#i've kept this in my drafts for so long i've forgotten about it

[chuu-huahua]

PROFESSIONAL SQUASH PLAYER DAZAI FOR THE SOUL because he doesn’t need the arm strength that chuuya has to hit the ball, and he calculates his opponent’s moves fast enough that he can just walk across the court to where the ball lands

his racket is expensive from the money he earns as mori’s prodigy, and the court is the battlefield where he will always walk out victorious 

he gets injured very often though, so he always turns up with bandages all over his body and has to change them every time he finishes up

he’s predicted to take over mori’s title of number 1 squash player internationally, and he would also take over port mafia club’s entire organisation 

chuuya is his no.1 fan btw cuz dazai looks so slay and sexy when he’s focused

#lei writes! ଘ(|lI.‸.) #i've kept this in my drafts for so long i've forgotten about it #but yes #pushing my dazai squash player agenda because the sport is too underrated #i thought about this during training by the way #how you ask? well #the coach takes great pride in his ability to focus on one to one training #so we just had too much time to sit around and chat #but anyways #squash player dazai #someone please tell me they agree #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai #chuuya #soukoku #dazai x chuuya

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Gale x reader (tav)

Prompt: Soulmate AU (sharing pain)

Description: For most of your life, it was normal things; cuts and bruises, sprained ankles and such. Your love must have been some sort of spell caster, from all the magic burns and forces you felt too. But then one day... it hurt so bad. The darkness, the pain, the hunger you felt... At least, it was a burden shared.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: minor descriptions of pain/wounds, descriptions of Gale's arcane hunger,

Notes: I wanted to write for Gale so so bad but nothing was coming to me. Until I was like "fuck it back to the basics" also these fics are such a good way to use all my screenshots. I have so so many. kinda lowkey don't like this but I've had it sitting in my drafts for so long, and just needed to finish it lol

You had thought the greatest pain you could feel in this life was that which your soulmate bore; a great, arcane hungering force that festered in the chest. Though only they bore it truly, you felt it as if it was your own pain. And you, too, felt that hunger, felt relief when it was sated and knew the pain of going without. Knew what to do when you felt it fester and want only more.

But you didn’t know what to think when you felt a sharp pain in your left eye, felt it crawl and wrench it’s way into your brain. How could you? It was something you had no explanation for (what had your soulmate been up to, then, to feel such a way?) It was only when you were abducted by the nautiloid, faced with a mind flayer and it’s tadpole, that you notice how sickeningly familiar the sensation of a worm, crawling into your left eye to make home for its self in your brain was.

So, imagine then when you met not one, not two, but six other people with tadpoles as well. You couldn’t be sure if any of them were your soulmate… but you also couldn’t rule it out. That, and you kept hearing that even more people were infected than the people you now traveled with. Realistically, finding your soulmate should probably not be at the top of your list when you did have a mind flayers tadpole… but the idea that they could be so close to you did have you excited!

But what if they were part of this strange Absolute cult? What if they had already been turned into a mind flayer (would you feel that? Would they even have a soul for your to connect to at that point?) There was a lot to worry about… Chief among them being that familiar growing hunger within your chest. But having been recently dumped off a ship, you have very little to your name to feed it…

“This locket…” You held it aloft in your fingers, soft light from the torches around your tent catching it. You had gotten it from Arabella’s mother after saving the poor girl from Kahga. You could use it’s magic to feed your soulmate’s hunger… but would the other’s notice it missing? How would you explain it’s been consumed?

“You seem to have a lot of your mind.” Gale’s voice catches you from your thoughts, causing you to snatch the locket and pocket it.

“There’s much to think about.” You hum, looking up at him. “How can I help you tonight, Gale?” You change the subject, smiling at him.

“I’ve just come to remind you to eat dinner.” He holds a bowl of something that smells far too good to be camp provisions, leaning down to hand it to you.

“You made this?” Your eyes widen as you accept the food, stomach growling in anticipation.

“Oh this is nothing,” He waves his hand dismissively. “Were we back in my tower at Waterdeep, I would show you the true extent of my culinary talent.” You take an experimental bite, smiling at the savory taste that welcomes you.

“It’s very tasty! I’m nonetheless impressed you made this with supplies from our camp packs.” You praise him, seeing the smile that lights up his face. You have to admit, it’s rather charming even if he is a little haughty. “Thank you for coming to hand this to me, I may have forgotten otherwise.”

“You’re welcome! We can’t have our leader falling behind.” He smiles, but seems like he wants to say something more before deciding otherwise. “You have a goodnight, _____.” You decide not to question it on it. Though you like to think you’ve grown close to him this past week traveling together, not enough to push boundaries quite yet.

“You too Gale!” You give him a little wave, watching as he goes back to the campfire where he must have cooked dinner. You retreat to your tent, closing off from everyone else at camp. Another, uncomfortable pang of arcane hunger hits you and with a soft groan, you put down the food.

“Fine, fine.” You groan and hold your throbbing head, pulling out the locket with the other. You study it a moment, before closing your eyes and holding it to your chest, willing that great, unknowable force within to feed on the weave it held. When the next terrifying moment it is done, and that deep ancient, hunger is sated once again. You let out your bated breath. At least for now, it is sated…

Across camp, Gale can only take a shuddering gasp as he feel’s the orb within him sated. While this hadn’t been the first time his soulmate had helped him sate the orb, this time it almost seems serendipitous that they should do so when he finds himself with nary a magic artifact (nor a tresseym to go out and hunt for one).

Once, as Mysta’s chosen, Gale had wondered what use a soulmate would do him when he was chosen by a Goddess. To be favored by Mystra, mother of the weave… It was quite an addictive feeling, admittedly. But to fall from that grace, to lose the bulk of his powers and have to face the consequences of the orb within him… only for someone who cares for him to feed that hunger, to save him hurt when they may not even know him… It’s quite bracing, and enough to bring a smile to his face. Someone out there cares, despite the pain he has caused them, and despite, for a time, thinking he could live without them.

Still, it is a burden he would rather like to take care of himself. With that in mind, Gale readies himself to tell you (and the rest of the party, though they haven’t quite earned his trust like you have) about the orb at the earliest convenience. You seemed a little troubled tonight so when the day came, he would find the time.

However, it seemed like you had much planned for the day following. Though he was there to watch you agree to raid the goblin camp, Gale hadn’t expected the strides you would make in that endeavor today alone. Already your small party had cleared out the abandoned village before the camp and now you were checking out the surrounding area.

“Excuse me, _____, if you have a moment.” Gale pops up beside you a moment as you survey the area. “I have something rather important to share, if you can spare the time.”

“You’re among friends Gale, go right ahead.” You smile at him, and notice how his face softens at that.

“Yes well,” He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving yours. It always caught you off guard, how easy it was for him to capture your gaze. “Ever since you freed me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.” You watch his hands move up and around, something you’ve noticed he does often when he talks. “When you defused the situation between Aradin and Zevlor, or how you saved that young girl from Kahga…” He shakes his head a little, dark eyes meeting yours once more. “In short, I’ve come to trust you.” He smiles at you, that same boyish smile that you can’t help but smile back at.

“I’m glad you said so, I feel the same way.” You see his smile grow wider a moment, before he continues on.

“The reason I go on to say this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I haven’t told another living soul. Except for my cat.” He looks troubled for a moment, watching your face for any change of emotion. You try to keep your reaction even, merely raising your eyebrows for him to continue. “...You see, I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly.” You watch his hands move before his chest in an almost frantic motion, before falling swiftly as he looks to you.

“...Okay.” You nod, looking at him carefully. “What… kind of condition?” You half frown, seeing how strange he was being about this. Not that he wasn’t already a little queer, but in this moment Gale seemed so… tense.

“The specifics are… rather personal… but suffice to say it is a malady I’ve learned to live with-- though not without some effort.” He gives a little grimace, but continues, learning in closer to you. “What it comes down to is this; every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the weave within.” Your eyes wide (in what you hope is a normal way) and you nod.

“So this… illness causes you to consume magic.” You repeat plainly, nodding. “While that is strange, I don’t think it will be so hard to accommodate.” You nod at him assuredly.

“You… don’t have any questions?” Gale asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“Well of course I do. But it seems like you shared as much as you were willing to on the matter already.” You offer him a small smile and watch the relief spread on his features.

“I thank you for your trust in me. It shall not be unfounded.” He looks rather serious for a moment, before continuing. “Thankfully, I am sated for now, but its merely a matter of time before my craving returns. So I turn to you; I need you to help me find magic items to consume. It is vital, dare I say, critical.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.” You smile big for him, hoping he can’t hear the pounding of your chest.

“You have my thanks. Again, your trust in me will be rewarded in anyways I have at my disposal. I’m sure we won’t have to look far, Faerun overflows with magic treasure! As do our packs, in fact,” Your breath hitches at that. He was of course, talking about the locket you got from Arabella’s mother… the very one consumed last night by you (and by extension, your soulmate). What if he asked for it now? How could you tell everyone its gone already? But just as you go on to panic over a response, Gale continues.

“But, I know the allure magic artifacts hold, and their power. All this to say, I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may be so bold, its for a very good cause indeed.” Gale pauses a moment, and makes sure to catch your gaze once again. “I hope I can count on you.” You nod at him, which seems to please him.

With that, you continue on your way, heading further into the mountains to reach the goblin camp. You couldn’t help but be distracted though. How many people in the realm needed to consume magic for a ‘condition’? And… of those people, how many of them have also been infected by a mind flayer tadpole? You couldn’t help but wonder that-- distracting you enough that as you walk out of the destroyed village and over a bridge, you walk right into the next goblin camp.

“Look Klaw, look’s like dinner’s come to go.” The goblin sneers at it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as you take in the goblins. At least three in front of you that you see, some strange pack animal, and surely more in sniper points. You might be able to talk your way out of this…

“Remember, goblins often come in the dozens, not just a few.” Gale warns.

“Why’d you come this way?” The goblin huffs again, looking up at you with disdain. Yes, you could easily talk your way through this. You can feel the tug of a parasite in this one. Authority. But another, desperate part of you wants to see. If you or Gale got hurt in this battle, would you be able to see the wound on the other… Could he really be your soulmate?

You don’t remember quite what you said to anger the goblin so much, before you knew it battle had started. Thankfully, you had Lae’zel with you to enter the front lines and take out those pesky pack animals, while Gale and Astarion provided support from the rear. Though it wasn’t an easy battle by any means, the more goblins dead, the better in your opinion.

You tried to see if you can feel pain in any place you didn’t remember getting hit, but all of you had gotten one or two bad hits. There was even a point you had to help poor Astarion back to his feet after he had taken out the war drum that would call in reinforcements.

“How does everyone feel?” You call out. “I haven’t quite used all my healing spells yet, so if anyone needs a little pick me up…” You look around to your allies. Lae’zel seemed fine, having had a healing potion to take care of her wounds, and Astarion was looking decent after you had cast Lay Hands on him. You turn to Gale, to find him looking rather haggard, despite being relative safety (sans from a few archers, if you recall).

“If you don’t mind.” Gale calls you over, and you happily oblige, moving over to him while readying the spell.

“Where does it hurt?” You ask, raising your two hands as they glow with healing magic.

“Everywhere, really.” Gale laughs softly. “I feel like I got thrown around quite a bit that battle.” He shakes his head. “I’ll need to be more careful…” he shakes his head.

“You did fine, no need to worry.” You assure him, placing your hands just before his chest and letting the magic flow to him. He sighs in relief and smiles at you. “Don’t forget about yourself, though.” He adds.

“Oh I feel fine.” You assure him. A little better than the moments before, even. “I have potions if I really need them. I would rather save my magic for my allies, anyways.” Sure that everyone was feeling well, you continue to the goblin camp proper, trying your best to distract your self from your ever growing thoughts.

~*~

It isn’t many days after that (though its hard to tell, with all the battles, all the information, all the people you’ve met and helped) that you notice a familiar presence within. That aching, consuming hunger. Thankfully, in the days since you’ve gained plenty of magic items, any of which would more than be able to help Gale. Though this time, it had you nervous.

If you gave Gale an item, watched him consume it before your very eyes, and felt the pain melt away like a soft lullaby… what then? If he truly was your soulmate… what would that change between the two of you, if anything? Was Gale even interested in following his fate like that? It was all so worrisome… And, even if he wasn’t… Would you still have that familiar warm feeling in your chest when you caught his gaze?

Soulmate or not, you had… feelings for Gale. Ones that you couldn’t claim for the rest of the party. And despite everything, you still knew so very little about him. It seems as though your thoughts summoned him, as you look up to find Gale coming your way.

“Come to grab a snack?” You tease, seeing him approach you somewhat seriously.

“I…” He seems surprised a moment before recovering. “How could you tell? I thought I had done rather well in hiding my affliction…” He doesn’t seem embarrassed, more so surprised.

“Oh!” You couldn’t very well say it was because you had also begun to feel the ill effects of going too long without consuming magic. “You just seemed… a little strained today is all. Not that it effected you in battle in any way!” You assure him. “Just that it all took a little more out of you than it might usually…” Gale is quiet a moment, studying you. You can’t seem to meet his gaze, too busy studying the dirt between the two of you.

“I hadn’t known you to be so observant,” In the next moment, Gale is smiling softly. “You’ve read me correctly. My condition is… rather hungry, and I find that feeding it sooner rather than later leads to everyone being happier.” You nod at him, shuffling over to your travelers trunk where you seem to keep all the armor and weapons and goodies from your adventurers.

With your back to him, digging in the trunk, you speak. “If you don’t mind me asking… how does it feel?” You were looking for a specific ring you had picked up, one you were certain everyone would have no problem with parting with. “I mean… is it painful?” Fingers finding the cool metal of a ring of Color Spray, you carefully pull it from the trunk, ready to turn back to Gale for his answer.

