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royalberryarts · 9 months

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The Child of Knowledge

A one-shot of @bluest-planet and my own OCs meeting; Yoruhua, an ancient being of darkness, is on the run from the warriors of light after having helped Vanitas. Upon arriving in Arendelle, they happen upon two children— one of which, they realise, is not so different from them.

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The familiar crunch of snow accompanied the white and blue horizon as Yoruhua made her way outside of the cave. It was Vanitas' turn to rest while she scouted ahead. What she didn't anticipate, however, was the scent that wafted amidst the smell of pine and ice.

It was similar to Vanitas', but there was something else. The bitterness was the same, the anger… but there was joy, love and warmth that the boy had lacked. Yet, Yoruhua could tell— Their darkness is strong, potent… and unnaturally prominent.

And that wasn't all. There was something else in the air, a general sensation of something off. Not quite wrong, but it was strange and it certainly wasn't right. It was against nature, all that contradicted his own understanding of the heart, soul, mind and body. This one was… Peculiar, new, weird. She couldn't shake the urge to investigate, and investigate is exactly what she did.

★★★

Zorya pushed herself forward. She had heard tell of a disturbance from the warriors of light and seeing how she was in the area already, she'd may as well search the surrounding worlds for this "dark disturbance".

"Slow down…" Yoru chimed behind her. The boy, curled up layers of warm coats and furs, shivered from the cold. Meanwhile, Zorya was in her element. She didn't feel the chill as much as her friend did, and even when she did, there wasn't much she had to do in order to warm herself.

Without glancing back, Zorya slowed her pace. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About what everyone told us?" Yoru asked, tilting his head amidst the pile of clothes that made him look more like a walking pillow.

"Yeah… They said Ventus could feel Vanitas again, even after he had been killed in the Keyblade Graveyard. And then Terra and Riku were attacked by something." Zorya tried to recall what she had heard, but it was only vague. She still didn't know much either besides what Yen Sid had informed the two of— or more specifically, informed Lorena of, who then passed it onto the two of them.

"Does this mean Vanitas is back?" Yoru asked, though he didn't know all that much about this Vanitas fellow to begin with. "Can't we just reason with him? It's not like Xehanort is still here."

Zorya hummed in thought. No, she thought, he's not. But his scars and the fear he instilled likely remain. It's hard to forget how to stop fighting after you've been made to for so long.

The girl shook her head. Speculation was pointless right now, all that mattered was checking the facts and making sure the world wasn't in any danger.

"Who knows. We'll have to find out when we find him, or if we do." Zorya spoke calmly despite the irritation in the back of her mind. She didn't like how Vanitas and Xehanort reminded her of herself and… him; the man who raised her. Perhaps it would be better to not find him at all, or maybe it would be better to find him later, once he's had time to consider his situation and himself.

★★★

Yoruhua recalled stories of that city. It was a place of ancient research and wisdom; Clades Lunae, the city of knowledge. It was there, he recalled, that educated men once sought to understand the light and darkness of the world, yet always fell short. They were simply people who watched, curious, as her own siblings existed beyond their sight and reach. But he had heard stories. And it was those stories that came to mind as they looked down at the two figures that walked through the snow— that girl in particular.

Ginger hair cropped to her shoulders, tied back by a black ribbon. Her clothes weren't fitted for the cold; a sleeveless shirt, long pants and simple boots, though the bandages on her left arm and right shoulder may have deterred some of the chill, though likely not much. Her skin was fair and pale, freckled and scarred; a burn curving down her left cheek from under her eye to her chin. What stood out the most were her eyes; an eerie pale blue that instantly reminded Yoruhua of the moon that bore all life; dark or light. Yet, they thought, a brow furrowing in confusion, their scent is undeniably human. They are not a being of light or dark, a naturally born human, and yet…

[Read the rest on Ao3]

#kh ocs #kingdom hearts original character #kingdom hearts #ocs #creative writing #writing #kh fanfic #fanfic #writeblr #Zorya #Yoru #Yoruhua #Gift work #one shot

