerers?" His tone was light, but there was an uncharacteristic seriousness underlying his question.

You tilted your head, a flash of confusion passing over your features before you beamed at him, completely oblivious to his attempt at flirting. "Well, let's see!" you chirped, reaching out to grab his hand. It was a surprising act, but your touch was gentle, your fingers tracing the lines on his palm. "Your hand says a lot about you, you know?"

His surprise was evident, but he allowed you to continue, intrigued by your sudden excitement. The cats around you seemed to share your giddiness, their eyes fixed on the spectacle unfolding. "See this line?" you pointed at the creased skin under his fingers, "This is the Heart Line. It's long and deep, which means you're not only affectionate and caring but also carry a significant emotional burden." You traced the line as you spoke, your touch feather-light. "And yet.."

"And yet?" Gojo prompted, his voice barely above a whisper. Despite having just met you, he was drawn in by your authenticity, your childlike excitement, and your unusual approach to everything.

"And yet you care," you finally announced, looking up to meet his hidden gaze. "Despite the weight you carry, despite the battles you fight, you genuinely care about the people around you. That's not something I see every day, especially not in sorcerers."

Gojo was silent, his playful grin replaced by a more amused, softer smile. You had just described him with such accuracy that it was almost eerie. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, he felt understood. And that feeling was both comforting and terrifying.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you moved to another line. "This one here is your Life Line. It's strong and prominent, just like you. It shows you're resilient and have a zest for life. But it also suggests a heavy burden. You're shouldering a lot, aren't you?" You glanced up at him, your expression softening, as if you could see the weight he carried.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you continued to read his palm, diving into his personality, strengths, and hidden truths. Gojo watched you, his eyes wide with interest, a hint of amusement hidden in his gaze. You were everything he hadn't known he needed - a breath of fresh air in his world filled with curses and battles.

Your laughter filled the room as you moved onto a different line, your enthusiasm infectious. "And this, Gojo, is your Fate Line! It's very distinct, just like your destiny. You're meant for great things, and you know it." You poked his palm playfully, sending a ripple of laughter through the room.

He's taken aback, surprised by the accuracy of your readings. A soft chuckle escapes him, "Well, you certainly read more from my hand than I expected."

Your response, however, is cut short by a plaintive meow. You glance over your shoulder and find one of your cats pawing at the door, a clear sign that it's time for some unknown task. "Oh, it's that time already?" You exclaim, a note of surprise in your voice. Standing up, you dust off your pants and move to the door, throwing an apologetic look over your shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gojo. I have to run. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

With that, you're out the door, leaving Gojo alone in your kitchen. He watches as you disappear from sight, a small smile playing on his lips. It certainly was an interesting way to start the day, but he couldn't deny that it was also one of the most pleasant.

This is how it was for the ongoing weeks.

It started innocently enough. You would often leave for hours on end, without really ever telling him where you were going. Not that it was any of his business. The first time you vanished, he brushed it off, assuming you needed some time alone. You'd return, eventually, with apologies but no explanations. Your arrival would be marked by the faint scent of adventure hanging on your clothes, a lingering reminder of the world outside that was now closed off to him for now. He'd find himself undeniably excited for your arrival back, even if it meant you'd just ramble about random things.

As the first rays of dawn creep over the horizon, you burst into the room, your face flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling like the morning star. You're practically bouncing on your toes, the anticipation humming through you like a live wire. "Good morning, Gojo!" you exclaim, your voice echoing around the room.

Gojo, propped up against a stack of pillows, his injuries partially concealed by the sheets, raises an eyebrow at your enthusiasm but doesn't manage to suppress a small, amused smile. He's used to your vibrant energy by now, but he still finds it quite endearing, even if he'd never admit it out loud. "You're awfully chipper this morning," he says, his tone light and teasing.

You giggle, practically skipping over to his bedside, a tray of breakfast in your hands. There are cats lounging everywhere, scattered around the room like ornaments. Some are curled up on the window sills, others are sprawled out on the floor, and a few brave ones are perched at the foot of Gojo's bed, their eyes tracking your every move.

"There was this show I was watching last night—oh, it was so good! The main character has this really cool ability where they can, um... " you start rambling excitedly, setting down the breakfast tray on the nightstand before plopping down on the edge of the bed, your fingers twining together as you animatedly recount the plot. You're so caught up in your own world that you don't notice Gojo's gaze fixated on you, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

"And then, there was this cat in the show, oh! It was the cutest thing! It had these tiny little paws and this adorable little nose and—" you're cut off by a soft purr, one of your cats rubbing up against your leg, begging for attention. With a laugh, you scoot down to give it a gentle scratch behind the ears, your heart swelling with affection.

Gojo watches you, a strange warmth spreading through him. He's so used to dealing with people who only care about power, the sight of someone so genuine and kind is refreshing. It's... nice.

"But enough about me, how are you feeling?" You ask, turning your attention back to him, your face softening with concern.

He grins at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm feeling better already," he says, and despite the ache in his body, he finds that he means it. Throughout the conversation, you're a whirlwind of energy, constantly shifting topics, getting distracted by the cats, but always making sure Gojo's okay. There's a warmth that radiates from you, a kindness that's as endearing as it is infectious. And as the morning light filters through the window, casting a soft glow on your face, Gojo can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit smitten.

"Oh yeah— I forgot to tell you! Did you know that a group of cats is called a clowder? Or a glaring! Isn't that interesting?"

You're rambling again, you know, but you can't help it. Gojo simply looks at you, a nonchalant glance, a little twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Is that so?" He replies, a hint of laughter in his tone. His hand idly strokes the fur of a calico cat curled up against his side. He's silent for a while, his gaze fixed on you. It's intense, and you feel your cheeks warm up under his scrutiny.

You decide to break the silence, "And did you know that a cat's brain is 90% similar to a human's? Fascinating, right?" You continue, pointing at a fluffy white cat that was attempting to climb onto Gojo's lap.

"Are you implying that I've a cat's brain now?" Gojo asks, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a smirk. You can't help but giggle at his playful sarcasm. The sound fills the room, bouncing off the walls and mingling with the soft mewls of the cats.

"Of course not, Gojo! Your brain is much more... unique," you reply, pausing for effect, "Like a snow leopard's, perhaps?"

"Snow leopard, huh?" He chuckles, sounding genuinely amused. It’s a warm sound, and you find yourself grinning in response. You can see it then, the way his expression softens just a tiny bit, his fingers gently scratching behind the ears of a purring tabby.

A bit of time has passed, and he finds himself near the kitchen once again. The sun was setting, and the soft, orange glow bathed the cottage. It was a quaint, cozy space, cluttered with books, trinkets, and an ungodly number of cat toys strewn about. The soft hum of a refrigerator and the occasional meow filled the silence. In the midst of it all sat Gojo, the man known as the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer, on your worn-out couch, buried under a pile of cats. His usually vibrant, silver hair was a mess, courtesy of the cat currently nestled in it. His blindfold had been long ago lost in the battle with Sukuna, revealing those striking, azure eyes. They were softer now, lacking their usual teasing glint, replaced with a peaceful, almost vulnerable gaze.

You were in the kitchen, trying your best to prepare dinner while simultaneously swatting away the curious cats trying to jump on the counter. The apron you wore was adorned with ridiculous cat prints. Gojo was currently chuckling at your struggles from his comfortable spot on the couch. "Need any help there?" He asked, a playful smirk on his face as he lowered the manga he had been reading. His voice was smooth, the amusement lacing his words only adding to the charm.