“It’s…” He pauses a moment, taking time to consider his words carefully. “It starts off as uncomfortable, and if left unattended quickly become painful.” He frowns softly. “Though it has a number of unwelcome side effects, chief among them seem to be nausea, headache, chest pain…” You can’t help but grip your own chest as you felt a pain go through it. Yes, at this point, you were almost certain. There was just one thing left to do to prove that Gale was your soulmate…

“Um, I’m sorry if this is strange… but could I talk to you in private a moment?” You gesture to your tent right next to you and Gale seems surprised.

“Is this about…?” He stops himself as you shake your head no vigorously.

“It’s um… complicated. But fear not, I’m not going to deny you an item.” Gale seems concerned a moment at how you seemed to be uncomfortable but merely shakes his head.

“Very well.” He allows you to open the flap for him, and you follow him inside. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen the inside of your tent-- you often opened the flaps of it to let everyone know you were free to talk or do other things. But it felt much more intimate to be inside it, closed, with you. You seemed so different with your heavy armor and weapons to the side. In your camp clothing, you seemed so much smaller than the courageous paladin that led them all in battle.

And even now, as you looked upon him with rosy cheeks and worry, Gale couldn’t help but admire you. Who would have guess you would be so shy when it came down to it?

“What did you wish to ask me?” Gale chooses to speak first, seeing how you seem to be struggling just a tad with what to say.

“There… is no easy way to say this.” You admit, half frown fitted on your lips as you look to Gale. “If I am wrong this would be… one of, if not the, most embarrassing thing of my life.” You shake your head again, seeing the look Gale gives you. “But… I am almost certain of it, and would appreciate it if you would give me the chance to prove it to you as well.” You look to him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Prove what?” Gale watches you worry the ring in your hand, sees how you can barely meet his gaze and how you can’t seem to stop blushing despite nothing romantic or embarrassing happening between the two of you. “Please, tell me what has you acting so strange.” You heave a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Gale of Waterdeep… I think we’re soulmates.” It feels strange, falling from your tongue. Even stranger to see his reaction (how can stay so composed?) “Before you say anything I… can show you.” Before he can object, you bring the ring of Color Spray to your chest and let the arcane hunger within you (within him), feed. You feel the immediate relief, but not only that-- you see the look of awe on Gale’s face, see the tension leaving him.

“Well… that certainly is proof, isn’t it?” Even Gale is left astounded in the moment, looking at you with eyes anew. “I’ll admit I had my own suspsions… but you certainly took matters into your own hands, didn’t you?” He’s all smiles and familiar confidence, but you can’t find it in you to feel as steady.

“I… suppose so” You fiddle around a bit, finding his answer to be neither positive or negative. “How do you… feel about that…?” You ask softly. You had loved him for years and years, and finding out that Gale was the person you had loved and taken care of for so long made you so happy. But…

“How could I not be happy?” Gale moves a bit closer to you, taking your hand in both of his. “You’ve done so much for me… Now, and even before we met. To find out the person who took such good care of me is someone I’ve come to respect and trust so much… who wouldn’t be pleased?” He squeezes your hand.

“So you’re not… disappointed?” You add, rather quietly. Gale can’t help but soften.

“With you? Never.” He seems to think a moment, hesitating. “Still… to think that’s you’ve suffered though this like I have… it’s nearly unforgivable.” He shakes my head. “That my mistake led to you suffering as well.”

“Don’t say that!” You tug him closer with your hands, your strength giving Gale no choice but to comply. “Even if it hurts… I’m glad to be connected to you in this way. If I didn’t care, would I have supported you all this time?” At that, Gale smiles. “I… know it hasn’t been long since we’ve met. Shorter still since this revelation has come to light… but I do love you, even if you don’t feel the same.” You muster up the courage to admit this. “I’ve loved you for years and years… finding out you were the person I’ve been in love with just seemed to make sense.”

“… You really are more than I deserve.” Gale again squeezes your hand. “I’ll admit I… find myself fond of you as well. I was never one to put much faith into a soul mate…” You can’t help but deflate a little at that. Gale, noticing this, quickly continues. “But that’s changed since I was cursed-- since Mystra cast me out.” You blink at him, and he shakes his head. “Now that I know you feel the orb’s hunger as I do… you deserve to know the truth behind it.”

“Are you certain?” You frown softly as his hand leaves yours, but Gale merely gives you a serious look.

“I’ve cursed you as well as myself. This is something that effects us both.” Gale doesn’t beat around the bush. “It all starts with a king named Karsus…” Gale settles in to tell you of how he came to have the orb in his chest. Of the King, Karsus, who created his own weave in his ambition to rivil Mystra and once destroyed her. How Gale wanted to impress Mystra, and merely sought to return a piece of her weave back unto her-- that piece being the orb that was now inside his chest. Their union should have destroyed him but instead, the orb merely consumed his power. That, and his place at Mystra’s side; the goddess cast him aside for his folly and Gale found himself lost.

“I thought I had nothing left to live for. My powers lost, Mystra cast me aside… I was content to let the orb finish me off but…” He pauses, looking to you after staring off into the corners of your tent.

“...I remember. I had been sick and hurting for so long. I was desperate to get back on my feet, and came across an amulet that was supposed to boost my health. But as soon as I put it around my neck, it was gone. Consumed.” You smile softly at him.

“You gave me that first push forward. Luckily, even as a wizard locked in a tower, I had plenty of magic items to consume as well. But I also had Tara to go out and look for me. And… you.”

“You know, I was actually out to buy more items for you to consume before I got abducted by the nautiloid. I had wondered why you were going without for so long… Funny, to think, it was because you were also on the nautiloid.” You can’t help and smile wide. Gale returns your smile.

“Fate truly wanted us to meet, then.” Boldly, he chooses to cup your cheek before quickly pulling his hand away. You could feel your heartbeat pick up, see the flash of color on his cheeks.

“For better or for worse, we’re in this together Gale.” You instead reach out for him, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve only just found you and I’ve no intention of letting anything happen to us. No orb, no tadpole-- nothing.” You tell him confidently. “Come what may, let me help you.” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

“You truly are something else.” He smiles at you. “Very well then. I’ll accept your help.” You squeeze his hands.

You knew you were getting your hopes up, thinking Gale would admit to loving you just because the two of you were soulmates, because you admitted to loving him. But this… perhaps this was just as good. Knowing that he trusted you. That he had already liked you before knowing the two of you were bound by fate… At least now, by his side, you could keep him safe. It was a burden halved, a burden shared.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #soulmate Au

[jammatown919]

At Last

This is another thing that's been sitting in my drafts basically done for a few months now. Was talking to my friend about how it would be cool if the Spirit World was a legit afterlife and it would be interesting but really sad if the Avatars were kept separate, then I wrote this at 2am and promptly forgot about it.

-----

By now, Kyoshi had been away from Rangi longer than she'd been with her. She'd been here longer than she'd been alive, actually.

Where here was, she didn't exactly know. Some space only accessible to the ghosts of Avatars long past and, on occasion, the current Avatar, who seldom graced them with her full presence. Instead, they watched her life play out like a performance, chiming in where they could, but often serving as little more than her captive audience. How lucky they were. 

It wasn't the current Avatar's fault. Kyoshi actually quite liked the fierce young Korra, for all that she could like someone she'd spoken to once and only once. Korra was mostly Aang's in the way Kyoshi had been mostly Kuruk's, but they were all shackled to her and would be until the end of her life, at which point she would join them as prisoners of her successor. 

It was a miserable fate, one Kyoshi had no idea she'd be subjected to until it happened. Some Avatars carried the burden with grace, as they had in life, but Kyoshi's Avatarhood had been anything but graceful. Why should her afterlife be any different? She hated it here, and she wasn't afraid to let it be known. 

All the Avatars knew how she felt, and still would even if she hadn't screamed it for years upon her first arrival. They could feel each other in some strange way, like they were all part of the same organism that some of them, namely her, would love nothing more than to break away from. 

No one spoke much. Yangchen and Kuruk had entertained her when she was new, as she'd done for Roku when he was new, but when stuck together until the end of time, people tended to run out of things to say. 

So Kyoshi did nothing at all. She simply drifted, lost in memories, wishing and wishing that she could leave, or that her loved ones could join her, or that anything of meaning would happen to her. 

She got her wish seventeen short years into the Era of Korra. The cycle broke and started anew, leaving everyone but the poor soul who hadn't yet joined them behind it. At long last, they were free. 

They were still together when they reappeared, torn from what had been their home for so long and tossed into the real Spirit World, but there was no need to stay that way. Some left immediately, off to find loved ones or just see something new for once, but others stuck around to say goodbye. 

Kyoshi nodded to Roku. Shook Kuruk's hand. Gave Yangchen a hug. 

Then she was running, faster than she ever had in life, toward something she hadn't felt in centuries. It was her own dear heart, beating somewhere far away, still waiting after all this time. Kyoshi couldn't wait to see her again. 

However, it was not Rangi that made her stop. Instead, it was a trio of spirits; a winged snake resting atop a living rock, beside what appeared to be a cloud of sand and pebbles. She recognized them all instantly, and they recognized her. They had become something new, but they had not forgotten what they had once been. 

Her parents, she had no interest in. Perhaps one day - there was all the time in the world, after all - but not today. But Lek... she couldn't just pass him by. 

"Hello, brother," she murmured. The other two seemed to realize she was not here for them and backed away, leaving her room to approach the boy she'd hardly known and yet managed to love and miss so fiercely. 

He changed as she drew nearer, becoming the scrappy young Earthbender he'd been when they were still alive. 

"It's been a while, sister," he replied. He stepped forward and embraced her. 

"I've missed you." She was too tall to even rest her chin atop his head, so she just squeezed him tight. "The others...?"

"Kirima and Wong are always nearby," he said. "Topknot hangs around sometimes. She's not here now, though."

Kyoshi snorted upon hearing Rangi's old nickname. She'd almost forgotten it entirely. She wondered how many things had slipped her mind over the years. 

"I have to go to her," Kyoshi said. "I'll come back to see you again, but I have to go to her now."

"We all understand," Lek promised, and released her. "When you come back, will you talk to them?"

He didn't look at them, but Kyoshi knew he meant her mother and father. 

"I'll think about it," was the best she could give him. He must have matured greatly after being here so long, because he didn't press her. Instead, he smiled and let her move on. 

Beyond him and her parents was a spacious forest, full of other spirits she knew were not the ghosts of humans, except for one. He stood out to her, and she stopped for him, a beautiful white bird that radiated fatherly love. Her true father. Kelsang. 

It hurt so much to see him again, but it was a good pain. He flew to her, changing as he did, and that beloved old face brought tears to her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," they both said at once, yet neither believed there was anything for them to forgive. They embraced fiercely, and a softly spoken "I love you," was their compromise. 

They stood there, together again, for so long that Kyoshi thought Rangi might come crashing impatiently through the forest. It would've been nice, honestly. The thought reminded her of old times. 

"Kuruk is free, too," Kyoshi mumbled into his shoulder, almost as an afterthought. 

"I'll see him soon," Kelsang replied. "For now, you're looking for someone more important. Let me guide you." 

Then, he was the bird again, winging away across a sky far brighter than that of the world from which they'd come. Kyoshi followed him, dazzled by the light in his form. She followed blindly, trusting, and he did not fail her. 

They came to a flowering field beyond a sparkling river, where two bright red felines lay side by side. The creatures were quite literally identical, but Kyoshi could tell them apart easily. One was her mother-in-law, and the other was her very soul. 

They rose together, their bronze eyes wide and waiting. Hei-Ran did not move or change as Kelsang landed beside her, a neighbor checking up on things. 

Rangi was her old self in an instant, sprinting across the field to hurl herself into Kyoshi's waiting arms for the first time in centuries. 

Her glowing girl's weight had been no great burden to her in life, and here they both felt weightless, but Kyoshi collapsed to her knees anyway, holding her beloved wife close with every selfish intention of keeping her there for all of eternity. Rangi didn't seem to mind one bit. 

"How?" she asked through the most beautiful tears Kyoshi had ever seen. "I thought... the Avatars-"

"We're free," Kyoshi replied with a sob. "There's a new cycle and no need for us anymore. I can be with you again." 

Rangi wept freely into Kyoshi's chest. 

"I looked for you," she said. "I looked for you for years, even though every spirit I met told me the Avatars were somewhere else. I never accepted that I couldn't see you again."

"I'm here now." Free of the rules of etiquette, Kyoshi pressed a long overdue kiss to Rangi's scalp. "I'll be here forever."

-----

If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging to share it with others! Reblogs are the best way to make a creator's day!

Additionally, I have a Kofi that basically functions as a tip jar for those interested in supporting the writer through other means.

#rangshi #avatar kyoshi #rangi sei'naka #atla #legend of korra #chronicles of the avatar #my writing

[sourseat]

we're 1/4 through the year its time to check in with the goals and vibes

this post is so long

so tbh i haven't been thinking much about the goals and vibes i set at the start of the year. in fact rereading them there are many i had forgotten about lol. so let's revisit

theme no. 1 was self-assurance. i was feeling insecure last year apparently (how quickly i forget...) and wanted to feel solid in myself. i think this is feeling good! i'm not sure it needs to be theme no. 1 anymore! but i'll keep it because it is nice to feel self-assured. feeling insecure is not pleasant.

theme 2 was consume less. this is pretty good and remains a theme i am vibing with

third theme is let go of clinging to / craving stability and certainty. yeah i think i have integrated this. stability is something i might pursue but not something i will expect.

and the goals

join a choir / sing regularly in some form - nixed for now. not vibing.

do at least one overnight camping hike (hopefully more) - okay its so windy here maybe i'll hike and stay in huts or something idk about camping. we'll see!!

go to the pole studio in the town i'll be living in and suss the vibe. if the vibe is good enroll in classes! - i haven't been to the one closest to me yet!! but i will soon and have been to another studio so :)

keep journaling (i've journaled each day this year!) or at least remember journaling is there, and is helpful (i've noticed i tend to journal a lot in Jan and then stop) - i have kept up the journaling! not every day but at least a few times a week.

figure out how i want to have meditation in my life - a work in progress but this is moving up the priority list rn. i have been anxious. meditation helps w that for me.

sort out my digital archives - i haven't started this and the thought of doing so is deeply overwhelming in the terrible way where it gets more overwhelming the longer i wait

finish editing all my half edited videos - : / nope and i'm about to lose access to premiere pro so !! ???

read more poetry, memorise 3 poems (i'm memorising the raven at the moment, it is so long that it might take me all year) - i forgot about this lol, i'm kinda still into it but its low on the list

do PhD revisions and be finished with the phd for REAL - i submitted a draft to my supervisor! nearly done :)

write (at least) one article based on the phd (a reluctant goal. i must.) - feeling confident i will do this due to the environment i am in!

okay some good goals in here. i have been thinking i wanna do some prioritisaiton. that is a long list of goals up there. too many. so here are the ones i am gonna keep in mind for now

Work + career development - stay on top of my job, submit articles, apply for conferences. i am gonna have to keep living for my whole life somehow so i'd best use this time to set myself up to be able to get a job in this field i have spent a bunch of time in.

