InsaneJournal

Porn Battle Reposts: Part 4
Also known as: Everything Else! <3


Ichigo stumbled downstairs, lightning showing enough of the room that he didn’t bother turning on a lamp before opening the door.

Renji’s gigai dripped rain onto the Kurosaki family’s welcome mat. “He kicked me out.”

Ichigo closed the door a little more, hearing the thump of little feet pounding down the stairs. Renji shrugged as Ichigo tried to block him from the family’s view and Yuzu made these big worried eyes behind him. “Look—it’s the middle of the night,” Ichigo patiently tried to explain. “My little sisters are here, I mean, you can’t just—“

“NIICHAN!!!” Rukia caroled, coming down the stairs behind him. “YOU FINALLY FOUND ME, AFTER WANDERING ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD AFTER WE WERE OPHANED AND SEPARATED FOR SO LONG!!!” The stupid old man was crying, yelling something back at Rukia about the beauty of families, and how he couldn’t bear to lose his new daughter so soon, so OF COURSE her brother could stay. Ichigo needed a good influence!

“I hate you,” Ichigo said, heading back down the hall to where the towels were kept as Renji followed and let his stupid inside slippers make muddy squelching noises all the way down the hall. “I hate you kind of a lot right now. Just so you know.”

“I couldn’t help it—“Renji started. Ichigo threw a towel at him, and Yuzu knocked, holding out one of the clinic-yukatas. “You need anything else, Ichi-nii?” She asked, quietly, eyes darting over at their guest. “I could bring up some extra blankets to your room?”

Ichigo stared at her. “What? Just drop him in the clinic! He doesn’t have to--”

“But the clinic is full!” Yuzu was giving him that look again. Her lip wobbled.

“S’ok—I can just sleep in your closet, right? No problem.”

“Nope! That’s my room, Nii-chan,” Rukia laughed, reaching over Yuzu to steal Renji’s shirt. “You wouldn’t suggest anything indecent, right?” Yuzu squeaked and ducked out of the room as Renji scrambled into the yukata. Ichigo manfully refrained from banging his head against the bathroom wall.

“Look—I don’t care. I’m going upstairs. Sleep wherever you want. I don’t care.” Rukia smiled at him in a way he was pretty sure would worry him if he were awake, but kept her mouth shut, so Ichigo figured it was safe at the moment to make his escape, so he went upstairs and crawled into bed while he could.


Ichigo was warm. His pillow curved just right under his neck, soft and silky and warm, and felt just about perfect after having been up half the night. He snuggled a little closer to it and wondered why he was even awake enough to notice.

“But! He’s never even brought a GIRL home before!” Yuzu. Yuzu was all upset about something? Man—it was way too early to have to get up and kill the old man. He rolled over--must have kicked a roll of blankets on the side of the bed or something—and tossed a leg over it, burying his face deeper in the pillow.

“No way! You don’t understand; this is great! Now we’ll have TWO highschoolers to blackmail into being on our soccer team!” Karen was excited and Yuzu was all upset? This… probably wasn’t good. Maybe even not good enough to wake up for. Somehow, though, when he pushed open one bleary eye, all he could see was red and cream and black squiggles. Wasn’t his pillow blue?

“Whadd’ya want, Babe?” It… rumbled, in a way that Ichigo wasn’t going to think about how much he liked. Wait.

“Renji? RENJI!” Ichigo took a flying leap out of bed that landed his back against the closet door across the way. “Wha---what’re you---!!!” High-pitched laughter floated out from his closet as Renji groaned incoherently and put his head in his hands.

“ICHI-NII! HOW COULD YOU? YOU’RE NOT EVEN MARRIED!” Yuzu collapsed in his doorway sobbing.

“Everyone here sucks.”



“Her name is Sera,” Argilla explains, pausing to watch the girl sit in the window and sing. Jinana’s face goes soft and…young looking as she listens to Sera’s prayer. It’s hard to look at her like that, but good. Argilla tightens her fingers around Jinana’s hand. “She keeps us safe. Even if you don’t eat, she’ll protect you. You’ll be safe with us.”

Heat growls at them both a little from where he’d been standing, leaning against the wall down the corridor from Sera’s room for no reason he cared to explain. “You’d better eat though. You’ll get weak. ‘S bad enough we can’t get her to eat—you better not make it worse.”

“Aw, giv’em a break, mon—dey just got ‘ere!” Cielo called, popping up behind him from around the corner. “Geez, Heat. Anyway, look who wanted to come say hello to our new comrade? Mister Kittycat! ‘Lo, Jinana!” He holds up one of the cat’s paws and waves it at the green-haired woman.

“Heat—can you go to the command room? Serph needs you.”Gale sets a folder of intelligence data on Cielo’s head, distracting their resident Rastafarian enough to let the cat escape. “You I need for debrefing about the base while we were gone. You took reports from the other tribemembers for me?” Cielo cringes and ducks away from a second set of reports.

“Uh. Ja. Course I did. I was just… right.” He flashes a smile over his shoulder, surprisingly sweet, at the two of them. “I’ll see ya later, ja? ‘S good you’re here.” Argilla nods at him, strangely reluctant to turn and see whether the other woman is as well.