"N—no, I got this!" You stammered, trying to keep a pot from boiling over, food in a pan from burning, while shooing a particularly stubborn cat away.

The laughter that erupted from Gojo was genuine and hearty, a sound rarely heard outside the confines of these walls. It was a stark contrast to the playful, yet calculated warrior who faced gruesome curses and life-threatening dangers daily. "You sure? Because it looks like Tama is about to help itself to the fish," he teased, pointing to the cat that had finally managed to jump onto the counter. The sight of you yelping and sprinting towards the cat sent him into another fit of laughter.

As you stirred the pot of stew on the stove, the spicy aroma wafting through the air, you looked over your shoulder to see Gojo sprawled across your couch. He was surrounded by a small army of your cats, their soft purrs a testament to their contentment. Gojo's long, elegant fingers were gently stroking the fur of the tabby curled up on his chest, his other hand lazily flipping through a manga. The simple sight of him, so at ease, made your heart flutter in a way you hadn't expected. It was just so...normal. So human.

A sudden, loud meow from one of the kittens snapped you out of your thoughts. You couldn't help but laugh as Gojo jumped, surprised, the manga slipping from his fingers. The kittens scattered, leaving a bemused Gojo in their wake. His lips pulled into a pout, the sight so endearing you had to suppress the urge to coo. "Traitors," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "And here I was, thinking we had something special."

You laughed again, the sound filling the room, making Gojo's heart flutter in response. He turned to you, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, laugh it up," he said, though the fondness in his voice belied his words.

You walked over to him, a plate of curry in your hands. "Here, eat up," you said, placing the plate on the coffee table in front of him. "And don't worry about the cats. They'll come back once they smell the food."

Gojo sighed dramatically, the act making you roll your eyes. But you knew, as he picked up his spoon and took the first bite, he wouldn't have it any other way. This was his sanctuary, his slice of normalcy in a world filled with curses and chaos. And you, you were his anchor, grounding him in a reality where he could just be Satoru. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

He was starting to fall for you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk gojo #gojo x fem reader #gojo saturo #gojo death

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bonefall · 7 months

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bonefall, you've replaced a lot of the fox and badger encounters with boars instead (which makes sense) - but now what are clan cat's relationships with foxes and badgers? sorry if you've already stated this somewhere else

[ID: Stock photo of a European badger and a cat. They're about the same size.]

Badgers are pretty simple; they're a major, but not insurmountable problem for Clan cats. They're like a BIG, strong rogue. There's actually plenty of them on Clan territory, they don't get "chased out" like canon.

EXCEPT in WindClan, back when Tunneling was a practice. Badgers will leave you alone if you leave their burrows alone, but had a habit of moving into WindClan's tunnels and raiding rabbit warrens. WindClan specifically would chase them out in-mass.

BB!Badger facts;

Use in a name invokes strength, or construction ability.

Badgers are respected for their ability to dig setts.

In a one-on-one fight, a badger poses a serious danger to all but the strongest warriors. You want two or three cats if you're going to take on a badger; two is usually more than enough.

Bluestar had to kill a badger alone once, when Cricketkit and Darkkit wandered off one snowy night. That was pretty early in her leadership. She lost a life.

They're grumpy, but will leave you alone if you respect their space. Usually a badger that's attacking was pissed off for some other reason, or is defending cubs.

ShadowClan will eat them, insisting that they just need to be spiced up and it's a lot of meat to waste.

Badgers are generally considered "less dangerous" than foxes.

[ID: A fox and a black cat. The fox is considerably taller and larger.]

This is wildlife that needs to be treated with caution. Foxes can get pretty big, and are notoriously quite intelligent. A weakened warrior or a wayward apprentice could be killed by an opportunistic fox, though it's rare that a fox will put itself in danger against a healthy adult cat.

Clan cats have three words for various types of foxes which are uniquely dealt with. Vixen, Fox, and Todd. These don't actually have anything to do with the sex of the animal, unlike English.

a TODD is a young, roving fox who has no territory.

In Clanmew, they're called Ka'ak, based on the clicking challenge call between two foxes. They tend to bother each other more than they bother Clan cats.

Todds are associated with aimless mischief. They wander in, cause problems, and then usually move on as if they're bored. Occasionally though, they will unseat the local foxes and vixens, in terms of dominance or even in terms of winning territory!

When used in a name, it implies general troublemaking just for the sake of it. It's almost playful.

a FOX is a fox that lives in some kind of group.

This usually refers to a vixen's kits, or the local dog foxes. In Clanmew, these are called Aowao, based off the close-contact call foxes make when they're communicating.

A fox in a group is a pack full of trouble. This is where the insult "foxheart" starts to get its bite. Groups of foxes get bold and curious, and a cat is a sizeable meal to them, if they could manage to pick one off.

When used in a name, it implies cleverness or scheming. It's much more social than either of the other two uses, as well.

a VIXEN is an established, mature animal that rules a territory.

Vixens consistently get named by Clan cats, because those names have a use. Whitespot, the Valley Fox, Big Ginger; and their territories are noted by the Head of Hunting. Any changes in 'ownership' are a point of concern, because the vixen you know is better than the one you don't.

And rest assured, if you DID happen to chase off one vixen, there would surely be a todd looking to take the space. Clan cats learned long ago that you can't chase off all the foxes in the forest, it's best to simply select for the least troublesome vixens.

The Clanmew word for vixens, Bwaayr, comes from the haunting screech of a fox during the mating season, which sounds like a person being murdered.

This, when used in an insult, implies active malice. Vixens cause trouble that they know they can get away with, and know their territories very well. A vixen is an older animal, probably raising little fox groups of their own. They're minded cautiously.

#Clan culture #Better bones au #Foxes and badgers #ecological overhauls

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rain-clangen · 2 months

Text

The leader is gone. The deputy and healer are dead. Some of your clanmates' bodies have been found after their disappearance.

For all the fear that causes in the remainder of the clan, they soldier on with this mantra:

“Don’t worry. All will be washed away by rain.”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

STARTING CATS (left to right in the picture)

Copperchest (27 moons) - a cream and white spotted tabby molly

Rosepaw (6 moons) - a cream classic tabby tom

Heathbloom (45 moons) - a white and golden brown speckled tabby tom

Emberpaw (11 moons) - a ginger tabby molly

Finchspeckle (37 moons) - a black speckled tabby molly

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

RULES:

1. Pre-set family ties for extra impact. 2. Exile and/or kill the leader, deputy, and healer. 3. Leave only 4-5 cats. 4. Not mandatory, but have at least one cat skills related to dreams, omens/prophecies, or ghosts. 5. mass extinction is off FOR NOW.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Welcome to RainClan, a clangen artlocke! Mostly inspired by @fog-and-the-frost, @gray-thistleclan and @brightclan.

I will be playing the game up to 100 moons and write a story based on it - hope you all can come along for the ride!

updates WILL be irregular due to my time, motivation, and energy, so please be patient!

#clangen #clan generator #warrior cats #warrior cats clangen #warriors #rainclan #allegiances #sorta. It’s just a lineup

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theanoninyourinbox · 2 months

Note

moth and micah divorce in starclan. instead of cloudstar sending visions to firestar in firestars quest, its micah. they fall in love. micah views leafpool as a daughter. when her and squilfs trial happens, he pops off at moth. discuss.