Meditation + journaling - really wanna get a good vibe with meditation again. Still unsure what this will look like but will prioritise figuring it out.

Organising - there's a genocide happening and I'm not doing shit. wanna get connected with organising communities here. weird being in a new place and not knowing anyone.

Pole + stretching - feeling strong in pole classes recently has felt sooooo good! And dancing... I love it. I think there's not much else in my life here yet that brings that level of joy.

Maintain relationships w people in Aus - this is like a time consuming thing that requires thought! I somehow did not foresee this! And I do want to prioritise it. Messaging people, scheduling calls, this kinda thing. I don't really like messaging generally lol so, it is on the list!!

Travel - I want to see Ireland and Europe while I'm here! And can already sense how easy it will be for two years to pass without me going anywhere.

And backburner goals

Do an overnight hike

Sort out my digital archives

Read + memorise more poetry.

#resolutions

[tallowandport]

https://www.tumblr.com/tallowandport/742177476402446337/the-mlp-infection-au-brainrot-has-gotten-to-me?source=share

Your au seems so intresting so far but gotta ask and sorry if this is spoilers for the story...just excited to see more and so curious:

Why would Celestia release such a devastating plague? Did the pony population get too big and she needed to kill some off in order to prevent overpopulation? If that guess is right, I'm curious if this will turn into a situation where Celestia is like "yes...yes the plan is working perfectly....ok maybe a little too perfectly...oh dear me, ok maybe I made this plague a little TOO strong because at this rate, ponies are going to go extinct...what have I done!?!?!"

Or was it originally intended to kill off an enemy of equestria buuuut it accidently reached ponies instead of the enemies and Celestia doesn't want to admit it was her because she knows it news that she caused a devastating virus and had planned to basically do virus warfare, the ponies would be VERY upset?

Or...those are just some guesses on my end on why Celestia would make such a horrifying virus and decide to release it. (Hopefully she was smart enough to make a cure so in the middle of the pandemic, she could pretend to be a savior and cure the ponies...if not or if the virus had evolved into a new strain that the cure doesn't work on due to the amount of hosts it had gone through, equestia is screwed.)

Also...two questions I wonder if Celestia thought about if she infected the ponies on purpose and not some accident happening when trying to attack an enemy...who is she suppose to rule if she had noone to rule over? How does she rule an empty kingdom? Bet she didn't think that tiny tibit through.

Still sorry for so many questions and stuff, just so invested in the story and curious about it and can't wait to see what happens!

Lol, no worries! I do actually have a rough draft of an evil monologue Celestia goes on about why she does this.

It is still a rough draft though, so I might change some details later, but here it is for now! I think this should answer all your questions.

Here's a transcript for accessibility:

[transcript]

This whole thing is Celestias evil monologue:

"Do you know how many times I've remade the world, Twilight? Of course not. Because this world is the only one you've ever known."

"I've done this so many times. At first, it was merely out of necessity. The first few worlds were destroyed by sheer accident and freak chance. Diseases, natural disasters, that sort of thing. And then it was War."

"I must've snapped at some point, maybe I lost hope? It's been so long that I've forgotten."

"The wars and conflicts got to me. I began destroying and remaking the world in order to get a fresh start, clear my head, make it perfect 'next time'"

"This world has probably been my best one yet. I even thought it could be the last one I'd ever need to make."

"But... Lunas rebellion a thousand years ago was the first worrying sign."

"I almost destroyed everything then and there, but then I thought... 'well, what world wouldn't benefic from a little interesting history?' so I held off."

Then, you came along, and it felt like my wish for conflict resulution could finally be solved... for the first few disasters."

"but then, conflicts just Kept Popping Up."

"You would solve one, and then an entirely new, unrelated, issue would present itself!"

"As if you were not a cure, but a magnet!"

"I can't let this go on. I am sick and tired of something always coming along to ruin my world."

"But I am also sick and tired of destroying the world like I usually do."

"So I decided on something different this time around... I thought releasing somethingslow and agonising onto the populace, something that'd make them destroy the world on their own, would be entertaining to watch... And you know what?"

"It has been the most fun I've had in AEONS."

[End of transcript]

Tldr: Celestias actually some sort of perfectionist God that's been destroying and recreating the world whenever something doesn't go exactly as she planned, and this time she decided to have fun with the destruction.

Ah, and as for why Luna, Discord, Cadence, and all them aren't mentioned is (for now, this is still a rough draft, this could change in the future) the fact they aren't actually gods, Celestia created them, too. And gave them the pretence that they had power.

Part 1, part 2

#mlp infection au #mlp infected au #my little pony infection au

[taegularities]

onto even better things 🤍

gosh, this got long, so it's okay if you don't want to read it LOL but just a little love letter. from me to you all 💌

i've been wanting to draft this message all day, but then i got busy and also found myself delaying it, because i kept thinking i'd forget stuff i need to say. but now it's past midnight for me, so i think i'll just speak from my heart, without thinking about it too hard.

i don't talk about such things on here much, bc i like spreading positivity. but 2022 was.. an incredibly painful year. sometimes i felt like i was carrying more burdens than joys... and that feeling was exhausting and so so hurtful. but looking back at this year, i don't think it was all horrible.

in hindsight, a lot of good things happened irl, and aside from that, i found comfort in this little blog, too, even when times on here were hard or frustrating sometimes — and you guys were probably the biggest reason for that. the way you support me, allow me to give love back, enjoy all my rambling, spontaneous insanity and writing... is something i have never taken for granted. be it fiction such as cmi or a random oneshot or my daily life updates, you guys care about me. and rest assured, this care is reciprocated.

taegularities is a source of warmth for me — i have bad days at times, but i try to give back some of that warmth, too. and i guess that's all that this tumblr thing is about, right? about the affection we share for not just the boys but for each other, too. the characters and words i write, the words you give back, everything about this blog and how it developed in those two years means so much to me.

so thank you. god, i know i'm missing so much here, and i know i've probably forgotten a lot of things, but i also don't want to talk y'all's ears off lol but genuinely, thank you. for being here, for making this a wonderful space and for giving me another reason to believe in myself. i don't know when my journey on tumblr will end and life gets busy, but i think of you always and i'll be telling my silly little stories for as long as y'all will have me <3

i wish you all a content and successful 2023. i love you guys so much 🤍

#happy new year! ✨ #personal

[whetstonefires]

💖🎶🛒

For the fanfic ask meme :3

💖 What made you start writing?

I...okay so there's a dumb literal answer to this I'm going to give first. My sixth grade English class was a two-semester-long creative writing seminar, where we were honestly taught almost nothing; the teacher just. Made us write things. Whatever things. For months.

She was incredibly patient with our baby shit, looking back, although when two of her students started writing execrable sixth grade poetry she set us on each other so we could get feedback without her, and managed not to make it obvious she was trying to escape the horror of sing-song childish scansion and the way kids that age take themselves horribly seriously and you have to not laugh.

Her name was Keely and I owe her, because up to that point I had refused to write my ideas down because if I slowed down enough to get a sentence written out I'd have forgotten all the bits that came after and the story was now dead and stupid and it was the worst, so writing was clearly not for me.

(I couldn't really type at this point, and didn't have reliable computer access anyway, and I'm left-handed, which makes writing longhand slightly slower and more difficult no matter what you do. Also you just don't write fast when you're ten.)

But Keely made me, for months, and it turned out this was a skillset I'd just had to work to acquire, and then I could do it and it wasn't a miserable soul-killing process after all. That's the first time I remember learning that lesson in life, and it's such a useful one. (Technically I went through a similar process with reading several years earlier, but that was partly because some very bad pedagogy put me off it at first, so it was less enlightening.)

Less prosaically, I got stuck on writing because I was a voracious reader and I kept thinking up stories, and writing them down was rewarding.

I find it's a great craft because you can get in all kinds of practice without actually doing it; you can string and edit sentences in your head when you have nothing to do or while doing something boring, and critique fiction you're exposed to, and try to understand literally anything you experience, and it's all applicable. As someone who gets frustrated with 1) materials consumed 2) skill plateaus and 3) having a Thing around after having made it, writing in the era of the word processor and cheap data storage is ideal, because it's both easier to keep my skills growing and harder to notice when they aren't than with most creative outlets, because I can store all the millions of words I've written in an object the size of my thumbnail, and because it's not supposed to do anything useful in the first place. If it does that's a happy bonus but if it doesn't I don't have to feel bad.

Fic is nice because it's got an audience to share the Things with, which makes it even better. And because you get to start at around the complexity level of a third or even fourth draft, skipping a lot of grunt work that I think is honestly overvalued--not that it's not valuable or important skill to have, especially if you want to be a novelist, but also there's a reason people on the whole mostly tell familiar stories over again, but better. The first go will suck in basically any medium. Insisting on starting there every time can lead to subtler skills getting underdeveloped.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Occasionally? Most of the time it would just be a distraction I'd have to work through, setting myself up for sensory overload and maybe a migraine.

But when I do it often is a single song on a loop, because the point is that I'm keeping myself suspended in a particular vibe as I pursue a specific scene or character relationship or something. Hasn't happened recently, but I should maybe pull that trick out and see if it helps with any of my stuck pieces.

I seem to recall writing something once to about 19 iterations of Dessa's 'The Lamb?' Oh and several passages of Angels Still Have Faces were written to the Sonata Arctica song I took the title from; it helped me get Angeal to the right state of repressed extreme melodrama.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Um. Food? Definitely food, between my strong opinions about subsistence informing social priorities and my personal sense that meals are both a major part of the daily pattern of life and very grounding in a place and body, I come back to it endlessly. 'Two people in a room (or other defined space granting privacy) trying so so hard to communicate' is, you know, pretty common motif but I go embarrassingly hard on it.

I'm a sucker for certain flavors of angst, and for when someone is very hopeless and then someone else gives them support. I think maybe people breaking down and asking for help and then actually getting it? And just how gross and messy it feels to be miserable and how much of it happens in the body.

What else? I feel like a third party would be better able to call me out on my patterns. A lot of them after all are the patterns of my thoughts, to a sufficient extent that I experience the universe in those terms by default and that's why it keeps being there.

When I describe hugs I tend to be very precise about where everyone's arms are because I feel like that's important. I try to be specific about features of nature like the species of a bird or tree or whatever, unless the pov character wouldn't notice such a thing, and even then I often know for the sake of precision. Lots of hand gestures, and putting of one's hands on pieces of scenery and so forth, that's my theater background coming through mostly. A tendency to emphasize the kinetic relationship between objects perhaps a bit more than usual.

If I'm describing a character that has an existing visual form, I drill in on the most distinctive details I can find; this is probably by way of mild face-blindness meaning I care a great deal about whether someone has a crooked eyebrow or distinctive dimpling or something, because I'm not going to learn their face fast enough to get away with not being able to id them and call them by name until then. It usually takes months.

Diana Wynne Jones advised making sure your mental image when you describe something, especially a place, is as precise as possible, so you won't decline into abstraction, and I've found following this advice to reliably net good results. If you only know about the things you actually mention, things get flat real fast.

(The trick then is not getting bogged down in deciding which things to mention.)

I dunno, what would you guys say are my signature moves?

#ask #hoc est meum #corgisenpai #ask game #writing #fanfiction

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Requests are still open! MWAHAHAHA

I was pleasantly surprised that you wrote my last request so quickly, THANK YOU SM! 🥹👉🏻👈🏻😊

I have another for my evil wolf boi Mairon

Something sexy, something soft and fluffy

Maybe they're horseback riding and come across a pond/lake? Reader tries really hard to convince him to take a dip. He's reluctant to say yes, and only does bc his need to ~taste~ her makes it hard for him to concentrate on his other tasks >;3

Thanks for taking requests and for taking the time to read mine! Have a beautiful day 💚

Hope you're having a great day too! I wanted to post this yesterday, but I hated everything in the draft. Hope you like this instead.

Skinny Dipping

Pairing : Mairon x Fem. Reader (Maia / Second person POV)

Themes : Soft | Fluff | Smut

Word count: 1.4K words

Summary : A search for something important turned into something a lot more fun.

Warnings: Kissing 

Rating: 🔥

Minors DNI | 18+

If you like this, please give it a reblog.

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

Mairon controlled his horse far better than you did with yours. He kept a light hand on Black Tide's reins, so he wouldn't spook and throw you off.

And it was all due to the storm that hammered over the land. Lightning still flashed and threw blinding white light over the slate-grey sky, and thunder still bellowed in the distance. The storm may have ceased, but the air still had a touch of temper in it. "How far, my love?" you inquired, looking around.

The search had been for an elusive herb that was needed for Mairon’s newest innovation: a cursed blade that would break in the body of their victim and slowly turn them into a wraith, thus ensnaring them in the service of Lord Melkor.

And the search had so far been fruitless. The two of you looked and looked, but this mysterious plant was nowhere to be found. On and on you rode, until the air calmed and the sky darkened, and the both of you found yourselves deep within a forest.

"Not long, my jewel," Mairon looked over to you and grinned - a slow smile that would make you go weak in the knees. "I was told this herb grows deep within the forest."

Oh wonderful. Trudging around weeds and mud, and swatting insects that took too much of an interest in your face. What joy. What absolute, unbridled joy.