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ladtheove · 2 years

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For the @dcu-rarepair gift exchange, I did this piece of Damian and Terry McGinnis. Now I can share with you all. Enjoy

#dcu-rarepair exchange #Damian Wayne #damian al ghul #terry mcginnis #gift work

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thosetwofirefighters · 1 year

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I'm Already Here (and I Won't Leave Now)

eee now that the authors have been revealed, I can finally (officially) post this fic here :)) this is one of my favorite fics that I've written so far, and I had a blast writing it for @killiarious <3

"Um, actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," he says. There's a waver in his voice that Buck can't decipher, so he puts his beer down and turns towards Eddie to give him his full attention. "Chris is gonna be at a playdate—he'd kill me for calling it that," he laughs, "but he's gonna be gone pretty much all day Saturday and overnight, so I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me? Just the two of us?" Buck exhales in relief, amused at his best friend's nerves. You'd think that after almost five years of friendship, they'd be masters at communication and that asking to hang out would be a piece of cake but apparently not for them. "I'd love to, Eds." or 5 times Buck doesn't realize he and Eddie are dating + the 1 time he figures it out

Read on AO3

#i am realizing how much i write buck-and-eddie-drinking-on-the-couch #it's kind of a lot but it's not my fault that that's a good cozy setting for some impromptu cuddling or making out or whatever (lol)#my work #mine #gift work #911 fox #911 fanfiction #buddie #buddie fanfiction #118 holiday gift exchange #911

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inkburnt · 2 years

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Seven years of friendship with @featherburnt is something special to mark! My dearest friend through thick and thin, you deserve all the love, appreciation. admiration and esteem you have coming, and more. ❤️ Naturally, I simply had to write something all for you! I know this celebration is about us, but this is how I wanted to go. I can’t do much more than write as you know.

I’ve watched your OCs go through it over the years, both the good and the bad, so here’s a little tribute to one I haven’t touched yet, until now—and, by extension, to your fantastic fic! I really hope I did him justice! ;v; I wanted to go with this particularly raw and wild angle, so I hope...yeah, I just hope akslfjdgsf. It’s not a lot and I feel kind of bad about that, but it’s something. And maybe with practice I can feel confident enough to dive even deeper and go bigger. But, for now, a snack. Keep going strong, bestie. ❤️❤️❤️

Teen–Mature // Words: 1,737 Warnings: N/A

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Something was visceral about him. The scowl on his face surfaced without prompt, but that was hardly a novelty anymore. Life had changed too many years ago for the outcome to be any other, and recent years saw all of his grief culminate into something destructive. Something visceral: deep-seated seething. The fire in one's belly was, to him, a thing far beyond metaphor and proverb. And though it started in his gut, roiling and lashing and intensifying every day with the apparent aim to reach a fever pitch, and spurred on his hunger in so doing, it spread to his veins to boil his blood, pump the fire all throughout and fill his size and shape; a blaze to match his image.

A man on fire, if he dared with carelessness.

But at his age, fresh out of his adolescence, there was still very much boy in him and about him, and that helped to make him as raw as he was also calloused. The burns on his skin long healed were fresh as far as memory served; and where they rested to pull innocence out of youth, they went their own way in stoking the angry coals that only inexperienced youth could account for. Wet behind the ears no matter how much fire was expelled. Nothing short of time would suck the moisture out of his mind—so wrathful in how much it craved and languished, but as well unwieldy as his age would only rightly dictate. There was nothing for it. The belief that with torment comes sagacity is flawed when natural age has proven itself time and again the ultimate catalyst for growth. To see the world through a child's eyes will always differ from peering through an adult lens.

The sooner he learned that, the sooner he may heal. Choler and hatred, distrust and vengeance were fine sources from which the steel shielding his brain was forged. Stubborn to a fault, and the fruits were laid bare here. He would not have set himself on the hunt otherwise. In the rains that fled was a salty tang left to smother his nostrils and tease his palate. Black of night covered his haunting form. From his vantage point, all of life appeared infinitesimal. And though he loomed above like their silver-toned towers, he felt about as valued as the dirt-level cretins he once put away in the name of something that was greater than himself. It was souring to live within a cage of flesh and bone that had bowed so willingly to the demons stoking his fire. Something was visceral about that. About him. Strange his hunger, but strong his will as far as holding back in patience. It was for his quarry he hunted steadily for years, and for whom now he waited. It was for the reward he would reap that he exercised some judgment, but the tension in him was fragile and set to break the moment his psyche blew the horn, and he would more than readily dash forth like a hound on the hunt, hot on the trail and hard on the scent.

The buzzing of his brain rivaled the beating of his heart. Like the two, all of the life below him was loud. It was partly for the people he desired to protect that he found himself perched atop a roof none would bother to glance at. The call to take matters into his own hands was deafening even now. There comes a point when justice bleeds into its opposite, the line between need and want, and reason and impulse blurs. What is objective to one becomes subjective to another; but at its core, altruism.

He thought. Hoped.

And even then, there was very little of that left.

Accrued over the years was insult upon insult upon insult to the first injury, the original sin. Not one of his own making, but all the same he would arm himself with guilt and blame, and self-flagellate with both. His hands were bloodied one way or the other, and to a heart drowning in bitter waters he may as well have done the killing himself. The source of all his discontent, the thing that made him malcontent, was breathing and walking tonight. He had been led to believe as much, and he would not chance to lose the trail. So much the child, he wished for death unto those who more than earned it; and he wished it from his own claws and teeth, and he may risk it all in so doing; and his blood may run warm and free when all is laid to rest, but if he should have his satisfaction—closure be damned—then he would deem it all worthwhile. Something was visceral about that. A feeling come from the bowels of the beast, maddened hunger like a dog deprived of meat. Tears had stung his eyes countless times more than the smoke from his body. The latter, however, had been catching up. Which of the two would drive him over the brink? The thought did cross, he did brood over it. The time, however, to preserve himself may have met its end with the nearing of his goal; and, following, ushered forth the coming of a point from which there was no return.

The boy pushed, and pushed hard.

In his gloves his fists flexed rhythmically, clench and unclench—breathe, breathe, listen. In his ears the wind howled; he nearly mistook it for his fire's roar. His guts stirred and his muscles twisted; from deep-seated seething came not only an urge, but a change, and with this change a summer's warm wind that tempted sweat from his pores. The cold of the air melted within an inch of the five-foot-five furnace. Hellfire infernal, the hellish hound its master—and if he was lax in his caution, it would swallow him up again. There was, after all, a reason he feared the powers that were unfit for man; and all the same, as if in arrogant defiance, man made them fit. The boy followed suit, no better and no worse than everyone else who had deemed themselves apt. His dream, in his hands. So where had it gone wrong?

Like a fly, drawn to decay. He waited to smell it on the wind.

Beneath his mask, his face contorted into something better left unseen. No deal with the devil struck for this when willpower was everything and more. Not even the powers that be had roped him down, but vigilantism was a crime punishable anyway; and if not them, someone else was certain to do something about it. No amount of good intent would change that. He had made his peace in that regard, largely. Life had changed too drastically these past few years to afford him any different. To be the lone wolf was easy; but when the fire burns too hot, he can count on no one but himself to put it out. How else to cope but to live day to day, and think of little else but the food he put in his stomach, the muscles he trained to success, and the rogue he happened to come across pilfering someone's wallet. But spring was much a season of beginnings, and as moist as the air had been at this height, it was just as enlivening. In whirling all around him and making a shambles of his tied hair, it was doing some little good in offering him a semblance of freedom. To every side of him, only air. Everything from his soles down was a concern separate, and if he had any less heart in him, a concern unimportant.

A child's heart is yet soft when adolescence ends. No matter the scars it bears, it tenderly bleeds. His hasn't tired of that yet, and he had not wanted it to. Not, at the very least, when it came to a calling he had harbored in his heart. Only recently had he turned away from it in practice, but in theory it nevertheless persisted within. Some things were still greater than himself, and even as he waited on a rooftop with his eyes obsessively searching for the life he planned to take, he believed that there were still greater goods to fight for, and he believed further that he could still do the fighting. Little else placed him atop the city, searching and hunting and hungering behind the mask so cleverly worn. He had a good number of them, and ready replacements whenever his psyche would fail and his front would fall before the stresses of his hunt. To cover his face was not sufficient when something much softer lay beneath, at twice the risk. Something was visceral about him. A boy of deep feeling and deeper instinct, sensitive where he was bruised, fearful when the phantoms haunted, unshakable in his beliefs, tempestuous at his core. A twister from the depths of hell, of fire and brimstone, of meat and muscle, of blood and breath.

Tear them down before they tear into you.

Purpose brought him hither and purpose stayed the fangs. With every fiber of his seething, stewing, storming being he would save all the lives that he physically could with what he planned here, this night. Like a demon pulled from the abyss, smoking and sulfuric, he sought to stifle his prey; and with an abandon diabolical, sinewy and sharp, he aimed to shred to ribbons and tatters flesh and fabric he had been deathly hungry to snuff out. Nothing less than that would satisfy, and this he knew, and it wounded him as much as it thrilled. Visceral, visceral!

Murder in the name of justice was not so abhorrent. Murder in the name of justice was something one could look past, recover from, live with. It did not have to be the end of all things, or the beginning of others. There was necessity in this, the need itself so shockingly organic that it imbued every heated fiber with a purpose unmatched and equally unquenchable. That man had to die! To pay for all of his transgressions—to thwart any other, to secure a future—he had to die!

His scent was on the wind but sight of him reached focused eyes first. The call was sounded, chains unfettered.

“Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war.”

#featherburnt #wow actual writing #gift work #Hurrah for friendaversary!

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wlwomegaverse · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character Characters: Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Jealousy, Possessive Sex, Comment Fic, Gift Work, Possessive Behavior, Girl Penis, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Condoms, Riding, Light Dom/sub, very light they don't even know it, Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Large Cock Series: Part 6 of Requested Summary:

Pearl is not jealous... she just doesn't like that other omegas there seem to want to have their intimate time with her alpha.

#alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/omega #ao3 works #gift work #requested

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shay-creates · 9 months

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Apparently, my decision to be silly and make fanart of someone's writing (because I genuinely enjoy the story the person is writing and I was struck with inspiration upon reading a particular scene) has benevolent and wildly unforeseen consequences.

I apparently gained a bit of control of the canon because said writer really loved the art and decided what I drew/draw is canon.

2. Writer put said artwork into the document of his story right below the scene, so now it's IN the story where people who read the story will see it (with a link to me)

3. He sent the artwork to all his friends and people he knows because he was so excited

Wholesome interaction and I watched him do all that in real time, good stuff. However...there are two more consequences I was notified of today...nearly a full week after I gave the artwork.

Seeing the artwork caused his friends to become interested in reading and hearing about his story, which means more people are reading what he's writing and giving him critique on the story (which he actively asks for).

Apparently, upon seeing the art, his writer friends got a sudden second wind to pick back up writing they'd abandoned for a few months. Because, I quote, "seeing that someone enjoyed {his} writing enough to take the time to make art of it gave them the motivation that maybe THEY can write something that will inspire someone to also create something." I have accidentally caused a writing frenzy among his writer friends and my silly idea to make art for someone has had a butterfly effect for people who I don't even know.

Uhh...I'm pretty sure there's a moral here but I am tired and have a great deal of emotions about this.

#shay speaks #crying and screaming #I was not intending this! I just wanted to be nice to someone and show my appreciation for their work!#make someone's day by giving them a personalized gift #maybe make them cry a bit in joy or something (because he said he would if I went through with making art for him and he knew my goals)#This is the silliest thing to happen from me making art and idk what to do with this information #positivity

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wasabi-gumdrop · 1 month

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Kabru has a secret admirer in the castle!

#running from my responsibilities (drawing armour) by imagining post canon Kabru fashion #minor spoilers in the tags!#royal advisor Kabru’s office is probably overflowing with gifts from foreign dignitaries eyeing him up for marriage #and sacks of perfumed letters from Melini citizens #Marcille would be so sick of it #Laios also has his fair share of proposals #Yaad is like … boys spare us all and pick a suitable candidate already #well Yaad there’s a saying that goes two birds one stone #anyway lol #someone might have suggested to Laios ‘hey Kabru works so hard. you should show your appreciation.’#Laios (blushing sweating): uuuh how do i do that #Marcille probably: i hear it’s customary to give your royal advisor flowers the same colour as their beautiful blue eyes #Laios: well if you say so #but he starts having second thoughts bcs what if the gift is too romantic #so then Laios is like oh i know i just won’t sign it (:#fool proof plan Laios good job #totally not taking into account that Kabru can recognize his penmanship at a first glance #so at their next meeting Kabru is like ‘i wonder who my secret admirer in the castle is 😉’#and Laios sweats so hard he falls out of his throne #doesn’t Kabru of Melini have a nice ring to it #better yet …. Kabru Touden #much to consider #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #kabru #kabru of utaya #labru #if you squint #wasabi doodles

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civetcider · 1 month

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i hate drawing cars why so i keep making myself draw cars!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways more of them (she/her for both)

#anthro #furry #safe fur work #butch4butch #butch oc #oc comic #oakley and traver #my wrisst is crumbling #also its like lesbian visibility week or day right? happy birthday lesbians #feel free to ask to kiss me in my inbox as my gift

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anik8tion · 11 months

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More Artfight attacks

#gift work #artfight2023

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emacrow · 3 months

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Danny has an aggressive secret admirer and that Admirer is Damian wayne.

How this all started was during the Gotham exchange program where Danny had accidentally enrolled in as a joke but didn't think he actually get picked.

Luckily his rogues decided to give him some peace for once since they didn't want to go anywhere near Gotham because she a scary lady, but she actually a very misunderstood lady who just want companion..

Just have a odd way of expressing.. but she allow him in her city until the program is over but has hinted very cryptic if he want to stay then Her Knights have ways.

On his first day of gotham high, everyone so far kept whispered about the new wayne bait?

He didn't really listen but he was mostly asleep in the classes because he already have the whole class homework down already and he using this entire program as a vacation to sleep for once since he first became a halfa.

How he met Damian was pure accident.. literally, as he had accidentally body flipped him so hard to the ground due to Damian grabbing his shoulder and he really didn't meant it but his body instinctly grab his hand.

Which lead to his now peaceful vacation becoming a bit problematic.. as Damian will not leave him alone..

Unknownly to danny. He had gained admirer..

His locker filled with letters that would make Dora blush with how old fashioned they were written in. The occasion and daily weapon gift giving left in his own dorm.( he thought it was skulker leaving him weapons to try out on their next fight) The chocolates he kept receiving thought it was from the other girls from the other class room. Some of his clothes were missing but he thought it was his roommate.

Meanwhile Damian is at his wits end to the point of nearly putting cameras in Danny's room if it weren't for Tim catching on rather quickly on his 'too far gone deep obsession' with the new kid. He had been benched several times because he had been caught on several occasions trying to sneak into Danny's apartment, his locker, his gym locker. To the point they now trying to distract him from approaching danny.

He is just doing the courting rituals that he had learned so far from Talia.. he didn't even get to try the kidnapped and held hostage ritual yet :(

#damian wayne x danny fenton #damian is attractive to danny #danny's core is like the holy grail of danger #and damian is like the stabby moth going toward the light #danny is obvious but very flattered #batfam tried to stop damian from stalking danny #obviously didn't work but at least they tried #danny the ghost king #danny is obvious to the intention flirting and gift giving #damian a sneaky little stalker #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dead serious

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