Micah watches from Starclan, watches Moth Flight separate their kits, watches her keep other cats from a love like they once shared. He pleads for an explanation in her dreams, and she insists that they were a burden, a distraction from her true calling.

Their beautiful kits. A BURDEN!?!?

He disavows her on the spot, and when she joins Starclan, Micah refuses to even look at her. He greets his kits warmly, and watches the medicine cats, but only speaks to Moth Flight if forced.

He watches Skyclan's descendants failing, and cannot abide by Moth Flight's call to leave them to their fate. He leaps into the dreams of the ginger Thunderclan leader, seeing how he supported the healer Yellowfang. Micah calls him to aid Skyclan, and follows Firestar and Sandstorm. He breaks the rules of Starclan as soon as their eyes are off of him, and joins both the mortal cat's dreams, often connecting them so he can talk to both of them at once.

They fall in love like a trickle of water breaking through a beaver dam and becoming a flood. As the pair travel back to Thunderclan, he shapes their kits with his own paws. Leafkit and Squirrelkit grow up knowing their Papa Mi and he watches them with care.

Micah watches his earthly kits and grandkits. He cannot always help, but the times he can make all the difference. He watches over the Three as they are born, and convinces his daughters to tell Brambleclaw and their living parents about the kit's true parentage. He keeps Jaypaw on the warrior's path, and helps Hollypaw remember her herbs. Micah guides Lionpaw away from the Dark Forest, and in the Great Battle, slams Hawkfrost off of Hollyleaf as she defends Ivypool.

And when his daughters are brought to be judged, as their bodies lie near death, Micah nearly takes his ex-mate's head off. How dare she judge cats who loved, as they once loved!? How dare Moth Flight, mother of four BEAUTIFUL KITS, judge another, and one who chose to BALANCE her kits and her healing! HOW DARE YOU, MOTH FLIGHT!!

YOU

WILL

N O T

Moth Flight flees in shame and fear, and the mollies finally embrace their Papa Mi. He promises that he will keep watch over them always...and they wake together in the medicine den, with their family around them.

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Unlikely But Welcome

Hey, Duffers? Give me more Harrington-Byers content. Let me give you a suggestion.

Give me Jonathan who realizes that Steve has really grown as a person and eventually decides to give him a chance, they start a reluctant friendship. It's not easy or fast, but they often drop the kids off to the Hellfire Club campaigns and they sometimes have to wait together outside, maybe share a cigarette or something and chat about anything and everything.

Jonathan talks about the life he had in California and maybe admits to Steve that he never feels that carefree here, it's like having constant weight on his shoulders. It feels weird, talking to the former King Steve about the guilt and paranoia, but Steve actually listens and understands, he just chuckles and takes a drag from the cigarette, admits to Jonathan that he is going out of his mind whenever the kids don't walkie him for several days. "But that's what we're here for, right?" he smiles at Jonathan and passes the smoke back, "we're scared shitless for them and worry about every stupid thing so they can have a good time. As much as possible after all that."

They start hanging out at Steve's house, planning outings for the little shitheads, fairs, Halloween parties, anything with the promise of giving the kids back at least pieces of their lost childhoods. The rest of the young adults join in too, Argyle with his constant enthusiasm, Eddie and his manic energy, Robin with her undying sarcasm and Nancy who is ridden by the same guilt as the two of them, seeing what the Upside Down did to Mike and his friends.

It's there that Jonathan notices Steve's house is devoid of any personality, he only has a few polaroids in his room and those are carefully stored in his drawer, as if he's ashamed of them. So Jonathan picks up his camera again, after the long break in California, and gets to what he knows the best. He snaps pictures of Steve and Robin giggling, drunk on punch, as she re-creates the YOU SUCK / YOU RULE scoreboard on a random paper, he captures the exact moment Eddie tackles Steve into the pool when they're sweating like crazy while preparing a barbecue for their gaggle of kids. He smiles to himself as he captures Eddie shotgunning with Steve for the first time, documents Steve's wide smile as he's high as a kite and discussing very important topics with Argyle, such as whether tabby or ginger cats are superior. There are more pictures - Steve with Nancy as they argue about the format of the Halloween party invitations while Eddie sketches suggestions in the background, Dustin jumping at Steve to hug him, the reluctant fist bump between Steve and Mike, Steve sitting between Erica and Max, all three with sunglasses and a sign that says "the cool trio". When he knocks on Steve's door on one day and gives him the photographs, Steve's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He gets all of them framed and completely covers the walls of his room with his found family.

There is a stupid assignment that has Dustin frustrated, presentations on their families - apparently a male influence is needed, a single family member isn't enough, so Jonathan nudges him and whispers "what about Steve? Does an older brother count?" and Dustin's face lights up, drags Steve over for a picture for his presentation. They pose for several pictures, Steve holding Dustin in the air, leaning on each other like partners in crime, and everyone's laughing, maybe sheds a tear or two.

If Jonathan had any doubts about Steve, they disappear the second he takes the last picture and Steve comes over to him, hugs him with a quiet thank you. And then he taps his camera and asks: "hey, show me how to operate this thing? I'm pretty sure I need to take over for a second." Jonathan is confused for a moment, but then he sees Will looking at him with a shy expression and realizes - oh. Maybe this is why they work so well as friends, because they have this in common - filling in the roles they were never supposed to have, but would not give up for the world. He gives Steve a quick rundown and then drags Will to the living room, posing for pictures and reenacting Steve's suggestions, fighting with imaginary swords and slaying dragons (or Dustin who offered to stand in for the legendary creature). In the end, Steve's pictures are a bit blurry, but Jonathan treasures them.

And then there's the incident outside of Hellfire, they're smoking together again, laughing about the secret Santa they're organizing for the kids ("I swear to god, Jonathan, Dustin's learning to knit. He's determined to send Suzie-poo a handmade scarf and I'm trying to be supportive, I really am, but it looks like a blob of cotton"). The kids barge outside, excited as always, and Will is beaming too, he found so much in common with Eddie and they're rapidly talking, exchanging ideas for the next sessions. But of course, there's no rest for the freaks - the basketball practice ends around the same time and one of Jason's lackeys bumps into Will, snarls at him. "Of course you two get along. A freak and a fag, hard to tell which one is which." The smile instantly drops from Will's face and Eddie's straightening up, glaring at the sophomore, and Jonathan's blood runs cold when-

It's Steve who takes the first step towards the boy and even though his legend is long gone, the boy staggers back. Memories flash in Jonathan's head, remembering how he lost the first camera, how terrifying Steve's anger could be, but Steve only grasps the boy's shoulder and smiles at him, as pleasant as possible. "I remember you, kid. Aren't you the one who always tries to sneak into the adult section of the Family Video, hm? And smokes in front of the store. Now if I recall, your mother is a very strict lady, I've met her once or twice...does she know?" And when the bully shakes his head, Steve's voice lowers to a growl. "Do you want her to know?" Another shake. "That's what I thought."

