#lightning is both my blessing and my curse

[lepusrufus]

Just... them doing each other's makeup before a gala🥺

#yes there's a part two of this with Caitlyn doing Vi’s eyeiner #no your gay asses aren't ready for it #no actually i just didn’t have time to finish both #piltover’s finest #arcane #my art #lightning is both my blessing and my curse #I'm gay and very soff for them #flips out ouija board and summons the spirit of Sappho #me and who?!?!

[kmgkmg]

IT WILL BE OKAY - YOON JEONGHAN

word count: 2.6k…

pairing: jeonghan x gn!reader

synopsis: your boyfriend (yes, the one and only, yoon jeonghan) is being stubborn and refusing to admit that he's sick

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, bf!jeonghan, established relationship, domestic

warnings: slightly suggestive, but it's all just teasing.

rating: pg-13

a/n: i recently ate some chicken dumpling soup from one of my favorite restaurants and it had me thinking about how svt would act when they're sick. okay, when i say svt i mean jeonghan. anywho, i hope y'all enjoy this fluff! titled after it will be okay by yun ddan ddan (i had no idea jeonghan recommended some of his songs? he has taste! also this ep brought me back to 2018) thank you a bunch to @toikiii for being a beta reader for this fic!

The lights were on when you entered your apartment, which surprised you since you thought he would already be sleeping. You placed the food you picked up on the kitchen counter next to the stove and swiftly headed to the bedroom. Jeonghan was sitting on his favorite chair, preoccupied by his phone. You could tell he was listening to music by the way his body subtly swayed to the rhythm of the song. 

“What are you doing?” You asked only to be met with no response. He was evidently absorbed in the music and couldn’t hear you. Noise-cancelling headphones are a blessing and a curse, you thought to yourself before tapping his shoulder to alert him of your arrival back home. 

“Y/N, my baby’s back!” He takes off his headphones at lightning speed and goes in to give you a kiss, a greeting that has become normalized between you two. You put up your hand to stop him in his tracks resulting in your boyfriend having a quizzical look on his face.

He pouts, “Why are you depriving me of our daily greeting?” 

“Your fault for being on your phone,” You reason curtly. 

Jeonghan’s bewilderment with your mood only grew bigger because you just got home. He couldn’t figure out why you were upset with him. Nevertheless, he resumes his usual chatter after work and shows off his new AirPods Max that Seungcheol gifted him.

“Seungcheol had these shipped to the apartment and they came a couple hours ago, he said it was a gift since he lost the game that we bet on last time we went to CHEERS Pub,” He chattingly tells you, happy to see you after a long day. 

You belatedly notice the new condition of the headphones resting on his shoulders. Creating a mental note to send an angry lengthy text to Jeonghan’s friend for gifting it while your boyfriend was sick. He did need new headphones though, his last ones only had one ear that worked properly.

“You mean the bet you cheated on?” You grin, used to his dirty shenanigans when hanging with his friends. 

“Shh, all Seungcheol thinks is that the bar’s cue sticks were faulty,” He shushes you, making you both recall the chaotic night of pool that took place. There was never a dull moment with Yoon Jeonghan as your boyfriend.

You realize that he still doesn’t know that your neighbor Joshua texted you earlier. Joshua informed you that he heard some coughs through his wall that sounded painful. Without Joshua’s text, you probably wouldn’t have known about Jeonghan’s sickness until he had already recovered. Unlike popular belief, Jeonghan typically doesn’t like getting attention when he’s feeling unwell. Well, he likes getting doted on by anyone but you. He feels it’s a huge inconvenience for you, since he knows that most of the time you’re stressed out about work. You’ve tried to change his ways by telling him you’re his partner and it hurts you to not know he’s ill. Yet, each time he’s been ill he’s managed to hide it from you. This time though, now that you’re aware, you can’t sit and do nothing. You won’t. 

You bought rice porridge from his favorite restaurant and although he usually ordered cheonggukjang, the rice porridge was definitely more fitting for his current state. He smelled the heavenly fragrance coming from the kitchen and stopped talking about his headphones to investigate. He strolled over leisurely with you close behind him. 

“What's this?” He wonders audibly while opening the bag and becomes confused while looking at the food in front of him. What occasion calls for rice porridge?

His confusion turns into worry, “Is my baby sick?”

He darted over to where you were on the opposite side of the counter and put his hand on your forehead to check your temperature. Yet again, he’s left feeling immense confusion since you feel fine. 

“Cut the act, Yoon Jeonghan.” You groan, attempting to also feel his forehead with your hand but he dodged your touch before you could do so. 

He knows you mean business, since you brought out his full name. Still, he didn’t want to cave in and think that you had somehow sensed he was ill.

“What act my dearest Y/N?” He feigns ignorance with a smile, trying to preserve his artificial naivety to the situation. Your eyes were fixed on something behind him, causing him to sharply snap his head back. Not noticing right away, he shrugs at you so you simply point at the trash can by the sofa full of used tissue. 

“Do normal people use that much tissue in one day, Yoon Jeonghan?” You rhetorically ask, feeling successful in collecting evidence of his illness. 

He scurries to hide the tissue but realizes it’s too late. Every attempt to get back to his relaxed composure are failures. Nonetheless, he moves the trash can behind the sofa’s arm to hide it in hopes that you wouldn’t bring it up again.

You clap your hands victoriously “Ha, I got you!” 

Well technically Joshua did, but seeing Jeonghan flustered was a rare occurrence so you wanted to take the credit and remember it. You also needed to thank Joshua for his helpful intel, but that was for another day. Turning serious again you returned to the food and started pouring the porridge out into a pot. You knew that he liked his food hot, but having piping hot food wasn’t the best idea when he’s as sick as he is. Still, lukewarm porridge quickly becoming cold porridge was definitely not what you wanted to give him. Warming it up on the stovetop, you were clueless to his presence behind you.

Jeonghan was lurking behind you and checking your process by looking over your shoulders silently. He knew that you tended to tune out the rest of the world when you were focused on something else. Your intense concentration skills are something that he loved about you.

Today you were more attentive since he was sick and you quickly noticed him behind you. Also, trying to breathe behind someone silently when you have a congested nose is impossible. No matter how hard he tried to be quiet, his labored breathing could be heard, especially given the close proximity he was behind you. Turning around, you frown at him while lightly caressing his cheek with your free hand. 

“Sit down on the couch, please. No phones, no headphones,” You requested, surprising both of you since he was usually the assertive one between the two of you. 

So that's why you were grouchy about me being on my phone, he thought to himself. “Is that what my baby was brooding about, hm?” He sang out to you, walking to the couch in compliance. 

“But Y/N, I swear I’m not sick-” He tried to deny his sickness, mainly because he doesn’t want to worry you. Secretly, the smallest part of him also really wants to listen to music with his newly gifted headphones, but luck wasn’t on his side. 

He breaks out into a coughing fit before he can even finish his sentence. Defeatedly taking a seat on the couch, he extends his arm out for the tissue box on the coffee table next to him. 

The burner on the stove was turned low to simmer anyways so you filled up a glass of water and rushed over to the couch, concerned for Jeonghan.

“Hannie, it will be okay but please rest and let me take care of you.”

“But I’m fine, really.” He bluffs. He tries to return to his music, giving you a weak smile to reassure you but you softly take his headphones off his ears and sit down on the couch next to him. 

“If you don’t use these or your phone until you get better I’ll buy you whatever legos you want,” You promise, hoping that would be the final motivator to discourage his music listening for the night. 

His face changes completely, brightening up at your words. That’s an offer he would gladly accept. Seeing you so close to him for the first time tonight, Jeonghan’s able to see your disheveled hair and forehead with a few beads of sweat slowly rolling down your face. His face does a complete reverse from the brightened appearance it had with the mention of the legos, darkening enough to make one think you broke his pet rock. Did you run home?

“You were really concerned about me, huh?” He holds your hand in both of his, suddenly feeling extremely guilty for not listening to your requests earlier.

“Of course I was. I got a text from our neighbor that you were coughing and then you weren’t replying to my text messages. My supervisor made me work overtime so I couldn’t even rush home early to you,” you spill out, tears now falling off your face, mixing with the sweat droplets.

“You texted me?” Now it’s his turn to be concerned as he pulls out his phone one last time, checking his messages and seeing no recent ones from you. He scrolls hurriedly, turning his phone to show you. Although he figured it’s his phone’s fault for not delivering your messages he only feels more sorry, hugging you with one arm and wiping your tears with his other hand. 

You opened your own messages, only to see that none of the messages ever sent.

“I hate my work’s wifi so much,” you sigh, still embraced by Jeonghan on the couch. He consoles you a bit more as your breathing returns to normal. You stay like this for a while more before remembering the porridge was still on the stove, “It must be boiling hot!”

Jogging back over to the kitchen, you taste a spoonful of the porridge and are relieved at its mild temperature. The simmer function has to be one of the best inventions. You pour it into a bowl that you made for Jeonghan on one of your first dates. His mug ended up wildly deformed and became large enough to function as a vase. But, you never knew ceramics could be so much fun. Jeonghan was always the one planning your dates and he always found nice activities to do. He was a large part in the fun factor of your pottery memories, the reason that your apartment was crowded with your amateur creations.

“Baby, do you want to try this?” You inquired, stopping your reminiscing.

He comes over to the island in your kitchen and takes a seat on the stool, eating a spoonful of it.

“You got it from my favorite restaurant didnt you?” He fondly looks up at you while enjoying another spoonful of the porridge. 

“Mhm,” You hum, grabbing your order out of the plastic bag. You reached in the sink for a bowl that you could’ve sworn was still dirty, only to see the sink was empty. You were going to do the dishes once you finished work, which means the empty sink could only be attributed to Jeonghan. He did the dishes before you came back even though it was your turn, and in a sick condition at that. You leaned over the sink and gently grabbed his head to give him a kiss on the forehead. He was still holding his bowl of porridge and stayed quiet for a while, unsure but grateful towards what he did to warrant your affection. 

Thirty minutes later, Jeonghan and you were both finished with your dinners and feeling full. You were playing with his hair as you both rested on the sofa, sitting and enjoying the quiet. Still have plenty of time to aid him back to health, you thought while glancing at your work bag. You were glad you stopped at the convenience store on the way home practically buying everything known to man to make him feel better. Cold medicine? Check. Calming tea? Check. Fuzzy socks? Check. You could tell he was getting sleepy since his body heat was warming you up as well, nearly making you fall asleep. 

“Jeonghan, can you move over slightly so I can get up real quick?” You whispered, careful to not disturb his relaxed body next to you. He silently obliged, immediately flopping onto your empty space to cling onto any of the lingering warmth your spot might have. 

You walked to your work bag which you left in the bedroom, grabbing a cooling patch since you could tell he still needed to break his fever. Holding it behind your back with both hands, you sauntered over to the couch. 

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan nervously asks while getting up from his lying position. He was used to that mischievous smile on your face. It was a smile that rivaled his own scheming one, an aspect that initially attracted him to you. But now, he knew better than to view that smile as charming.

“Just making sure you get your daily greeting, even if it’s delayed,” You reply, watching him stand up from the couch. 

“But you’re going to get sick,” Jeonghan stumbles on his words, trying to hide how flustered he was. Still, you were walking over to him with a stare that left him breathless. Your greeting was typically just a quick peck, what were you planning to do to him?

Your smirk only grew wider as you saw his flustered expression, well-aware that he didn’t know what was behind your back. Soon enough, you were face-to-face with Yoon Jeonghan as he waited for what seemed like an eternity. You took one hand off your grip of the cooling patch, using it to push his chest. He was caught off guard so he fell backwards onto the couch. He gulped at your actions, still not understanding what was happening. You wanted to be face-to-face with him, so you placed one of your knees in between his legs and bent down to reach his eye level. 