Oh, and you remembered, there was a lake. A stunningly beautiful lake in the heart of the forest. Oh, to see it and perhaps take a swim in it. And perhaps to entice your companion to join you. It might make this whole exercise worth your while. "Let us ride on then," you said, and you urged your horse forward.

In the end, the search for the herb was in vain, for nothing could be found. But the lake, on the other hand...

"Shall we take a swim?" you asked and dismounted.

Mairon, deaf to your request, huffed and kept looking. You asked again, this time a little louder. "My love? Shall we go for a swim?"

Again, no answer. "Mairon!" you said sharply this time.

All you received in answer was the chirping of a million crickets. Lawks, it felt like the Maia had lost all hearing, so you switched to a different tactic. One guaranteed to catch his attention. By using an epithet he loathed.

You coughed and straightened your spine. "Wolf boy!" you cried and stamped your feet. "Will you please listen to me?"

That caught his attention. Mairon slowly rose, his golden eyes spitting fire while he glared. Oh, how he glared. Wolf boy? You dare call him Wolf boy? He made his way toward you, needing an explanation. "What did you call me?" he hissed.

And how you struggled to keep your grin hidden. Mairon looked fit to be tied, really, and you thought it would be best to get him into the water to cool him off. "Wonderful. Now that I've got your attention," you snickered and walked towards the sure sound of waves lapping against a shore. "How about a swim?"

Mairon sputtered as you went ahead. He just gaped and gaped, his quest for the herb nearly forgotten. A swim? You wanted to go for a swim? Now? While there was something more important to do?

"Come on, my love!" You cried from a distance. "It is already evenfall!"

Mairon sighed and trudged along, thinking that if he indulged you in your yen for a swim, then perhaps you would help him search for that blasted herb. He walked and walked, his eyes darting around from one corner to another, looking for hidden dangers, one ear listening in to what was going on in the forest and the other on you, in case you ran into trouble. He listened again and sighed.

The lake was near, and you were splashing about in the water, thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mairon walked to an old pier, and looked around. Sure enough, here was your mantle, and there were your dress and boots.

Mairon swallowed. Your dress was on that pier. And you were in the water, unclad. He hummed as a hot wave of lust arrowed neatly into his gut. Mairon looked towards the forest, then to the water, then to you. He had something to do, something important, but the sight of you in that water?

On an oath, he undressed himself and plunged into the freezing lake. Oh, but he did not feel it. Not Mairon. The heat of his own body shielded him, and he swam towards you in quick, deliberate strokes. "So," he grumbled, wiping the hair from his eyes. "This is what you wanted to do, my jewel?"

You swam around him, taking in the slicked back hair that looked like fired gold under the light of a full moon. And how he carried himself. Even in the water, Mairon looked so sure of himself; his entire form was filled with the sort of burning confidence one would only find in someone such as him. "I am," you murmured and continued to swim. "And it is all the better since you are here."

Mairon managed a smile and swam with you, his eyes scanning the shores of the lake. It was something he did whenever he took you away from the safety of the fortress. And his worries were unfounded. The lake was quiet, and there was nary an animal to be seen, or a bird to be heard. Satisfied, he grew more at ease and swam about with you, drinking in your body as you glided through the water. His belly kept twisting as lust grew hot and strong in him. Mairon looked around and came to a decision. He decided the herb could wait. The growing fire in his belly, on the other hand, could not.

"Let us head back," He said and turned to the shore.

You sputtered, "But we have just--"

"Now, my jewel," he insisted and swam back.

That tone. Oh, how you understood that tone. One that was very much I-am-lord-commander-of-Lord-Melkor’s-armies, one that would brook no refusal, not even from you. You swallowed and swam back, even as your skin warmed, your interest piqued.

Mairon was already there, seated on a grassy patch, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. "You ran off to the lake," he growled.

You hummed when you reached him. "Yes I did," you said, unsure if you were to sit or stand. In the end, you settled on standing.

His eyes narrowed to thin slats. "You just jumped into the water without a care for your safety."

"Maybe…" you hummed again, your knees growing weak when his eyes darkened.

"Distracted me from my search…"

"It was just a whim," you mumbled, your heart pounding away in your chest. It was not anger you saw gleam in his eyes, but something else. Something far more dark and enticing.

"A whim, my jewel?" Mairon looked up, taking in the moonlight in your hair and the tiny beads of water that seemed to glisten on your skin. Oh, but to have a taste… "Well, I have a whim of my own."

Before you had a chance to think or even blink, Mairon grabbed your hand and pulled you onto his lap. Before you had a chance to say one word, his mouth opened over yours in a kiss that burned, one that made your entire body tremble with need. You felt yourself melt against him, sighs and whimpers rising at the back of your throat when his tongue traced its way around your lips and a hand slid around to cup the back of your neck.

And Mairon was not one to rush. He took his time, moment by slow moment, his lips plundering yours until your very bones turned to water and your moans poured into his mouth. He forgot all else; his entire being was filled with just taking and taking, until you had nothing left to give. His head reeled when you sighed softly and as his need for you grew, Mairon, in one swift move, grabbed onto you and moved you onto the soft grass, his own body laying heavy over yours. The feel of your hands gliding over his chest drew out a soft moan and another kiss, one that was soft and sweet. "Now," Mairon said wickedly, his lips tugging into a wolfish grin. "How about we make the most of tonight, my jewel?"

#mairon #mairon smut #mairon x reader #x reader #reader inserts #reader insert request #the maiar #the ainur #the silm #the silm smut #the silm x reader #writeblr #a world of whimsy writes

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the art of grieving || gilbert and devyn

a gift to @secretarykang

Gilbert spun on his chair, twirling a pen between his fingertips as he daydreams again of the what if's and could've been's of the only woman he loved in his lifetime. He was being ridiculous, still reminiscing about the memory of someone who died many years ago due to old age.

For someone who has lived far longer than her, Gilbert knew it was only a matter of time before he forgets everything about her. After all, time moves quicker for vampires like him and their nearly 40 years together is just a mere shorter than his own life.

So he deluded himself at the fact that she meant nothing—when she did.

It came to a point that he does nothing but laze around and draw sketch drafts of her on paper then crumple them. He couldn't throw them away, so they're just lying on the floor, forgotten as he draws another draft, until his whole office turns into a massive garbage dump of her portrait.

When he got tired of his own chaos, he slumped his head on his desk, contemplating about why he couldn't get rid of her.

Of course, she was my wife. She's the only one I've been married to.

But it wasn't just that. In fact, his friends—Karlheinz and Devyn—knew it was more than marriage that ties him to this mortal. There was something inside him that aches for her; that Gilbert won't give a single damn if there's someone more beautiful or has blood far more delicious than hers.

Denial is an easy escape for fools who don't know how to tend a heartache, Devyn realized, carefully walking down the hallway of Gilbert's mansion in Paris.

She and Karlheinz were getting worried about him as they have received news from their familiar that Gilbert refused to drink blood. And if he was to drink it, he'll force himself and vomit it later on.

Devyn knocked on the door, and when she heard no response, she opened it and saw Gilbert sitting on the floor, trying to neatly flatten all the crumpled papers so he could proudly display all of his sketches on the wall.

"Gilbert," she called gently, "what are you—"

"Not now, darling Devyn," he cut off, busy (and apparently lost) in his current predicament, "I need to see her. I need to... just one last time... or... or else I—"

But before he could neatly arrange another crumpled paper, Devyn crouched down in front of him and held his shoulders firmly. For the first time, she truly pitied him and how far he has fallen in this despair.

"Gil, it's okay."

He shook his head firmly, confused at her words. "W-What are you talking about, darling Devyn? I am perfectly fine."

But his voice was shaking and it is only a few moments before he breaks down and crumbles.

"Gil..." Devyn hesitated, but she knew she had to say it. "You loved her—well, you still do up to this day."

"I can't love her that long," he defended, his voice laced with denial.

"But you are!" she yelled at him, tired of hia nonsense. "You have to admit it to yourself. You love her, Gil! You love her more than anything and anyone."

And that's when he understood. Yes, she's right. Yes, he loves her with every fiber of his being. And even now that she's dead, he can't help but cry at the sad and bitter fact that she's gone and left him with the curse of longing for her even though she's nothing but a mortal.

"I... I love her," he admitted in a whisper, sobbing at the reality of his pain. "I love her, Devyn. I really do."

And the next thing, Devyn hugged him to her chest, encouraging him to cry out all the feelings he kept denying all these years.

Denial is an easy escape for fools who don't know how to tend a heartache. That's why if everything gets harder, the key is to surrender.

#Spotify #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #dl oc #diahell #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers fanfic #devyn kang #kang devyn #gilbert feinze #karlheinz #karlheinz sakamaki #gilbert #feinze #devyn #diabolik oc #diabolik lovers oc aesthetic

[skylermadness]

Something To Be Proud Of (Ragh Barkrock TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: May 4, 2022)

Original Description:

A work written in collaboration with two friends of mine. This TF also comes with a sequence drawn by ArticulatedArtisan. He also drew the art that is used as the picture in the cover. The sequence can be viewed here: DeviantArt / FurAffinity Another Dimension 20 TF, and one that has been a few months in the making. Ragh is a really great guy and honestly needed TF into him- so we're here to provide! Admittedly I dealt more with the drafting, so all of this is written by my friend as they handled editing. I've never really done a second-person POV TF before, but I feel like I could go all in and try writing one myself some day. It'll just take some work- I'm also really happy as to how Artisan's sequence came out. It is so good! Just about everything about it feels perfect. Overall, I'm glad that he was a part of this!

   You drew in a deep breath, steeling yourself, and pushed open the door.

   It didn’t stop the wave of high school sport odor from assaulting your nose with enough force to make the tacklers jealous, but you managed to keep from gagging. You really wished you were used to this already, being the team’s waterboy and all.

   Waterboy, Coach’s assistant, whatever- all it meant was that you had to suffer all the drawbacks, like staying after school for practice and having to deal with the gunk and smell of the football team locker room, and none of the benefits- such as, well, being on the team. The coach just put you to work, setting up the equipment for practice, getting fresh towels and water to be ready on hand, and just about anything else Coach or the players needed, but were apparently too wrapped up to handle themselves.

   To Coach’s credit, you didn’t think it was necessarily intentional on his part to put you through all this suffering with no perceived payoff. Back when you first approached him in his office near the beginning of the year, you had wanted to ask about joining the football team yourself. You’d long looked upon these cool, hot jocks around school, joking and jostling each other around, and wanted to play with them, or have an excuse to hang out with them at the very least- maybe you could even be one of the Boys someday, if you did. 

   But Coach had taken one look at you, with your scrawny, somewhat shorter than average form, and completely misinterpreted your approach as you volunteering for the assistant duties. And here you were now, having never moved from the position, because you never had the gut to correct him.

   It wasn’t great- but it could have been worse, surely. You probably wouldn’t have been actually good on the team, anyway.

   You did try your best to make the most of it, though. Being often in relatively close proximity with the jocks and players on the team, and using it as an excuse to talk to them or hang out, was sort of what you had been after the whole time- so you took the opportunities to say hi, and talk to them on occasion longer than a question or two relating to what mess you had to take care of next. Your assistant work more often than not actually cut you off from being able to stay talking for long and kept you busy, regrettably. Even when you did find the time to hang out for a little while, your heart sank, as the Boys were certainly friendly to you- but you never felt it reached the point where you felt you could call it you being friends.

   The raucous sounds of laughter and football practice and buddies and bros being bros in the distance cut quiet in an instant as the door leading back outside swung closed behind you, and you stepped further in.

   You were out on a mission, once again: one of the players, a tall, dark haired one that you wanted to talk with for longer, had forgotten his playing gloves somewhere, presumably left back in the locker room. Coach wouldn’t allow him to let up his reps to go grab them, so he needed to    ask you- and did sound apologetic, very clearly aware that it was something he could go do himself. It didn’t force down the light disappointment of being cut off from talking to and getting to know one of the Boys better for longer, but you did appreciate the sentiment.

   You made to breathe in and retched a little, very quickly wishing you had not let out that breath of fresh-ish outside air so carelessly. Sure, the Boys were generally nice to you and plenty of fun to hang around when you got the chance to, but you couldn’t say you were a fan of their… low-standard sanitary practices. Loose football gear left strewn about the room, over the benches and on the floor. Shoes and socks that anyone could recognize came from an extremely active high school athlete left out on the floor as well, their ripe odors wafting throughout the stale locker room air. Empty bottles of awful 3-in-1 shampoo littered around the showers, collecting near the shower drains, having long since been used or touched.

   Your stomach roiled again at the smell. At least you had somehow convinced them to put their dirty laundry away in the communal bin on their own.

   You hurried around the locker room, eager to find the gloves and escape back into fresh air as soon as you could. It was taking longer than you were hoping for, there was so much gear left sitting around to sift through- where were all the gloves? Half the players out there weren’t even in full gear, surely there’d be at least a few unused pairs that the Boy in need could at least borrow for the day…

   Frustration was beginning to set in. The smell was probably starting to get to you. You were considering calling it quits and apologizing to the Boy back outside for it, when you spotted them- a pair of gloves, haphazardly tossed onto the end of one of the benches. You hastily snatched them up and turned to hurry back out, having had enough of the locker room stink for now.

   Your eyes fell on your prize as you walked quickly, relief suddenly giving way to curiosity as you peered a little more closely at them. These gloves were a hardy brown, made of tough, thick cloth with the sleeves extending past where the wrists would usually end, instead running further up along the forearm than typically. The gloves were HUGE, too- you usually weren’t paying attention to the size of most players’ hands, but you could swear it felt like these gloves in particular could fit three of your own hands inside just one of them, and have space left over to spare. Over the palms and where the knuckleheads would be, were layers upon thick layers of wrappings- having likely once been white, but by now have long since faded and worn out to gray from frequent, rough use.