And with that, the bully his gone and Jonathan wants to check on his brother, except there is something happening in the group before him - Steve is whispering something into Eddie's ear and the older boy nods, his face serious and determined. Steve shoots an apologetic look at Jonathan, mouths "just a second" at him and they take Will to the side, talk to him in hushed voices. The rest of the party is chatting again, recalling their latest adventures, but Jonathan only has eyes for his younger brother and the strange new friend he made. He watches as Steve reaches under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a familiar looking pendant with a guitar pick. Watches as Eddie moves his watch to the side and reveals a fresh looking tattoo of a spiked bat. Will's eyes water and he hugs both of them, laughing into the embrace and Jonathan finally understands what Nancy meant, that Steve's grown up and he's a different person now, in more ways than one. He sees Steve and Eddie's fingers brush against each other, the shy glances masked in their usual teasing. And Will looks so much happier now, so much more confident that he knows - he could never hate Steve Harrington again.

When they both manage to get the kids (and Eddie who rides with Steve, of course he does) into their cars, Jonathan and Steve smile at each other, and then Jonathan, the distant Jonathan who is used to only observing, never initiating, embraces Steve. "I don't know how to repay you for what you did for Will, Steve," he admits.

Steve just laughs and pats Jonathan's back. "I only did what felt right. The kid deserves the world. But," he adds and grins at Jonathan, "if you're insistent on the repayment, how about you pick up some good beer for this week's movie night? I don't think I can survive more experimentation, Eddie and Robin are competing who can get a more obscure brand and I'm too old for that crap."

Jonathan snickers and gives Steve a thumbs up. Lame, but he doesn't seem to mind. "You've got it."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #jonathan byers #the party #will byers #dustin henderson #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things #stranger things drabble #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #strangerthings #strangerthingsdrabble

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

Text

To the Other Side

Spontaneous fic I decided to write because I want to witness Fellow and Rollo interact (outside of fan art) 💕 I took a lot of inspiration from The Other Side and The Greatest Show from the same musical, and this fan comic and this fan art.

There’s just something so fun about Fellow’s happy, playful vibes mingling with Rollo being deadly serious and hateful 😂

***SPOILER WARNING: Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land!!!***

Imagine this…

The nearby town was the only reprieve Rollo had from Night Raven College. Magic was school-sanctioned (in theory), but the rule did little to curb the spells fired off in spontaneous spats between classes, pranks, resolving minor inconveniences, and—this made his lip curl the most—for fun. He turned the other cheek in the presence of instructors, chided classmates when catching them in the act, and vented his anger in private.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, this loathsome school exchange program would be over, and Night Raven College put behind him. But one man can only take so much sin before his patience threatened to give, irritation spilling over his carefully constructed walls.

Out here, a bus ride away from campus, he was free from those vile villains, however fleeting it was. The air cleaner, his mind clearer, as he breathed in the salt-kissed, balmy air. Waves lapping against the pier, the town’s comfortable hum as time rolled by, a soothing song.

He looked out at the waters, blue tipped with the white of sunshine dappling a painting. It was alive, yet at peace with the world. Knew its place.

Rollo's eyes drift shut, and he allowed the sea to envelop him. Quiet, calming, completely—

“Oya? Oya oya oyaaaaa?"

An exaggerated drawl invaded his ears. It was an unfamiliar man’s voice, slick with overly honeyed friendliness.

“You there, sir!” he called out. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ignore him, Rollo coached himself. He is not referring to you. There are many people in the town he could be accosting.

The crack of a clap on his shoulder suggested otherwise.

Rollo’s tranquility splintered and shattered, like glass dropped. His eyes snapped open again, alert and irritated.

A man had emerged on his left, and a small boy on his right. They stood too close for comfort, and seemed to be leering at him. From up, from down, encasing him in a web of excited stares.

The man had ginger hair in a widow's peak, the rest swept aside to make way for sharp eyes. His suit was fine at a glance, olive vest and neat cravat, violet coat with golden details and tassels cinched over it—but upon closer inspection, there was a hole in the pinkie finger of his long white gloves, and a miscellaneous diamond patchwork of patterns running down his trousers.

Something about him screamed “showman". Perhaps it was the jaunty half cape that hung off his left shoulder or the knee-high spats over shoes that clicked loudly, calling attention to him, with each step. Maybe it was the sparkle-studded top hat upon his head, nestled between two twitching ears, or the cheery flicker of his bushy tail, or the cane in hand, topped with a golden fox. (... Rollo suspected it was his boldness, the sheer audacity to insert himself where he wasn’t needed.)

The boy with the showman was a cat beastman, shorter and disposition shyer. His hair was a red-brown rat's nest even clamped under a smaller, brightly colored top hat, his fur just as unkempt. The only thing that seemed to fit on his slight frame is a lilac shirt and a small bow tie. His mustard yellow jacket looked as though it has had its body sheared in half, then the fabric stuck back onto the oversized sleeves, the pants attached to his overalls saggy and patched up with the wrong patterns. Even his boots were wrong—untied—and socks mismatched.

He blinked at Rollo through eyes that sloped downward, his expression lax. His mouth was steady beneath a spray of dark freckles. The boy held onto a comedically large hammer, hands still trapped in his enormous sleeves as he gripped its handle.

Suspicious, Rollo concluded. They are highly suspicious individuals.

“… May I help you?” he asked, not out of kindness but as a courtesy.

“Ohoh!!” The man grinned broadly. “That composed stride! That stern, solitary gaze! Those extravagant robes! So sensible, so conventional. There’s no doubt in my mind! You, my good man, must hail from THE Noble Bell College!”

Rollo’s mouth was quickly forming a frown. A fan of flattery he was not. "What of it?”

The stranger chuckled, the coy hand on Rollo's shoulder not budging. The warmth of it made his skin crawl in spite of the layers of fabric separating them. "You've come a long way from the Shaftlands then! Tell me, how do you find Sage's Island? Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be—or, dare I say, more?”

“I was beginning to enjoy it, right up until you and your companion happened upon me,” Rollo grumbled, jerking his shoulder away from the stranger’s touch. “I do not have many opportunities to steal away into town.”

“You have my humblest of apologies!” The man bowed deeply. It took a few seconds of lag, but the boy clumsily followed suit. “Gidel and I, we’re the curious sort, you see! We come across many wary souls on our own travels, and we want to get to know them. Isn’t that right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded eagerly.

The fox beastman stuck out a hand, taking Rollo’s before he was given the chance to reciprocate or decline. He shook firmly, with enough strength to rattle around Rollo’s bones. “Fellow Honest’s the name! And you, my esteemed gentleman?”

“Rollo Flamme.” His reply was curt, intended to cut the conversation short with its bluntness. He tried to sidestep the man, but failed as Fellow slid to block him.

“Rollo—may I call you that? Great, greeat!!” he gushed, again not pausing for a “no” to potentially slip in. “From just a glance, I can tell you’re an upstanding, diligent student. You’ve been hitting the books so hard, you’ve barely gotten in a wink of sleep!”

Rollo’s mouth pinched. It was not an uncommon comment for him to hear, but he wasn’t the least bit delighted to have it spun as a compliment either.

“You poor, poor boy! You must be a nervous wreck!” Fellow sighed, sympathetically stroking the back of one of Rollo’s hands with his own. The student shuddered and pulled away with a slight glare. Rather than taking note of the displeasure, Fellow brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! You are a nervous wreck!! We must diagnose this case at once.”

To Rollo’s bewilderment, Fellow produced a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. Gidel whipped out a notebook and a pencil from his overalls, poised to take notes.

“Let’s have a look at you!”

Fellow circled the dazed Rollo, poking and prodding at the boy’s lean frame with the butt of his cane. It bit into his ribs, his cheek, his thighs, as Fellow rattled off nonsensical phrases, Gidel reverently scrawling them down. Rollo swatted at the fox as if dispelling a pesky bug—but Fellow was too fast, too slippery, to land a clean hit on.

He at last stepped back, snatching up the notes from Gidel. (Rollo caught a brief glimpse of the writing—it was nothing close to what could pass as language.)

Fellow raked a hand through his hair as he seriously took in the report of scribbles. With each passing second, his features increasingly crinkled with concern. "Oh me, oh my, oh dear!! Alas, it's just as I suspected!"

"... What?"

The glasses and the notepad were promptly discarded. Props made meaningless now that their purpose was fulfilled.

Fellow snaked an arm around Rollo. Firmer this time, not something to be shaken off. "You, my boy, are allergic! To this drudgery! This cage, these walls!" He wildly gestured with his cane to their surroundings. "This life you're trapped in! You're stressed, depressed, mad, sad, miserable, all of the above!"

Each adjective thrown out drew Rollo's brows closer and closer together until there was no hiding his grimace. “I do not appreciate the unwarranted judgments being made of my character.”

"You see! My hunch was right!" Fellow flicked at a corner of Rollo's frown. It deepened. "There's only one cure for what you have: a vacation! And luckily for you, I have exactly what you need right here…!”

Reaching into his sleeve, Fellow retrieved a single ticket, sandwiched between two lithe fingers. The sepia image of an amusement park wreathed in flags was frames in crimson, blue, and gold. Admit One, trumpeted the ticket, to Playful Land.

“It just so happens that I, Fellow-sama, am the manager to the fabled amusement park of wonder, hopes, and dreams... Playful Land! Have you heard of it? It's a magical place with a plethora of rides, games, song and dance! Why, there's even a big stage where any member of the audience can be a rising start! The food, all free and ample!! You can gorge yourself on fun!! Doesn't that sound like a swell dream?"

Rollo deadpanned. "If by 'dream', you mean dreadful. To encourage casting aside one's inhibitions to indulge in all manner of vices... Your establishment is no paradise. It is a den of depravity, hell masquerading as heaven.”

"Eh?"

The strong hostility seemed to throw Fellow for a loop, gave him pause. He fumbled for a moment before finding his words again.

"My, my! Your allergies are worse than I thought...! Every kid needs to kick back one in a while, and you most of all! Since we're such good friends now, I would be more than happy to gift this prized ticket, good only for tomorrow, to you free of charge!" He winked, giving a theatrical twirl of his cane. Stars and sparkles exuded out from it. A small charm, a harmless trick. "No need to thank me!"

Rollo's eyes flashed, instant recognition setting him on edge. Similar items infested the City of Flowers every Topsy Turvy Day—enchanted handkerchiefs, tambourines infused with meager magic.

Disgust roiled through him.

"We have no such friendship," Rollo snippily corrected him. Is this man delusional? "Furthermore, tomorrow is a school day. It wouldn't do to miss it in favor of gallivanting."

“Now, now, I insist!!” Fellow pressed. “Please accept this ticket and take a load off, enjoy yourself. Live a little, laugh a little! The last thing I would want is for you to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity!! Skipping a single day of school wouldn't be too harmful for a star-studded scholar like yourself."

His gaze flicked to Gidel. The two shared a keen glint, a subtle signal, then broke out into a show, a flurry of tap dancing along the pier.

"Trade in your typical for somethin' magical!” Fellow cried with the tip of his top hat. “Where it’s covered in all the colored lights!! Where the runaways are runnin’ the night!”

Gidel fished out a party popper from under his own headwear. When he tugged on its string, crackles filled the air, the popper letting loose a shower of glittering particles. Fellow belted out a hearty laugh, swinging his cane to catch confetti.

"Come on to the theater!!” he urged—mostly likely reciting some park motto, Rollo ventured. “In Playful Land... Life is Fun!!"

Fellow struck a pose with his arms thrust out, punctuating the performance. Gidel was less dexterous, and settled for an awkward approximation of the same pose.

Expectant for applause.

“… Charming display,” Rollo remarked dryly. He picked out a limp streamer from his hair. With a huff, he blew the remaining confetti off of him. “However, only a blithering fool would accept such a dubious offer. Is that what you take me for, Mr. Honest? A blithering fool?”

Fellow recoiled, his ears flattening, and his bravado faltering. Gidel glanced at the older man, soulful eyes full of worry.

"You must have fantasized about a day off before! Don't you want to get away and forget about your work and worries? Don’t you crave freedom?”

"No."

"What of the desire to chase thrills? To see and to experience what few others have before, or to relive a childhood you've perhaps never had? Don't you want to cut loose? Go crazy? Party all day?"

"Never."

"How about stardom? Play a different role? Have you a longing to stand upon a grand stage, hundreds of thousands of adoring fans applauding your passionate performances?"

"Not once."

His patience wore thin like a braided rope down to its final connecting threads. Rollo tapped a finger against his folded arms. "Are you finished? I tire of my precious time being wasted. If you will kindly excuse me."

He turned back toward the town. Rollo was a few steps along a shop-lined street when, suddenly, the odd duo reappeared. They skidded to a panting stop before Rollo, walling off his path. Well, more Fellow than Gidel.

A look of annoyance ripped across the fox’s face. “HOLD ON!! What kind of person plays hard to get and then walks away from a conversation like that?! Would it kill you to stop and just listen to me, you bra…”

Fellow petered off midsentence and backpedaled, smoothing out his spite into a smile. "...aaave soul! I've yet to meet someone as assertive and as self-assured as you are.” He reached out and brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from Rollo’s robes. Simpering. “You're a man that knows exactly what he wants!”

Rollo bristled. He hadn't missed the sudden shift in his chummy behavior. All the more reason to suspect them. They’re very clearly up to something.

"Yes, yes, I can see it now!" Fellow continued, stroking his chin in contemplation. "What you seek is not amusement! You’re longing—no, aching—for something far greater, more ambitious!"

He leaned into Rollo's ear, cupping a hand to it. Gidel came from the other side, staring up curiously. Fellow’s voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Power, perhaps? The magical kind, even.”

Rollo visibly stiffened.

“Oh, have I got your attention?” The curve of Fellow’s mouth cocked, going crooked. A triumphant smirk. “You’re interested, I know it! Buried in those bones of yours, there's an ache, a thirst, for knowledge that you can't ignore!"

The fox wiggled a finger, his words rapt with wonder. “Playful Land is the product of maaany wise and talented mages! If you pay us a visit, you might be able to learn a thing or two from observing how we run the show. It's a valuable learning opportunity for a student of an arcane academy! How about it, kid? This surely is a deal you wouldn't want to pass up!!"

There was no indication of any feeling in Rollo's face. His eyes had glazed over, as though haunted, a veil shrouding his vision. He stared at Fellow as though he were a distant phantom.

Spin, spin. Fellow's cane did a little dance of its own. "Think of it: the fire, the freedom, the flood of magic. Blinding and outshining anything that you could know!"

Fire.

Rollo blinked. The veil lifted, and the man was rudely roused from an awake slumber. Neutrality replaced with a kindling emotion, sparse embers that did not yet know they would converge into flames. "... What did you say?"

"Everything you could ever want. Everything you could ever need," Fellow tapped the waiting ticket, "is here right in front of you. This is where dreams are made, where the impossible comes true: Playful Land. This is where you want to be—"

The fire flared, bile rising from his throat. Beneath his skin, blood came to a rapid boil. Hot, screeching, an intense fever pitch. The heat like a knife slashing through strings.

Hands lashed out, fervently seizing Fellow's arms. Rollo clutched onto him, a desperate parishioner to a priest preaching at the pulpit. But there was no such blind devotion in his expression, only something wild, untamable, twisted.

“What did you say?!” Rollo hissed, low and dangerous. Threatening.

Gidel jumped and skittered behind Fellow, hiding himself from view. The fox's hand found its way to Gidel's back to support the trembling boy.

"You've been mouthing off for quite some time, and I've been far more patient than you deserve." Rollo cut to the mustard yellow sleeve clinging to Fellow's leg. "You have a child with you. Refrain from spouting such ridiculous vulgarities in front of them.”

“Wh-What…!!”

“Is this the game you play?” Rollo’s grip tightened. Voice hoarse, a pained shudder threading through it. “Tempting children with the promise of whimsy and fun, encouraging them to be intoxicated by magic...!"

While you stand by, doing nothing.

An untimely demise by magic, a fate he knew all too well.

Consumed alive in a hellish inferno. Only a curtain of smoke and ash remaining. Slipping through his grasp when he was standing right there.

Brother...

Hot tears stung his eyes—but they dissipated near instantaneously, staved off by his burning fury. Anger and upset rapidly overtaking him.

Not again. He would not stand for it to happen, would not surrender. This, he swore, with a resolute breath, and cried out with all of his seething soul.

"Hmph! I thought you witless before, but it seems you are not a clown," Rollo spat. "You are the entire circus."

Fellow gave a light, cumbrous chuckle—but his eyes narrowed. Gone was his cheer, his merrymaking. What remained was serious, astute. "... Hey now, that's a scary face you're making. Is this really how you want to spend your days? Let's lighten up a little."

A bitter scoff sounded.

“Continue this farce, and I will not stop at raking you across the coals," Rollo warned darkly. Fire licked his fingertips, close to bursting free. "I will show you just how scary I can be. The righteous flames of judgment are cleansing. They will purge all sin, reducing the wicked to mere specks of ash."

He released Fellow with a slight shove. The older man fell back a few steps, finding his balance again when Gidel pushed him upright with a silent grunt.

“If you understand, then I will be on my way. Good day to you.”

With the path cleared, Rollo stormed right by them. Robes billowing in a passing sea breeze and austere face to the town, he almost looked the part of a hero emerging triumphant from battle.

Back to his everyday life, the same side as always.

Fellow gaped after the boy’s retreating figure. At the prey slipping away from every carefully placed trap he and Gidel had laid out for him.

"Well, I never...!!" he groused. A fresh, foul mood ripe like a rain cloud over his head, Fellow discarded his smile for a sneer. "HIIIIIIE~ What was up with that arrogant brat?!”

Gidel shrugged, his comedically large sleeves flopping as he threw his hands up.

"Damn it!!" The curse was out before Fellow could cut it off. "Next time I see that guy, I'll teach him a lesson for looking down on us!"

He angrily kicked at a soda can on the ground—abandoned by a wayward townsperson. With a CRUNCH, the can launched into a nearby lamp post, ricocheting off its base and bouncing back. The can connected with Fellow's kneecap. He yelped and seized his injury, trying to contain the pain.

Eyes blown open in alarm, Gidel rushed to him. The boy was waved off, Fellow's whimpers eventually dying down.

"My sulking worried you? … You're seriously too good for this cruddy world, Gidel," Fellow muttered, shaking his head. He ruffled the cat beastman’s mane of hair, the roughness of it grazing the unguarded pinkie poking out from his one damaged glove. "Never change, got that?“

Gidel bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Good.” Fellow drew himself up and adjusted his jacket. “Tch. Kids these days sure are spoiled rotten. You promise them the world and they still blow you off."

His thoughts settled on the boy from before. The remarks they had traded, the resistance the target had put up.

I thought a bit of magic would help loosen the kid up—but Life is Fun didn’t work on him, Fellow mused. I cast it so many times too. Between my magic and charisma, they usually cave so easily.

Yet Rollo had regarded him like a man possessed, had regarded him with such hatred. The mad, tormented look in his face. An iron barrier against the fluttery, champagne laced lull of his spell.

"... Must be somethin' wrong with him," Fellow concluded. All kinds of fucked up in the head and in the heart. "Yup, that's gotta be it! This Fellow-sama's way too cool to be outdone by any old student.”

Again, Gidel nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s alright, there’s bound to be flops! We’ll have to pick out our next mark much more cautiously.” Fellow shaded his eyes and squinted. “Let’s see…"

Gidel trailed after his gaze. Combing through a crowd for easy pickings was child’s play for Fellow, but the young boy struggled to hone in on the monotony of minute details. Little nervous tics and hesitations, chinks in armor to exploit. They were present, but Gidel’s eyes were like a broken camera. Zooming in, then out, blurring, never able to fully focus.

His attention strayed, slowly meandering back back to the piers. The sea was a simple thing compared to the town—natural, unrestrained. So easy to understand.

“Maybe that one… no, no, that would never work,” Fellow mumbles to himself. “They’re in too large of a group to comfortably break through. The girl over there? Tsk, the parents are hovering, can’t risk that…”

His eyes ran along the bustling town and along the docks. Like fingers along book spines or piano keys, a quick, light caress. Effortless.

Then he came to a full stop.

Did a double take.

And stared.

Hard.

There, lazily parked by the piers, was a small gang of boys, each dressed in the same smart black blazer and trousers, vests and armbands an assortment of colors. Tucked into their breast pockets were fountain pens topped off with magestones. Their style, those emblems, famous.

Fellow smacked Gidel’s back, snapping the boy to attention.

“Look alive, Giddie! You see that?” He pointed with his cane. “Those uniforms are…!”

His face lit up with understanding. Mouth ajar, eyes wide, brows raised.

“We’re in luck today!” Fellow snickered. He tugged on Gidel’s sleeve, yanking the youth to him. “Hurry, let’s get in front of them! We’ll cut them off, pretend as though we’ve bumped into them by accident. Then, we pounce…!!”

Gidel lifted his hammer—a cheer.

The duo scampered down the street, hearts drumming in their chests and adrenaline pumping. In that moment, they brimmed with all the hope and the excitement that Rollo had failed to exhibit. They were children racing to a dream destination, fools wishing upon stars.

Elsewhere in the town, someone sneezed.

Rollo pressed his handkerchief to his nose, retreating further into his robes. “… The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. What an ominous omen.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rollo Flamme #twst imagines #Fellow Honest #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #Gidel #Gidell #something no one asked for #Ferro Honest #imagine this

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fanaticsnail · 5 months

Note

Hello! I was just wanting to request a request your way for Mihawk (OPLA) with a fellow Warlord please?

Preferably female and chubby (if that's okay!) who uses Polearms/spears and has a kind + warm attitude.

Scenario: Both have to work together under the orders of Garp to track down some pirates who've ganged together to cause havoc and its them having to figure out how to actually work together as a team and not individuals with mutual pining >:)

Song: Tongues and Teeth - The crane wives

Have an awesome day!

Pining 😫. Yes, absolutely. Of all of fanfic writing, pining is my absolutely favourite flavour to divulge in.

The song! I'm ✨obsessed✨. It's really shown me the vibe you want for the piece written.

I can already see the battle sequences of push and pull. I'm imagining she be more scrappy in her style, her joy in battle gleefully falling from her lips as they dance amongst each other in the thralls of combat; Mihawk always remaining steady and calculated with his blade.

Mutual respect for their titles, Ginger Cat x Black Cat/Doberman energy.

Disclaimer: I don't regularly utilise body, skin, eye, hair descriptors other than using terms that are exclusively feminine or masculine to have the "reader" be imagined in a multitude of ways. I am more than happy to make an exception to my rule in this case, but I usually prefer not to for ambiguity.

I have a few other pieces to complete before this one, unless the dice roll otherwise.

In the interim, here is the Masterlist for you to consume should you desire some other Mihawk fics. I'm yet to truly write a one-shot for him (I tried, and now it's an ongoing series).

He makes appearances in:

Dance Series: swing, sway, shag & shimmy (Mihawk x reader x Buggy fic) {Synopsis: a night off was granted by captain Buggy and his pirates. Acrobatic reader impresses both of the men with her dance style. Both men decide they have the ability to potentially play nice as they share the acrobat. (Smut in chapter 4)}

Bar Shift: as a patron of Baratie (Sanji fic) {Synopsis: Sanji and Reader are work husband and work wife. They develop feelings of infatuation as they flirtatiously navigate their way through developing rapport as coworkers and now a relationship.}

The Apprentice: the one-shot that got out of hand because I love talking about wine (Mihawk fic). {Synopsis: bitchy boss and their bratty underling, enemies to lovers. Sword fighting, wine tasting and navigating complex feelings. (nudity mentioned in chapter 2 and 3, chapter 5 smut)}

You Should Be Sad: 3-part series of angst, fluff & smut. {Synopsis: Mihawk ruins his relationship with his former fiancé by not giving her the attention and care she truly longed for. She is a talented musician, performing at Baratie when she sees her ex-lover. Sings her wrath to have him feel something. (Angst in part 1, fluff in part 2, smut in part 3)}

I've also got two fics that are active works in progress upcoming:

El tango du Mihawk: Dance Series. {Synopsis: a talented thief manages to obtain an invite to the marine ball and decides to utilise it as a great opportunity to steal from the wealthiest members of the world government. Mihawk immediately recognises them and decides to toy with their scheming, tango dancing ensues.}

The Marine's Mistake. {Synopsis: something horrible occured to rid the warlord of his signature facial hair. Cadets had gathered and began whispering in hushed tones as Garp held a seated meeting with the warlord at a table in a run of the mill tavern. A new transfer does not recognise the sleek cheeks of the handsome gentlemen and immediately decides to approach to flirtatiously engage him over a drink or two. Mihawk is amused.}

I will add this to the ever growing Mihawk list and aim to complete it shortly! Thank you for your request! ❤️

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #opla mihawk x reader

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dilvuc · 5 months

Text

❝FALSE❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: false

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: cater diamond x ???!m!reader (+ riddle/trey)

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: cyber bullying

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: cater was bullied on magicam by a user who's desperate to ruined cater's lives. the mysterious user spread false rumors about cater which lead people to believe it and bullied cater which push him to his limits.

cater has been cyber bullied on magicam because of those false information spreading on the internet. he was losing a few followers and been receiving a lot of hate comments. he tries his best to ignore it and pretend that everything was fine by putting up a forceful smile. he didn't want to show anyone in the dorm and you about how he feels about this.

"Shouldn't you be off Magicam? Those comments are really hurtful. Are you alright…?" trey asked the ginger. cater clench on his phone as he reads the hateful comments, he then chuckles softly while rubbing the back of his head, "Hahaha~ They're just hateful comments. It's no big deal…"

"Cater, it's a huge deal. Whoever spreads false information about you, they need to be stopped." the vice dorm leader furrowed his eyebrows.

cater brushes it off, "It's fine, really! It doesn't bother me…!"

"Liar. Look, let us—" cater pushes trey out the door before he could finish the sentence. "I'm fine! They're only trolls! Buh-bye~"

"Cat—"

slam!

cater leans on the door before sliding on the floor and quietly sniffling leading to a soft sob. outside of his room, trey let out a worried sigh.

"Still no luck?" riddle frowned.

"He's trying hard…"

the red haired housewaren gritted his teeth, "Those false information. Whoever is spreading them, must really hate Cater…"

"It can be anyone in this school or maybe outside? I can't imagine Cater being hated on. Should we tell [Y] about this?" trey asked. riddle nodded, “While doing so, we should find who's responsible for the misinformation.”

cater stroll through the comments, only to find more and more hateful comments. it broke him, whoever posted these must be jealous of him. the ginger tosses his phone across the room before going back under the blanket and continues to sob quietly.

his door was barged open, startling the ginger. cater turn to the door to see the one and only person he trusts and loves: you.

“Cater!” you called out for the ginger. cater sniffled, “[Y]...”

you rushed over and embraced cater. the ginger dug his fingers into your uniform and buried his face in your shoulder, making himself feel safe in your arms. you gently comfort him, “It's ok…I’m here. Riddle and the others are searching for the culprit. Don't worry.”

“...Please stay with me?” cater begged. you nodded, stroking the ginger’s messy hair,

"...You're safe now. Those people don't matter to you. I'm all that matters to you.”

no one have yet to realize that it was you who spread false information to keep cater from the outside world and tricked him into thinking that you are one and only person who can protect him.

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

rules

twst masterlist

❝false; you're the culprit❞

#male reader #yandere male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #heartslabyul

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mistyresolve · 1 year

Text

| Talking To The Void - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Edited)

Word count - 2k

Summary - While Simon is away on missions, it’s hard on everyone. Especially his significant other. So he’s discovered a loophole, the only issue is that it has its downfalls.

Warning/Tags - mentions of the dirty,

A/N - this is something short to introduce my version of Simon “Ghost” Riley. i like the idea that both Simon Riley and Ghost in a sense are the same person with the same goals and values but he has defined separation between the two.

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

It no longer came as a shock when you didn’t hear from Simon for weeks on end when he was away on missions. You understood the reasoning behind the strict no contact rule; gave him grace because the cards were never in his hands. With him having to fly under the radar, and lower still, he had to vanish from the living world. You being a part of the living world involved vanishing from you too. Sometimes it was the fact that he just never had the time or means to make a phone call. Even still, the normalcy of it never quelled the anxiety and fear that plagued you—it followed you around like a predator stalking its prey. It lurked in the shadows and breathed down your neck when your back was turned. It followed you into your dreams, forcing you to awake in a panic and drenched in sweat.

You had absolute, unequivocal faith in him to come back to you. He always did. But the silence that replaced his presence was always filled with overthinking and rumination.

You tried your best to distract yourself. Sometimes with work of your own, staying later than the janitors, and when you drove home the streets and highways were desolate. You also spent a considerable amount of time at your parents' place, eating your mothers home cooked meals while you chatted about the new family gossip. You used to stay the weekend at her house because coming back home to an empty house was sometimes too much. A chilling reminder of what you were trying to forget. The nights that you did spend in your bed you slept in his clothes and on his side of the bed. Anything to get a little closer to him. Anything to trick yourself into thinking he was still there.

You never held it against Simon though. It took you the first five missions he was ordered onto to finally come to terms with the unusual lifestyle. Each time he returned he brought with him an immense amount of guilt. A guilt that ran so deep even you couldn’t soothe. He did everything he could on his end to find alternative ways to support you through his absence. When he found out about the occasional sleepovers at your parent's house, he brought you to an SPCA to adopt whatever animal of your choosing. Something to bring warmth and life into the home in his stead. Simon wasn’t the least bit surprised when you picked the sassy tabby cat with one eye named Ginger Spice.

The other alternative was phone calls. Always from a burner phone. Always an unknown number. Always silent on the other end.

Every time your phone rang and you picked it up, there was always a deflation when a phone number or name was attached to it.

That wasn’t the case this time. You fumbled and shook as you slid your finger across the screen to answer the call. Hesitating before you open your mouth, the word scared it would be returned, “Hello?” you closed your eyes, hoping, praying, pleading, that the caller didn’t reply.

When you were met with nothing, heard nothing, the half sob half sigh of relief that you let out was heartbreaking. Even Simon on the other end of the line had to lean his head against the wall for support, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I miss you,” the words are laced with grief and torment, “I miss you so much it hurts.”

Ginger Spice who was previously lounging on the divan across from you perked up at the sound of your teary voice. He let out a curious trill as he leapt off the seat, pranced to your spot on the couch, and jumped into your lap; making a few laps back and forth before settling in between your legs. The tabby cat was providing the support that Simon was striving for. Simon silently thanked the cat.

“Ginger came to say ‘Hi’,” You laughed through the tears, your vision momentarily going blurry. You wiped furiously at your eyes. You didn’t want to waste this stolen time on crying.

The first time he made one of these calls and you had hung up on him not realizing who it was. When he returned, he very bashfully confessed to you that it was him. You had given him endless apologies, absolutely mortified. He had laughed and pressed kisses into your hair, telling you it was okay and he expected that that would be the most probable outcome.

You didn’t know how long you had with him before the line would be severed and you’d be left wondering. Your fingers were kept busy by tracing the pattern on Ginger Spices markings, who immediately erupted with purrs in response.

“I don’t know if you hear him, but he’s purring,” you relayed, a soft smile dancing on your mouth.

Simon could, very faintly, and only when you spoke. The sound floated in the background of your words. A smile of his own formed under the mask. The moment was shared from thousands and thousands of miles away, and yet in the same room.

“He misses you too,” and the cat did, you would occasionally find him curled in the sheet on Simon's side of the bed. Other times he was sitting on the bench next to the door, waiting for his dad to enter, “Sometimes he takes it out on me. Which, by the way, I don’t deserve, and you’ll have to make up for that when you get back” also a true statement. Ginger Spice had developed a horrible habit of ignoring you and giving you blatant attitude. Just this morning when you filled his food bowl he meowed at you until you sat at the island and drank your tea. All because Simon would get up at buttcrack dawn, feed the cat, and drink tea while he read over reports and documents while he waited for you to start to wake up so he could climb back into the sheets and be there when you open your eyes.

“And that brings me to the next point of discussion. Your mother-in-law wants you to help move the couch in the basement to the garage so she can sell it. Dad wants to turn it into some sort of lounge, den, bar, thingy,” you waved your hand in dismissal despite the fact that he couldn’t see the action.

He might not have been able to see, but if he closed his eyes and listened, he could imagine you. Knowing your mannerisms and idiosyncrasies as if they were his own. Every moment he spent with you he filed away and studied. A talent that also came in handy when it came to those lonely nights away from you. Visualizing his hand was yours. Smaller and softer. Gentle and caring. A fact that he had no qualms telling you about, or explaining to you in great detail. And he was very good at explaining, and it usually led you to enact his visualizations. All so he can “confirm his creativity was close to the real thing”. He is very tongue-in-cheek about it too.

“She wants me to help her paint and redecorate. But I’m having a hard time thinking up a theme so you’ll have to help me out,” and he would, he was good at helping you organize your thoughts and ideas. He enjoyed any task that was thrown at him, taking them head-on and with fervent no matter how pointless it was. He claimed it kept him limber. He liked being needed and valued. He especially liked it when you praised his ideas.

He listened contently as you talked to him about everything you could. What you had for lunch, the book you recently finished, the hairball you had to clean up, the “bitch two offices down”. He would have to bite the inside of his cheek and focus on controlling and steadying his breaths to keep from laughing. He loved how your voice dropped to a whisper when you got to the nitty gritty of the gossip. As if you were sitting at the back of a coffee shop with him, and talking about people as they sat right in front of you. He’d never admit it, but he lived for the drama. Thrived off it. But only if it came from you.

You filled him in on the drama, removing names and identifiers in the rare case that someone was listening in. The same reason you wouldn’t say his name or call sign. The same reason he couldn’t talk.

He never voiced it to you for the fear that if he spoke it out loud it would come true, but the possibility of something happening to you because he got too comfortable in his anonymity, scared the shit out of him. An issue he never had to deal with before you. He always kept his identity close to his chest but his seriousness about it only increased by a tenth-fold when you crept into his life. It was not only his life on the line but yours too now. He was doing everything he could to protect you. To make sure you remained an enigma to his enemies. To which he had a lot of. A lot of them would have no issues using you to get to him, and all of them would kill for that kind of opportunity. He also wanted to give you some ounce of normality when he returned, and he didn’t have to conceal his identity. Where he could take you out, and show you off without the fear that someone will recognize him. His only regret was that he could only give that to you for half the time.

He sometimes wished he could burn the world just so he could get some peace with you. He wished he could put you in a jar and carry you with him everywhere he went. That’s all they were though, wishes and selfish daydreams.

Right now, he was sitting in the stairwell of an apartment building. He and Price were monitoring a target, building a routine for them. They were stationed on the roof of said apartment with snipers. He had switched off the main shift with Price about six hours ago. He spent those six hours getting sleep and food, before making the phone call. A phone call Price had no idea he was making. A phone call to someone, not even Price knew existed. He would rejoin Price after the call to help with comms and to give him some company. Lord knew Simon knew staring into a scope at someone watch TV and order room service for a 12 hour shift was deathly boring. Not that he’d ever complain. It allowed him time to sit with his thoughts. He would probably do a couple of rounds around the area too. Secure their exits and entrances.

You loosed a sigh, suddenly sad again, “I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

He looked at the timer on the phone screen: 1:23:09.

It hadn’t felt that long. And it sure as hell didn’t feel long enough.

“Come home to me soon, please,” the earnestness in your voice was palpable. He could almost taste it on his tongue. The twisted heart in his chest felt like it dropped a couple of inches, and a zip of pain shot down his arm.

“I love you,” you whispered so sweetly he thought he’d get a sugar high from it. That or the blood was leaving his brain and travelling south. You left enough time after you said it that if he could respond he would have enough time. Then reluctantly hung up.

He tapped the phone in the palm of his hand, pulling his mind back into his body. Switching back to Ghost he rolled his shoulders, shaking off any remaining unwanted thoughts and feelings.

He dismantled the phone, removing the battery, the sim, the camera, the screen. Everything. He would toss the individual parts in different locations as he did his patrols. He’d be damn thorough. The sim card he would burn. He would destroy any evidence and connection to Simon Riley.

Masterlist ❤︎

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod x y/n #cod x reader #simon riley #simon riley imagine #MistyGhosties

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