“I could show you where your sleeping quarters will be, now, if you like,” she offers neutrally, hesitating. “They’re near mine anyway.”

The fingers of Jinana’s free hand are still cold and wet from the rain outside, but they warm as she draws the slowly across Argilla’s cheek. “It’s a good tribe, the Embryon. It will be an honor to fight with you.” And there aren’t words then for the feeling that gives her.



Roland finds the AI tucked up in command room, curled by the wall with a pilfered can of the paint they kept for marking targets. His shirt and the corsety-body armor thing he wears are on the floor next to him, and he mostly seems to be making a mess of black paint low over his abs. Roland absently wishes really hard for a stiff of vodka, asks what the AI thinks it’s doing.

Those crazy-colored eyes are bloodshot and watery when it looks up at him, though as perfectly calm-looking as always. “I can’t see what I’m doing without tensing my stomach muscles to sit up, but when I do it ruins the image,” it explains. How the AI makes such a simple thing sound like something so painful, helpless, even through the monotone…

“What,” he coughs badly, catches his breath. “What image did you want?” ‘And why does it matter,’ he wants to ask and doesn’t. The AI’s face…crumples, just breaks down in a way too familiar way.

“Lupa—“ and just that is enough that Roland doesn’t want to hear anymore, once he makes that connection. “He had his demon mark here. A spiked wheel with three points. I. He’s gone now, you know.” The AI, Gale wasn’t it? Takes a breath and wipes away the excess ink, and just like that he’s Mr. Cool and Collected again. “I killed him, and ate him. But somehow, now he seems very far away. It hurts.”

And this is crazy, a voice that sounds a lot like Adil says in the back of his head. A statement like that should have him backing out the door and reaching for his key, not going to his knees next to Gale and reaching for the brush. “I.” He starts, not sure how to put it. “I could help. I mean. Just tell me how it’s supposed to look, ok?”



The bath is already drawn when Ritsuka fits the key in the lock and stumbles through their door, dropping books and papers and pens in his wake. “Welcome home,” Soubi calls, coming paint-stained out of the kitchen. Ritsuka blushes, mumbles “I’m home,” like he’s still in elementary school, but doesn’t protest when Soubi threads his fingers through Ritsuka’s hair in welcome. “Dinner’s on already, but you want your bath first, right?” He asks every day, even though Ritsuka always tells him the same thing; Seimei would have waited for the day he didn’t ask to change his mind and it would have been bad. Ritsuka though, Ritsuka just leans into the fingers in his hair and lets Soubi unbutton his shirt with a little more petting than’s really necessary. Ritsuka pulls Soubi with him into the bathroom—nevermind the paint drying in the kitchen, half-finished butterflies ruined now—and demands kisses as Soubi undoes his pants, strips out of his own jeans. Ritsuka’s skin is soft between the scars, pale and beautiful and never bruised anymore, and Soubi runs the washcloth over it like an acolyte in the Sanctuary. “Ritsuka,” he breathes.

Ritsuka’s hands coax his head back, baptize his head again, caress soap through the long strands of his hair more than actually wash it. Soubi feels, absurdly, like all the long day when he was without Ritsuka is rinsing away with the soap, leaving on this: the man he is in this moment, on his knees before his Sacrifice. He ties the wet hair up himself when Ritsuka sits on the edge of the tub and waits.

Ritsuka’s cock is slender, but long enough to stretch his throat, sweet-tasting and clean. Soubi relaxes his throat, lets Ritsuka move the way he wants too, one long slow easy thrust after another, with just enough time for Soubi to swallow and take a breath at the end of each one. Ritsuka is kind like that. His fingers tangle in Soubi’s rough bun as he comes, just like that, and slides down into the water to curl up in the hollow of Soubi’s still-larger body. He draws his fingers up along the length of Soubi’s erection, watching the way the shiver it draws makes the water swirl. “You’ll let me take care of that, later?” Soubi strokes along one bare collar bone.

“Anything Ritsuka wants.”



Note: This is very much Movie!Susan. But I like her a lot better anyway, so :P.

The door creaked open, the light of a candle staining the inside of susan’s eyelids pink as she curled her hand around the kitchen-knife under her pillow—and how she regretted the loss of her arrows, sometimes, at night. Little footsteps padded towards her bed, paused, “Susan?” She let go of the night and sat up, pushing her long hair out of her face.

“Lucy? What are you doing up, sweetheart?” The candlelight made the little girl’s eyes shine like she’d been crying, or wanting too. She set the candle on Susan’s bedside table.

“Can I sit with you for a while? I don’t want to be alone.” Susan lifted the quilt on her bed, let Lucy crawl under with her. Lucy snuggled up next to her, burying damp cheeks in the hollow between Susan’s chin and shoulders. Susan sighed, and closed her eyes again. “I’m worried about Mr. Tumnas,” Lucy whispered finally. “We’re not even there—will he be ok? Who’s looking out for Narnia now?” Susan pushed the hair back from her forehead, stroking her head like their mother had used to. “We’re little again,” and now Lucy’s voice had gone as small and fragile as Susan had ever heard it. “What if we can’t protect everyone?”

“We’ll just do our best,” Susan said. The candle guttered and almost blew out. “I’ll be with you. Peter will lead us, and Edward will follow him, and we… we’ll do our best. And I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”