   Were these… really the gloves that player was talking about? You really couldn’t find any other gloves in the entire locker room, so they had to have been if the Boy was sure he left them in there. But then again- these didn’t look like football gloves in the slightest, and didn’t even have the team’s colors. They almost looked like they were instead gloves for shoving, pummeling, or crushing opponents in melee combat.

   Your vision swam as you blinked away from the sudden thought, feeling a bit dizzy. You were close to further questioning where the thought came from, before you toppled into something and tripped, landing embarrassingly splayed on the ground. Gathering yourself up and looking around to survey the damages, you groaned. Your worst fears had come back to haunt you- you had knocked into the community laundry bin hard enough to leave dirty, smelly athletic clothes strewn all over the floor in front of you. 

   And it was your job to pick it all up.

   You were reminded of the great pains you had taken to avoid having to handle the laundry by the intense, pungent odor wafting up from the scattered pile. You quickly swallowed the bile in your throat before it could rise any further, and grimaced.

   There was no way in hell you were touching any of it with your bare hands.

   Scooting backward, you clenched a hand and felt rough fabric brush against it. You almost ripped your hand away in the fear that you had already touched something from this awful mess, before you realized it was just the pair of huge gloves you had come in for.

   Glancing down at the gloves, an idea came to mind- one that you immediately felt guilty for thinking of. You could use the Boy’s gloves to pick up all the laundry, that was an option… but then again, you wouldn’t wish this smell on anyone- especially something the player would be wearing as soon as it was returned. The odor would be sure to linger on the gloves, and you weren’t keen on giving him a reason to dislike you.

   Although, since the smell came from the laundry bin, which in turn came from the players themselves, maybe they wouldn’t notice if you used these gloves for this, just for a little while…? Nodding slowly, having successfully convinced yourself, you stood up and reached for the gloves.

   This act of handling player gear wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary for you- but something about holding them with the intent to wear them had you shivering a little. Not to be weird about it- but just before you put them on, you felt a sudden sense of… proximity? Like wearing these gloves brought you and the football players closer together, somehow. 

   And in a sense, it was, you laughed to yourself as you slipped the gloves on. This really was the first and probably only chance you’d ever get of seeing what being a jock would feel like.

   You felt a bit silly for being surprised when the gloves didn’t fit, once you had them on. Your hands were pretty average in size, while the tough-fabric gloves were big enough to completely dwarf your hands when you wore them. Your fingers weren’t long enough for the tips to reach the end of the gloves, and the palms were too broad for your hands to really fit your fingers into each respective holes- you ended up constantly bunching up the palms of the gloves in your hands to really get a real grip in order to hold anything with them. 

You withheld a sigh. The huge gloves were a bit annoying and uncomfortable to use, but they’d get the job done.

   You crouched down to get to work picking up the dirty laundry- and were almost immediately assaulted by that disgusting odor again. Athlete sweat and untreated B.O. mixed together in one atrocious concoction of stench, having left to fester in the laundry bin all week. You swore under your breath at the unrelenting attacks on your nose- but you steeled your resolve, and proceeded with picking up the clothing and putting them back in the bin.

   As you’d anticipated, the gloves felt awkward and cumbersome, the most efficient method of picking up the laundry really just consisting of you smashing your gloved hands together around a clump of clothes like the world’s worst sandwich, and depositing it into the now upright bin. You found your frustration dissipating, however, after a moment or two of picking up the mess- the need to constantly hold onto the gloves felt less and less, and you found yourself letting go of the bunches you had been gripping and letting them hang on your hands loosely. It only clicked when you tried smashing another clump of clothes between two gloved closed fists, and paused for an embarrasing three seconds, dumbfounded by the sensation of the motion, and why exactly it felt weird. You had the hang of these gloves now. Your face heated up a little, feeling a bit silly that you’d been picking up the clothes so strangely when you could have just picked them up and grabbed them with your gloved hands normally. The gloves didn’t feel like masses of rough cloth covering your hands, they just felt like gloves- why had you been so weird about it?

   Despite the worn gloves starting to feel a bit tight on your hands, you shook yourself a little to focus and pick up the pace. Now that that weird mental block keeping you from acting normal had cleared, you started picking up larger piles of laundry to put away, some so big your arms burned and threatened to buckle under the weight. You really weren’t expecting a workout when you came in looking for the gloves, but damn if you weren’t getting one right then and there. 

   You made to reach for a jockstrap that you thought for a moment was too far away- your arms burned- and you picked it up, without any trouble. You dropped it on top of the newest colossal load you had gathered, carrying and depositing it all into the bin without any noticeable strain on your arms. You stretched your arms high above your head as a quick rest, finding the feeling of stretching your muscles particularly pleasurable in that moment for a reason you could not pin down, and took a sniff. It was getting easier to breathe, the smell feeling less noticeable than before.

   But it wasn’t gone, and it was still BAD- you could swear it was actually clouding your vision, what with the tint of green your skin had taken when you looked down at your arms. Yeugh, better get this over with quick.

   The short sleeves of your t-shirt were already feeling tight, but that sensation had spread to your neck- and, hell, now that you were thinking of it it was everywhere else, too. It was probably the fatigue setting in, but with every breath you drew in the shirt felt smaller, like you’d put on a size medium you thought you could fit it that day but after the barest physical strain showed exactly how constricting it actually was and how dumb you were for thinking it could fit you. 

   A surge of power erupted from your solid, heavy core and rushed up to your burgeoning pecs pressing so desperately against your shirt, and you fought the sudden urge to wrestle it off of your body. This was the players’ locker room, not yours, and you didn’t have an extra change of clothes here to fall back on if you tore this shirt. 

   Another embarrassing five seconds passed before you realized something was wrong with that thought. Since when had you ever been worried about tearing your shirt? You wiped your sweating forehead with a gloved hand, and the sense of rough fabric dragging along your skin gave you pause. You brought your hands to your face to look closely, and saw two gloves fitting perfectly, if a bit tightly, on two massive, powerful, meaty mitts in the shape of hands.

   It took you a moment to realize, but these were not the hands you had walked into this locker room with.

   You looked down at your body, your brain working overtime trying its best to grasp the situation. You felt around your neck with your huge hands, and felt a short, thick, solid trunk of muscle there, which matched your deeper sounding breathing, you realized. Your scrawny chest and torso were expanding as you watched, the pecs and musculature growing and filling out first, before fat filled in after, greatly softening your pecs and pushing your stomach out into a solid, firm gut. You gave it the smallest of pokes, just to tell if it was real, and your shirt jumped at the chance to survive a moment longer by riding it up, letting your gut touch the open air. The sensations were there, of course, it was there and real and huge- and the skin was the same green as your thick, powerful arms, and deepening in hue by the second. You almost fell over, when your new gut shifted your center of gravity, but you managed to catch yourself and widen your stance accordingly. The things that felt right for your new body felt… really different from what you were used to. But… it was still your body, right?

   You bent down over the remaining laundry, getting back to work- something that you didn’t have to think too hard about, and that was something you needed. Your poor brain felt sluggish, too tired to really understand the changes as they continued. You picked up more dirty clothes, now almost completely oblivious to the lingering smell that you vaguely remembered was still there. You distantly registered the sound of your shirt finally tearing from the strain, and the itch of chest hair pushing out in a smattering across your chest and down your gut. Just a few more rounds, you were sure you’d be finished… with the laundry. Finished with the laundry.

   The lump in your throat grew larger, and your ragged breaths sounded even deeper- even gutteral, a little. Something about your face was tingling, changing, as the changes rose even further up your body. Your head split into a headache from how fast you wanted it to go, you didn’t want to be left behind with everything happening so much. You realized all of a sudden that your face was wrong and out of place it was hurting your brain because of it- then your skull shifted, the bone thickening and squaring off into something tough and not really human, but your lower jaw pushed forward and locked into place and everything felt right again. It felt good, and it really felt good too when two of your lower teeth grew longer and sharper, into the proud tusks of a young adult half-orc poking out of your mouth. 

   The ground grew further away from you as your brain struggled to work things out. Some things were starting to make more sense, and some things were making less and less sense to you- so much so that it hurt to try to think of them now with everything else happening. Instead of trying to think about why it was all happening and why it was- or wasn’t- possible, you focused instead on your legs, as they were up next. They grew longer and thicker, powerful logs of mass you’d forged yourself from pouring countless hours on the Bloodrush field, to be able to carry the mountain of mass and meat you were wherever you needed to go. Even despite the splitting pain cracking your head, you couldn’t help the surge of pride or keep yourself from grinning like an idiot at the thought. 

   Your shorts were barely holding together, looking so small and much shorter on your legs than before, but why? Gears chugged along in your brain and it made the connection- right, your legs were growing, weren’t they? A bit dizzliy, your brain kept flip-flopping between watching the changes in excitement and accepting your new normal. You felt a thrill heave in your throat at feeling your now-tiny shorts ride up your legs and the seat of your pants filling out and pushing up against the shorts, like a bike tire you’d pumped too quickly and was about to pop. Everything was different, but you weren’t scared.

   Why would you be scared? These changes were amazing.

   Why would you be scared? This was just your body, nothing new- but still fuckin’ great.

   You heaved another mountain of dirty clothes into the bin, and clapped your huge gloved hands together once, eyeing the remaining stragglers. One more round.

   Each step you take feels like pounding, stomping on the floor without meaning to. Your footsteps sound heavy, and your feet feel way too tight to feel good. Like you put on the wrong size shoes, these ones way too small… which would be something your dumb fuckin’ ass would mix up, wouldn’t it? Putting on the wrong shoes and not realizing through the whole school day… your powerful lungs let out a gusty disappointed sigh. Typical.

   Your tiny, wrong shoes seemed to think so, too- and with a shrrrrp of cloth, your heavy green feet finally had space to breathe. You tried to kick as much of it off your feet as you can, and turn back to the laundry- y’know, channeling your shit into something productive instead of wasting time being fucking useless.

   Your stomach turned as you bent down to scoop the rest up. It’s… hard not to feel like that, like an idiot who could never get your act together. Struggling in school, making all these dumb decisions, always blowing your top and letting your rage get the better of you… it’s no wonder you could never make the… make the team…

   You stood back up, and the surge of something throughout your body followed by the loud SHRRRRPing of shirt and shorts got you out of your head. You tripped backwards into the line of lockers behind you in surprise, distantly feeling the dented metal under your arms. Your brain registered the tight pressure disappear and what was left of your clothes hanging off your powerful frame, and finally began to catch up with your body. 

   You started to realize and finally understand, just so much has changed about you- and while it’s hard to put them together, all the pieces were there.

   The reason you were wobbling and feeling so unsteady on your feet was because your center of gravity was different from what you were used to. The reason you dented the lockers this badly from punching and elbowing them when you tripped was because you didn’t know your own strength- literally. The reason why your clothes fucking hurt so much and were too fucking small wasn’t because you wore small clothes and put on tiny shoes this morning like a dumbass- because you’re not dumb, yeah you know you’re not smart like the wizards or artificers or whatever, but you’re not dumb- it’s because your body is different! You put on smaller clothes that morning because you were smaller!

   Your thick brow furrowed and your face scrunched up as you mulled it over, as you became more and more sure in yourself. You rubbed your chin with a gloved hand, feeling the coarse stubble smattered across your chin, while you were lost in thought- unflinching despite the rank odor clinging to the gloves after handling dirty sports laundry for like, gotta be more than ten rounds by now. Honestly, you were losing track.

   "Wait- shit, I need to get changed." You blurted out the thought as it bubbled up in your mind, without bothering to think about it first- like the gap between your thoughts and your tusked mouth was getting smaller.

   As soon as that clicked, you felt fabric rustling and moving as it stretched to wrap around your much larger body, covering everything up. The bulging and straining shorts grew down your legs and darkened to blue and hardened into weathered denim, not without its scuffs and tears but still a good, solid pair of jeans. Finally the right size and not feeling like your legs were being choked out, a belt slithered around your waist to complete the look. 

   Your socks and shoes repaired themselves too- the fabric of your socks worn and holey, standing no chance against your massive orc feet, and your shoes concealing the rest of it from view, cutting off the stench suddenly wafting up from them, too. 

   You involuntarily wrinkled your nose, but it honestly didn't smell that bad. Not really any of this did, anymore.

   Your shoes finished off with a splash of red that quickly weathered and darkened from wear- whatever Mending spell was fixing your clothes didn't seem to be able to fix that part of it, turned out. But you didn’t mind, you began to smirk a little as you waggled your now warm feet in a good 17 and a half size pair of sneakers. A perfect fit, for the pair of stompers you’re packin’.

   But the main event was just getting started- you rolled your broad shoulders and thick, muscled neck in anticipation. You could feel it, your brain following the patterns as it sensed the scraps that used to be your shirt shiftin' around, and making the connections. Your shirt was next.

   The cloth rushed around your body, turning stiff and thick as it repaired itself into a shirt sized much, much larger than the size medium tee you had on that morning. The sleeves stretched long and smoothed out into soft white that felt good on your bare arms underneath, topping off with striped cuffs hugging your wrists and sneaking inside the sleeves of your gloves. You couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction cross your face as you flexed, feeling even these large sleeves strain to contain the solid blocks of jockish muscle and mass your arms had pumped out.

   Your eyes followed the middle of your shirt split as buttons popped out into view, suddenly becoming the things holding your shirt together over your bulky chest and gut. The shirt neck pushed up further over your skin- well, more jacket neck than shirt, really. And that meant it made sense that the soft, striped thing around your neck was probably a collar, jackets had those.

   A rich red color washed over the rest of your jacket, over your torso, filling out between the white stripes on your wrists and collar. A bright red that your heart leapt in pride for, even though you didn't recognize it yet- or at least, your head didn't. Your body processing things and acting on them faster than your brain could was becoming a habit, at this point.

   But even at its snail's pace, it was still chugging along- and the pieces were coming together into something that had you excited. With a duly stretched out tank top appearing just underneath, you were wearing a letterman jacket- just like the kind the jocks wore. Laying a hand on your letterman and feeling the hard, solid mass bulging underneath, it wasn't hard to put two and two… er, maybe one and one together, and realize- you'd fit right in with the team, and maybe Coach would finally take you seriously about wanting to make the Bloodrush team. A brown letter "A" stitched itself onto your letterman's breast, like the jacket itself was in full support.