“Y/N, seriously what’s gotten into you tonight?” He giggled, loving every second of it. 

“Nothing,” You replied, leaning even farther, enough for him to close his eyes. He was expectant and you knew he would immediately sulk. 

His eyes reopened to reveal a blank stare looking back at you. You backed away from the sofa, content with your placement of the cooling patch. He slowly touched his forehead to be met with the cold sensation from the patch and his blank stare became a sullen look.

“Why am I getting no kisses today? Don't you know you shouldn't tease a sick person?” He complained, making your predictions correct.

You shrugged at your boyfriend, “In my defense, I did give you a forehead kiss during dinner. Like you said, if I kissed you for real we would both get sick. We need to have at least one breadwinner to pay the bills, right?” 

He whined, “But, I’m going to work tomorrow too!” 

“Like hell you are, I already called in for you,” You refused, finding your place on the sofa next to him again.

“The sooner you feel better, the sooner I’ll buy you those legos…” You trail off with your reminder, extending a hand out for him to get up. If he was going to fall asleep the bed would be a hundred times more comfortable than the sofa, and it was getting late.

"You should be tucked in, but not too much that you can't break your fever," You explain, helping Jeonghan into bed as you headed to the bathroom to change into pajamas.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N. I won’t hide it anymore when I’m sick,” Jeonghan promised you, making you grin at his stubbornness crumbling away. You couldn't see him, but you could tell he was blushing by the timidness in his tone.

“See, being cared for isn’t that bad, is it?” You point out, crawling into bed next to him.

“Not when it’s you,” He mumbled with a soft smile, drifting off to sleep.

#caratwritersclub #kpopccc #k-vanity #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen #svt #yoon jeonghan x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan oneshot #kmgkmgoriginal

[ponydoodles]

I also got inspired to do a redo of my mod post due to all the new/other mods doing so!

🐾 Hey y'all, my name is Sam, and I am mod Salem! The noodle above is Scruffy, I'm very happy to be drawing for y'all!

🐾 My favorite ponies and Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Lightning Dust, and Moondancer! I watched MLP as a kid, but I REALLY got into it during g4!

🐾 I love drawing with pastels/neons, and I love to snag scene and alternative themed asks! My artstyle varies a lot due to how often I draw, so I hope y'all have just as much fun as I do when it changes!

🐾 I'm temporal lobe epileptic and I draw so much because I love doing it, but also because I have hypergraphia! It's both a blessing and a curse lol

🐾 Whoopsie forgor my art blog, it's @punkxpride if you wanna see more of my art!

#punkpride #my little pony #my little pony friendship is magic #mlpg4 #my little pony: friendship is magic #mlp:fim #mlp #mlp fanart #mlp art #mlp artwork #mlp artist #mod salem #draconequus #scruffy #mod ponies #eyestrain #eyestrain tw #tw eyestrain #cw eyestrain #eyestrain cw #neon #pastel

[tree-obsession]

Aventurine, the Waste Land, the black hole, and luck- analysis on aventurine's possible fate

possible spoilers for 2.1 trailblaze mission

possible tws for suicide/suicidal idealization, mentions of slavery, and a massacre

ok there is. a lot to unpack for this mission but I would like to focus on the references to The Waste Land (by T.S. Elliot, fucking amazing poem btw) that were in Aventurine's parts?

First of all the achievements- the "Sibyl, what do you wish for?" and "She answers, I wish to die" or something like that. That is the very first thing in the poem we see- to put a long story short, it's a reference to how there was this oracle named Sibyl in Greek Mythology, blessed to live forever by Apollo. Apollo got angry after she refused to have sex with him and cursed her so that while she would live forever, her body would slowly waste away, eventually becoming dust kept in a jar. A couple of boys one day come up to this prison jar and ask her "Sibyl, what do you wish for?" and then she answers that she wants to die. This could be a reference to Aventurine, who is always so lucky but at that moment truly didn't wish to be lucky, and really did want to die. Yet he was stuck, unable to live- considering he is something of a "chosen" of Gaiathra Triclops, she could be the one who cursed him, in disguise of a "blessing" of good luck.

second, the maze scene. there were two references here, both from the fifth(fourth? it's been a hot minute since I read this poem, the details aren't all clear) part of the poem. it talks about a deserted waste land, where rain never falls, there is only lightning and rocks/sand. this matches up with descriptions of sigonia, as a desert planet that's referred to as "the unclaimed desolation", and also some of those lines are directly said in the white text that floated around the maze(which i'll be referring to as floating text from now on). the second reference was also in the floating text, which talks about how "there is another presence/person beside us", or something very similar. I don't have the direct quotation, but this is also a direct reference- within the poem, there are two travelers in this "waste land", and the narrator mentions feeling a presence that wasn't truly there. According to Elliot himself, his inspiration for this part of the poem was from an account of an Antarctic journey, where the person who wrote the account said he and his men were so out of it due to exhaustion they had begun to hallucinate another presence who wasn't actually there. this is probably referencing how mini-aventurine and present-aventurine both exist, and have existed, but the future-aventurine technically does not exist yet and literally is just popping up, clearly not "real" in the physical sense but definitely there. within the poem, there are a lot of speculations between scholars about why Eliiot decided to add this hallucinated dude in but one popular theory is that it's Christ, in disguise, which is really interesting considering The Family's Christian imagery. something to watch out for when Aventurine returns to the story (he def isn't dead, but as to when he's returning... :( i can't get my hopes up) or if anyone else analyzes this more deeply.

now, why the waste land? it's universally considered a pretty depressing poem, about how the world after World War I was torn apart and collapsing in on itself, and portrays a lot of characters who aren't living life to their fullest at all. it references many famous texts and literary works, pointing at literature as an amalgamation of all other literature and also acting as a metaphor for how everything builds off each other, so one thing collapsing could result in everything collapsing. there are a lot of references to different religions as well. perhaps the best way to put it is that Elliot was portraying a world under threat of total collapse, and asks the reader if there is anything humanity can do to save it, or if we must simply salvage what we can. the ending also implies peace is a far-off, perhaps unreachable thing since everything is so discordant. but you get the idea at this point- the poem is about decay and rotting over time. I don't have the greatest grasp on either this poem or aventurine's psyche, but the 2.1 quest revealed a lot- he is an incredibly lucky person who is in a lot of bad situations but gets out every time, and has never lost a bet (despite his life otherwise being absolutely terrible). the waste land itself could simply be sigonia, and then perhaps aventurine himself is a representation of the characters within the poem. practically all scholars agree that in this poem, all the female characters coalesce into one character, and the male characters do so too, and then there is one uniting character between the "male" and "female"- tiresias, who according to Elliot has "foreseen and foresuffered all". he is described as the most important figure in the poem by Elliot himself. Tiresias is an androgynous figure, but is referred to with he/his. he also is the only one to say "I" in the poem, and despite the fact he is blind he can see all, even the future- in mythology, he was a prophet like the Sibyl. "what Tiresias sees is, in fact, the substance of the poem", as Elliot says- in other words, what he sees seems to be the closest thing to the truth you will get.

now obviously that's pretty valuable, considering literally everyone is lying in penacony (in the livestream they said the entire guest list is filled with question marks in place of names, implying everyone's identities there were fake- other than Sparkle's, but she's a Masked Fool and will trick people just for the hell of it, so not exactly the best ally). however (this is where speculation starts) I think this could be possibly very subtle foreshadowing for Aven's return! and I know this may sound delusional but. it's established he's not dead. his stone is out, but that's quite possibly because he's next to a fricking black hole and also Acheron possibly had "freed" him, in some sense? that conversation he had with her obviously changed a lot of things for him as a character, and she said she could break the harmony's bonds on him... also, clearly if he wasn't dead while waking up next to a black hole, that's certainly a surefire way to tell his luck hasn't run out yet. the entire mission was spent establishing his luck is perfect, given by the goddess of his planet, and will never fail him. this is like near emanator-level shit- obviously not quite in terms of any special power, but he was specifically chosen by this goddess, was born on a special day, and due to sheer luck is the last one standing of his clan (apparently). literally everything was set up against him and he's only still alive due to a literal goddess-given power, which is absolutely nuts and almost overpowered if it weren't for the fact that he also seems to be in many scenarios where luck and gambling is the only way to get out at all. the massacre, the enslavement, killing his old master, the weird warlord thing that got brought up, penacony... his luck is purely for getting out of bad situations, it seems.

that was kind of a tangent. anyway! the whole mission was establishing how good his luck was. he got into this situation where the only solution is to walk into a black hole and see the other side of penacony- that is a classic example of "there is an extremely, extremely narrow chance of getting out alive". acheron did it, or something similar, so clearly it's possible- but luck and chance would be the only way. this is the cycle of his life- he's in an absolutely shitty situation, but he will get out due to luck. imo it's a terrible idea writing-wise to keep him explicitly alive up to the very end and going into a situation- alive- which he can survive in due to his luck, right after giving him fulfilling conversation with both acheron and his past self and seeing the uplifting note from Ratio... just to offscreen him, or kill him for some reason related to this "other side of penacony". it wouldn't line up with all that we know about him now. granted, I can't imagine it'll be pleasant and his mental state will be even worse at the end of it... but he'll be alive, and he's made it through a lot of hellish situations. he might not like his luck all the time, and it can be either a blessing or a curse given the scenario, but he's kind of stuck with it- until he withers away, just like Sibyl. Death does seem to be inevitable, but as of right now it's not knocking on his door.

tldr: for now, our boy isn't dead and his luck might be a curse to him but it's clearly going to keep him alive for quite a bit longer :)

tysm for reading and have a nice day!

#honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #hsr spoilers #my fav poem and my fav character #whoo!!! #acheron #(mentioned) #hsr theory #honkai star rail theory #kakavasha #my beloved <<<333 #i wanted to squish mini-aventurine's cheeks SO BADLY whenever he came onscreen

[nerdyenby]

One of my favorite things about the life series — aside from the everything — is how fluid the narrative is and how it’s primarily shaped by the fanbase. Because of this, you can maintain multiple contradicting theories with minimal concern about starting an argument or being proven wrong, it’s great

For example, I have two separate interpretations of Jimmy not being first out of Secret Life. I love them both to death and I don’t have to choose (at least for now)

1. the curse isn’t broken (lizzie)

This theory (introduced in this post) is essentially that Lizzie’s final death doesn’t break Jimmy’s curse. The canary’s curse is to be a warning of impending doom, to die to signal danger to miners within caves. Jimmy was still the first to die in the Overworld, the first funeral, the first lightning strike. Lizzie died in the End, a tragic accident that went unnoticed for seconds if not minutes. She died in the void like no player before. The End has not been in play in any prior season, and the Watchers are known to have a special relationship with it. Is it possible she escaped their notice? That her death was beyond their reach? Beyond the bounds of the game? Jimmy has always been the first to die, a warning to others that death is coming, but what meaning does the canary’s call — or lack of it — have to those beyond the coal mine?

2. the curse is broken (skizz)

I noted (in this post) when episode four first came out that Skizz said something unexpected, something with unusual confidence behind it. He called Jimmy a winner, commended his fighting spirit, and told him things would be different this time. He truly believed in Jimmy, and, possibly more importantly, got Jimmy to believe in himself. Fans have consistently interpreted Skizz’s character as angelic — as kind, honest, pure, good, steadfast, sacrificial, and selfless. Between his pattern with threes (being in every season except the third, having three deaths in the first episode of Limited Life, etc.) and the pattern known as “Skizz’s Blessing,” (where the winner of each season was there when he died) it’s easy to see why. His words historically have weight in the games, take “TIES makes top three” for example. Whether he predicts or dictates events as we know them, we don’t know, but it doesn’t seem to matter. When Skizz speaks there is truth we don’t see anywhere else. He is an omen of victory, all the sweeter in Jimmy’s case considering Skizz was the one to end his series — end anyone’s series — for the very first time.

(Note that I gotta go back and fact check the other patterns/curses I reference, these may be edited accordingly)

#both of these things can be true #these theories are my babies you guys #now. whether skizz KNOWS the future or whether the games unfold ACCORDING TO HIS WORD? #I don’t know but I’d love to hear you guys’ thoughts #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #lizzie ldshadowlady #skizzleman #secret life spoilers #life series #trafficblr #nerdy’s traffic analysis

[antiquewhim]

I want to make information on Lithuanian folklore in English more public so I am uploading the threads that until now were only on my Twitter. I present to you a comprehensive thread on aitvarai, the ancient Lithuanian deities of the skies

(art credits: Neringa Meškauskaitė, Agroshka )

Aitvarai (etymologically "ones to appease" or "irrepressible force") are domestic creatures associated with all 4 elements: a comet of fire which harnesses wind for chaos, helping Earth and its people while being chased and punished by Perkūnas for stealing water.

Most commonly a black rooster, they can appear as a variety of creatures: different kinds of black birds, grass snakes, whirlwinds, comets and even men if they fall in love with a woman that they want to marry.

Though very powerful ancient beings, Aitvarai choose to associate themselves with people, with villagers being able to either hatch them from an egg of a 7 year old rooster or attract them by leaving out hot, untouched meals like porridge and scrambled eggs.

When part of a household, the duties of an aitvaras were to bring riches to his caretakers, either as money (money carrying aitvarai were golden, deep red or silver in coloration) or as wheat (grey and black colors). Note that aitvarai only served the poor, tricking the wealthy people who tried to use them.

Aitvarai were both a blessing and a curse: while they did bring wealth, they did it by stealing from the neighbors of their master, making them most hated in the local village. They were also clingy and dangerous to keep, burning down the houses of those who mishandled them by feeding them manure, tampering with their meals or disobeying the rules they set for the person.

It is said however that their thieving, evil nature was a characteristic given to them by the Catholic church, which wanted to demonize every pagan creature in Baltic mythology.

In fact, aitvarai were considered genuine problems by those who believed that they would steal from them: from warding off statuettes in granaries to court cases from 1700's accusing people of harboring an aitvaras (I found only one source claiming this, so take it with a grain of salt).

However, the desire to have an aitvaras was apparent as well, shown by modifications peasants would make to their homes: holes in the doors of granaries would be made so an aitvaras could enter the home easily.

Some rituals for stealing back from a flying aitvaras exist as well, ranging from simply showing it your bottom, to cutting oneself with a rusty knife, pinning the corner of your jacket to the ground, ripping or otherwise ruining clothing.

Even if the reaction of people to them was mixed, aitvarai were considered pests by the gods due to their tendency to drink/hoard water, for which they were struck dead by Perkūnas, exploding into sparks that caused forest fires, the thunder god's lightning forming ponds, holes and swamps, terraforming the earth.

#lithuania #mythology #folklore #lithuanian folklore #lithuanian mythology #aitvaras #aitvarai #eastern europe #Viltės threads

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi! I got a Pomni x reader prompt:

Imagine if the reader and Pomni both have crushes on each other (something that everyone else in the  circus is aware of and doesn’t stop teasing Pomni cause of it) and at some point, the reader gives Pomni a quick kiss on the cheek spontaneously leaving Pomni in an incredibly stunned silence and the reader instantly embarrassed. The two avoiding each other out of fear of possible rejection and losing their friendship with it only taking everyone forcing them together for Pomni to actually saying the words to ask the reader out but they get there

Pomni x reader where theyre both losers!!! in love!!!

no clue what i wanted to name this one so uh uh uh uh !!! last request of this batch, gonna stretch my legs real quick then get right back to writing!! making pretty steady work of the remaining requests, me thinks

the gif above is more or less the face pomni makes when you kiss her on the cheek before running off... except her face is all pink, from blushing... and its not exactly a face of dread or anxiety, rather one of pure shock

i mean she had been crushing on you for how long exactly? it was hard to tell time in the digital world but it had been quite some time... oh jeez was she that obvious about it..? the though that you returned her feelings doesnt even cross her mind for a while, until later that night when ragatha found her still standing in the hallway with that look

ragatha, god bless her heart, manages to snap pomni back to reality and gets her to speak... she has this... look on her face when pomni says that you kissed her cheek

a "about time" look

"so are you two finally together?" or something in that vein, i dont think ragatha would word it like that but! you know?

meanwhile youre in your room cursing yourself for your actions

words gets out about what happened; mostly because jax entered the conversation between ragatha and pomni

and of course, jax told everyone about what happened

that everyone included caine

oh, you two were really in for it now, because caine decides to play match maker!

you guys ever seen the owl house, that one episode in season 2 where hooty makes a tunnel of love to try to get luz to confess her feelings to amity? thats basically what caine does; makes something thats really really lovey dovey and cute under the guise of it being for an in house adventure

except caine is not subtle about it, probably congratulates you for finally spilling your heart out to pomni

except... you didnt...

but hey at least the IHA forces you two to pair up

alone

in a tunnel, while cheesy romance music plays... so.. maybe in another heat of the moment thing, you both spill your guts to each other at the same time

pause

wait

huh

wow you guys have a crush on each other? who would have guessed!

^jax, probably

bonus if the tunnel of love thing has a camera and it takes a few pictures but instead of you two kissing n stuff its just both of you beat red, hands lightly raised as you guys take turn talking lightning fast to try to salvage the friendship out of that whole... fear of rejection thing... only for the shock on both of yalls faces to be captured as you confirm to one another that the feelings are mutual

caine feels... particularly proud of himself after this

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #pomni x reader #pomni x you #pomni imagine

[hisui-dreamer]

ode to the ace of hearts

Pairing: Ace Trappola x gn!reader

Synopsis: there were more than enough people who wanted to punch him in the face, but you still adored that stupid grin

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for ace

Word count: 602

Notes: going back to uni has me so drained, but a very belated happy birthday to ace! he's an idiot but he's sometimes my idiot lol

Masterlist

Your lover's laughter is a symphony of joy that resonates deep within your soul. It's infectious, spreading like wildfire and consuming your worries in its blaze. In those moments, you see the mischievous spark in his eyes, the glint of a prankster who revels in turning the mundane into a spectacle of mirth.

Your lover's cleverness is a constant source of amazement. His mind, quick as a lightning strike, finds solutions where others see dead-ends. He thrives in the world of magic, effortlessly crafting spells that seem like child's play to him but leave others in awe. It's a gift he often squanders on frivolous pursuits, yet when he chooses to apply himself, his potential is boundless.

Your lover's playfulness, his uncanny ability to turn even the most mundane moments into adventures, is a reminder that life is meant to be enjoyed. His carefree spirit is a beacon of light in your world, a reminder that life's burdens need not weigh you down. With him, every day is a new chapter in a never-ending story, and you can't help but be captivated by his infectious spirit.

Your lover's brutal honesty is both a blessing and a curse, a double-edged sword that cuts through the facade of politeness to reveal the unvarnished truth. He's fearless when confronting injustice, his courage unwavering as he stands up against the unfair treatment of others. Even though he can be stubborn and headstrong, it's impossible not to admire his unwavering determination. There's a certain comfort in knowing that you can rely on him to speak the truth, no matter how harsh it may be. It's a quality that endears him to you even more.

Your lover, as much as he may love being blunt, is a skilful liar as well. He possesses a remarkable ability to tell lies and cloak his true intentions when it suits his purposes. This skill, a shadowy counterpart to his honesty, is a testament to his quick thinking and adaptability. It's a dance of light and shadow, a reminder that nothing about Ace is as straightforward as it seems, but you're comforted that you always manage to squeeze the truth out of him when need be.

Your lover, as endearing as he may be, often makes you feel a surge of frustration so intense that you can't help but imagine delivering a playful punch to his charming face. He has an uncanny ability to push your buttons with a teasing grin, and his bluntness can sting like a thorn. But, oddly enough, even these exasperating instances only deepen your affection for him. Of course, the puppy eyes he gives you after said punches always make you forget your anger temporarily.

Your lover may appear to be indifferent to the needs of others, prioritizing his own desires above all else, putting up the act that he's not one to go out of his way to help unless it benefits him directly. But as you learned more about him, the walls he's built around his heart begin to crumble, revealing the warmth and loyalty he keeps hidden. Even though he'll never admit it, he becomes the unspoken protector of those he holds dear, always ready to lend a helping hand.

You love every facet of your lover's complex personality. His mischievousness, his cleverness, his brutal honesty, and even his ability to bend the truth when necessary—all of these qualities are part of what makes him the extraordinary person he is. And as you more time together, you're continually amazed by the layers of his character that slowly unfurl, revealing a heart that is as deep and vast as the universe itself.

Your lover, is none other than Ace Trappola.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola #ace trapola x reader #twisted wonderland ace

[knight-commander]

Argent Vestrus (he/they)

half-elf - magus - blade bound - river kingdoms daredevil

sorry i love this little guy. they are a redo of this character with a more refined aesthetic, vision, palette, story, etc. i wanted to make him less "swashbuckler" and more "river kingdoms pirate who accidentally became knight-commander", and i also wanted to emphasize their gozren faith more!!! they still were mendevian nobility who absconded and they still have an annoying little sister (marielle my beloved) and i am in the mood to write about him so you will probably hear more. anyways some FUN lore about Gozreh and why i chose them as a deity below. how it influenced design choices. etc.

from the pathfinder wiki

"Gozreh appears as a colossal humanoid (often of Mwangi ethnicity) whose lower body trails away into a mass of roiling elemental matter. While the deity transcends gender in nature, in such depictions the gender presented depends on their aspect. Their female form is associated with the sea, and appears as a young and beautiful woman with wild green hair of sea foam whose torso merges with the roiling sea. Their male form represents the winds and clouds, and appears as a weathered old man with a long white beard whose lower body melds into a storm cloud. At coastlines, images of Gozreh present these two forms reaching up from the sea and down from the heavens, whose fingers only barely miss touching each other in midair."

"Gozreh shows their favor by the sudden appearance of a gentle breeze that carries with it the smell of blooming flowers, the unexpected sound of waves crashing on a shore, or dreams involving a specific, and unusual-looking animal. Those blessed by Gozreh find navigating at sea easier, can breathe underwater, and walk with such a light step from Gozreh's winds that some can fly. Polluting or otherwise spoiling the natural order draws Gozreh's displeasure, which manifests in the sudden appearance of extremely localized storms or other bad weather, being watched or hounded by birds or beasts, or the continuous taste of blood in one's mouth. Lightning seems to seek people who have been cursed by Gozreh, the waters seem to try to drown them, and those Gozreh most displeases are so shunned by nature itself that animals and plants fear or hate them on sight—even their own animal companions or familiars, who abandon them."

"Gozreh's many representations reflect their fluid gender, which attracts followers across a wide range of identities. The faith places little emphasis on marriage, with some worshipers choosing celibacy in isolation to focus on their communion with nature. They can also be blunt, if insightful, in manner and biased toward action over deliberation."

"Priests of Gozreh are rugged folk, and many are hermits. Most who interact with society do so serving on the crews of far-ranging ships, where they are known as gale-speakers and considered lucky boons to have aboard. Gale-speakers spend most of their time at sea and walk on land only to find another ship. Followers are expected to grow their hair or beards, and often braid in seaweed, natural items, and strands of white cloth. Some also mat their hair for months in order to carve it out as nesting material for small creatures; fewer even allow animals to nest in their still-attached hair. Formal raiment is usually long robes of sea-green, storm-grey, or sky blue color, decorated with coral or pearls. Although most druids in the Inner Sea region are followers of the Green Faith, a significant minority of them worship Gozreh instead."

"Due to being both aquatic and aerial beings tied to both the sea and rain, tidehawks are often considered favored creatures of Gozreh. There is disagreement among sailors regarding whether sighting a tidehawk is a good omen or a bad one, since the ocean, tidehawks, and Gozreh are all quick to shift between calm and fury."

#oc: argent #argent vestrus #pwotr #knight commander oc #river kingdoms #pathfinder #pathfinder wotr #pathfinder 1e #gozreh #pwotr pals #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #pathfinder: wrath of the righteous

[ilguna]

☼ stings (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; ' HI CAN I PLEASE REQUEST THE READER LIKE CLEANING FINNICKS WOUNDS?? like idk why he would be all banged up but like just some fluff of the reader just cleaning up poor little finnick would make my life complete tbh. thank you love! ‘

warnings; swearing, self-inflicted injury (trackers)

wc; 2.2k

–

“Stay here.” Finnick grabs your arms, “Please, don’t go far from the tree. I’ll be right back.”

He begins to move away, to head back into the dark jungle to chase after Peeta. You try to grab him to keep him going, terrified of splitting up. He manages to slip from your grasp, jumping through the greenery to move faster.

You slow turn back to face the tree.

The last twenty-four hours have gone nothing but awry. 

Since the end of the Hunger Games last year, you knew that this was never going to end. This wasn’t going to be another year that would get hyped up, only to be forgotten in time. Which was both a blessing and a curse, because the way they’d been treating their victorship meant that everyone was going to be dragged into the fight.

And here you are.

Honestly, that’s not even the worst part of it. It’s when Haymitch came to you and Finnick, begging you guys to carry an alliance that two tributes didn’t even know of. How you two were turned to recruit other victor’s that would be there to solely risk their lives for a couple of teenagers that stirred the pot.

Which is fine, you think, you’ve come to terms with that section of the plan. It’s the rest of it that makes you want to pull your hair out. This arena, this nightmare from hell, with a new circle every hour, is what eats away at you. Plutarch Heavensbee, the head Gamemaker, couldn’t spare at least a hint as to what this place would be.

You’re supposed to trust him, yet he’s playing double agent to make President Snow trust him. However, he’s also in charge of all the little signals you’ve been receiving for the past two days. The bread, the district it’s from, the amount of rolls there are. Today, at midnight, at the midnight tree.

And then Beetee sprouted this crazy fucking idea to attach wire to the sand at the beach and the other end of the lightning tree. No one said a word, no one even thought for a second that it would be a bad idea. What if getting you all out doesn’t work? What if you have to be picked up at the cornucopia instead because the tree didn’t work? Now the beach is glass.

Beetee tried to make you go with Johanna and Katniss, unspool the wire, drop it in the sand, whatever he was trying to convince you to do. It didn’t last long, you only remember the first sentence, him trying to hook you into agreeing, before you had already shut down and pointed a finger at him.

He couldn’t make you do anything. You would lose your fucking mind if you split with Finnick now. If he was staying at the tree, then so were you. Naturally, Katniss tried to piggyback off of, not wanting to separate from Peeta, but she didn’t get very far. You, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee all coming at them from different directions? They didn’t last a second.

You’re not stupid, you pointed out their whispering as soon as you noticed. This would be their perfect opportunity to take down Johanna and make a run for it. You didn’t get this far into this horrible, horrible plan just for them to wiggle their way out. If you have to be a part of it, then so do they.

Johanna must’ve ripped out her tracker by this time, not bad enough to kill her. Peeta didn’t believe you when you told him that it was someone else. Probably the careers going at each other’s throats, since there’s two of them left. He automatically assumed that something went wrong with the other girls.

So, he ran off. And Finnick has to round one of them to the tree to be here in—oh god—ten minutes? Five minutes? The sky is already swirling with clouds, you’re not exactly sure when the lightning is going to strike. As soon as it’s done, though, that’s the cue to Haymitch, Plutarch, whatever, to get you out.

You run a hand through your hair, shaking your head. It makes no sense how you ended up right in the middle of this. Just last year, you were making plans with Finnick about your future in District Four. And now you’ll be heading to District Thirteen?

You turn for a second, searching through the trees for any sort of figure, friendly or otherwise. That’s when a blast of electric air shoves you forward, forcing you to land on your hands and your knees. You squeeze your eyes shut, a headache beginning to pound in your temples. 

The sound of sizzling catches your attention. The last blast like this was from Peeta, going at the forcefield with a machete. Which could only mean…

You jump to your feet, stumbling over the bushes to search the ground for a body. It only takes a second, because the forest is reappearing in little octagons right above Beetee. He’s on his side, body tense from the electricity.

“Beetee—!” You gasp, moving forward.

Your hands are already pushing up the sleeves of the wetsuit, trying to recall the last time you performed CPR. You hit your knees again, it’s been too long. You haven’t acted as a lifeguard on a beach since you were a teenager looking for extra cash. And that was before your Hunger Games. 

You turn Beetee onto his back, using your knife to cut open his wetsuit to gain access to his chest. You press fingers against his throat, not feeling a pulse. When you lean over his body, ear over his mouth, you can feel a little air.

He’s alive, but now that you’re closer, you can see the blood coming out of his elbow. The knife a foot away from his hand, the wire that’s attached to it. This was on purpose, and it backfired.

A branch snapping makes you whip around, eyes wide. It’s Katniss, a bow and arrow in hard, already being pulled back, aimed at you. There’s only a split second where you act, and you use it to duck into the bushes nearby. The arrow whizzes above you, slamming into the forcefield, another electrical current wiping you out. 

You hit the ground hard, ears ringing from the blast being so close. You roll onto your back, the pain in your chest only grows worse. There’s an overwhelming urge to cry, the tears building in the corner of your eyes. You want to go home. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

If Katniss knows you’re here, she doesn’t let on. You can hear her inspect Beetee, and then start screaming for Peeta, since the sound of a stampede coming through the trees is only getting louder. You can’t see Katniss anymore, she’s also hidden somewhere here, maybe afraid that she’s drawn the wrong attention.

It doesn’t matter, because the hair on your arms is standing up, and the air is full of static.

Which is why Katniss jumps to her feet, and shoots the arrow through a particular part of the forcefield. She doesn’t last a second on her feet, before the lightning is striking the tree, and the ground trembles from the blast.

The dome around the arena is suddenly a neon blue, an electric blue, as it malfunctions. And one by one, it twinkles out to black.

And then the jungle explodes into fire.

The octagons on the ceiling are raining down, bringing their madness with them. For each one that lands, another tremor goes through the ground, reminding you that if you were to stand, it wouldn’t last long. The octagons bring fire, which lights up all greenery, and any wood nearby.

You’re watching the blue sky above slowly appear, one octagon at a time, when an object appears out of thin air.

The hovercraft. Your way out.

You turn over onto your knees quickly, getting to your feet one more time to try and search for the one person that matters. You can see Beetee, and Katniss a few feet away. You head towards where the noise had been coming from before the blast, what Katniss had been hiding from.

Finnick and Enobaria, one further back than the other. You take a quick glance behind you to see that the claws are being dropped from the sky. They won’t stay long, probably two trips at the very most. You don’t have time to see whether or not Finnick’s alive.

You grab his ankles, pulling him all the way back toward the tree, which might as well be on fire too, at this point. It’s the very top of it, you think. There’s no actual way to tell. The branches and leaves reach out so far that you can hardly see the sky above.

You move to Beetee next, being a little more gentle to lay them next to each other like they’re dead. The claw’s secured Katniss, pulling her back up to the hovercraft. You wait, stomach churning at the thought of them abandoning you two, their prized organizers.

After a long second, the claw works its way back down. You get down to Finnick, tilting your head as you smooth his fried hair back. He’s following your face, even though his mouth is open, like he’s trying to tell you something. You cup his face, and then lay down next to him.

The claws are terrifying as they secure around the tree of you. You hold onto Finnick’s hand tightly, ignoring the heat waves coming from the flames nearby. And the fact that if you were to fall out now, you’d die from the height.

It’s a few more seconds before you’re inside of the hovercraft, and the doors are shutting below. 

Plutarch Heavensbee is waiting for you, as well as a knife, blade down. It’s being offered to you, “For the tracker.”

You press your lips together, getting off of the claw, pressing the blade of the knife to your forearm. You grit your teeth, and dig the blade in. It’s a few seconds of agonizing pain as you dig around in your arm for the tracker. You hand it over to Plutarch, and then turn your attention to Finnick.

He’s moving, but they’re stiff movements. You have to grab his arm, forcing it over to work quickly before he can interject. You cut the tracker out of his arm, and watch as all the trackers are disposed of back into the arena.

You and Finnick are taken away from Beetee and the claw you rode up here. Plutarch tells you to take your time patching up before meeting him and Haymitch in the front part of the hovercraft.

Finnick’s got a towel pressed to his arm, wincing each time he has to move. You force him to sit on one of the medical beds, “What happened?”

“Enobaria and Brutus attacked them, Johanna killed Brutus, I think.” Finnick shakes his head, “I couldn’t find Peeta.”

“I think he was close to the tree, right around the corner.” You slowly clean around the area before starting stitches, “Katniss was calling for him, and he was responding.”

“So did Enobaria and I.” Finnick shakes his head.

Finnick barely has a reaction when it comes to the needle. He watches you work quietly, trying to be thorough. It’s only when the disinfectant comes out again, does he complain about the stinging pain.

“Okay, now for your face.” You stand from the stool, reaching to guide his head closer.

“I’m fine.” Finnick shrugs, “Let me get your arm.”

You give him a look, “I’m not letting that cut on your face go.”

“It’s not going anywhere.” He half-laughs, “You’re still bleeding.”

“It’ll be harder to do with stitches, so stop moving.” You tell him, turning his head, “Quit avoiding the rubbing alcohol.”

Finnick rolls his eyes, but lets you get rid of the blood and lightly dab at the cut with the alcohol. As soon as you’re done, less than five minutes later, you grab his jaw, kissing him.

He hums when you pull away, a smile on his face, “You know, I have a couple of cuts on my back…”

“Oh really?” You breathe out a laugh, sitting next to him on the bed. You hold out your arm for him to look at.

It hurts when he peels the towel away to look at the cut. It’s not as bad as his, because you knew exactly where they had placed yours. Finnick’s fingers are gentle when he touches the area, and somehow the stitches aren’t as bad as you thought they’d be.

Finnick tries to get to his feet, probably to head toward Plutarch and Haymitch, but you grab his arm, pulling him closer. He immediately knows what you need, hugging you close to his body.

“We made it out, (Y/n).”

“Barely.” Your fingers dance over his cheek, “You’re hurt more than I am.”

“These couple of cuts? I’d take a hundred of these if it means that we’d make it out of the arena together again. They don’t even hurt, honey.”

You frown, shaking your head.

“Besides.” He’s an inch away from your lips, “In what world would I want you to be hurt more than me?”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #thg #the hunger games #requested

[marzghost]

⚠️ Secret life spoilers session 6 ⚠️

+ me living in my delulu world trying to make sense of this session in fannon lore because im silly

I refuse to believe that the canary curse was broken. Unless Skizz doesn't perma-die next in the series then that curse is still in full effect and the only reason Lizzie died first was because she wasn't in the players domain. The end has never been included in the life series until this season and maybe the curse couldn't protect her out there. The canary curse might be a curse to Jimmy but it's a blessing to all other players. It isn't until Jimmy dies that all hell breaks out and other players start to die and this has been proven time and time again including this time with Mumbo dying right after due to the warden. Skizz is always third to permanently die after the curse is activated and so if skizz falls next in my eyes Lizzie's death was because she couldn't be seen/protected by Jimmy's curse or rather be messed with by the watchers. Early on it was established that Grian asked for a seed where the end was a playable option. Lore wise this could be seen as Grian asking/pleading the watchers to create an arena where the end was playable. Maybe the reason why the end hadn't been playable before was because their influence might be greatly weakened there and the only reason why they even allowed the end was because it allowed for more entertainment and something new perhaps. The moment Jimmy and Martyn entered the end they were test dummies for the watchers to see if they could mess around in the end and sure enough they managed to kill both of them. It might have taken a bit more work in order to do so but they did it. Maybe killing players in the end is just easier for watchers than saving players. After all when Lizzie died her death didn't have a lightning bolt but rather just a boom like that of a TNT going off contrary to the lightning bolts that hit both Mumbo and Jimmy when they died. Her death wasn't meant to happen. It was a fluke, one that the watchers tried correcting soon after. Now I only wait to see if Skizz falls next if only for the curse to stay intact. Though the canary curse can't truly be confirmed broken or not either way until the next life series comes around, if there even is going to be a next life series.

#grian #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #secret life #secret life spoilers #session 6 spoilers #skizzleman #lizzie ldshadowlady #mumbo #im not normal about them #jimmy and his canary curse

[giggly-squiggily]

Here's another Demon Slayer fic I wrote for @mystwrites, I hope you like it! It's a little angsty and includes psychic!Tanjiro because I had been watching The Shining and Doctor Sleep, and it made me think how he was able to see Urokodaki's dead students.

~~~~

AHHHHH! I loved this so much oh my GOD! The whole concept of Tanjiro being a psychic is something I've never thought about but utterly love??? And Rengoku being such a good big brother figure made my heart swell! Thank you for sharing this @nutzgunray-lvt- it was utterly lovely!

It was nothing more than a bad dream… or so Tanjiro tried and failed to convince himself as flashes of lightning lit up the room he was sleeping in for the night. 

The unexpected torrential downpour would have normally been welcomed by the burgundy haired boy, as he had always loved rain. The smell and sound had always brought him comfort, even if it was practically coming down sideways and severely impairing their vision and hearing. The sensation of the droplets on his hair and skin felt grounding to him, even if the cold, autumn air made them feel like flecks of ice - especially since he and Mr. Rengoku were traveling up north to Aomori. 

Though he normally loved the rain, the Wisteria House they came across as the sun set was a gift from the gods, and after some nabeyaki udon and a hot bath, he was quickly ushered to bed.

"There's no telling when the storm will end, so we'll need to stay here for the time being," the tempura haired man patiently explained, giving his Tsuguko's wet hair a ruffle. "You're about to keel over from exhaustion, and we'll be of no use if we wind up falling ill from being out in the elements, wouldn't you say?"

Though he was more than willing to push through the unfavorable weather - it wouldn't be the first time he had done so - the raised eyebrow from Mr. Rengoku had him silently nodding instead, letting himself be gently pushed into the bedroom next door to his. As was often the case, Mr. Rengoku was quickly proven to be right, because thanks to the warm food and relaxing bath, Tanjiro's eyes closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow… something that quickly proved to be both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, a deep sleep quickly found him. On the other hand, nightmares accompanied it.

It was a hodgepodge of things both from his past and yet to come, things that seemed so out of left field yet set in stone. His family's corpses blaming him for their deaths accompanied Mr. Rengoku's near demise at the hands of the Upper Third. Mr. Uzui's narrow survival against the Upper Sixth segwayed behind dead children littering temple grounds. Sabito and Makomo's dead bodies in the forest clearing sprung at the forefront. Nezuko at the mercy of Lower Fifth preceded moving corridors, slamming doors, perpendicular hallways, and upside down stairs. A woman in a black kimono sat with a biwa in her hands, and when she strummed -

A loud crackle of lightning had woken the burgundy haired boy with a yelp. Tangled in his blankets, he scrambled upright and tried to calm his thudding heart.

Please be asleep, Mr. Rengoku, he pleaded to himself as a loud rumble of thunder made him flinch. Please be asleep, please -

"Young Kamado?"

Of course the Hashira with the best extrasensory perception had to choose me as their Tsuguko.

He could hear the older man's footsteps approaching him, and as he knelt before him, Tanjiro bit his lip and looked out the window, the pouring rain obstructing the view of the outside. He trembled violently from both the cold air in the room and a fear that his guest wouldn't take kindly to being woken up in the middle of the night over something as childish as a nightmare. Mr. Rengoku had to have been just as exhausted as Tanjiro himself was, so he had every right to be angry -

"What's this?" he softly asked, pulling the burgundy haired boy into a tight hug. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Tanjiro didn't answer, burying his head in Mr. Rengoku's chest as tears welled up in his eyes, his trembling worsening as he started crying in earnest. As always, the Flame Hashira was incredibly patient with him, never once reprimanding him for his less than stoic attitude. Instead, he securely held his Tsuguko in his arms, absent-mindedly resting his chin on top of his head as he rubbed his back and whispered, "It's okay, my boy. It's okay."

These dreams always left the burgundy haired boy's mind a mess, and not wanting to worry those around him, he shouldered the burden on his own. It was his job to take care of his loved ones, not the other way around. And besides, how in the world was he supposed to explain these dreams to anyone? "Well, I've been having nightmares about a weird building with never ending moving stairs and hallways, and I also sometimes see the dead children of Mr. Urokodaki as well as my dead family."

He couldn't possibly tell that to anyone. Not only were nightmares incredibly common amongst Demon Slayers, but who would believe him about his weirder ones?

Fortunately, Mr. Rengoku's steady heartbeat and protective embrace had Tanjiro slowly but surely calming down. His sobs had quieted down to soft sniffles, and after a few more minutes of quiet crying, his tears finally stopped. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he closed his eyes and painted this moment in his mind. Though the Flame Hashira was never afraid of being physically affectionate with him - what with the head pats, shoulder squeezes, and tickle attacks he doled out - he hadn't been hugged so tightly since he had said goodbye to Mr. Urokodaki all of those months ago. 

It felt… nice.

"Young Kamado, should ever want to hug me, all you have to do is ask," the older man said evenly, cupping his head with the hand not rubbing his back. "I won't refuse you."

Tanjiro felt his face flush, and he tried to burrow deeper into the embrace, drawing out a fond laugh from the man.

"It's… you're really warm, that's all," he said clumsily, his voice muffled by Mr. Rengoku's shoulder. "It's comfy."

"Senjuro would agree with you," the tempura haired man acknowledged, carding his fingers through Tanjiro's hair, making his eyes practically roll to the back of his head. "It sometimes shocks me how similar the two of you are to each other."

The burgundy haired boy nodded absent-mindedly. "You remind me so much of Senjuro, my boy!" had been something he had heard more than once from his senior, particularly when they would visit his family's estate. Whenever Tanjiro wasn't working with Mr. Shinjuro to research Sun Breathing, he was spending time with Senjuro. The two got along great with one another, and more than once, he'd seen Mr. Rengoku watching over the two of them with a warm, approving smile.

"I always tell him that there's no shame in having nightmares, and I want to make sure that you know this as well, my boy," the older man continued. "We may be Demon Slayers, but we're human at the end of the day."

"But I woke you up," Tanjiro tried saying, lifting his head off of Mr. Rengoku's shoulder, only to have it gently pushed back down. "You were tired -"

"You're my Tsuguko," he gently but firmly said. "Not only am I in charge of your progression as a Demon Slayer, but it's also my duty to take care of you both physically and mentally. It would have been cruel of me to leave you to cry alone with how frightened you sounded."

He couldn't really argue with that… not that Mr. Rengoku would have let him. Instead, he nodded his head and let his hair be brushed out of his face. It was an almost hypnotic comfort to him, and though he wasn't sleepy anymore, he could feel his eyelids fluttering shut…

Only for a loud crack of lightning to wake him up with a gasp.

"There's no need to be frightened, Young Kamado!" Mr. Rengoku warmly said, gently prying Tanjiro from his embrace to get a better look at him. "It's only a thunderstorm!"

"I wasn't scared," the burgundy haired boy insisted, his face flushing under his senior's intense gaze. "It's just, with the nightmares…" He trailed off, not wanting to outright admit to how badly shaken he was. He felt his crying fit said plenty, and when he dared a peek at his mentor, he saw that he had the same line of thinking.

"I see… that is quite understandable," the Flame Hashira mused, frowning slightly as he listened to the howling wind and pounding rain. "I didn't expect for the storm to stay this strong up to now. We'll most likely need to hold off on traveling tomorrow as well."

Tanjiro nodded. As much as he hated to leave the potential demon lurking around Aomori, they really would be of no use if they tried traveling through the storm. The extra day would not only replenish their energy, but it would be the perfect time to plan out their reconnaissance and battle strategies.

His frustration must have been apparent to Mr. Rengoku, because his loud laughter shook him out of his feedback loop. "Don't give me that look, Young Kamado! What is it that I've always told you?"

"A watched pot never boils," the burgundy haired boy echoed, a pout still on his face. It had been a motto that was pounded into his mind ever since becoming Mr. Rengoku's Tsuguko, one that he constantly stressed due to the notoriously rigorous training he put his mentees through. He applied it to everything from overtraining to even literal boiling water, and it looked like he was going to apply it to traveling.

"Well, you don't need to sound so forlorn about it! Come on, smile for me!" Mr. Rengoku encouraged, ruffling Tanjiro's hair harder than he usually would.

"Hey!" he cried out, trying to dodge the tempura haired man's ministrations and unsuccessfully fighting the smile appearing on his face. "What're you doing?!"

"Did you not hear me? I said to smile!" he repeated, abruptly releasing Tanjiro's head to poke up and down his sides.

"Ah! Mr. Rengoku! No!" he shrieked, dissolving into giggles as he fell onto his back, trying in vain to curl in on himself as the poking turned into slow, up and down spidering.

"What's that, my boy?" Mr. Rengoku asked, playfully frowning and tilting his head to the side. "I'm afraid I can't hear what you're trying to say over the sound of you not smiling."

"Th-That-That dohohohoesn't make any sehehehense!" Tanjiro whined through his giggles, kicking his legs out as the older man took a seat on his thighs. 

"Of course it makes sense!" The Flame Hashira retorted with a proud smile, pinching at the younger boy's lower ribs and laughing at the shrieks that accompanied it. "Now all you need to do is set your heart ablaze and endure this torture like the capable Slayer you are!"

"I cahahan't! It-It's so bahahahad!" Tanjiro begged, uselessly grabbing onto his senior's wrists in an effort to stop him. The evil grin that appeared on Mr. Rengoku's face at this told him he said the wrong thing, and his begging and pleading went ignored as those awful fingers walked up over his sides and bypassed his ribs.

"Oh dear," he playfully mused, pinching each of Tanjiro's ribs and laughing at how the boy flailed and kicked underneath him. "It appears that my normal methods of torture have gone stale! Don't worry, my boy! I still have a few tricks up my sleeve!"

Mr. Rengoku lingered at Tanjiro's topmost ribs, ever so lightly pinching them and clearly deriving great amusement at how he slapped his hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the shrill squeals he was producing. What else am I supposed to do, wake up the owners of the inn?! The burgundy haired boy screamed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the pinching finally came to an end. As he gasped for some much needed air, those torturous hands left his body, and he kept his eyes shut in order to not quell the sense of hope bubbling up inside of him.

Was that it?

Had Mr. Rengoku been bluffing?

In hindsight, he really should have known better than to think such things. This was Mr. Rengoku that he was talking about - the man was practically the personification of the Tickle Monster. Looking back, Tanjiro would thank the gods that a loud crack of lightning masked the shrill scream that escaped him when two hands clawed into his stomach, completely bypassing his underarms and throwing him for a loop.

"Oho, what's this?" Mr. Rengoku teased over Tanjiro's frantic belly laughter. "Is this tummy of yours a bad spot?"

The burgundy haired boy couldn't even hope to answer verbally, so he just let his hands release the Flame Hashira's wrists and drop uselessly to the futon as he nodded, his mind and muscles being turned into a goofy mess. Tears once again filled his eyes, slowly pouring down his cheeks as his mind was further scrambled due to his senior's taunting words. Two thumbs drilling into his hips had the younger boy screaming into his pillow, an action that made the tempura haired man laugh as well.

"Why are you hiding from me, my boy?" he asked, pulling the pillow away and setting it aside. "Happiness is something that should be shared with those around you!"

Tanjiro tried answering that they couldn't be as loud as they wanted, but fingers gently scribbling along his lower abdomen had him giggling like a five year old instead. His throat and stomach hurt from laughing so much, and when he looked up at Mr. Rengoku, the soft smile on his face told him that his torture had come to an end for the night.

"There we go, Young Kamado," he fondly said, giving his hair a gentle ruffle once the tickling came to a stop. "Are you feeling better?"

Tanjiro nodded, the happy smile still on his face as he gasped for air, curling in on himself as Mr. Rengoku got off of him. The mushy goofiness was leaving in his brain, leaving him in an elated state of pure bliss and sleepiness as all of the energy he expended caught up to him. He let his eyes droop shut as he yawned, blindly reaching around for his pillow as a rumble of thunder shook the windows.

"Go to sleep, my boy," the Flame Hashira said, getting to his feet. "Let me get my pillow and blanket - "

"You don't have to!" Tanjiro tiredly insisted as he curled up under his own blanket. "'M not scared anymore -"

"Nonsense!" the older man retorted with a firm shake of the head. "I used to share a futon with Senjuro back in the day, and it always helped him with his own nightmares!"

He left the room before the burgundy haired boy could object any further, and as he listened to sounds of movement next door, he couldn't help but feel relieved that the older man insisted on staying with him. Was it childish? Maybe, but it was something that he was always allowed to indulge in around the tempura haired man. Part of him felt guilty - after all, he had his friends and Nezuko to tend to - but Mr. Rengoku thought nothing of assuming a big brother role in his mentorship of him.

"You're my Tsuguko. Not only am I in charge of your progression as a Demon Slayer, but it's also my duty to take care of you both physically and mentally."

And as the man in question returned and settled in next to Tanjiro, the younger boy thanked his lucky stars that he survived against the Upper Third. After all, who else could take on such an essential role that Tanjiro had no clue that he needed in life? (Well, there was Mr. Uzui, but he'd never say it out loud to the man's face.)

#submission #demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #rengoku kyojuro #hurt/comfort #tickle #tickle fic #I am so SOFT right now oh my! #This was gorgeous thank you so much for sharing!

[maitanii]

KOKONUI THROUGH THE YEARS

BONTEN TIMELINE!

AN: Lol I'm way too inspired. These are just my thoughts and headcanons. I ship them. And I love them. I'd love to write about them, and I'll probably do.

my masterlist!

- Seishu and Koko met when they were 5. Koko thought he was a foreigner so he didn't talk to him for some time, until he heard a bad word coming from the blonde's mouth. His first instinct was to scold him, but then he realized the quiet guy was not European as he firstly had thought. He spoke Japanese, but he didn't talk too much.

- Turns out, his mother was from Estonia, and married a Japanese man. Both of them moved after his sister was born, and Seishu was born and raise a full Japanese kid.

- Returning to their friendship, Koko and Seishu quickly became friends. Or that was what Seishu thought the whole year.

- Koko didn't know what they were, because Seishu only spoke when he had to curse someone or to tell him bless you when he sneezed. But when Seishu's birthday came around and he was the only guest, their friendship consolidated. It was that same day when he met the love of his life.

- Akane Inui was only 11 when she was introduced to Kokonoi Hajime. She grabbed his cheeks and told him how cute he was before going back to her room to do her homework. Little did she know that the black haired guy's life was about to change. Seishu didn't understand a thing, so he kept watching cartoons while eating his birthday cake.

- Seishu used to receive a lot of attention because of his looks. People noticed he was a foreigner, and that was cool. However, the moment his sailor mouth was put to work, girls will fly away from him. And he was happy with it! Girls were boring anyway, and they had cooties. Koko slapped his face everytime that happened.

- Kokonoi was used to receive praise because of his marks. His parents weren't really strict with him, but still expected him to be as successful as them. Seishu thought it was great to have someone's homework to copy. He only had to answer Koko's questions about his sister, which he lied about most of the time. Don't judge him, but he didn't know what was her favorite food or which character she wanted to marry from that famous J-drama.

- Seishu loved cars and bikes. He had a collection of hot wheels that filled two entire shelves. Neither of his parents knew where his love came from, but they were happy watching their usually quiet son singing Grease Lightning from the top of his lungs.

- Koko liked board games. He was the best at Monopoly and Cluedo. His father knew that his son was made for the world of strategies and economy. He brought him as much as he could to his office to prepare him for his future.

- When Akane died, a big part of their friendship did too. Koko was not the same, but neither was Seishu. After the funeral, her name was not mentioned for years in their conversations. In fact, their talks were almost empty of content.

- Seishu filled his emptiness with violence, and Koko with money. Their paths were together only for the sake of a friendship that was slowly dying.

- When the Tenjiku fight occurred, Seishu thought about telling him about the kiss. About how he was completely aware of what was happening but didn't dare to move. About how he didn't refuse because maybe he wanted it to happen. But he decided to stay silent, because he knew that if he spoke, the little hope that he still held to revive their friends could fade away. It wasn't useful anyway, because their paths took different ways that day.

- Strange as it may sound, Seishu wasn't sad. Maybe nostalgic, but not sad. He knew that their friendship didn't die after the fight; their friendship ended the day Koko saved him instead of Akane. That didn't mean Seishu didn't care about him. He was sure he loved Koko. But he was a rational human being (sometimes too rational for his own good) and the best option was to let him go, until both of their hearts could get over the hole that Akane left.

- Koko decided to follow Mikey. Another blonde to the collection. Sanzu was the strangest creature that he had ever seen, but he was good at poker. After the KMG recruited new members, he discovered that the Haitanis were infuriating, but they knew how to make money (he had to make some deals with Ran before). Mochi was always asking him to but things on the Internet because he didn't know how to use technologies. Kakucho was the kindest out of them, but he looked like he wasn't aware of anything half of the time, so he decided to not speak too much to him.

- Seishu was doing fine. He finally found some guys to call friends. He was invited to parties and he finally decided to develop his love and sexual life. He finally was Inui Seishu, not Akane's brother or Koko's dog. But he couldn't help but wonder about a certain brunette. So he searched him. Day and night. But he never succeeded in the task.

- They are 25. He is a millionaire (and a criminal) and Seishu works in a shop that makes enough money to pay his bills.

Koko decided to pay him a visit. He looked through the dirty window and he saw him. He was wearing a plaid shirt and was laughing about something that Draken said. Koko smiled. At least one of them found happiness. He thought about going inside. But he left when he noticed a pair of green eyes looking straight at the window.

- They are 30, one living in a small town with a big doy, and the other saving the ass of one coworker who had been shot. Seishu always wanted a Golden Retriever.

- They are 45, with a few wrinkles more, one taking his son to his mother's house, and the other making sure his door was locked correctly. He didn't want to have the same fate as the Haitanis.

- They are 50. Seeing each other in a police office, one to make report that a few pieces were robbed at his shop, the other after being suspect of a first degree murder.

They are 50 but once they were 5.

Once they were 12.

Once they were 15

and they'll forever remain 20.

#tokyo revengers #kokonui #koko hajime #inui seishu #inupi #—martha writes #kokonoi hajime #kokonoi #tokyo revengers headcanons #koko x inupi #koko x inui

[bansheeboyy]

Mason didn't think anything of the photoshoot. Why would he? It was just some paint on his feet, the usual gimmicky schtick that photographers loved to whip out to add some pizazz to what otherwise was a basic photoshoot.

What he failed to realise was that it wasn't just paint. Mixed in was Gigglex™, an experimental chemical that increases skin sensitivity to astronomical levels. Dabbing a bit on your skin and rubbing it in was one thing, but slathering your bare soles - already fairly ticklish - in it and letting it soak for an entire photoshoot was entirely another.

So when Mason was kidnapped later that week, and his shoes and socks were removed, and his feet were locked in stocks that were suspiciously calibrated to his exact foot shape and size, he was certainly alarmed and angry, thrashing in his bonds, but he wasn't terrified.

Which he definitely should have been.

Because when that first fingernail traced down his left sole, he felt a ticklish sensation like nothing he had ever experienced before, not when he'd pissed off his mates, not when he'd gotten on the wrong side of his teammates in a 6v1 tickle fight. Those had been bad. This was something else.

"Oh dear, Mason. A little ticklish are we? Bless you. I can see the headline now: Mount Mercilessly Tickled Out Of 250k!"

Mason kicked his feet, trying to flex them reflexively, but the stocks held his feet tight, the toe ties keeping his soles taut and immobile. How had they gotten the stocks so perfectly shaped to hold him in such torturous stasis? How had they gotten his exact foot dimensions? Why was he suddenly this ticklish? It made no sense!

"Look bro, that's a lot of fucking money. Can't we work something ouhuwohwowohwohOHWOHAHAOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Hush, Mason." The man sang, spidering his nails on both of the insanely ticklish soles before him, actively showing his captive just how ticklish he was, and how much he was at the man's mercy. "Save that energy. You've got a lot of laughing to do before you get outta these beauties." He patted the stocks lovingly. "We built 'em special for you. Thank goodness security at that shoot was so lax. They didn't even notice my guy getting a scan of those handy footprints you left on that paper, or him getting a cutting. But then again, they didn't even notice that the paint cans they were using were compromised, so I'm not exactly shocked."

If the poor footballer could have spoken through his guffaws, he probably would have said every swear under the sun, cursing his tormentor's family, his looks, anything. As it was - the nails still torturing his feet with lightning bolts of ticklishness - the most he could express was "AHDHiapleasghahahahhahahahafuckauahahaiaiaaahahahahaohnoooonahahahahahajesushsushsahahahahahFUHUHUHCK!"

The man smiled. "Hey, look on the brightside, Mason. By the time you've agreed to wire the money over, which I can't imagine will take long judging by how much you're howling already, this will probably count as the cardio of two training sessions."

Mason was already beginning to sweat, the yanking at his bonds getting more frantic, his kicking legs trying in vain to move his solidly stuck soles as the man tickled them with skill and efficiency.

"Come on, Mountey. Let's hear that pretty little laugh of yours..."

#tickling #maletickling #tickletorture #barefoot guys #tickle interrogation #male tickling #male foot #m/m #m/m tickling #mason mount #football

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hurricanes / Hummingbirds: IX

Series Synopsis: As the years go by, you find that it is incredibly difficult to survive wars and fight storms, especially when the only thing you have by way of a cursed technique is the blessing of a tiny bird.

Chapter Synopsis: You set out to stop Kashimo from killing the members of the Big Three Sorcerer Families.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x Female Reader; slight Kento Nanami x Female Reader; slight Satoru Gojo × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.0k

Content Warnings: swearing, enemies/rivals to lovers, character death, canon-typical violence, angst, gore, original characters included

A/N: we have finally entered the main storyline and it is a blast from the past!!

Three days and three nights, you had travelled in search of the god of lightning. Finally, you found him sitting cross-legged in the middle of a clearing, leagues away from any sort of civilization. The earth around him was scorched, and his head was tilted towards the sun, his eyes closed. For anyone else, it would be lazy and arrogant to lounge around in such a way, but he was not anyone else. He was the one whose name made people lock their doors tighter; no one would dare attack him, and even if they did, they would not last very long.

“Hello, dear Y/N,” he said without opening his eyes. You crossed your arms across your chest, not bothering to unsheathe your sword.

“Kashimo,” you said. “Hisashi says you plan to fight the Big Three Sorcerer Families next.”

He blinked languidly, finally deigning to peer up at you with eyes that were a fraught shade of blue. You raised your eyebrows at the way he smiled slightly.

“It’s true,” he said.

“Why?” you said. He yawned.

“That’s such a typical question. Does there need to be a reason?” he said.

“Yes?” you said. “If you are fighting someone, then there needs to be a reason. Such actions cannot be taken lightly.”

“Alright. Then it’s because I’m bored,” he said.

“Bored!” you repeated. He frowned, real turmoil brewing on his face.

“In fact, that is the case,” he said. “There is no one that has managed to challenge me in years. Naturally, I am turning to the ones that are meant to be the pinnacle of jujutsu society in order to satisfy my need for excitement.”

“You and I both know that Kichiro, Naoki, and Hisashi would never last against you,” you said.

“Hm, that’s certainly possible, but if they cannot, then who can? Besides you, of course. Do you mean to offer yourself?” he said. You pursed your lips.

“Yes,” you said.

“Yes?” he said. “You’ll do it? You’ll finally fight me?”

“I will fight you,” you affirmed. “However, not today.”

“Is this some kind of method of stalling? You’ll run away to safety while I wait for you?” he said. You shook your head immediately.

“I can make a Binding Vow, if you’d like,” you said. Kashimo snickered.

“It’s alright. I will trust you for the moment, but in exchange, you must tell me: if not now, then when?” he said, propping up his elbow against his knee and resting his chin in his hand.

“After I defeat Ten,” you said. “Find me then, and we can fight.”

“You’re still chasing after that useless dream? Give up, Y/N, everyone knows Ten isn’t real,” he said, flopping backwards onto the ground with a heavy exhale.

“He killed my parents!” you said, bending down and ripping up a handful of grass, throwing it at Kashimo, who did not even react. “He is the reason I have my cursed technique, so he’s surely real.”

“Even if he is, do you really think that you could do anything against the lord of the sky?” he said, pointing up at the clouds floating past for emphasis. “Just fight me instead, I’m sure whatever deity you claim blessed you will be satisfied by that.”

“Not likely,” you said. “You have my terms. If you leave the clans alone, I will fight you once I’ve defeated Ten.”

“What if you never find him?” Kashimo said.

“That won’t happen,” you said. “I will find him, and I will kill him. That’s the reason for my existence, after all.”

Kashimo had closed his eyes again, which meant he was bored of the conversation. His hands were folded across his stomach, and he would’ve appeared to be peaceful if not for the small sparks dancing around his body, subtle warnings to anyone who dared to get close enough to see them.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll leave your precious clans alone, and I’ll kill you instead.”

“Only once I’ve beaten Ten,” you reminded him. That same half-smile bloomed on his face again.

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

“Do you swear?” you said. “You have to swear, or I won’t do it.”

“I swear,” he said. “I won’t purposefully go out of my way to harm them, as long as you swear to do battle with me one day.”

“I swear I will,” you said. “Then we are in agreement?”

“I believe we are,” he said.

“Good!” you said.

“Good,” he said, yawning again. “Now, if you don’t mean to amuse me for the moment, could you go? It’s a nice day out, and I was planning on taking a nap.”

You made a face at his motionless form, weighing the merits of taking out your sword and stabbing him now. It was a foolish idea, of course — he’d wake up before you could do anything meaningful — but it was a satisfying one.

“I’ll leave,” you said. He lifted his hand in a wave.

“Goodbye,” he called out as you stomped away.

Hajime Kashimo was one of those sorcerers that operated outside of jujutsu society and consequently did not fear reproach from the Big Three Sorcerer Families. He was singularly obsessed with the thrill of battle and the difficulty of victory, and for as long as you could remember, there had been only one person he had longed to fight: you.

You were the only one who could hope to stand against him, which was why your future husband had sent you to dissuade him from attacking the Big Three Sorcerer Families. However, it was because of this, because of the fact that you were the only sorcerer he could possibly lose to, that you were the one he really wanted to face. He craved it above all else, for your sword to clash against his staff, for your blessings to face his lightning until one of you died and the other emerged the victor.

His frustration came from the fact that until now, you had refused to fight him. He battled entire armies and wiped out contingents of sorcerers, massacred every opponent that crossed his path, and was so widely revered that he could kill whoever he pleased — except for the singular being he actually desired to.

Of course, he definitely could’ve killed you by now if your death was all he cared about. It wouldn’t have been difficult for him to take you by surprise and send his lightning into your heart, but he was not that kind of person. Murdering you in cold blood would prove nothing, satisfy nothing, and so you could live in relative peace, knowing that unless you agreed to it, Kashimo would never actually hurt you.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t force your hand, as he was now doing. By threatening the Gojo, Kamo, and Zenin clans, he had all but assured that you would face him. You were set to marry Hisashi Gojo, after all, so any insult to the clan was also an insult to your own self. Furthermore, if the Gojos were to ignore the plight of the Kamos and the Zenins, there would be consequences, a political storm of the sort that neither Hisashi nor you had the time or patience to deal with.

This was why you had agreed to fight him, albeit with a caveat. Your defeat of Ten: the battle with Kashimo would only happen after that, and indeed that eventual fight was the reason you had not taken up arms against Kashimo yet.

Ten was a figure shrouded in myth and legend, but at the end of the day, he really did exist. You knew he did, because he was the one who had killed your parents. You knew he did, because that man, the one with the scars on his forehead, told you that you had been chosen just to defeat him.

Known as the lord of the sky, Ten was a merciless being that cared little for mortals except when taking delight in their deaths, similar to how crueler children would laugh as they stomped on insects. Nobody could say for certain what he looked like; there was an entire litany of animals that people claimed were his true body, while others said he was a person walking amongst you, and still others said he had no form at all.

You did not care what form he took. For your parents, for the hummingbird, you would slay him regardless.

“He’ll leave us alone,” you said as you walked into the meeting room where Kichiro Kamo, Naoki Zenin, and Hisashi Gojo were sitting, waiting with bated breath. The dark circles under Hisashi’s dull violet eyes and the shaggy appearance of Kichiro’s neat ponytail meant that they had barely slept the entire time you were gone. Even the ever-put-together Naoki’s clothes were rumpled, further attesting to the impact that Kashimo had on them.

“Thank goodness,” Kichiro said, shoulders slumping. His wife had just given birth to their firstborn. A son. You were sure he was grateful that he did not have to worry about a wayward sorcerer attacking and killing his only child.

“What did you have to give up?” Naoki said. He was the sharpest of the three; while Kichiro preferred to remain uninvolved and Hisashi had a guileless kindness about him, Naoki was always hyper-aware of his surroundings, refusing to look at the positives of a situation before carefully considering the negatives.

“I promised him I would fight him,” you said.

“What?” Hisashi said. “No. I forbid it.”

“My lord Hisashi, while I certainly respect your opinions very much, I am afraid that this is not something you can forbid me from doing. It is the only way he will leave the clans alone,” you said.

“Stupid bastard,” Hisashi said. “Why doesn’t he just die?”

“He will, once I fight him. I will kill him,” you said.

“And when will that be?” Naoki said.

“After I beat Ten,” you said. The three of them exchanged looks before Hisashi’s expression relaxed.

“Good idea. By attaching such an impossible condition, you can ensure you’ll never have to fight him,” he said.

“It was quick thinking,” Kichiro agreed. It was derision disguised as praise; they, too, did not believe Ten was real. At least Kashimo was upfront about his beliefs — the three heads of the clans were far too political to do anything of the sort, to tell you to your face that what you dreamt of was impossible.

“I do intend to fight him,” you said. “I even offered to make a Binding Vow with him.”

“What?” Hisashi said. You hid the small smile of satisfaction that threatened to overtake your face.

“He said no, of course,” you said. Hisashi gave you a dark look.

“Y/N, you know that Binding Vows are only made between husband and wife, or with oneself, to boost power,” he said. There was a poorly suppressed snort from one of the other two. You assumed it was Naoki, as it seemed the sort of thing he’d do.

“Would you rather I have doomed all of you to death? Kichiro’s baby? Naoki’s wife? Your mother?” you said. “There were special circumstances. We all know that even the combined might of the clans would not be enough to take him down; a Binding Vow that did not even come to fruition is the least of your worries.”

“We cannot fault her,” Naoki said, oddly pale at the mention of his wife. He did not love her, but she was something like a prize for him, a treasured piece of artwork that he did not let anyone touch for fear of anything spoiling her perfection. The thought of Kashimo, wild, ferocious Kashimo, even looking at her was probably too much for him to bear.

“It’s not that I fault her,” Hisashi said. “It’s that she might’ve ended up in a situation where that man could’ve taken advantage of the Binding Vow.”

“He’s not that kind of person,” you said. “Kashimo is many things, but dishonesty and lying are not in his nature. He wants to kill me more than anything, but it will mean nothing if he does it when I am not at my full strength.”

“You trust such a creature far too much,” Naoki said. “He cannot be relied upon, and it does not suit you to believe that he can be.”

“As you say, Naoki,” you said. “At any rate, it is meaningless. We did not make a Binding Vow, and I doubted he would take me up on the offer anyways. It was a bluff, to show my sincerity; one he fell for, as he promised he would not purposefully cause the clans harm.”

“Can his word be counted on?” Kichiro said. “Especially when it is contingent on assurances of a battle that may never happen?”

“For now, at least, he has been allayed,” you said. “I will begin to search for Ten in earnest, so that he does not think I am needlessly delaying our fight.”

“Y/N,” Hisashi said. “You know…even the greatest sorcerers have failed to find Ten.”

“What do you have that the ancient heads of the Big Three Sorcerer Clans do not?” Naoki said. “Ten does not exist. You should give up and hope that someone else kills Kashimo before he gets suspicious.”

“Curses are real,” you said. “Why can this one not be?”

They did not have an answer, but you knew that that did not mean they believed you. After all, if Ten really was real, then why weren’t there more casualties? A Disaster Curse of such magnitude would definitely come with a radius of humans wiped out around him. But there were no reports of the sort, no large areas of total destruction bar those caused by Kashimo and other such sorcerers that did not abide by jujutsu society regulations.

By the candlelight, once you were very certain that Hisashi was asleep, you pulled out the familiar leather-bound book you had been given by the man with the stitch-scarred forehead. Tracing the gold lettering emblazoned on the front cover with your finger, you sounded out the foreign letters in an attempt to burn them in your mind.

“Tales — of — the — Hummingbird,” you said. That was the title of the book, which was written in an entirely different language and was the basis of your cursed technique. You had figured it out some time ago that as long as there was a story about it in this book, you could do anything.

Your technique related to a little bird from across the world, according to the stitch-scarred man. He said that this bird had been locked in an eternal conflict with the lord of the sky, but it had never managed to defeat such a mighty being with its tiny body. So, he had explained, the bird decided to give its powers to a larger being, one that was capable of the strength needed to exorcise him.

That being was you, and the powers were your cursed technique, the Hummingbird’s Blessing. Your entire purpose, your reason for living, was to defeat Ten. That was why you knew he was real, and that was why you knew you would be the one to kill him. You had to. There was no other explanation for your existence if you did not.

It was slow-going, translating the book. Even now, you had only made it a fraction of the way through, had only unlocked a few of the powers that you actually possessed. Certainly, they were enough, at least when combined with your swordsmanship, but you knew that you needed more if you really wanted to fight Ten.

You slept fitfully as you always did, the same nightmare invading your mind and warding away any thoughts of rest. It was a vision of the moment your parents died, one that you relived despite not having been there.

“Listen,” your father said. “We are not the ones meant to destroy him. You know that.”

“Then why did we heed the call?” your mother said. Your father stared out at the horizon. The sky was a dark gray, a dry wind blowing through the grassy field and making the stalks sway. Only a few dreary rays of sunlight managed to fight through and light the scene, though instead of comforting, it actually added to the eeriness.

“She is the one who must do it,” he said, neatly avoiding the question.

“She is a little girl!” your mother said.

“I know,” he said.

“We cannot give such a burden to our daughter. She is a child. Our child. We are meant to protect her!” she said, clinging to the sleeve of his flowing robe. It was frayed and flecked with mud; your mother’s face was the same, a smear of something dark across her face.

“This is greater than us,” your father said.

“We were called here,” your mother said. “It’s true, I understand that we were not blessed like she was, but we were the ones called here. Not her.”

“That’s because Ten doesn’t know about her yet. He only knows that the Hummingbird’s Blessing has settled upon our home. He believes that either you or I have garnered his enemy’s favor, and so he means to defeat us as a show of force, stomping out the threat before it develops into something actually dangerous,” your father said. Your mother’s eyes widened.

“So Y/N is still safe?” she said.

“She must be allowed to live and train in peace. By giving ourselves up, Ten will be lulled into a false sense of security. I have promised Kamin Gojo that she will marry his son — the Gojos longs for power so greatly, they have since the Six Eyes disappeared — so she should be alright under his care,” he said.

“But what about her technique? How will she learn about it?” she said.

“I made a deal with someone. He’ll tell her what she needs to know,” your father said.

“What did you offer him?” your mother said, taking a single step backwards at the grave expression on your father’s face.

“That is a concern for a later date,” he said. “Rest assured that it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, so he’s not likely to harm her.”

“So this is it, then?” she said. “Will Y/N be able to —?”

“She will avenge us,” your father said. “She definitely will.”

The wind began to pick up in earnest, whipping your mother’s hair around, your father’s robes flowing out behind him. Your mother cried out in fear, and wordlessly, your father wrapped his arms around her, shielding her with his body as best as he could.

The storm howled in protest, surrounding them as they clung to one another, ripping their flesh from their bones and not subsiding until all that was left was a pair of pristine skeletons, still locked in an embrace, forever intertwined until such a day that someone came to bury them.

It always ended there, but today, you forced yourself to stay asleep, purposefully staying in the swirling eddies of darkness, standing beside your parents’ skeletons, ignoring the storm.

‘There is a story,’ you thought to yourself, ‘where the hummingbird is sent to see what is above the blue sky. Let me also see. Show me where Ten is.’

You have been given the Vision of the Hummingbird!

You could see everything; consequently, you could see nothing. There was a soaring expanse of ultramarine in front of you, teeming with life and overwhelming your senses. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

‘Ten,’ you thought. ‘I do not need to see everything. Only him.’

A dizzying sensation like vertigo rushed through you, and you dared to crack open your eyes. You were in that same field, only this time there was a definite presence there, someone else glaring at you.

You dare intrude upon my Domain?

It had to be Ten. There was no one else it could be, but even the simple sentence was enough. The reason why all of the other sorcerers had not yet found him was because he lived in his own Domain, hidden away from humanity in its relative safety.

Wait. You are —!

Of course he would recognize you, the one who bore the blessings of his natural enemy. To your surprise, there was no anger in his voice when he spoke next.

Hello again, little hummingbird. I should’ve known you would not have fallen as easily as those two fools did. Ah, well, it was my mistake for growing complacent, wouldn’t you say? Anyways. You mean to fight me, I am sure. So predictable, little hummingbird, though I guess you always have been.

It felt less like he was talking to you and more like he was conversing with the being that had blessed you, for which you were just a conduit. In Ten’s presence, though you could not so much as see him, you were frozen. This was the strength of a Disaster Curse, which made even a sorcerer like you unable to do anything.

You know the typical procedures for it. Do you really want to challenge me? Last time, you were defeated before even reaching my Domain. Is this new body really strong enough to do it?

You did not respond, but Ten must’ve sensed your intent, for he chuckled.

I expected nothing less from you. Very well, then. It will be done. You may try again. I will find it just as amusing to kill you this time as I did the last. After all, no new body can change the fact that at the end of the day, you are just a tiny bird facing off against the lord of the sky himself.

You woke up with a startled gasp, throwing your blankets off of you in a cold sweat. The story of the hummingbird seeing above the blue sky was one you had only just translated the night before, and you had immediately put it into practice without much thought. Part of you had believed it would not work, and you were shaken by the fact that it had, by the fact that you had actually managed to reach Ten.

It was only when you stood to ready yourself for the day that you realized there was a chain hanging around your neck which had not been there before. It was a fine, delicate thing, with a pendant on it. Holding it up to the light, you realized it was a miniature wheel, reflecting the morning into your eyes.

You let it drop, and it thudded against the hollow of your collarbone. Frowning, you wondered when it had appeared. There was only one logical explanation: this was some mark of Ten’s, affirming that your dream had been real, that you had finally challenged the Disaster Curse who so many did not believe to exist.

What was the typical procedure? How were you supposed to find his Domain? The hummingbird must’ve known, but it offered no solutions nor aid. This was not a surprise — unless you could come up with a story or myth surrounding the hummingbird to justify it, you could not use its powers or knowledge.

“Where did you get that necklace?” Hisashi said as the two of you sat together, eating breakfast. You wished he was not so observant, but it seemed that even without the Six Eyes, keenness was an inherited trait of the Gojo clan.

“I woke up with it on,” you said. Hisashi frowned.

“Y/N…I am not so sure I like this,” he said. “First, you offer to make a Binding Vow with another man, and now, you are wearing a strange necklace? I don’t mean to control you, you know that I would never want to do that, but please understand that I am a little confused.”

“You are well within your rights to be confused, though I maintain that my offer of a Binding Vow with Kashimo really was to protect you, so you shouldn’t hold that against me,” you said.

“Even if I put that behind us, the necklace…?” he said mournfully.

Hisashi was a pretty man. There was no doubt about this; his hair was a brilliant white, and no amount of careful combing and precise parting could ever make it appear truly neat. His eyes were a deep shade of purple — not the diamond hue of the Six Eyes, which no one in his clan had inherited in years, but still a notable and lovely color. There were worse people you could’ve been engaged to; he was kind, and he was beautiful, and he treated you well. But you were not born to marry Hisashi Gojo.

“It is from Ten,” you said.

“Pardon?” he said.

“I’m not lying to you, Hisashi. Really, I’m not. Last night, I was translating Tales of the Hummingbird, and I came across a story of the hummingbird flying above the sky to see what lay beyond it. I used that to get the Vision of the Hummingbird, and with that, I met Ten,” you said.

“You met Ten,” he said, and despite his best efforts, he could not help but sound dubious.

“He resides in a Domain,” you said. Hisashi’s lips parted in shock, but you pressed forward. “That’s why no one’s been able to find him yet, and why he hasn’t messed with humans on a large scale. He lives in his Domain!”

“Where is the Domain?” he said.

“Well, ah…I don’t know,” you admitted, your shoulders slumping.

“Huh? You don’t know?” he said. You shook your head.

“I challenged him in my dream, or the hummingbird did; I don’t know, it was all very confusing. He mentioned that last time it was defeated before even reaching the Domain, which implies the fight begins outside of it,” you said.

Hisashi still thought you were delusional, but he was kind and loyal and he would not say that to your face, so he only nodded.

“The necklace is proof of the challenge, then?” he said gently.

“Yes,” you said. “I will be quick about it, Hisashi, I promise. I will be quick enough that Kashimo does not grow restless and slaughter all of you in my absence.”

“I doubt he will,” Hisashi said. It was rare to hear him speak of Kashimo in any way but negatively, so you cocked your head at him, hoping he would explain. Thankfully, he took the hint and elaborated. “Though I do not like giving him any credit, it’s true that he respects you. You are his only equal; he treats you differently for that fact. Maybe he wouldn’t honor a promise with any of the rest of us, but you — he would definitely honor one with you, I think.”

“I’m glad you see that now,” you said. Hisashi gave you a sad look.

“If I were born in another body, one with the Six Eyes and Limitless, we, too, would be equals,” he said.

“That’s not true. You’d be far stronger than me if that was the case,” you said. He chuckled.

“Yet here we are. You are the strong one,” he said. “And in no way could I be considered your equal.”

“Do you resent me for it?” you said. You would not be angry if he did. It would make sense, so how could you blame him?

“No,” he said. “Maybe I resent him.”

“Resent Kashimo?” you said. Hisashi pursed his lips.

“You and he are the ones who will be remembered,” he said. “I — even Kichiro and Naoki — will fade into obscurity as just another one of the heads of the Gojo clan. Nothing I can do matters. But…but I am definitely sure that your fight with him will never be forgotten. He will go down in history as the god of lightning, and you will go down as the one who killed him.”

There was that inferiority that the three clan heads had. By position, they were the most powerful men in all of jujutsu society. But when it came down to it, if one asked an entirely random sorcerer who they believed to be the strongest, it would not be Hisashi’s name they would say, nor would it be Kichiro’s or Naoki’s. Men with their prized inherited techniques, even they could not hold a candle to the two of you.

Hajime Kashimo. Y/N L/N. Those were the names they’d say. Even back then, even from the beginning when you did not know each other, you and he had been two sides of the same coin. The blessed and the divine.

It had been a short meeting, that first one. You and Hisashi had gone to save some village from a curse, and upon exorcising it, you had met him. He must have been wandering about, he was prone to doing that, and upon seeing you wielding your sword and the Hummingbird’s Blessing, he had realized that you were she, the one everyone hailed as the single other strongest sorcerer of the age.

I want to kill you, he had said to you, ignoring Hisashi completely, and to that you had replied no. No, you cannot kill me. Naturally, he had asked why? So you had told him this: my life is not mine to give but someone else’s. A deity’s. I am sworn to fulfill that deity’s mission. You cannot kill me because only that deity’s enemy can.

They call me the god of lightning, he had said. Am I not then also a deity? You had laughed at him. Of course you are not. Well, who am I to judge? Maybe you are. But if that is the case, then you are the wrong one. You will have to wait to fight me, I am afraid.

He had smiled, and then, to everyone’s surprise, he had taken a step back and nodded. Very well, he had told you, rolling his eyes at Hisashi’s protective stance and the villagers cowering behind you. Y/N L/N? If that is what I must do, then I will do it. I will wait for you.

[novafire-is-thinking]

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

At the moment, I have two or three favorites, so I’ll go with the one I’ve added to most recently.

The title is currently Remember Me As You Will, but that may change between now and completion.

It started out as a two-part story, but it’s turned into a multi-chapter fic. lol

Each part is a glimpse into a key point in Shockwave’s life: mostly pre-shadowplay and post-Unicron.

The majority of it is written from Shockwave’s POV, with the occasional glimpse from the perspective of someone else he encounters. The goal is to capture both Shockwave’s self-reflection, and also how he may have been perceived from without.

Two songs for this WIP:

The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by The Oh Hellos (Spotify | YouTube)

Lyrics:

Brother, forgive me / We both know I'm the one to blame / 'Cause when I saw my demons / I knew them well and welcomed them / I knew them well and welcomed them

But I'll come around / I'll come around

Father, have mercy / I know that I have gone astray / 'Cause when I saw my reflection / It was a stranger beneath my face / It was a stranger beneath my face

But I'll come around / I'll come around / Someday

When I touch the water / They tell me I could be set free

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night from Interstellar (Spotify | YouTube)

Lyrics / Poem:

Do not go gentle into that good night, / Old age should burn and rave at close of day; / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, / Because their words had forked no lightning they / Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright / Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, / And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, / Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight / Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, / Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. / Do not go gentle into that good night. / Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

For this ask game

#novafire is writing #senator (affectionate)