   You didn't think that the team you wanted to join started with an A- or your school, either- but you brain managed to squeeze out the name "Aguefort", and your body relaxed, as if that explained everything. Your chest swelled up again, almost overwhelmed with the pride and team spirit just thinking that name filled you with.

   You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Augh, gods, you really needed to let your brain catch up again. The idea that your tiny fit had just changed into something larger and tougher and more comfortable, was fucking with your mind. Like, you never had the smarts to really get into casting classes, but this wasn't even something you had thought someone could do with magic. Man, maybe you should try taking a spellcasting class or something, see if you could pick anything up before the school year ended- that is, if magic was… real… wait, that didn't sound right…

   You let out a deep, involuntary grunt as a headache pounded through your skull, just behind your eyes, and threatened to knock you off balance. You managed to steady yourself in time, quickly grabbing onto things for support, and your gaze fell onto your gloved hand.

   Once stable, you brought a massive mitt of a hand in front of your face. You snapped it shut into a huge, meaty fist, feeling the powerful grip in your long, thick fingers, and the tough material wrapped around it tight, and then relaxed your hand. The gloves fit perfectly. Everything fit perfectly.

   Everything fit perfectly on your body- holy shit, this was your body now, wasn't it? Your head jerked around, trying to get the best view of the huge orcish form you had found yourself in as you could. No way the Boys on the team wouldn't be jealous as FUCK of your sick gains. And damn, didn't you agree. There was this Pride pushing up in your chest, too- like you deserved a bod with this power and magnitude. Like after all the hard work you put into getting here, training and working out and putting on mass like crazy, there was no way you were going to get a body different from the one you wanted- this one.

   But even as proud of yourself you were, and how pumped and ready to RUMBLE you knew this body was, it…

   Your spirits fell. It still didn't feel like you were one of them. One of the Boys, the Jocks, even with your new varsity jacket, or your huge, jockish body. You weren't part of the team, you were just the… the, uh… well, you just worked there. Picking up nasty laundry. And there was a sinking feeling, that a part of you knew to be true, that told you that's the way it'd always be, wouldn't it.

   You looked over to the stuffed laundry bin, having finished picking everything up, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel happy about it. You sat down on the bench with a gusty sigh, and looked down at your open hands again, huge and strong enough to crush rocks. 

   All that potential, gone to waste from not being put to use on the team, just felt so crushing. 

   You'd be fuckin' great at it, too, you were sure.

   Your fists tighten, open palms snapped shut into that powerful grip. YEAH you'd be fuckin' great at it, you could probably take every game home by yourself if you had to, even without the rest of the team you'd be playing with backing you up! What was Coach thinking, not letting what had the potential be a star Bloodrush player onto the team? Was he out of his MIND?

   You were onto something, it hit you. You stood up from the bench, creaking in relief as your weight lifted off of it, and you began to pace back and forth to give your brain the time it needed to catch up, almost knocking over the laundry bin again. Why wouldn't Coach just let you join? Your face twisted as frustration and borderline rage bubbled up, trying to push past the ache in your head and think a complete sentence for once. Fuck, this train of thought hurt so much it was almost worse than biting glass on accident again.

   In an instant, your head snapped to attention and your eyes darted around the room, suddenly remembering the danger at hand. Glass could be anywhere, and you wouldn't even know if you were about to bite some- it was literally invisible! Your gloved mitt of a hand clapped over your mouth just to be safe, your orcish nose having almost fully tuned out the musky laundry smell the gloves still carried. 

   Your eyes landed on the locker room mirror. That had glass in it- at least, uh, you were pretty sure it did- but it was stuck to the wall, so it was probably fine. Mirror glass was probably different from regular glass, anyway, since it wasn't invisible. 

  You nodded to yourself, relaxing and feeling safer, when your eyes caught on your own reflection next.

   You slowly stepped over to the mirror, the tension of danger all but forgotten as you took in the half-orc standing there, facing you. Now that it was allowed to work on its own time, your brain was finally starting to catch up with your earlier thoughts- just in time for the final changes to make their way up your face.

   You wanted more than anything to join the team, and were probably one of the students at the Adventuring Academy most equipped to be really, REALLY good at it.

   You lowered your gloved hand away from your mouth to reveal it growing, bulking even further, squaring off into a strong, masculine jaw, skin as green as the field turf, with two thick, orcish tusks jutting up proudly from your lower jaw.

   Coach would be crazy to not let someone join the team if he thought they could help them win and play better, and Coach wasn't that crazy. Evil alignment didn't mean crazy, obviously.

   Your eyes clouded over and the colors went inverse as your vision adjusted to naturally see in darkness better, white piercing pupils in pits of black sclera. Your nose and ears grew in turn, ears a bit longer and tapering off into points, and nose wider to fit your orcish face better.

   But even though Coach was Evil- better than the last coach, anyway, Pit Fiend evil didn't turn your stomach as much as abusive homophobic evil did- he wouldn't force someone into playing for the team if they didn't want to. He was nice like that, you knew.

   And then your hair, from the roots up was darkening to a deep, dark green, so dark it was almost black. It swept back into a wilder, slightly unkempt hairstyle over thicker looking side fades, like you'd let it grow out a little after a while without a haircut.

   That meant Coach must not have known how much you wanted to play, even though it was obvious how good you'd be for the team. But why, then? How the hell could he not know? Something wasn't adding up, you realized.

   You took in the tough, proud face of the half orc reflecting back at you in the mirror. It was solid and imposing, but there was a softness to your expression, too- like it was getting more comfortable in wearing things that weren't a scowl or a snarl contorted in rage. The muscles and fat set in your massive jaw rolled at the even the smallest movement, and the whole jaw was sent shifting from the tiny clenches you made with your mouth as you thought. It was still hard to believe that this all only just happened, and you were so different a few rounds ago. The thought of a scrawnier human figure with a much thinner frame floated past behind your now dark orcish eyes, and all at once it hit you.

   Coach didn't know you wanted to play because you never told him you did!

   You clapped a gloved hand to your forehead in understanding as your brain finally made the connection. You remembered first visiting Coach back when you looked like a human, and you hadn't had the nuts to tell him you wanted to join the team- and THAT'S why you'd been stuck as the waterboy ever since!

   Sizing up the massive, half-orc jock reflecting back at you, already wearing the team's varsity jacket, you couldn't help your face splitting into a grinning smirk. That version of yourself felt so far away from you now, as the confidence of a half-orc AND a jock- who was not only centered and assured of who he was, but deeply and unwaveringly PROUD of who he was as a whole person- surged through you, your heart thrumming and shocking your back upright into better posture, only adding to your height even more. Looking how you did, with the huge new body and all, you wouldn't have trouble getting Coach to let you join the team now, that's for fuckin' sure. You even got a letterman of your own already, too! You turn around with your head craned to get a good look at the back of your letterman in the mirror. It'd be easier to just take it off and look at it there- but nah, no way you're taking this thing off anytime soon.

   Even with the added effort of having to read words backwards like that in the mirror, your heart leapt in pride and already knew what the big block letters spelled over the piercing gaze of a snarling owlbear.

   "BARKROCK."

   Your heart already knew, deep down, but now your brain clicked, too. That was- that was your last name. Your last name, Barkrock! Well- it wasn't before, but like- it felt good to hear it. And it definitely fit the kind of person you were now, and maybe it'd be good to sort of start over again with the Coach anyway, too? You weren't sure how you'd explain it all anyway, so just pretending you were a totally different person would be easier, even though you were still the same but you'd just changed a little. Well, a lot. 

   So yeah, you'll keep the name, no sweat. You could probably pass as a foreign exchange student, probably.

   You turned away from the reflection, and headed out the locker room door back outside to the field. You were PUMPED again and ready to go, feeling it in every part of your body- first steps into the new life laid out ahead of you.

   It was a beautiful, clear day with a few clouds about, and you almost didn't realize how different the field and bleachers looked from how they used to, with how familiar everything felt to you at the same time. It was a bit hard to remember what colors the uniforms of the teams on the field had been before, but the red and white they sported now- just like your letterman- felt right, y'know?

   You spotted the team on the field, and were about to call them over and ask them where Coach was- you had a lot to talk about- when one of them spotted you first and waved you over.

   "RAGH, my guy! Where you been, dude?"

   The gap between your thoughts and your mouth was too small to realize the jock had just called you by a name you were pretty sure wasn't yours before you were already hustling over, grinning like an idiot, huge tusks out and proud for all to see.

   "I'm comin', dude, I'm comin'!"

   And you hustled down the field to meet him and all the others, the fat and muscle of your beefy body bouncing up and down in a way that felt so real, so right, so familiar as muscle memory of your favorite sport seared its way into your body. You were a Bloodrush player, through and through- your heart knew that, your head knew that, and now your body knew that, too, which sealed the deal. 

   FUCK that felt good.

   The other players had headed to the benches, taking a quick water break before heading back out to practice. You saw the other players already had their waters and everything, and THAT got you grinning to yourself. You'd never be stuck as Coach's assistant again- at least, not in the way you used to. The faces of the other jocks lighting up when you arrived, and the growing familiarity you had with each of their faces and then names and then who they were and what they liked, told you that. 

   You were also pretty sure that some of the Boys here had changed too, like you did, with pointed ears or flaming hair or fuller beards where you didn't expect, but you didn't care about that, didn't you. This was the team you knew, and that was what mattered.

   The player who called you over clapped you on the back, getting your head in the game with a jump.

   "Jeez, Ragh, you took your time," he laughed, elbowing you in the ribs, sending something fluttering in your chest- something that you knew what it was but you decided you were fine with not following- for now, at least. You were at practice, not prom. "Your gloves that hard to find? Dude, we need you for practice!"

   You glanced down at your rough, worn gloves that’d been with you for ages. You could barely remember what that player who sent you in to grab them in the first place looked like, and looking around at your team and best friends at the Academy, you didn’t recognize anyone that might have used to be him among the humanoids there… almost like he was never there at all. Your head was starting to hurt again- feeling sluggish like it was running on empty when you tried to think about it further, and you made a decision. 

   You held the memory close for a moment, of that nameless player who gave you this chance thanks to his gloves- your gloves- thanked it, and then let it go. Your head felt clearer in an instant, and you shook away the headache, feeling yourself settle back into being comfortable with your friends.

   “Sorry dude, knocked over the laundry bin in there and had to clean up. And fuck, dude, I swear- it took me like, what, 15 rounds to pick it all up. There was so. much. shit in there.” 

   Everything fell into place so easily, the rhythm you had with your friends felt so natural, it really did feel like you’d known these guys and played on the same Bloodrush team for years at this point- which, as far as everyone else was aware, you had. And damn, when you weren’t thinking too hard about how different everything was, it just about had you convinced, too.

   “And honestly? Dude-dude-dude-dude, dudes, can I be real with you?” You directed it to the rest of the team, this time. “Y’all fuckin’ smell, dude.”

   A firbolg teammate in the back called out, “It’s just the musk, dude-”

   “Dude, no, I know the musk. I know the musk, dude, and that laundry bin was like- BAD, dude, even for me. Holy shit. Like, take a fuckin’ shower, guys!”

   Sitting back, laughing and joking with your team for the rest of the water break- you were one of the Boys, one of the jocks. 

   Just like you’d always wanted. 

   Just like you’d always been. 

   Your head wanted to pick one of those over the other to be right so bad, but your heart knew they were both true.

   You stood up, stretching. “Alright, back to practice. I got the scrimmage drills.”

   That confidence, that pride you exuded that kicked your teammates into gear stirred in you something fierce- and hot damn if you weren't fierce- but it also felt like the most natural thing in the world. That sort of authority came with you being the most senior member on the team- even though you weren't the team captain or QB, you knew all the drills, all the exercises, probably even better than Coach did, so you could pretty much run practice on your own when Coach Gorthalax got stuck in a ruby again or something. Getting held back a year or two was crushing back then, but did have its good side, you guessed. You were so familiar with the Bloodrush training stuff from playing year after year, you could probably become a Coach yourself eventually, if you didn't land a job as a star Bloodrush player or bodyguard or something.

   It took for when your teammates lined up for the scrimmage play for it to really hit you- you realized the future you had ahead of you. Before, you'd just been a scrawny human without real friends who could never speak your mind, and now you were a huge half-orc jock who had a team of friends and was proud of who you were. That went to the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, too- training teens and high schoolers in magical or fighting stuff to become adventurers and heroes, or at least learn whatever the fuck Principal Aguefort wanted them to take out of all this- a far cry from the boring ass school you used to go to. You had career options you'd never even heard of lined up ahead of you since you're close to graduating. 

   Fuck, you're close to graduating, too, huh… yeah, that was right, ever since that adventuring party of bad kids you became friends with invited you on a quest and finished it with them, you were on your way to graduation. Fuck, dude, that was something you hadn't though about for a long while, afraid you'd just get pulled back again. Getting through all your identity junk thanks to the school's guidance counselor Jawbone probably helped with that, too, being honest.

   More and more memories of being Ragh Barkrock, the half-orc jock who got your whole life turned around after getting your ass handed to you by the Bad Kids and then meeting with Jawbone to work your personal shit out kept filling your head in that moment- and honestly, you couldn't think of anything you wanted more in that moment. You felt solid, grounded. You knew for sure in your big, thumping, orc heart, of who you wanted to- no, who you were PROUD to be.

   The Bloodrush captain called the play, clear and sharp that cut through your mind like a greataxe through warm cheese, and your body instinctively sprang into action alongside your friends, your teammates. You grit your tusks and teeth, and called up that white hot feeling- in an instant your head, heart, and body finally all in sync. Not so much thinking of anything, or even really being able to think anything other than being laser focused on the play at hand that you knew by heart. 

   You thundered forward, letting loose a snarl and calling up that white-hot rage as you charged the poor humanoid player opposite to you, squeezing the last few thoughts through your head before going blank.

   Your name is Ragh Barkrock, and you're damn proud of that.

#character tf #species tf #orc tf #transformation #muscle growth tf #weight gain tf #tf

[crackinwise]

I've been holding all the negative Kenobi series related posts in my drafts. Probably could release them now without dread of toxically positive fans younger than I am pouncing.

It's so late to say this but... just... It felt so hollow. So cheap. Careless about the timeline and what made the encounters in ANH have weight. It rubbed me wrong the exact way interrupting Boba Fett's series to showcase fake!Luke and Baby Yoda did. You could feel the people in charge didn't give one shit about the characters or the story. It was solely there for the emotional reaction like they were feeding off the audience.

In Kenobi, every shoehorned in "hey remember this line??" felt like I was watching a 'Member Berries inspired satire. I loved Leia but using her (and a droid bestie we're to assume died or was forgotten at some point before the Trilogy) with Obi-Wan just made me confused about her message in the future & both her and old Ben's complete emotional disconnect from each other. Why even go that step further and include Luke too? Now Ben isn't a strange hermit who kept some distance, but a friendly neighbor who brought good toys.

The weight of Vader and Obi-Wan never seeing each other for 19 years was watered down to have a meh rehashed fight. I mean, prequel lightsaber fights, especially with Ewan are my entire jam. I joke it's the only sexuality I have. So how tf did this show not give me ANY of that feeling? Instead of salivating excitement, my brain was wandering in boredom. At most, my brain would ask "what is the point of this again?" We had the satisfying Big Fight already. We knew Obi-Wan can outmatch Anakin. We knew their brother-like feelings and the pain. Why a mediocre match again just 10 years later?

I feel like the series should have been just Kenobi focused with no twins or Vader. Him running into The Path, reluctantly helping others, maybe having an arc with Reva independently, arguing with Jawas, singing karaoke hammered somewhere. Anything.

Idk. And you can't accuse me of pretentious fan shit because I always love reliving good SW feelings. I adored TFA, loved The Mandalorian, and finally enjoyed the Boba Fett character after his own series. I think making the experience worse were all the fans I saw excited about and aggressively defensive of the Kenobi series were certain character stans, usually also fans of a pairing, that reminded me of the ones that were... insufferable and invasive during and directly after the prequels. So all of my apathetic or slightly negative feelings while watching became more negative by the online environment later.

This. This is why I stayed in Sith Academy circles as long as the prequels ran. Anyway imma go dump those few salty posts now.

#obi wan kenobi spoilers #kenobi spoilers #kenobi series #star wars #kenobi critical

[shehili]

The letter addressed to Mariam had all titles Diana remembered, to make sure no one would open it before it reached her beloved's hands. It was securely kept in a scroll case black and silver in colour.

On the beige parchment, written in black ink was a short message:

Mari...

When these words reach you it is likely I will be beyond Demacian territory. I'm sure you remember we discussed my interest in finding my biological parent's family and learning something about them as well as their people.

Well, I got up this morning and decided I would do just that. By my calculations, and if Noxus does not keep you longer, we shall see each other again when I return.

I have no idea where this will lead me, my love, so expect no letters for at least one month. I excitedly await to see you again and tell you all about this adventure! In the meantime, stay safe.

Yours, Diana.

UNPROMPTED • always accepting! This brought me so much joy!

Mariam was mediating a dispute between the enclave leaders when the courier approached scroll in hand. Mariam needed only look at it to correctly guess the sender's identity, and even lacking the unique ornaments, she knew in her heart she'd sense such a beautiful thing as her lover's touch upon it.

She couldn't bring herself to put off reading it until the working day was done, as she would just about any other piece of correspondence. She'd all but snatched it away from the courier's hand, her own suddenly afflicted by anticipative sweats. She didn't part with it for one moment as she chastised her fellows, easing it into the fold of her underarm. If they indeed noticed her newfound urgency, they didn't dare comment on it.

Once safe between the chariot's four walls, Mariam unfurled the scroll, reading it with misty eyes. Of couse she remembered those conversations; glazed-over amethysts and a gentle voice talking about ancestors, the Freljord, and a need to distance herself from the memory of Targon's war-torn landscapes. Mariam had felt a pang of sadness then, for she knew Diana had always been meant for more, and she loathed her own inability to pursue her into the frozen wastes, Mariam's hatred of cold notwithstanding.

At home, hours later, Mariam sat down at her desk to pen her reply. She had nowhere to send it to, but laying her thoughts down on paper had always felt liberating, so she indulged this ages-old habit with gusto. Lacking the means to send it, she allowed quite a few mistakes to linger on this first draft.

Di,

I hope you are safe. I appreciate you writing to me even on the verge of leaving. I hear the Freljord is a treacherous dangerous place for travelers, so do tread carefully. I haven't the faintest idea where to send this, if I ever will send it at all. I don't imagine you'll follow the beaten road — when have you ever, my jewel? I only wish I had the chance to share with you something I've been working on that would have facilitated communication. I'll make sure to do so when you return. I miss you very much. I'd forgotten how drab this existence without your light filling it how to be alone. I don't care for it anymore now you're mine we've found each other. I hope to see you in Prime. It's more likely we'll meet in Prime. I left word at the outposts at Drugne and thereabouts in case you take that route. If you do, I'll know, and I'll wait however long it takes. By the way, Drugne is where that fragrant cheese you like comes from. If you find Bierhals' Boulangerie and mention me by name, they should have a package made for you at no cost. I miss you with every breath I take. It bears repeating. Come home soon, Patiently yours, Mariam

#/ answered #i'm tearing up this is SO beautiful 😭 #what a lovely gift 🥺 thank you so so much! #long post

[silvaswiftcast]

Hello friends!!! I hope you're all doing well!! It's been a minute, so I figured I would take some time while I'm free to post some updates. Buckle up, this might be a long one!

Folklore Project

I finished writing the rough draft of my FFXIV Folklore project over a week ago!!! Obviously, it needs several rounds of editing/polishing, but I'm so happy that I FINALLY have the full story sitting in front of me now. And just in time too, considering my posting date/slot for it (barring any changes to the schedule, of course) is just a MONTH away!!! I've been working on this story since September of last year, and I cannot wait to share it with everyone!

Longfic

My new chapter for my Stormblood longfic, You Can Find Your Way Back Home Again, will be uploaded sometime this upcoming Friday. And chapter 19's rough draft is finished and I will be starting on chapter 20 sometime this week!

I've realized I haven't talked too much about this long-term project of mine that I started in the summer of 2022 on this account, seeing as I was already juggling several other writing challenges/projects at the time. That will be changing as of this week!!! I've created graphics for the first 17 chapters that are currently posted on AO3 and will be sharing those and links to each chapter in posts.

This project is still very much my baby, and I've put so much love and tears into it. So forgive me if my posts about it for the next week become a little annoying. I'm just so very proud of it.💜

Other Snippets from Past Challenges/Fluffvember Prompts

DON'T WORRY, I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THEM!!! I have a TON of editing to do for these and my other works, and will get to them when I can! Folklore stuff really kept me busy and I had to put all of my time/energy/focus into it. But since the rough draft for it is complete and it's in the editing phase, I will return to these very soon!

Thank you all for the continued support and cheering on, it means so much to me! I will be back to posting on here very soon~ 💜

#silva's ramblings #writing updates

[peaceloveharmony25]

Welcome to the Dark Side

Sorry for ghosting you guys, I promise I haven't forgotten about you. I have just been processing (and avoiding processing) a lot of my trauma. Welcome to the Dark Side is a story I started writing in order to deal with everything I've been through (and convince myself it was real and valid) This is only a rough draft so feedback (and rebloggs) would be much appreciated.

Anyways I'll stop talking now. Enjoy!

p.s. I have a shit ton of new pick a card ideas, so once I find my cards (we are moving around a lot so I don't have them on me rn) I promise I will post one as quickly as I can. Thank you guys so much for your patience <3

Epilogue 

I hear it. Whispering in my ear, telling me lies. I see it in people, places, objects. Anything and everything is a trigger. It never used to be this big. It was only a baby when it showed up that night. I was four years old, and I had just informed my dad of my constant bullying at school. He had told me “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.” Maybe sound advice for the fourteen year old me, afraid to go to high school for the same exact reason, but not exactly great for a four year old. The next day they still made fun of me, I was still alone, and I still cried my heart out in front of them. But that's when Helix showed up. 

Helix has been in my life for as long as I can remember. He started as a tiny baby seed in my heart, as hid from my grandmother's belt under the table, or when I faced my parents' wrath when refusing to do a task. He would whisk me away to beautiful imaginary lands, where we would bury those ‘treasures’ in the sand.  But I believe that it was that day, the first day I had ever thought of myself as an embarrassment, as weak, that Helix appeared. He kept his distance at first, only appearing in the name of desire. Desire to make friends, desire to be loved, desire to feel safe. Desire to have a home. But, through time, he grew stronger. Eventually Helix began to….... tell me things. 

“You're a disappointment to your parents.”

“They are not bullying you, you're just weak.” 

“You’ll always be alone. No one likes you.” 

"You deserve the way they treat you."

"Your making it all up."

“You're fat. And ugly.” 

"You're fucking pathetic. A fucking embarrassment."

"Stop being so goddamn dramatic."

“Why are you so fucking gross?” 

“You're the most selfish person I have ever met.” 

Some days were peaceful, and I had control over him. Other days, he was so loud, he was the only thing I could hear. I tried to ignore him most of the time, because I always ended up angry whenever he was around. But, because of a desperate desire for attention, he kept coming back. That's how I discovered from early on that your body is a tool. Helix showed me that people pay attention when you're naked. He told me that if I used my body they wouldn't leave me. My parents didn't like what I was doing though, so I ended up listening to them instead. For the most part anyways.

Helix also showed me how to fight. My family kept saying “When they say something to you, say something back.” So I figured i'd give it a shot. But, Helix told me I was too weak to do that. Instead he decided to help. I didn't want him to, he didn't even ask, but Helix was the only thing that had stayed in my life this long. I couldn't let him go. No one else wanted me. So when I felt him enter my body, I didn't fight it.

That was the first time I felt it. The power. The rage. Oh, how I miss the rage. Helix had this amazing ability to light a fire in my eyes and soul. He makes me strong. When he was in control I had all the power in the world, I was untouchable. I was the one to answer to, my way was always correct. I was never lonely and most importantly, I needed no one, absolutely no one, to be happy. 

Except him. 

#short story #spilled writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #Welcome to the Dark Side #childhood trauma

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

"A drunk villain topping a sober yet submissive hero?🙏"

Request #9

Warning: nsfw.

A fun little idea! This is also the last request from my old blog's inbox, which I'm glad about because my current inbox is already filling with new requests. (Keep 'em coming tho! I love your ideas!💖)

I also gotta say, I've been on fire recently! I've been writing so much I got drafts saved and ready to be posted! Hopefully, I don't jinx myself here lmao.

Anyways, enjoy! ^^

~~~~

Hero weaved through the crowd of criminals, wine glass in hand, as they kept an eye out for their target. They have been sent out on a mission by Organization. They were to find Villain, capture them, and at last bring them to justice.

The hero was currently at a ball being held by Supervillain. Their disguise consisted of state-of-the-art technology forming a hologram over their entire body, making them look like Other Villain, with whom Villain is on good terms. Combined with a voice changer, they would no doubt fool the villain and catch them off guard.

Hero's plan was pretty basic. They were going to find Villain, drag them off somewhere away from the party, pin them down, and cuff them.

"Simple, but effective." - they thought to themself. The hero's only issue now was that they still had no idea where the hell Villain was-

"Well, hello~." - a voice slurred from behind Hero, and before they could even turn around, an arm hooked around their shoulders, and Villain's ugly mug was right in their face.

Getting into character, the hero responded, "Ah, Villain! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Mmm, sure has. Hey, how's about we... make up for lost time, eh?" - the villain asked, leaning even closer to the disguised hero's face, running a finger down their jawline suggestively. The smell of alcohol wafting off them made Hero's eyes sting, but they played along nonetheless, "Well... I don't see why not~."

"Oh, this is perfect." - Hero thought. They have been preparing for this for weeks. They had to catch Other Villain a few weeks back, just so that they could pull this off. And out of all possible outcomes, this was the best and most convenient one.

"But perhaps let's go somewhere more... private." - the hero suggested, dragging Villain along down a nearby hallway. The other did not resist, letting 'Other Villain' pull them into a random bedroom as they drunkenly giggled to themself.

Hero locked the door behind them, and before Villain could react, they grabbed their arms and pinned them down on the side of the bed, turning off their disguise.

Villain looked surprised, then confused, and then something seemed to click in their head.

"Oh, my. Hero, if you wanted to have some fun that badly, you could have just asked~."

It was the wrong thing that clicked. Hero's face heated up at the other's words. They found themself at a loss. And in their surprise failed to realize that their hold on the villain had loosened.

Villain, drunk out of their mind, somehow noticed their slack hold, and before the hero knew it, their positions had switched. The villain was on top of them, pinning their arms above their head and grinning down at them, their bodies pressed against each other.

And as their crotches brushed, Hero's face turned beet red. They couldn't stop a shudder from running through them as the villain whispered in their ear, "So, how about it, Hero~? Wanna play~?"

The hero tried to stutter out an answer but found that they couldn't. They looked for a possible way out, and to their surprise, noticed that Villain's grip wasn't as strong as it could be. They have been pinned down by the other plenty of times in the past during their fights, so they knew that they could easily escape right now.

...

But did they want to?

Hero could feel their blood rushing down to their sex as the villain rubbed against them. They knew they shouldn't be letting this happen, but... Villain just looked so hot like this. And their touch was making the hero want more.

"F-Fine, let's play." - the villain only giggled in reply and locked their lips together, kissing hard and with need. The feeling distracting the hero's senses. They inhaled sharply as the other's grip suddenly increased. Have- Have they been pretending to be weakened?!

Hero could not escape anymore, and honestly...

...they didn't mind in the slightest.

As their kiss continued, Villain dragged the hero to the middle of the bed. Releasing their wrists, they ran their hands down Hero's chest and then began unbuttoning their shirt. In their drunken state, however, they struggled and tore the shirt open out of annoyance.

Hero whined a bit at the sight of the loose buttons flying and decided to ruin the other's shirt the same way. They went to grab the fabric and tear it off the other, only to have their hands pinned at their sides.

A "Tsk, tsk." sounded in their ear as Villain scolded them, "You don't get to touch me unless I say so." - the sudden chiding caught the hero off guard, and they couldn't stop the pit that grew in their stomach from the villain assuming control.

"Understand~?" - Villain asked, their lips brushing against the shell of Hero's ear, eliciting a small gasp from them. A wave of pleasure shot through them as the other nibbled on their earlobe.

"Y-Yes." - the hero managed to mutter out, somehow already breathless. Barely anything has happened yet, so why were they freaking out so much?! Why did- Why did it feel so... good to be below Villain like this?

Was it just the danger of letting their nemesis have control over them? The adrenaline of being at their mercy?

The excitement of being so close together?

"Good~." - the villain purred above them, running their hands across every bit of Hero's torso, dragging their nails down the other's back, arching it and making a shiver travel down their spine.

The hero had to bite back a moan as the other ground against them once more. They wanted to pull the rest of Villain's clothes off but knew that they couldn't, that they weren't allowed to.

That powerlessness only served to turn them on further. Hero clawed at the plush bedsheets below them, bunching up the fine material between their fingers. The villain chuckled at the sight, leaving a trail of kisses down the other's neck. Going down their chest, they bit the hero occasionally, bruising their flesh and making them whine needly.

Villain went even lower, tugging down the hero's pants, but only slightly, not enough to reveal their sensitive genitalia. They left even more kisses on them, licking their skin, making Hero inhale shakily and wonder what the villain's tongue would feel like just a little bit lower.

That pondering only worsened as Villain forced their legs apart and mouthed them through their pants, teasing the hero, who this time couldn't help the moan that slipped past their lips.

Hero tried to grab the other's head on instinct. They wanted to keep them there, for that sweet feeling to continue but stopped themself halfway, remembering how the villain forbade them from touching them. They grasped at the bedsheets once again, knuckles hurting from their hard grip.

"Good hero~." - Villain praised, making the hero blush even more, as they turned their head to the side, trying to hide and smush it into the pillows. Their face, however, was back on full display within seconds as the villain suddenly pulled their pants down further and took Hero into their mouth.

The hero couldn't stop the curse that left them alongside Villain's name, which they began to moan louder the more the villain licked and sucked at their privates. The feeling of the other's teeth teasingly dragging down them made Hero's back arch again, and the threat of Villain being able to bite down on them made their insides twist.

They whimpered as the villain suddenly pulled away from them, only to swallow the lump that had formed in their throat as the criminal stripped themself of their remaining clothing, revealing themself to the hero lying below them.

"Like what you see~?" - Villain asked, giggling. The alcohol in their system still making them giddy. Hero could only stare at them, impossibly red in the face as they answered, breathless, "Yes."

The villain leaned forward, once more looming over the other, and the hero whined at the sight, pleading, "V-Villain, please can I touch you? Please, I- I want to touch you, please."

"Aww, begging already?" - the villain teased, taking hold of Hero's hips and positioning themself against them. The hero went to beg more, but only a mixture of a moan and a whine left them as Villain slid into them without warning.

The villain's pace was slow and surprisingly steady, considering how drunk they were. Hero held onto the bedsheets like their life depended on it. They wanted to touch the other so, so badly.

Villain leaned down and caught their lips in a light kiss, running their hands up the hero's sides, making them squirm. A gasp left Hero as the villain hit them in the right spot. The other grinned and pushed against it, again and again, thrusting in quickly and roughly, but slowly pulling out and then repeating the cycle until the hero was begging them again.

"F-Fuck! Villain, please!" - Hero yelled across the room, their mind so clouded with lust that they have forgotten all the enemies that surrounded them, all the villains and criminals alike partying just a short distance away. So many people, which wouldn't hesitate to kill them on sight.

Villain merely grinned. They could feel their orgasm coming closer and decided that they have messed around for long enough, "Hero~..."

Said hero focused on them, as best as they could anyway, and exhaled weakly as the villain's words registered in their clouded brain.

"You may touch me~."

Hero wasted no time hooking their limbs around the other. They moaned as their lips crushed together, as Villain began to pound into them without mercy.

The feeling of their skin against each other, the sheer amount of intimacy, and physical contact quickly drove the hero over the edge. And as they yelled out the villain's name, they too felt their blissful finish wash over them.

As the two began to gasp for air, slowly coming down from their high, Villain slid off of Hero, whose eyes were closed as they tried to steady their breathing.

The hero's eyes snapped open, however, at the feeling of power suppressing cuffs locking around their wrists.

"W-Wait, what is-" - they tried but were interrupted as the door suddenly burst open, and Supervillain's henchmen flooded the room, followed by their boss.

"Are you quite done yet?" - the supervillain asked Villain, an impatient look on their face that only made the villain giggle, adding to Supervillain's annoyance.

"Yeaaah, I guess I am." - the villain responded, ignoring the shocked hero beside them as they got up from the bed and approached the supervillain.

"Unless you wanna have some fun too~?" - they asked, leaning against the other criminal, still very much but-ass naked.

Supervillain only pushed them off and growled out, "Ugh, don't touch me. You smell like heroism and righteousness. Disgusting."

"Aww, but then... don't you wanna make me smell like chaos and evilness, again~?" - Villain playfully pushed, stretching their body in a teasing manner.

The supervillain only grumbled under their breath, "Oh, you stupid fucking..." before turning to their henchmen and barking out some orders at them.

The henchmen grabbed Hero and left the room. Supervillain relocked the door behind them and proceeded to drag Villain back towards the bed.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #supervillain #writing prompt #prompt #request prompts #prompt request #request

[cherryonigiri]

nanami kento [evenings with you]

nanami kento x reader || cw: descriptions of blood/injuries, light angst

a/n: this is just self-indulgent writing for me but i'm v stressed about school rn and this is the result. just imagine that y/n is a bio/medical phd candidate lol.

Nanami can tell that you're stressed. Usually you savor the nights he's not on overtime, asking him about work and refusing to leave his side for most of the evening. He's used to you being attentive, so the fact that you've asked him the same question twice within the last ten minutes is already setting alarm bells ringing in his head. You're constantly fiddling with something, or flashing furtive glances towards the bedroom when you think he's not paying attention.

It only gets worse after dinner. You insist on washing up, something about how you want him to 'enjoy his night off.' Nanami compromises, silently grabbing a towel and drying the dishes. It's clear that your mind is elsewhere. Your hands scrub the porcelain on autopilot, and he can hear you muttering under your breath.

Every now and then you'll mutter a list of tasks under your breath. Nanami remembers you mentioning that things were hectic in lab. You're almost always still working when gets home from work, even when it's well past when you eat your dinner. It's clear that you've had a busy day-- the apartment is far more cluttered than it usually is. There are post-it and pieces of scrap paper stuck to every single surface, and a forgotten pile of folded laundry rests on the couch.

An intense burning sensation across your palm causes you cry out. "Shit!" You drop the knife you were washing in favor of cradling your already bleeding hand. Nanami is instantly by your side, firmly pressing the dishcloth against your cut. There is a worrying amount of red seeping into the fabric, so he silently ushers you to the bathroom.

It's a strange reversal of roles. He's used to being the one leaning leaning against the counter while you bandage his wounds. Instead, it's you who is perched on the marble surface, wincing as he dabs an antiseptic soaked cotton ball against your injury. "Sorry, I'm almost done," he says when you let out a loud hiss.

"It's fine," you reply, sheepishly looking away. "I should have been paying more attention."

Nanami chooses to only respond with a nonchalant hum, focusing on cleaning your palm. The two of you sit there in comfortable silence while he applies ointment to the cut, adding gauze once he's finished. It's only when he reaches for the bandages that he decides to ask. "What's stressing you out?"

Your eyes widen as you realize you've been caught. Nanami is rarely home early these days, especially since he's been mentoring Itadori on behalf of Gojo. (Not that you mind - in the few times you've met Itadori through video call with Nanami, the pink-haired student's sunny disposition has never failed to cheer you up.) When he'd texted you saying he'd be home by dinner, you'd jumped at the opportunity to spend some much needed time with him. You'd pulled out the stops, cooking something a little fancier, and intent on spending the earlier part of the evening cuddling with him. Secretly, you had planned to sneak out of bed after he'd fallen asleep (he always goes to bed early on days like these) and finish preparing for the gauntlet of meetings and presentations you had tomorrow. It was your fault for putting off the tasks, and you didn't want to let your own bad habits get in the way of some quality time with your boyfriend.

"It's nothing, I just have a lot on my plate tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off, but quickly trail off once when you catch Nanami's deadpan expression. He's always been too good at seeing through your white lies. "I put off some work..." A raised eyebrow from him prompts you to continue, "And I was planning on doing it after you went to bed..." You can't help it when your face scrunches into a pout. After all, now your carefully-laid deception has been revealed.

When Nanami bursts into amused chuckles, you're momentarily surprised, but quickly go back to sulking. "Stop laughing at me Ken!" you whine, "I'm a--"

"Self-aware procrastinator," he finishes your sentence with an amused grin. "I know love, I know. I've seen you write far too many papers within 24-hours of a deadline to be surprised." He presses an affectionate kiss against your wrist.

You scowl at your boyfriend, snatching your bandaged hand away from his grasp. "I'm glad that my suffering is entertaining for at least one person." You stomp back to the bedroom in faux-anger, smiling when you hear Nanami's footsteps not far behind you.

When he steps into the bedroom Nanami drapes his frame over your shoulders, his warm torso nestled against your back. "It is one of your more...endearing traits," he murmurs into your ear before pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. You can feel your cheeks and ears tingle at his words of affection.

"Sometimes you can be such a sweet talker," you mumble to yourself while you change into your pajamas. This week it's been an old Jujutsu tech hoodie and a pair of well-worn athletic shorts.

"Only for you," Nanami replies while he undoes the buttons of his outfit, chucking his tan pants and blue button up into the laundry basket in the corner. He dons a pair of sweatpants before returning your side to recapture you in another affectionate hug. It's a well kept secret of the Kento-Y/N household that Nanami Kento likes to lounge around shirtless in the privacy of his apartment. (You've been sworn to secrecy, but only because your boyfriend claims that Gojo and the students would have a field day teasing him if this information were to be made public amongst the jujutsu sorcerer community.)

Turning around, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your nose against his torso and taking in his comforting scent. It's been so long since the two of you have had a moment to yourselves, and for once your hectic thoughts are silenced in favor of sharing a moment of calm bliss with Nanami. He hums in appreciation, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.

"Do you want to watch anything tonight?" you ask after a few seconds of silence.

"No," he replies. "I was actually planning on reading the briefing Ichiji just sent me. Gojo apparently has another scheme up his sleeve." You giggle when your boyfriend lets out a pained sigh. On more than one occasion, your boyfriend has ranted to you about Gojo's unorthodox approach to exorcism. "I swear that idiot shaves a year off my lifespan every time I go on a mission with him," Nanami complains. "He's taking away the years I could spend in Malaysia."

You hum thoughtfully before responding, "Then do you mind--"

Once again, Nanami already knows what you're going to say. "Just remember to bring your laptop charger, I know you have a thousand tabs open on your computer right now," he says while exiting to the living room. After a few moments you join him, overburdened laptop and charger in hand. You both take your usual spots in the living room, him resting comfortably in the center of the loveseat and you sitting on a floor cushion, nestled between his legs. Soon you've fallen into a groove, fingers steadily typing on the keyboard. The warmth of Nanami's presence next to you brings a sense of calm, giving you the grounding focus you need to finish off the last of your tasks.

As he thumbs through the printouts Ichiji gave him, Nanami can't help but let his eyes drift towards you every now and then. You look so adorable when you work. From the way your brow furrows whenever you reread a line, to the way you unconsciously chew on your lip when you scrutinize your draft for any errors. Every now and then he'll gently run his fingers through your hair, relishing the content sighs you let out in response.

It only takes about another hour before you're (finally) closing all your tabs (he still doesn't know why your laptop hasn't crashed yet). As you scroll through social media, your head begins to droop. Soon enough you've fallen asleep, breaths coming in soft and even puffs as you rest against his thigh. Smiling to himself, he puts down his papers and gently lifts your body from the floor. He's careful not to wake you as he slowly makes his way back to the bedroom.

Setting you on the bed, he tucks you under the blankets before lying beside you. The moonlight coming through your window softly illuminates your relaxed features, and he softly traces the outline of your face with his thumb. As he continues to caress your cheek, his eyes are drawn to the dark circles under your eyes. He rarely falls asleep after you these days - between his physically demanding occupation and the ever growing number of things you are responsible for at work- he's often the first to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion while you work well into the night. Not to mention that he's had to spend an increasing number of nights away from you, either on challenging missions or accompanying Gojo's students. And while he knows most of your stress comes from being a student, he can't help but feel guilty about all the additional distress his status as a jujutsu sorcerer has caused you.

When you started dating him, you insisted that Shoko teach you how to suture. He hates how much your stitches have improved since then. The neatness of your stitches is a constant reminder of how much you've endured because of him. When he hears you trying to muffle your sobs into a pillow, he swears he can feel his heart crack in his chest, hurting more than any kind of physical wound from battle. Those nights end with him holding you tightly to his bandaged chest, murmuring reassurances and affection into the crown of your head until you've calmed down enough to fall into a fitful sleep. Even when you're unconscious he'll still continue, words morphing into apologies for the sadness he's inflicted upon your shoulders.

Feeling his eyelids being to droop, Nanami presses one last kiss against your forehead before laying down. He wraps his arms around your waist, surrounding you with warmth, hoping that his presence will be enough to keep your nightmares away, at least for tonight. I love you, y/n is the last thought he has before he drifts away, ready to dream of a tropical sunset and a peaceful future with you by his side.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines