#more mushroom pins because I’m going wild

[rayisalive]

!¡A/N: I TOLD YOU I’D WRITE SOMETHING HAH- anyways I wanted to make some headcanons for my Camp NRC Au so here we go. I feel like Heartslabyul got the most headcanons hh- If you have any tell me I wanna see them.

!¡Includes: GN reader, Camp NRC Au

!¡Context: Information about this Au can be found on my pinned post or here

←Bridal Style Cooking→

・Riddle probably brought 100 cans of bug spray, sunscreen, water, etc. Yeah, he could just buy it from Sam’s shop, but why would he do that when he can just bring his own?

・He probably forces everyone to spray themself with said sunscreen and bug spray before they go out to do any physical activities. He’s not gonna deal with a bunch of sunburned and bug-bitten campers.

・Tr*y is highly valued when it’s their turn with cooking duty.

・He probably makes and brings snacks for people to eat whenever they go out to regain energy.

・Cater loves the camp with all it’s greenery and wild life, but gets upset when he doesn’t have enough reception to check up on Magicam and other stuff.

・Every summer his account is just filled with photos he takes there along with selfies of him and other people, such as at a campfire roasting marshmallows or a flower he had found while hiking.

・Ace probably gets annoyed by all the bugs, serves him right for not listening to riddle and putting on the bug spray but he does fairly well when doing the activities.

・His pranks often land him in cooking/cleaning duty, only for him to go and play more pranks again. He probably drags Mc and Grim into doing these with him, using the excuse that they’re best friends and should help eachother.

・Deuce loves all the activities, it gives him a chance to use all his pent-up energy and be active, much more fulfilling than just doing the track team.

・He’s probably teased alot by Ace if he decides to study for school the next year. He just wants to make sure he will do well the next school year and learn ahead(much to Riddle’s enjoyment)

・Leona finds having to get up and go do camp activities too tiring and annoying, often skipping out on them and staying in the cabin instead.

・Ruggie might go to the list and found and steal find all sorts of things fir him to use or sell back to other campers.

・Jack, like Deuce, enjoys all the activities he can do, often coming back sweating and tired.

・I can already imagine how bad the cabin would smell, 10 thaumarks that when Mc goes there they are also bringing 20 bottles of febreeze for them.

・Azul built a side building from the cabin for the Mostro Lounge, except this time it’s more of a cafe for campers to come and hang out because how the fuck do you have a random restaurant in the middle of the woods

・He’s not the best at the physical activities—ok he sucks at them, but when it comes to the others he makes sure he excels at them to make up for it.

・Jade absolutely loves it. How could he not? There’s so much plants, specifically mushrooms, for him to study and collect. He’s even more dangerous now, please don’t let him “try” new recipes.

・Floyd is chaotic, same as before really. No matter what he’s going to bring chaos and disorder anywhere he walks. A simple Wednesday afternoon? Too bad Floyd is barging in to the cabin covered in mud with a snake in his hand.

・Kalim probably spent alot of money on the cabin, making Scarabia far fancier than the others.

・When it comes to their turn for cooking and cleaning duty Kalim tries his best, he really is, but he just can’t, often ending up with Jamil doing it instead. Who would’ve guessed

・Jamil is Jamil. I’m not sure what you wanted me to say, he does good with the activities, he watches over Kalim and the cabin, nothing really changes.

・Do you think Vil came because he needed practice for an upcoming camp movie? (/j)

・Ok but on a serious note Vil would do fine really. He would probably get a but annoyed when it’s too loud for him to sleep, or he isn’t able to get more face-wash from his favorite brand, but other than that he treats it like camp.

・The only thing he really dislikes is when he starts to sweat. He knows it’s natural but sweating too much will ruin his complexion and he’s not risking that.

・Rook is happier than me when I got Lilia’s SSR card. A camp? In the forest? With a bunch of campers, majority he deems interesting? Oh he loves it.

・He has the chance to both explore and be active while also observing others there.

・Suddenly Epel finds a way to make Vil even angrier than he would have been able to before.

・It’s a camp in the middle of the forest, what’d you expect? He can go out and come back sweating and with dirt on him and Vil can’t complain because what’d he expect, it’s a camp.

・Let me just get this out of the way, Idia is in complete torture. Honestly how could he not be, he’s in some camp in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way he’d be able to check up on the latest updates from his favorite game, or to even get on his game with the “service” out here.

・He thinks of it as more of a prison then a camp. There’s a bunch of people who he had to interact with and complete activities with, torture really.

・Ortho on the other hand has a wonderful time. He does fairly well with all the activities, since he is a yknow a robot-

・Really the only problem is that sometimes while they’re pit he may run out of battery, causing someone to have to carry him back to the cabin to be charged.

・Malleus finds the idea of it interesting. Every summer you come out to the middle of nowhere to male friends and have fun? Emphasis on the friends part.

・He is probably still left out from some of the activities, being forgotten to be notified for when it happens, but he tries his best when he dies attend and to learn about the thing you do here.

・I will be surprised if he manages to keep the “covering up every shred of skin” thing up. It’s summer it’s going to be hot, I mean sure he’s done it before, but only for a few days, what about 3 whole months? I just want to see Mal-Mal in “summer” clother hh-

・Lilia has fun here. He takes part in as many activities as he can, and hopefully remembering to bring along Malleus.

・He tries to make the most of it and make it a fulfilling experience for Malleus, just don’t let him on cooking duty- please-

・Silver really just sleeps through it alot, but he still tries to have fun and attend as many activities as he gets dragged to can.

・He probably enjoys all the wildlife, the animals, plants, etc.

・Silver probably has to tell Sebek to hush up or else he’ll scare away the animals with all his yelling.

・Sebek thinks Malleus is too good to be doing cooking/cleaning duty, but Malleus makes sure he does his part when the time comes.

・Sebek is just Sebek I don’t really know-

©rayisalive 9/16/22 None of my work is to be translated, plagiarized, or reposted without my knowledge. If I inspired you be sure to tag me so I can check it out!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #fanfic #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #idia shroud #ortho shroud #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #silver twst #Camp NRC Au

[moongothic]

Okay so I have a ton of misc shit bookmarked on my wishlist and I wanted to go through some of it, just for the fun of it, and I kinda just wanted to share some of these cute/neat things I’m never going to buy but still yearn to own

So come along with me and enjoy this bit of *~window shopping~*

This “Green Witch Mushroom JewelryBox” from MysticumLuna is so pretty??? Like I sure as hell don’t need it, but it’s so pretty man

In similar vein, from the same small shop, this Cosmic Coffin Ring Tray. It’s so fucking cute. Like you know I love designs that’re like 90% black with small white decals and this is exactly that, but also with a cute theme of itty bitty moons and stars (you’re gonna see a lot of that btw be prepared)

🍄 Mushfwoom 🍄 This absolutely adorable purse from Maobabie is just. Oh my god it’s so cute. It’s so fucking cute. It does come in multiple colors but I’m basic and like the red, you can’t go wrong with a red mushfwoom. Not sure if I’m sad or glad that I don’t need it, since I already have a purse and don’t need more, but like. Mushfwoom cute

This hat from The Oh No Shop is sold out so I’m never getting one but everytime I see it I lose my fucking shit (there’s also a goth enamel pin in the same vein and I love it so much)

Rogue and Wolf has these Voyager Mugs and I absolutely want an entire fucking set of these. They’re so pretty, but also, THEY’RE LORGE, which is what I need for my evening dose of choccy milk, BUT THEN!! THEY’RE ALSO dishwasher+microwave safe. Like. What more could you possibly want. They’re fucking perfect. I want a whole set

Also from Rogue and Wolf, these La Lune mugs. Also stunning, also dishwasher+microwave safe. Like I’m almost tempted to try to sell all the dishware I already have just so I can replace them with these. Because I love them. They’re so pretty.

(They also have super pretty plates but they don’t ship them outside of the UK so even if I could afford them I wouldn’t be able to buy them 💔)

These would cost an arm and a leg (they’re expensive to begin with + shipping from Australia to Europe + customs/taxes), they’re not microwave+dishwasher safe (understandable due to the gold), AND they’re sold out, so never in a million years would I even get these, but god. GOD. LOOK AT IT. This is the Stay Wild Moon Child teacup+saucer combo from QuirkyCupCollective and it is stunning. I can’t even bring myself to delete the bookmark for this thing because it’s so fucking pretty. (There’s also a white version of it) (Also pretty) (This shop has so many other absolutely stunning things, like. Fucking hell man)

Ngl there was a lot of shit on Killstar that I saw like 8-10 months ago that made me go like “fuck that’s cute” that I ended up wishlisting but all of it sold out so RIP my Killstar wishlist lmao (it’s for the best anyways) (It was mostly some bags) (They do have lots of cute dining ware but almost none of it is dishwasher safe so they’re just not worth it imo) (And I want my clothes plastic free)

Anyway that moon shelf is really pretty and I want it. You’re following “moongothic” what were you expecting from me, of course I want a pretty moon-shaped shelf

This god damn absolutely precious pin from Sugarnova

And I do have like a million other things on my wishlist but I gotta stop somewhere, like I have a ton of misc enamel pins and art prints and stickers saved too (and I didn’t even include stuff I’ve seen and saved on Instagram, like I was only going through shit I’ve bookmarked...), we’d be here forever if I tried to go through all of it (also some of the things aren’t available because they’re from small businesses and the shops are closed)

(There’s also some comics and art supplies and cds and god. I want a cute CD player so bad but LIKE I SAID, I NEED TO STOP SOMEWHERE)

Anyway thank you for window shopping with me, it was nice and relaxing (and I got to purge some things out of my bookmarks that I wanted 12+ months ago but don’t anymore so that’s nice

#Mine #Text post #I'm sorry I just like (online) window shopping it's just weirdly relaxing #No thoughts head empty #Just me chillin' and looking at pretty little things #And yes; I probably would've bought one or two things on here but then. Yarn shop closing down. #And I'm still kinda hellbent on trying to do a No Buy Year #So I need to just Appreciate The Things and move on #(And pray they're still available a year from now)

[wibblewobblewubble]

Mushy boys

#more mushroom pins because I’m going wild #my art #polymer clay #clay pin #carry on rainbow rowell #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #simon snow trilogy #rainbow rowell

[strawbxrryneptune]

Level Two

Word count: 2.6K

Cw: pussyjob, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, oral (fem!receiving), infidelity if you squint, unedited.

This fic and the fics following will contain monster fucking, cucking and threesomes!! If you are not comfortable, try out some of my other works, and Miggi's creations, but if you wish to proceed, remember, sharing is caring.

Prev~♡ Next ~♡

@miggiisdumb

From a young age you were taught to keep your emotions in check. Queens must never show weakness to enemies. Crying and screaming were to be left in private, so that you came off as cool and collected. The Mushroom kingdom needs someone level-headed. They need someone they know won't act rashly.

You came to a conclusion that you were the one they needed, the Queen that could handle herself in any situation. You could get a husband, rule a kingdom, maybe even raise some spawns of yourself. You were convinced you had the bag, but now, sitting on a boulder at the falls and watching two sweaty, bulky men wrestle and growl at each other, you weren't so sure.

You had been trying to keep your emotions in check the whole week. Kirishima was constantly inviting you to hang with him and Bakugou, and you didn't know how much you could take. Kirishima's kisses had you on fire,, his big hands grabbing at your ass and tongue sliding against yours, but Bakugou's heated stares and occasional touches had your head spinning in confusion and arousal. He had a weird thing for grabbing and kneading at your hips, and it was starting to get to you.

Kirishima had invited you to join him and Bakugou in a swim at the falls, the water there crisp and beautiful, said to bring years of youth to whoever was worthy. Of course, you agreed. Any princess would jump at the opportunity to swim in a magic body of water with her suitor and his dreamy friend. Kirishima had shown up in blue swim trunks, an extra change of clothes cradled in his strong arms and some sandwiches to munch on later. Bakugou wore a black loin cloth, bigger and a little longer than the one he usually wore. His choker and bracelets were laid out in the grass next to Kirishima's clothes and the food, but he didn't look any less intimidating. If anything, he looked even scarier, hair drenched and falling down around his eyes, glowing red as he growls and bares his fangs, pouncing on Kiri and snarling out threats.

"M'gonna destroy you, Red."

"You have to catch me first, Bro!"

Kirishima dives under the water, Bakugou following shortly after, and you chuckle to yourself. 

Soon, though, you start to get worried, cause it's been almost 2 minutes and they haven't come back up. 

Calling their names, you shrug your cover up off and get in the water, shivering slightly at the chill. As you get deeper and deeper, water up to your chest, you start to panic.

"Kiri? Bakugou? If this is a joke it's not-ah-!"

You scream in surprise and slight fear as you're suddenly lifted onto a broad, scarred chest. Your thighs are on either side of it, and  tense up when you feel the vibrations of a deep, raspy chuckle, and you fight the urge to thread your shaky fingers in ash blonde hair.

"Bakugou, put me down."

You try to keep your voice leveled but he picks up on the tremble, big, warm hands reaching up to grab at the fat of your hips, lifting you up further onto his chest.

"That wouldn't be fun now would it Princess?"

You gasp, glancing down at how your cunt is inches away from his mouth, drool spilling around the corners as he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Seriously, y-you gotta…” your voice wavers as you meekly push at his drenched hair, momentarily losing your train of thought when he’s tongue lolls out, sticky with saliva and long. “What if Kiri sees us?”

“If ya keep quiet, he won’t.” The fleeting look of hunger and a nip on your thigh is all the warning you get. 

Bakugou guns for your cunt before you can answer and you act like he shocked you by the way you lurch forward, jaw slanted, clinging to his curved horns, entire body shivering from the firm laps on your mound. Even with the bottom half of the swimsuit on, you could still feel every lick in pin point detail, every nudge of his hot muscles between your folds, just barely pressing into your hole and tongue flicking over your clit. Bakugou can feel it too- the way you're throbbing on his tongue, can even taste the mix of his drool and your arousal seeping through quicker then he was lapping. It drove him wild.

He groans, eyes a little crossed to watch his handy work, hoists you higher and shakes his head further between your legs and your eyes roll back when he starts sucking on your entire pussy. Too hard for you to keep quiet. Too hard for the slurps not to sound exactly like what it looks like. 

“B-Bakugou, it’s too much!” You pant, quick and shallow, yet use your weak grip on his horns to hump his face desperately. “I think I’m g-gonna… gonna…!”

He growls, literally growls like the beast he is, and you almost do cum just by his fiery look up at you with a mouthful of your twitching cunny, unlatching with a wet pop that has sticky strings of your slick smacking on his chin. 

“Take it off.” He demands, words coming out muffled because he’s already back on your cunt. “Wanna taste you cummin’ in my mouth. C’mon, Princess. Lemme drink you up, baby.”

A shaky hand slips between the two of you, pulling your bathing suit to the side, and the next moment you’re squealing to the heavens above when Bakugou curled his tongue into you, spreading your walls apart on his tongue. His eyes flickered closed with a deep moan at the sensation of you spasming around him, juices nearly flooded into his mouth, but he gulps it down greedily, Adam’s apple bobbing and cheeks hollowing. 

You have no idea how long you stayed arched in his mouth riding out your orgasm, unable to tell if you were seeing clouds or if your vision really went that blurry. For one last time, Bakugou shook his head on your cunt and pulled back with a “puah!”, hot huffs of his breaths panting on your drenched up sex. God, you tasted better than you smelled. Bakugou would live between your thighs if he could, make you moan and squeal like you did, make you flush and look completely fucked out, so pretty as you stare down at him with lidded, hazy eyes, plump lips parted to catch your breath, gentle fingers raking his hair and the base of his horns that sent shivers down his spine. 

He’d have you forever if he could. If only you weren’t promised to-

“Bakugou, you drowned or something? Where are you, man?” Kirishima’s voice comes from behind some boulders a small distance away from where the two of you are and your heart skyrockets to your throat, the sudden tightness in your gut clenching all of you up in dread. Bakugou on the other hand just slid you down into the water, trying to keep any splashing sounds to a minimum, though both of you had to swallow back a sound when you brushed over his bulge on the way down. 

Bakugou swims by you in time to Kiri finally rounding the rocks, brows creased and a little pout on his lips, and you relaxed a bit when you realized he was upset over swimming alone all this time. His eyes flick from Bakugou to you, pout disappearing as he perked up a bit in surprise.

 “(Y/N), when did you get into the water?”

You open your mouth but don't get a word out. “Came in lookin’ f’us.” Bakugou says nonchalantly, glances over his shoulder to you and you don’t miss the heat of his stare bouncing up your form for a hot second. “Clearly worried over nothin’.”

Oh, this bastard…

Kirishima hums as he swims your way, gives you his million dollar sweet smile with a gentle cup of your cheeks. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Your bottom lip puckers in a pout even though you’re already long since mad, specially with his thumb brushing drawing circles on your cheek. “Just warm me next time. Thought you idiots drowned yourselves…”

“Sorry sorry.” He laughs and pecks you a few times all over your face, until he’s kissing you on the lips, a kiss that goes on longer than expected as he slots his mouth with yours and moves his lips with passion and adoration. Your mind gets fuzzy, consumed by Kiri’s kiss and body still reeling from your moment with Bakugou, your thighs clenching underwater because your insides craved for more. 

When Kirishima pulls away, you catch a fleeting glance over to Bakugou, a heavy and solemn look on his face, conflict in his eyes before he turns away too late once he caught you staring and it all comes rushing down on you- the clear weight of guilt on your shoulders. The worst part is that you don’t know what it’s aimed at- for going behind Kirishima’s back like this? Or for making Bakugou see you with someone else while he gets scraps of affection?

You tell Kirishima that you’re alright when he asks if something is wrong, then go back to growing when he turns to resume wrestling his friend. 

Way to keep your emotions in check, huh?

The rest of the morning goes by fast, the guys wolfing down their sandwiches and still being hungry, Kirishima offering to run into town quickly and grab some more food.

You agree, standing up to go with him but being surprised when he pushes you back down, a look you can't place in his eyes as his own flicker to Bakugou, who's uprooting weeds next to you.

"Stay here, 'kay?"

You nod, dazed, and watch him disappear into the bushes, stealing a glance to Bakugou. 

"Bakugou…"

"M'sorry."

You tilt your head at him, but he won't meet your eyes, a scowl on his face as heat creeps up his neck. 

"I said I'm fuckin' sorrry. I went too far. You belong to Kiri, it's not m'place to-mmpf!"

You cut him off with a searing kiss, sliding yourself in his lap and grabbing his hair, making him stutter out a moan into your mouth, big hands gripping your hips and lifting you onto his abs, grinding you against him. 

You furrow your brows, the feeling of his abs rubbing against your puffy clit feels heavenly but you wanna touch him. You felt him when you were in the water earlier, throbbing and pulsing against you. You wanted him in your mouth.

He snarls against you, demanding attention back on him as he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours, panting heavily as his hands flex against your hips. You try to slide down a little more, moving your hands to rest on his meaty pecs and getting distracted by his puffy nipples.

They were so plump and flushed, they looked so sensitive it probably fucking hurt. You pull away from his mouth with a whine, trying not to smile when he chases your lips.

"You sure about this, Princess? If Kiri finds out he'll be-fuck, baby, Whaddya'doin?"

You don't answer, just give him a look under your lashes as you suckle on his nipple, eyes closing in bliss as the smell of him envelops you, fresh and crisp from the water but still musky and smoky. 

You scrape your teeth against him gently, then lick over the reddened area and moan as you suck once again.

You notice he had gone almost deathly still, and you look up at him only to almost cream yourself at the sight.

His eyes were rolled back in his head, fist in his mouth and drool spilling around the corners, dribbling down his flushed face and neck. He was trying so hard not to moan, cause he knew if he made a sound it would be loud enough for the whole Mushroom kingdom to hear.

He fucking loved getting his nipples played with, but virtually no one knew and he tried to play it off but fuck, you had him melting. 

"Yhew don' like it?"

Your words are muffled around his tit, saliva slowly trailing down his chest and forming a puddle in the divets of his abs.

"I-fuck, cut it out brat."

He tries to sound authoritative, but his voice is whiny, and you can already feel the bruises he's pressing into your hips. You hum, leaning back to look at his flushed chest, earning yourself a sigh of relief-quickly turning into a choked whimper when you switch to the other nipple, using one of your hands to tweak and pinch one while the other hand threads into his hair, grazing the sensitive base of his horns and knocking his eyes back, mouth dropping open and hands coming up to silence himself, allowing you to try and shimmy your way down onto his lap.

His unoccupied hand grips your hip even tighter, trying to keep you up and away from his cock.

"Bakugou-! Wan' yer cock"

You slur, grinding your hips onto his stomach, covered clit rubbing against his bushy pubes.

"You couldn't handle it sweetheart. We shouldn't even be doing this."

You roll your eyes, popping off his nipple and withdrawing your hands from him, reaching down to pry his hand off of your hip.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot handle? You don't know what-oh."

You're cut off when he drops you down, cock sliding through your folds even over the bathing suit, so big and veiny you could feel every pulse and twitch through your bottoms.

You immediately push your swimsuit to the side, rubbing your slit up and down his dick, clit getting caught on various ridges and occasionally twitching when a throbbing vein rubbed against it. You couldn't keep your sounds down even if you wanted to, leaning forward to moan into Bakugou's ear, feeling a shudder rip through his spine.

You were making his mind foggy, he couldn't stop his hips from rutting up, knot starting to swell even though he tried to hold it back. He couldn't do this right now, even getting this far dangerous, he was way too close to his rut and couldn't risk getting you pregnant, no matter how much that thought made his head spin. Fuck, he couldn't stop thinking of you slamming those perfect fucking hips down onto his knot as you begged him to give you his kids, pleaded with him to make you a mommy-shit

His head falls forward and sharp teeth dig into your shoulder, a snarl vibrating your body before your thighs, pussy and stomach are drenched with thick cum. He can't stop, hips jerking and thighs shaking as he roars into your skin, knot still swollen and sensitive but the burning need inside of him is satiated for now. 

Before he can even lift his head up to say something, he catches a whiff of arousal, and strangely enough it isn't yours. It smells more woodsy, intense with a sweet musk, somewhat...manly?

Oh fuck.

Kirishima.

Bakugou scrambles to get up, looking at you in horror and then looking over to the trees, catching a glimpse of dark red eyes before they disappear behind a nearby tree.

"Clean yourself off in the water, Kiri will be back soon."

You stare dreamily up at him, confused as to why he looks so uneasy all of a sudden but obeying nonetheless, standing on wobbly legs and feeling dense and gooey cum drip down your legs in long streaks, a nagging feeling in the back of your fuzzy mind telling you how much of a waste it was that none of it was inside you. You make your way back to the water, unaware of two sets of red locked onto you.

#bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #kirishima eijirou smut #bakugou x reader #bowser!bakugou #mario!kirishima #kirishima thirst #kirishima smut #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku smut #neptunewrites🪐 #galacticcollabs #prettymiggi🪐

[darlingpwease]

NO PLS CKDBDJD NOT YOUR OWN KEYBOARD AGREE WITH YOU 😭 and LOOK. I even express my daddy dom venti dislike to my friend; who is a sub leaning switch, mind you, and she even find it to be ridiculous 🥲 IMAGINE a respectful sub even found the idea of dom venti to be absurd 😭

Like sweetie...... do we need to drive you to an asylum? Or even a hospital?? Imaginations of fictions are great and all, but seriously. You even share your thoughts to the platform that have many people and in a massive fandom. 😭 not even being respectful either. They kept pushing the dom!characters agenda to others’ faces 😭 the reason why i really hate Childe is because of his fanon interpretation. Now Ayato is obviously going to follow his footsteps.

And yes hnghh. Venti is so smol, i just want to bend him over a table high enough to have his legs dangling slightly on air while railing him dkshs OH you’re a soft dom 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i’m a hard one GDJDJSKSLSL if we ever tag team someone, they’re gonna have a whiplash smh 🥴 getting dizzy from everything we do

BECAUSE HE IS NOT DOM AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT SJSGSJDHDJ

I really don't understand how anyone could want a dom like a frivolous bard to control them. Absolutely don't understand.

... On the other hand, I also don't understand why someone wants a guy like Childe, who can't say through his mouth that he wants to be touched and believes that he should do everything himself to protect loved ones, to take responsibility for them and call them babygurl / babybou, so-

Ayato's problem is that he behaves like a fan Childe more than Childe himself, but has taken the most terrible trait — being an absolute malewife,

which is why I can't think of him as a domi. he just looks so gentle and his spicy spoiled personality,,,, maybe the power is in words, but in fact, only you can have control </3

maybe it's because I'm dom and can't imagine the characters being the same, but- he looks like pillow prince </33 let the boy feel spoiled at least in bed, when the only thing he has to do is lie down and give gentle instructions that you can interpret as you want </333

... and, of course, he appreciates the executive, but it's a different kind of pleasure when you don't obey and do what you want with him <3 he can just lie down, you will take good care of Kamisato's eldest heir <333

besides, I agree so much — I don't like it so much when sub reader is something by "default". I'm not going to touch other people's fantasies, but this is not an excuse not to put the right tags; of course, I will block, but there is no "block all subs" function, show at least a little understanding.

you appear hourly, like mushrooms after the rain, just start marking yourself and everything will be fine skrskrskr

I'm so soft that I used to think I was a sub, until I began to suspect that for some reason I'm more comfortable with a hard dom reader than even with the "coolest" sub readers haaaa

I want to make him cry, but from the fact that he feels too good — and can't help but be overreacting </3 if his body doesn't become too sensitive after his cute cock comes again, then I feel wrong- even if I like to read about how he is being treated rudely </33

but pin Venti to a tree, forcing him to be quiet if he doesn't want others to hear — and forbid him to use the wind to invite sounds,,,, after teasing him for a long time, how long can he last being so sensitive and so loud? <3

or, ajshjsgshs, yes, bend him over the table — Venti can't stop fidgeting, even if he almost doesn't feel the floor under his feet, while you drive into him senseless, making him drool,,,, he probably can't help but chat about how wild you are, or tease you about how softie you are with him until you grab his little pigtails — I don't believe he ties these pigtails not so that you grab them <33

even if you are a little worried that Venti is so fragile outwardly, he can stand it so easily even when you are obviously rude to him, pinching him or spanking him, leaving a couple of bite-kisses on his neck and shoulders, or bruises on his hips because you squeezed too hard when he started something excitedly again to tell you, trying to tease you <333

he loses his head so easily, even if your contract for him to be quiet is still in effect — but he just can't be quiet and probably uses the wind to drown out and force others to leave and not interfere,,,,,

mhmgmgmgh,,,,,,,,

#.spicy♡ #❖.my jewelry #🥮 — genshin impact #'respectful sub' ajsghsgs awwww /gen

[kylosgenesis]

Teardrops on Fire

Synopsis:

Steve Rogers is the last Alpha of the an almost extinct Lycan pack. With only less than 100 members left. Steve must produce an heir to ensure the species survival and reduce the chance of attacks from others. Omegas are rare, and betas have a hard time producing children. Steves reality is finally setting in as his obligation of producing an heir faces a major set back.

Reader is the last suitable omega to mate with Steve, due to the fear of her daughters fate in the pack, her mother kept her hidden from the pack after her own exile. Only her mother, and Bucky's family know of her existence. Bucky is Steve's right hand man, and the packs best warrior! He and the reader developed a friendship and bond over the years, but age forced them to become distant.

What happens when she presents and her first heat cycle comes? Her body is in excruciating pain and a strong fever quickly overcomes her body. Facing the fear of her daughters possible death, her mom calls on the only person who can save her at this point, Alpha Steve! Bucky and the alphas friendship will be tested. The reader will be faced with her love for Bucky or her duty to the pack.

Unbeta'd: There might be spilling mistakes ( English is my second language so please be kind)

Authors note: We've made it past the filler chapters. I cant wait for the next chapter. You know when you come up with a whole story just because of one little scene on your head? thats next chapter for me. We'll be making a little time jump.

*Other Authors note at the end*

Chapter 7: I really wish I hated you

You woke up early for your morning jog, excited about your first day having a job.

When you heard Natasha mention she needed extra help at the pub, you didn’t know what possessed you to volunteer, but you were determined to have as much of a normal life as possible and this was your first step.

The air was wet from last night's rain, and the temperature had started to drop enough to require a jacket on your runs.

You finished the run in record time, and got ready for your first day. Thankfully Wanda had given you some of her old clothes, and Natasha was kind enough to let you borrow some of hers or else you would have been in the same worn clothes you'd arrived in. Steve had offered to take you shopping yesterday, but you didn’t feel comfortable with the thought. For 19 years you’d taken care of yourself and your mom, you were strong , and you didnt wanna forget that.

It’s incredible how much you’d let the past weeks change you, you felt out of place, out of mind. But having something for yourself again was once step closer to feeling your old self again.

You finished getting ready, and started coffee for Nat who would be waking up any moment now as her grouchy morning self. Just a few days with her had let you know she wasn’t the friendliest in the morning. You laughed at the mug on the counter that had the words ‘Don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ in bold letters. It fit her perfectly! Whoever gifted it to her hit the nail in the spot.

Despite not being too familiar with coffee before, it became a comfort to you. You developed a live hate relationship with the liquid, by itself it was the most disgusting thing you’d ever tasted. And you had made tea out of wild mushrooms once, so that was saying a lot. Once Nat introduced you to French vanilla creamer, you’d become addicted to it.

Setting up the two mugs on the counter you prepared your cup, before listening for the footprints coming from down the hallway.

Even with morning hair, and a red face from recently washing. Nat was easily the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. She was all and every one of the main characters in your favorite books.

“Good morning, Nat” you handed her the coffee mug, as she still looked half asleep.

She took a couple of more sips of the liquid before you saw her soul come back into her body. She leaned against the counter while swinging and finishing the contents of her mug.

“Someone’s excited” she said with a small laugh.

“ohhhh really? What gave it away? “ you had finished your coffee, and were just pacing around the kitchen waiting for Nat.

“Well... you’re usually a morning person, but today you’re even more of a morning person than usual.” She set her mug in the sink , and reached for the hair tie in her wrist as she neatly gathered her hair into an effortless ponytail.

“ I don’t know how you do it, but I hope it will rub on me at some point” you both laughed.

You were almost ready to leave when Nat reentered the kitchen with a hairbrush and some pins.

“Nat , if that's your way of saying I need to fix my hair we’re going to be late, I’m sure it’s fine. “

She motioned you to the seat near the counter and you sat down. Trying to protest against Natasha would get you nowhere.

“First of all you’re never late if you own the place” she started slowly brushing the ends of your hair as you relaxed at the gentle massage of the brush.

“Second, you’ve been wearing the same ponytail since I met you. You have a new life, and a new job.” You felt her take a small strand from the front of your hair, and pin it to the back, and the same motion on the other side.

“ My mom always said when you look good, you feel good! And I want you to be a strong confident woman” she put all the products on the counter as she took your face upon her hands.

“ You deserve to be happy and besides… you might bump into anyone in this town. So you better look good” she laughed

“I'm telling you, those old ladies can be mean!” Nat made her best impression of one of them ”back in my day we wouldn't leave the house unkept… no alpha would ever settle for that. I don't know what's with this new generation” she sounded so funny you couldn't help but snort as you broke in laughter.

When you both regained your composure she forms loose strands around your face “ ohhh shit, now we might actually be a little late. Come on!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you arrived at the pub, there was already a white truck in the parking lot. Nat took the keys out of her purse, and tuned the lock. The place certainly looked different without the lights or people, but it still felt cozy to you. Coming from the back was a faint light, and you could hear some thrashing noises. Nat didn’t seem bothered, so she just tuned in the rest of the lights and you flooded her to the kitchen. His smell hit you before he even rounded the corner. He came into the kitchen holding a large box that blocked his view.

“Hey Bucky” you waved at him. Causing him to drop the box. The sound of metal falling as it hit the floor.

You and Nat just stared at bucky's confused gaze. Before Nat cleared her throat.

“I should’ve told you yesterday, but she’ll be starting to work with us. I thought it would be a good idea for her to get to know everyone.”

Bucky bent down to pick the spilled contents of the box, you followed after gathering a few of the metal tools.

“I hope it’s okay with you?” You asked him, not really knowing how he'd respond.

“ Yeah, it’s fine by me” he said with a nervous tone as you handed him the pieces from your hand, and you felt a current run down your spine at the contact of his hand against yours, which he quickly removed.

You all exited the kitchen towards the bar where he placed the box

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I came over. Thought maybe I could clean the inventory room, but I noticed the beer tap wasn’t working“

“It seemed to be working just fine yesterday, Barnes”

“By just fine, you mean extremely slow pull time? “ he turned to face nat caring the large box out of the room with you both following suit.

“ then it works like a charm ” he made the snarky remark towards Nat, but you couldn’t help to notice his eyes were on you the whole time.

“Fine, but don't break it more” she pointed at him. “ last time you tried to fix something the AC was down for three days”

“And you're never gonna let me forget that wont you?

“Nope” she was already walking away from him as she responded.

“I’ll have it running by opening” he kneeled in front of the small fridge, under the beer tap. .

“Who’s gonna order a beer at 10 in the morning?” You asked, watching over his shoulder as he tweaked with the mechanisms of the fiter on the inside

“ You’d be surprised!” He looked back at you, noticing you already holding the wrench he was looking for.

“Thanks” He smiled, and took the wrench from you. You hadn’t seen him like that in 10 years, he seemed relaxed!

“Howd you learn to do that?” he turned back to face you surprised at your choice of tool.

“ the fridge broke down a couple of times on us, so i learned from taking it apart and back together...after a while you get good at mechanics” you laughed

I still wouldnt trust me to fix it though. Id rather you take the blame if it doesnt work”

“Playing devils advocate now? “ he was flushing water through the hose system before turning on the machine again. You watched attemptively at his concentrating gaze.

“No… id just rather stay on Nat’s good side.”

“Good choice! She punches hard” he seemed relax with you. It made you feel tingly inside as you both had a sense of normality after 10 years.

“Not as hard as me!“ you reapplied

“Definitely not. I still get phantom pains from those” you both laughed.

You patted his shoulder as you got up to Shadow Nat.

Bucky grabbed your arm before you turned to leave. It's nice to see you! … you look... “ he eyed you head to toe and you felt his gaze linger on your hair “ you look beautiful!”

You felt drawn to him, just being around him brought you comfort in a way you couldn’t explain.

You both felt a tug as you left with Nat, turning back to take a glance at him and noticed he had his eyes glued on you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the rush after lunch was over you were wiping down the tables. You felt the exhaustion of the job begin to take over.

You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but compared to your daily tasks back at the cabin. It was a different kind of exhaustion.

“Don't quit on me just yet” Nat said as she voiced a tray of cups to the back.

“Not yet, but I definitely didn’t know how much people can drink before 3 o’clock” you both laughed as you wiped down the last few of the tables. So far you’d just used the tap, or poured some easy drinks. As the day got slower, Nat promised to train you on some specialty stuff.

You held on to the table as you felt a dizzying feeling deep through you, then you felt a pair of arms behind you.

“Here!” Bucky placed a cup of water in front of you as you eagerly reached for it and frank it entirely in a few gulps.

“Thank you, I should probably start keeping track of how much I owe you every time you rescue me”

You turned back to face him.

“How did you know?”

“ I could feel it through the..” He didn’t have to say it but you knew what he was referring to.

“Ohhh so that’s what that one is” You looked amused as you stared at him.

“I can’t always tell what the bond is trying to say, but I guess being an alpha just makes it easier to interpret ” he was starting to walk away as the words where leaving his mouth

“Is that why you were avoiding me ?” He stopped on his tracks.

“ I wasn’t avoiding you!” He turned to you.

“It kinda seemed like you were.” you stood your ground and placed your hands crossed around your chest in an effort to appear more composed.

“The past weeks I’ve just thought of you, and this bond! “ you pointed at your neck “ I had this voice that kept telling me I wasn’t good enough.”

You felt the pent up feeling of fear, sadness, and frustrations of a few weeks finally leave.

“You know Bucky, I can’t tell what the bond is trying to say, cause I haven’t spent enough time with you to even know how to read you.” You felt the tears stream down your face as the knot on your throat cleared

Bucky walked towards you pulling you into an embrace, just as the tears began to stream down your face. His smell calming you, and his heartbeat merging with yours as he allowed himself to let go of his fear.

“I will always be inclined to take care of you “ he said, burying his head into your hair. While you continued to embrace him.

“Not just because of the bond, but because I loved you more than anything once” you felt your heart stop at his words.

“I thought I hurt you, and I couldn’t forgive myself. But I realized I was running away. That's why I was staying away! “ he lifted your head, and you felt the honesty of his words when you looked into his eyes.

“I missed you ... you know all those years I thought I did something wrong.” You said with choked words.

“ I loved y...”

You both heard the sound of shattering glass. You responded first separating yourself from Bucky and running towards the source. Bucky cursed under his breath, and ran after the source as well.

You walked into the kitchen to see a couple of bottles shattered on the floor. The liquid contents inside spilled all over the floor. You leaned over and started picking up the large pieces of glass.

“You guys alright? “ Nat stormed the kitchen not knowing what she’d find.

“Yeah, we're fine ” Bucky said, examining the room. “We were in the main room, and heard the crash, we thought you were injured”

“Peter must’ve put the bottles on the edge... that boy is going to be the death of me. I'll go get the mop ” you saw Nat had retreated to the pantry.

“Here, let me help you” Bucky was helping you scoop the pieces of glass.

“Careful!” You looked at Bucky and laughed at his worry “ Buck, I’ve been skinning prey with knives shapelier than this since I was 5 ... I think I can handle some glass.”

He was looking at you in awe, you realized after the words had left your mouth “ I haven’t heard you say Buck in a long time” He smiled at you.

“ ohhh that’s cause you used to say it made you think of deer” you were picking up the last pieces.

“ I was a growing boy... always hungry”

He helped you up, and you noticed he used his metal arm to do so.

He noticed you staring, he was wearing a tight black t-shirt. It was short sleeved which you hadn’t seen him wear yet.

“Does it hurt?” You traced your fingers through the cold metal.

“ Not physically, sometimes I forget it’s there” he admired the way your eyes fell fascinated with the metal segments and the mechanism as he flexed.

“Hey, Bucky do you mind cleaning the spill? I’ve got a few minutes, so I’d like to show her some drinks” Nat walked into the kitchen with the industrial mop.

“I got it” he winked at Nat.

He smiled at you as you left the kitchen, and you felt your heart skip a beat at that smile.

You hoped he wasn’t actively trying to spy on you through the bond or else you might be caught in a vulnerable position.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Nat collapsed into the couch at the end of a long day.

“ My feet are killing me! “ you massaged the soles of your feet as you eyed Nat get comfortable on the couch.

“ You get used to it!...ohhh gods I can’t wait to shower”

“You say that, but you’re in fact getting more comfortable ” you teased at her.

“I never said I’d shower right now” She threw one of the pillows next to her at you and just as you were about to return the gesture.

Lights lit up the living room from outside as a car approached.You heard a door shutting and the sound of footsteps approaching the house.

“ I’ll go check it out” you stood up and walked to the door, just as someone was about to knock you opened the door.

“Steve, hey how’s it going? “ you felt the same nerves you felt meeting him the first time.

“ Good... good” you could see his breath as he spoke in the cold of the night. His hands were tucked in his jacket pockets.

“Would you like to go on a walk ?” he motioned to the trail along the house.

“Sure!” You hesitantly stepped out of the comfort of Nat’s house and into the cold night. You were still getting to know Steve, so the ambiance still felt awkward around him. You just followed his lead and waited for his next words.

“ I was wondering how your first day went? ... I wanted to stop by, but Wanda needed me at the school” he faced you as you walked together.

“ It went very well! We had actually just gotten home! “ you were cradling your elbows in a hug trying to preserve your body’s warmth from the house.

“It was a lot to learn, but Nat and Bucky made it a lot easier on me” you replied with a small laugh, but noticed Steve’s eyes glued on you. His jaw tensing up at the mention of Bucky from your mouth.

“That’s good...” he noticed you shiver, he took off his jacket and handed it to you. It was a kind gesture. The jacket just smelled like him. You felt his smell overwhelm the faint traces of Bucky.

“Are you excited?“

“ Well yes ....?it’s been really good so far, I can’t wait to get the hang of it” you picked at the strand of hair surrounding your face tucking it behind your ear.

“So he didn’t tell you?” Steve said with a snark

“Tell me what? “ you felt your heart speed up.

“Bucky made a deal with the Wakandan's Coven... they are going to undo the mating. Next full moon you’ll be free again.”

You could tell he was awaiting a reaction, he just crept closer till you could feel his breath in your skin.

You felt lightheaded at his words “ that’s... news”

You felt tears stream down your eyes. Today things had felt like they were always meant to be. Bucky had made you feel like you could trust him.

But he had known, and you fell for it! Once again you felt like a part of someone else's agenda, not your own. Just an omega, in a world of alphas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

Do you think the bottles were an accident?

Tags:@dottirose @tanyaherondale @iloveshawnieboi @marmite79 @austynparksandpizza @nerdgirljen @exposition-belongs-somewhere @patzammit @connie326 @blessedwedgie

#alpha bucky x omega reader #alpha bucky #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve x omega reader #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #omega reader #alpha bucky barnes #alpha steve rogers x omega reader #alpha Bucky barnes x reader

[scriveyner]

kinktober (2020): #13

Prompt #13: Fingerfucking

Explicit, SSKK/AkuAtsu, ~2300 words

Akutagawa put his elbow on the table top and his chin in his hand as he watched Atsushi type something into his phone. "I do not see how an ADA detective would know what is on a Port Mafia executive's private Instagram account."

"Chuuya added me forever ago," Atsushi said.

"I wasn't referring to you."

"Oh." Atsushi stopped typing for a moment. "Good point. I'll screen cap it instead."

Read on AO3 or

The kotatsu had sprung up overnight, like some wild mushroom variant in the middle of the living room, the furniture rearranged to accommodate its sudden presence. Atsushi had been in the office all day, and when he came around the corner to see Akutagawa in a housecoat, sitting at the kotatsu and reading, a cup of tea at his elbow and book propped up by Rashomon, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Welcome home, weretiger," Akutagawa said without lifting his eyes from the book, though he deigned to turn the page himself. "Another exciting day of tracking down the swindlers of the elderly and rescuing kittens from trees?"

"We do more than that," Atsushi said, annoyed. He sat himself opposite Akutagawa, slithering partly under the heavy duvet and practically melting, chin to the polished wooden table top. "Warm," he said, content.

"Simple pleasures for simple minds," Akutagawa murmured, though he was watching Atsushi over the top of his novel. Atsushi's eyes were already closed, but he stuck his tongue out at Akutagawa. He didn't move again for a while, so Akutagawa returned to reading, until Atsushi shifted around and burrowed headfirst under the heated table.

Akutagawa looked down as Atsushi's head popped out from underneath the duvet next to him, and he reluctantly shuffled to the side to give Atsushi more room to wiggle out, shoulders and arms emerging, but that was where he stopped, pillowing his head on his arms and coming dangerously close to purring.

"Perfect end to the day," he said happily, exhaling; and Akutagawa lifted the duvet for a moment, to ensure that Atsushi wasn't thrashing an easily-singed tail too close to the heater. Atsushi knew exactly what he was doing, and rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not an idiot," he huffed, as Akutagawa let the heavy cover drape back over them both.

Akutagawa gave him a Look. "Yes, you are."

"Asshole," Atsushi muttered, but propped his chin on his hand, looking at Akutagawa askance. "I thought you were supposed to be prepping to leave on some mysterious Port Mafia business that I'm not supposed to know about, I figured you'd be gone before I got home."

That was apparently the wrong thing to bring up, because Atsushi could feel the hostility roll of Akutagawa as if it were a physical thing. "Port Mafia business is none of your concern, weretiger."

"Maybe not, but it's nice to know your schedule." Atsushi yawned and scratched his chin. "Higuchi got you pulled, didn't she? I should send her flowers, I didn't want you going overseas now with everything going on, anyway."

Akutagawa said, "how did you know I was meant to go overseas?"

Atsushi stopped scratching, and hesitated. "You… talk in your sleep?" Rashomon shot out instantly, encircling Atsushi's neck and pinning his head to the floor. Atsushi yelped, grabbed Rashomon with two enormous, suddenly-furry paws. "Dazai told me," he snarled, and the tiger claws ripped through Rashomon, shredding Akutagawa's ability with a lot less effort than Akutagawa wanted to acknowledge. "Now stop it!"

Rashomon retreated into Akutagawa's housecoat, and Atsushi rubbed the back of his neck with the great tiger paw, before his hand emerged from the ability.

"Do not send my subordinates flowers," Akutagawa said icily. "It would deliver the wrong message."

"I was being sarcastic," Atsushi said.

"Regardless. Do not."

Atsushi sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. "You know, I also didn't want you to go because I'd miss you, right? Not just because I'd be worried about you." Akutagawa glared at him, and Atsushi met that glare and returned it. "I'm not insinuating you can't handle it, don't give me that look. We both know you get sick easily because you've got weak lungs, don't pretend that this is something else."

Akutagawa angrily took a swallow of his tea. He was silent for a long, long moment, savoring it. "I am unused to anyone bothering to care about my well-being," he said finally, looking straight ahead and refusing to meet Atsushi's eye.

"No shit," Atsushi said. "Get fucking used to it. And don't," he gestured broadly, "fucking Rashomon me whenever you get pissed. That's rude."

"I did not stab you this time."

"Yeah, thanks. I really do enjoy my blood inside my body instead of all over the floor." Atsushi stretched his arms all the way out in front of him, Akutagawa noting his resemblance to a large house-cat, as he got settled again under the kotatsu, the threat of potential physical conflict receded. "If I had known you were gonna throw a temper tantrum I would have stayed on my own side of the kotatsu."

Akutagawa hesitated—uncertain if it was too soon, after such conflict—but then gently settled his hand on Atsushi's head. Atsushi startled in surprise—and then acknowledged the gesture, pushing the crown of his head against Akutagawa's palm. "I'm not a house-cat," he reminded Akutagawa, whose thoughts had definitely been trending in that direction again. Atsushi didn't move his head away, though—at least, not until they both heard his phone ding, and Atsushi shifted his weight so that he could pull his phone out of his trousers. Akutagawa pulled his hand back as he shuffled around, and Atsushi settled down again, propped up on his elbows as he looked at his phone screen.

"Are you for real," Atsushi said, and held up his phone so that Akutagawa could see the screen. There was a selfie of Dazai, seated in what was clearly one of Port Mafia's private jets, Chuuya's shoulder and hair only partially in frame. "Kunikida-san is going to lose his shit when he find out that he couldn't get ahold of Dazai all day because he's fucked off to parts unknown with one of Port Mafia's top executives again."

Akutagawa put his elbow on the table top and his chin in his hand as he watched Atsushi type something into his phone. "I do not see how an ADA detective would know what is on a Port Mafia executive's private Instagram account."

"Chuuya added me forever ago," Atsushi said.

"I wasn't referring to you."

"Oh." Atsushi stopped typing for a moment. "Good point. I'll screen cap it instead."

Akutagawa idly trailed his fingers down Atsushi's back, as he was distracted with his phone and shit-stirring now. "I do think that Dazai is a terrible influence on you," he said, listening to the tactile click of the keyboard on the touchscreen.

"That's Dazai's fault then," Atsushi said. "He shouldn't be fucking off from work and posting proof where he can be ratted out." There was a moment of silence, and then Atsushi's phone started dinging rapidly. "Ah, that woke up the group chat." He lifted his head, realized that Akutagawa's hand was now resting on the small of his back. "What are you doing?"

"Well," Akutagawa said. "If Dazai and Chuuya are both on an airplane, we won't be interrupted anytime soon." He slid his hand down so that his fingers fit under the waistband of Atsushi's pants, and he pulled the tucked-in collared shirt free.

"Chuuya will kill us if we have sex under the kotatsu," Atsushi said, but didn't stop him. "Plus, who's gonna explain the burns when one of us hits the heater?"

"Who said anything about sex?" Akutagawa said.

Atsushi eyed him. "Why are you undressing me if we aren't going to have sex?"

"Don't worry about it."

Atsushi pushed himself up on his elbows again, but Rashomon slipped under him, wrapped around his biceps and pulled him forward so that he fell back onto his chest. Atsushi let out an annoyed huff, arms splayed forward. "You are not allowed to say 'don't worry about it'," he said, but didn't try to get his arms under him again. "It's terrifying when you say it."

Akutagawa used Rashomon to help Atsushi out of his pants, operating blindly and yet with a surgeon's precision, under the table. Atsushi shivered when Akutagawa put his hand on the bared skin at the small of his back, pushed his shirt up and just rested his palm there, connecting the two of them. "Your skin is so warm," Akutagawa said softly, and slid his hand down, over the rise of Atsushi's now-bared ass. "So warm."

Atsushi exhaled, the shiver more pronounced now, but not from the cold. He spread his legs slightly, dropping his hips and forcing Akutagawa to lean forward as he ran his fingers down toward his goal. He closed his eyes and tilted his head forward as Akutagawa rubbed his fingers there, dry, just feeling him out. "Gonna need lube for that," Atsushi croaked, wet his lips with his tongue.

Rashomon drifted past Atsushi's line of sight, a familiar tube in its jaws. Atsushi exhaled a laugh as lube-slick fingers replaced dry ones, and that laugh slid into something more content as Akutagawa pushed one finger inside him. "It's amazing," Akutagawa said, rubbing his finger just inside the entrance, "how this sort of thing just shuts you up."

"Mm," Atsushi swallowed, shifted, rocked on his belly a little. "Fuck you."

"Not today." Akutagawa didn't press any deeper, just shallowly thrusting the pad of his finger. He nudged with a second finger and with a little encouragement Atsushi gave to allow the additional intrusion.

Atsushi laid his head on his arms. He wasn't panting yet, but there was a small whine on the edge of his breath because the stimulation was something; but nowhere near enough to be satisfactory. "Deeper," he said finally, whinging loud now, Akutagawa's fingers just barely inside. "C'mon, you're being mean."

Akutagawa considered this, and then introduced a third finger. Atsushi gasped a moment, swallowed, and clenched on the three fingers inside of him experimentally. They still weren't particularly deep, barely past the first knuckle on his fingers, but it was marginally deeper than before. He shivered and pushed back against Akutagawa's hand again, trying to force his fingers in deeper since Akutagawa seemed more interested in teasing rather than fucking.

It was… fun, to watch Atsushi writhe, half under the kotatsu, doing indecent things to him by touch alone. Akutagawa wanted to drag it out, to make him beg for it more; but Atsushi grabbed his housecoat in one hand, yanking at it—and Akutagawa pushed his fingers in deeper in response, generating a small keening noise from Atsushi.

"Don't come," Akutagawa said, sharply, and Atsushi choked on air, started panting as Akutagawa pressed his fingers in deep again, spreading them as much as he could manage, looking for the right place to to add pressure to really make Atsushi wail. "You're not allowed to come while under the kotatsu."

Atsushi's shoulders locked, and he hung his head, one hand still tight in Akutagawa's housecoat. He had shifted all his focus to clenching now, to holding himself off—and Akutagawa smirked sharply, located his prostate finally, and pressed all three fingers against it, rubbing.

The noise Atsushi generated was inhuman, shoulders shaking but—despite clenching on his fingers again and again he didn't appear to actually climax. It was somewhat impressive a display, and wouldn't do at all. "Did you come?"

"N-no." It took Atsushi a moment to choke the word out, entire body thrumming like guitar wire with too much tension, on the verge of snapping entirely. "N-no, fuck…"

Akutagawa nodded his head with mock sympathy, rocked himself a little closer, and worked his little finger inside as well. Atsushi' mouth fell open, he tilted his head back as far as he could, but he held still.

He was extraordinarily tight. Akutagawa thrust all four fingers for a little bit, rubbing Atsushi's prostate again for good measure, before finally removing them all, enjoying the resistance Atsushi's body gave before all his fingers popped free.

Akutagawa could imagine Atsushi's hole right now, stretched and shiny with lube, and his loins ached. Atsushi put his face in his arms, panting loudly, and Akutagawa wiped his lube-slick fingers on the back of Atsushi's rucked-up shirt.

"That was fun," Akutagawa said, and picked up his tea again, taking a slow sip and somewhat disappointed that it was nearly cold now.

"Fun!?" Atsushi's voice was strangled, coming from between his arms. "God I'm so fucking hard…"

"Hmm, how does Chuuya phrase it? That sounds like a you problem." Akutagawa took another sip of his tea. He set it down just in time, as Atsushi surged upright, out from under the duvet in one smooth motion, knocking him flat on the floor, eyes ablaze. Akutagawa coughed as Atsushi straddled his chest, and laid the bright red head of his cock against Akutagawa's lips. It was shiny, slick with fluid and smelled so intensely of Atsushi's scent that he licked it without prompting and, after a moment of shuffling around to get the best angle, opened his mouth and let Atsushi push his cock inside.

It didn't take very long for Atsushi to reach climax, especially with Akutagawa sucking him; and he did manage to pull out before he came down Akutagawa's throat. He still managed to come all over Akutagawa's face and hair, however, and Akutagawa coughed, one eye closed, and used Rashomon to knock Atsushi off him entirely. When he sat up he continued to cough for a solid minute, clearing his throat, and he wiped his hand over his face, smearing Atsushi's seed into his skin.

Atsushi lay on his back where Rashomon had toppled him, arms spread and chest heaving; his cock lay against his thigh, still half-hard and glistening in the overhead light. "God damn," he said wonderingly, and they looked at each other for a moment, still breathing hard.

He rolled over and showed Akutagawa his messy hole. "If you're still hard," he said, panting, and dropped to his elbows, presenting like a dog.

Akutagawa swallowed, wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, and unfastened his trousers.

#bungou stray dogs #shin soukoku #sskk #akuatsu #kinktober #lemony fresh

[inkribbon796]

Days of Childhood

~::~ 10 Years Ago ~::~

Summary: 5+1, Visitation Day. Yancy palling around with his family. All taking place within the same week.

A/N: Bim and Yan are currently 21, making Yancy and Kay 22, and Illinois and Arthur 23. Meaning that here they are 11, 12, and 13 respectively.

5. Arthur- Bugs Alive:

“Come on, hurry up,” Arthur called out, his notebook clutched to his chest as he ran off, Yancy was struggling to keep up with all the rocks and tree roots.

The two boys were running around the spooky woods surrounding the Manor. No wild animals, except for insects and rats, could be found. Normally people who entered the woods became lost and died. Dark took great pains to hide the skeletons that could be found within the unhallowed woods.

Yancy only caught up when the young Author had stopped at a fallen tree that was covered in mushrooms and other fungi, moss covering the rotting wood in sickly patches. He looked giddy and excited, holding a large jar along with his notebook.

In later retellings, Yancy would admit to this being a huge red flag.

“There you are slowpoke,” Arthur shoved the jar into Yancy’s hands. “I need some bugs so I can study them for my stories.”

Unsuspecting, Yancy smiled, “Can I look at them too?”

The young author shrugged, “Sure, whatever.”

“Did you hear?” Arthur started, smiling mischievously, cracking his notebook open. “Dark gave me a nickname, like the kind his network have.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to join,” Yancy reminded in confusion.

“Well I’ve got one, that means I’m better than Illy,” with a couple quick words, the entire tree trunk violently flipped over, exposing dozens of types of teaming insects out in the open. “No one else here has one but me.”

Yancy frowned at the snide look on his older adopted brother’s face, “Bim goes by Junior.”

“He doesn’t count,” Arthur snapped angrily, and ripped the jar away and started scooping up insects, uncaring if they crawled over his hands to get away from him. “Wil gave him that.

“So what’s your nickname then?” Yancy asked.

“Dark calls me “his little Author” neat huh?” Arthur smiled proudly as he screwed the cap on and smiled at the jar.

“Yeah,” Yancy leaned in to look at the bugs. “So where are you going to hide them? Dark’ll get mad if you bring them into the house.”

Arthur wrote another couple of words and his bat appeared at his feet, a smile on his face, “What do yah mean, Yanc?”

Yancy scurried back with his hands as Arthur brought the bat onto the jar, crushing many insects as others frantically tried to escape. The young author crushed one trying to flee, bringing up his notebook and making sure they all froze in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Sick to his stomach, Yancy tried to scoop up some of the insects, the little crawlers freed from Arthur’s powers when they touched his hand, and he flung them into the safety of the bushes.

“Hey, they’re mine!” Arthur shouted. “Don’t throw them away.”

“Run little bugs,” Yancy scooped up some beetles and a worm and threw them into the bushes.

With a couple flourishes of his wrist, an equal number of bugs that Yancy had saved, exploded. “I can kill them faster than you can take them.”

Yancy stuck out his tongue, scooping up another beetle, “You can’t stop me!

Their game continued, Yancy running back to the Manor with a bloody nose and Arthur more than a bit scratched up.

4. Illinois- Heroes and Villains:

Inside the Manor there were two young boys running around the house, one as, and the other who was in a kid’s brown fedora that tended to fall over his eyes was 13.

“Stop running,” Illinois yelled at Yancy. “You’re the hero, you’re supposed to chase me.”

“Youse always play the villain, I’s want a turn,” Yancy yelled back at him and tripped over the rug, crashing hard on the ground.

“Oww,” Yancy grumbled as Illinois jumped onto him and started tying up his feet.

“Gotcha!” Illinois cheered, “now it’s . . .”

The older boy paused for a bit, “You okay.”

“Yeah it just hurts,” he complained.

“Oh,” Illinois stopped and finished tying him up, grabbing a blanket that had been left on the couch. “You can be the villain for a little bit long if you want.”

“Youse gonna ta drag me ta jail?” Yancy asked, smiling and giggling when Illinois rolled him onto the blanket.

Illinois grabbed the blanket and began dragging it towards, “You’re going to jail for stealing a candy bar!”

“No!” Yancy yelled overdramatically.

Illinois picked up a corner of the blanket and began dragging him towards the nearest closet. They passed Dark who was outside his office and looking at them, unimpressed.

“You two aren’t playing that game again are you?” He asked.

Illinois adjusted his hat so it wasn’t over his eyes, “Yes?”

Dark groaned, “Play that outside, you’re going to break something.”

“OK, Dad,” both Yancy and Illinois agreed and Illinois began dragging Yancy and the blanket towards the door.

Because both of them were turned away they missed the scared look on Dark’s face at the title they’d give him. Fear that quickly gave way to a colder mask. “It’s Dark.”

Both the boys frowned,, correcting themselves before Illinois finished dragging Yancy onto the back patio and then carried him down the stairs to the lawn where he grabbed a couple croquet pins and made a little small fence around him. Both boys unaware that Dark was watching them from the balcony

“There,” Illinois said proudly, hands resting on his hips. “I won.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yancy complained. “Whatever. Untie me already.”

Illinois tapped his chin, “Nah, untie yourself.”

“Noisy!” Yancy yelled. “Get back here!”

Then Yancy noticed a danger sticking out of the ground. Quickly Yancy rolled over and grabbed the knife and began cutting himself free.

“Hey!” Illinois began racing for the patio stairwell door as Yancy finished cutting himself free. Since the knots were tied by a thirteen-year-old and Illinois hadn’t actually meant to keep him trapped indefinitely, it didn’t take long.

However, now Yancy was chasing Illinois around with a knife in his hand as the boys ran up the stairs. Dark quickly snatched the knife out of his hand the first chance he got.

“Dark, he cheated!” Illinois called out.

The Entity was just sipping from his coffee cup as the two boys raced around him. “You’re the villain now, get away from him.”

Yancy and Illinois kept running around the backyard until they got exhausted and Dark brought them inside for a nap and a snack.

3. Kay- The King of the Squirrels:

Kay was arranging some of the stuffed animals he owned into a pile. The young boy had a red blanket tied around his neck. Dark and King were in a bit of an arms race. King always asked for a pet, every birthday, Christmas, and Thursday. Dark, sick and tired of always saying a two-letter word over and over again bet he could find any stuffed animal and if he was ever unable to, Kay could have that animal as a pet.

It was bet Dark had yet to lose, which led to an arms race of Kay finding different names for animals, and a very extensive stuffed animal collection.

Yancy jumped out of the pile, and raised a stuffed platypus above his head, “Found it!”

“Uh, they don’t hunt squirrels,” Kay reminded him.

“What do they eat then?” Yancy asked, trying to get out of the pile without knocking the whole thing over.

“Bugs, worms,” Kay shrugged and grabbed a leopard plushie. “Here, cats can eat squirrels.”

“But I’s like the platty-pus,” Yancy complained.

“Bring them both,” Kay shrugged, and Yancy took the leopard and held both of them in his arms in a warm hug.

Out of all of his siblings, Yancy liked spending time with Illy, but he always thought Kay was the nicest. The boys ran outside, to where Kay had hidden some of his favorite stuffed animals, his squirrels, up into a tree towards the edge of the tree line into the creepy forest. Wil had magicked them all up a treehouse. Dark had been less than impressed, only agreeing to keep the kids’ new “wooden death trap” when Wil demonstrated its sturdiness by getting up and jumping up and down on the thing and not fall through the wood.

King usually spent all his time up in the treehouse. And Yancy waited at the bottom until he could throw the toys up and climb up.

The afternoon was spent peacefully playing with the stuffed animals.

2. Bim- Starlight, Starbright:

Yancy and Bim were out on the front lawn, sneaking out late at night to catch fireflies. Normally Dark let them stay up late all summer collecting bugs and sleeping in the backyard. But for the last few days he’d been keeping them all inside, constantly watching them any time they went near the backyard. He promised them that whatever was lurking around the area would be gone soon and they could go back to enjoying the stars and bugs.

And if Yancy heard Dark screaming and fighting something in what he was pretty sure was a dead, haunted forest, the young boy was too nervous to talk about it with anyone else.

Bim jumped, his glasses almost falling off his face. He caught another firefly in his hands, cupping his hands around it, “Yes!”

Yancy was catching another firefly and carefully putting it in a jar where there were already a dozen fireflies buzzing around inside. After the fiasco with Arthur, he kept a tight grip on the insect jar, even though Bim had never ruthlessly tortured insects before.

The two boys kept putting little lightning bugs into their jar until Bim was finally satisfied. “Yeah, look at them,” Bim cheered. “Aren’t they cool, their little butts glow.”

“Yeah, ain’t they something,” Yancy agreed, before noticing that the fireflies were disappearing from their backyard, as if they were being chased. “I’s think Dark’s comin’ we should get inside.”

Bim frowned, “I didn’t even get my wish.”

“We’ll make it inside, come on,” Yancy began running inside, both boys missing the slowly gathering black mist that was in the treeline as the two boys raced inside and up into Bim’s bedroom. Only then did they giggle a little bit in the darkness, the only light was from the little bugs in their jar.

“Let me make the first one,” Bim reached for the jar.

“No, you’ll let them all go,” Yancy reminded, holding the jar away from him. “Come on, I’s never get the first one.”

He pouted, folding his arms like Wil tended to do, “Come on.”

Yancy moved over to Bim’s window and began to open it as Bim swiped the jar and grabbed one of the bugs, pinning it to his hand with his almost invisible aura. Yancy lunged for the jar to close it, but two glowing bugs escaped through the window. “Hey!”

“I want to be just like Daddy when I grown up,” Bim wished, blowing gently on the insect and allowing it to fly off.

Yancy was carefully getting another lightning bug on his own finger so he could make his own wish: “I’s wanna be a good person.”

Bim scoffed at that, but only ordered, “Give me another bug, I’ve got more wishes to make.”

Glaring at him, Yancy fought over the fireflies until they were all gone and Bim closed the window, all their troubles safely locked out of Manor.

1. Yan- Teddy Bear Picnic:

Yancy was sitting out in the back lawn with Yan, a little table between them and as many chairs as the little table could fit with a teddy on each chair. Each bear had on a bow tie and a frilly hat and a full tea party in front of them.

Yan was in a nice little red dress while Yancy was in a bow tie,

Two of the bears belonged to Yan and Yancy respectively, and the other three were politely and quietly “borrowed” from Kay’s collection.

Yan kicked her feet a little bit as she poured tea for the bear next to her.

“Why do you always give tea to her first?” Yancy complained.

“Because Ms. Talia is a lady,” Yan said.

“Youse been sittings’ there pouring her tea fer ferever,” Yancy reminded.

Then suddenly the whole table jolted, Yan and Yancy froze and leaned away from the table, Yan gasping in horror as her hard work was mostly tossed to the floor.

“Rawr! Rawr!” Artie began growling excitedly as he moved underneath the same tablecloth.

“Artie!” Yan got up and stomped her feet angrily. “You wrecked my tea party!”

“I’m not Artie,” Arthur said. “I’m a sea monster.”

“There’s no sea monsters at tea parties,” Yancy reminded sharply.

Arthur frowned, “Then you’re having a lousy tea party.”

“No,” Yan spat. “I don’t want sea monsters at my tea party!”

The young author frowned, before growing a bit and running off with the table cloth.

A chase ensued on the back lawn, the two kids chasing their older brother until they could rip the cloth away and slowly start rebuilding their little tea party. With Artie the sea monster in sea monster jail until the end of the tea party.

+1. Dark and Wil- Bruised Egos and Bloodied Knuckles:

It began simply enough. Arthur had brought a rat into the house, and Kay had been excited. A secret little pet to hide from Dark for a while.

Kay named him Pretzel.

The poor creature barely lasted an hour. It was in debate for the rest of Arthur’s existence on what had happened to the rodent. Whether he was jealous of the rat spending more time with Kay, or he simply got bored of it.

Either way when Kay snuck off to check on Pretzel, the rat was gone with only a couple specks of blood on the floor of its cage.

He angrily went to confront Arthur, who was watching a show with Wil and the other kids. Arthur feigned ignorance and Yancy jumped Arthur for killing another creature, trying to separate him from his notebook and hold him down.

The fight resulted in Arthur getting a black eye, Kay getting some scratches to the face, and Yancy getting one of the last of his baby teeth getting literally kicked out of his skull.

Wil was trying to separate the three boys with his aura, and looked relieved when Dark ran in and grabbed Arthur, the two porting over to the young boy’s room.

With Arthur gone Kay finally stopped fighting and just started crying, Yancy crying a bit at how upset he was.

Yancy was given a lollipop as Kay spoke through his tears. “He killed my rat, he killed Pretzel.”

“There, there,” Wilford waved another lollipop into his hand and did a little magic trick. “You’ll see Pretzel again. He didn’t die.”

“Wil!” Dark walked in, looking unhappy. “Don’t make it worse.”

“Kaylor if you wanted another rat toy I could have given it to you,” Dark reprimanded, summoning up a little rat plushie in his hands and holding it out to the boy. “You shouldn’t be fighting with Arthur over a rat.”

Kay glared at the toy and pushed it away, “I don’t want a toy, I want Pretzel.”

Dark took a deep, audible breath, and handed Yancy the toy instead. “We can’t have a pet, and this is why. Be lucky you got as long as you did with the thing.”

“Pretzel,” Yancy corrected.

Rolling his eyes, Dark corrected, “Pretzel, fine. Be lucky you got any time with Pretzel. No one in the house can control themselves, and any other pet will not last. Hopefully Pretzel escaped on his own.”

Dark picked Yancy up with his aura, setting the boys side-by-side as he talked to them. “Just imagine that Pretzel escaped and is living with the other rats. If that makes you feel better.”

Kay nodded and Dark smiled as he dried Kay’s eyes, “I’m sorry we can’t have the pet you want, and maybe one day you’ll get to actually own a pet.”

Giving a small smile, Dark smiled back and smooth out Kay’s slight curly hair.

Then he turned to Yancy, “As for you.”

“What?” Yancy argued back.

“What were you thinking?” Dark demanded.

“Artie killed Pretzel an’ might use his book ta hurt Kay,” Yancy accused.

“How do you know he killed it?” Dark quizzed.

“Because he smashed a jar a bugs an’ he hit me,” Yancy answered as Dark just stoically stared at him.

When Yancy finished, Dark summoned up his favorite candy bar and held it up in front of the young boy.

“Listen to me, Yancy, you need to always protect your siblings, even if sometimes you have to protect them from each other.” Dark had the softest look in his eyes that Yancy had ever seen. When Yancy reached for the candy bar, Dark’s looked hardened and he pulled it away.

“This isn’t a free license to beat up on your brother, do you understand me?” Dark demanded.

“Yes,” Yancy replied earnestly.

Dark smiled and gave him the candy bar. Turning back to Will he said, “Well hopefully Arthur’s calmed down a bit. Can’t leave him in his room all day.”

Dark ripped open a portal in the Void and walked through it, leaving Wil to take the kids back to the living room where then TV was waiting for them.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Visitation Day #5+1 things #senseless killing of insects #Markiplier #Darkstache #ahwm Yancy #kid!Yancy #the Author #kid!Author #ahwm Illinois #kid!Illinois #King of the Squirrels #kid!King #Bim Trimmer #kid!Bim #Yandereplier #kid!Yan #early onset child psychosis #domestic fluff #mostly fluff #Dark has problems with his emotions #he’s doing his best #justice for Pretzel the rat

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | IN SESSION WITH ROB SATO

From vibrant rainbows to familiar yet alien landscapes occupied by strange beings, LA based artist Rob Sato’s works are filled with creative energy in a loose minimalistic style. From watercolor, digital medium to acrylics and oil, Rob’s artworks and illustrations have been shown in various galleries from Giant Robot 2 to the Oakland Asian Cultural Center, where recently his original paintings for a comic called 442 were exhibited. We’re excited to chat with Rob about his work, his various collaborations and what he’s got coming up for the rest of the year.  Take the Leap!

Photographs courtesy of the artist.

Introduce yourself Hello, my name is Rob Sato. I’m an artist, illustrator, and writer. Something people might not know about me is that I was a kid I was so fanatical about the Oakland A’s that when they lost in the World Series I threw a tantrum so big that I destroyed my bedroom and after that I felt so stupid I quit following baseball. Also, I’m told I have maybe one of the great poop stories of the world. It can only be related in person, so ask me about it sometime if we ever meet.

How would you describe your work and style? Eclectic? Kaleidoscopic? I’ve never had a concise answer to this question. I tend not to pin myself down because I think if I did, I’d stop making things. 

Art is my outlet for the cryptic and obscure as well as the gushing spillover of foolish idealism and wild fantasy. It’s the only place I’ve ever found where you can healthily play with unhealthy thoughts, where you can explore undefined emotions, things that lurk out in the corners of consciousness that may be embarrassing or uncontrollable.

I love to make entertainment and decorative work, things that tend to be obvious, that communicate very clearly and reveal all their cards, but I also love to make work that hides things, that actively resists easy understanding or recognition and risks being super personal or unrelatable and strange. This can make things difficult, especially in the ongoing deterioration of attention spans, but I can’t help but pursue things outside of a pop sensibility and logical thought. I have to be, much of the time, in mental wildernesses. It’s hard to get there, hard to be there, and hard to come back, but it keeps me going.

Tell us about how you really started getting into art, and how that turned into what you do now? Was it something you always intended to pursue? I’ve drawn every single day for as long as I can remember. I never really thought about it. It just seems to be what I do. It’s how I have fun, how I solve problems, how I think. I’ve wanted to pursue other things like make movies or write books, but I always find myself drawing. Before I know it, it’s time for bed again.

When you are working on a new piece or upcoming exhibition or show? What’s your process like? What themes do you find yourself taking on? I explode. I used to plan things in a very directed way, but lately I’ve just let my brains spill out everywhere. I make a ton of drawings and paintings, and try my best to be fearless and open. Most of it produces failure after failure, but it shows me what might be worth building on, plus many exciting surprises reveal themselves in the process. As a show nears I start seeing what things fit together, what needs to be edited out, and how it all might form a cohesive exhibition. Sometimes the subject matter is the glue that makes everything stick, other times it’s the aesthetics. Alongside the explosion I usually have 2 or 3 pieces going at any given time that I’ve had long term plans for. These pieces can take take months or even years. 

Thematically I’m all over the place. War and peace, realism and surrealism, grim realities and escapism, sober observations and dumb jokes.

What are some of your go-to art making materials? Are there mediums you want to explore that you’ve yet to get your hands on? I feel pretty comfortable with anything you can use to make a mark on a piece of paper. I’ve mainly used watercolor and various drawing tools for the past several years. I’m been having fun with acrylics and oils again, and I’ve started to play around with photography a little. I’ve had ideas for sculpture and film for years that I’d really like to finally get to. What I really want to get my hands on is more time.

Where do you find inspiration? What kind of things or people inspire what you make? Watching someone pick their nose listening to headphones and singing softly to themselves in line at the grocery store. Just watching my cat live her weird life. Even though the final artwork may not really show it, these places are usually where my ideas originate. Art has also been a place where I can put memories that have some abstract need to be recorded.

I made this series of drawings called “Bad Hands”, which started out with me laughing at these dumb hands I was drawing with academically incorrect anatomy. Abandoning correctness felt so good. In the process it triggered a memory from High School. I had been forbidden from drawing in one of my classes, so I was contorting my hands into different shapes at my desk to amuse myself. There was a hysteria over gang activity in the school at the time and the teacher freaked out thinking I was throwing gang signs and I ended up getting sent to detention. 

At detention I was talking with a friend and made fun of the teacher for her mistake. A kid who was in a gang overheard and then HE misunderstood and thought I was making fun of gangs or something. On my way home from school he and a couple dudes punched and kicked me for a bit while I tried and failed to explain. I think it’s funny. 

So embedded in that piece is this tumbling series of misunderstandings, these multiple layers of hands being perceived as bad, speaking in an absurd language that communicates different things to different people. I know people aren’t going to see all those layers in the final piece, but that’s where it comes from and I hope it at least sparks some thoughts about talking with our hands, and where else can you follow this kind of train of thought except in art?

I get inspired by artists who seem to approach art as an intuitive discovery process rather than a  pursuit of mastery, that play is one of the more important aspects of making things. My wife, Ako, has been a huge influence on me in this respect. She’s continuously playing with various materials around her at any given time and finding out what she can do with them. Everywhere she goes she abandons a nest made of fresh creations she’s manifested out of mud, string, packaging, plants, uneaten rice, her used drinking straw, lint and whatever else was within her reach

You’ve done a lot of collaborations with companies, museums and art galleries. Do you have a favorite collaboration, and what about the collaboration do you enjoy the most? I’ve recently been collaborating with Tiny Splendor, an indie publisher and printer who have studios in LA and Oakland. It’s been really great working with them, Cynthia Navarro in LA on risographs, and with Max Stadnik, who runs the print shop in Oakland. 

Max has been returning to lithography, my favorite traditional printing medium, and he printed a piece of mine inspired by mushrooms called “Growerings". It’s a full 5 color print, which means it took five separate plates and each print had to go through the press 5 times. It turned out more beautifully than I could have hoped for. Litho is a super difficult but also very fun process and the results are so rich. 

I think I particularly love this collaboration because the image fits the medium so well, and the combination of the two elevates the final piece of work, When it works, the artwork and the print become more than just an image on a piece of paper. It’s more alive in some undefinable way.

Since we’re called Art School, we always ask the artists to give us their favorite art tip? Never force the thing you think you want, you’ll probably miss out on the really interesting thing that’s happening. Also, don’t drink too much coffee. I have trouble taking both of these pieces of my own advice every day.

What do you enjoy doing when you’re not making stuff? How do you chill out? I read and run. I love coffee and I love gossip and talking nonsense with friends. Also, I cannot stop watching Terrace House.

What is the last art show that you went to? What artists should folks keep an eye out for? I recently went to the Velveteria in LA’s Chinatown, which is one man’s collection of paintings on velvet. A very entertaining and very fucked up experience. I went to a life drawing session at Subliminal Projects and got to draw surrounded by Chad Kouri’s fun abstracts. I’m actually typing this interview inside an art show right now. 

I’m here at my wife, Ako Castuera’s, show “Soil” at the Weingart Gallery at Occidental College. We’re here feeding worms. She sculpted this beautiful ceramic vermiculture composter for the show. It’s a grand temple for worms. The show is an act of gratitude for the exchange we have with the soil which provides the clay for ceramics, and for the worms who turn decay into healthy earth to grow new life in. 

She sculpted a menagerie of creatures out of the worm poop that also populate the show. Super fun. Speaking of Ako and Subliminal, her show there with Hellen Jo and Kris Chau this past December was one of those once-in-a-lifetime powerhouse gathering of forces. That may have been the best show I’ve ever seen.

What advice would you give someone thinking about following in your footsteps? What’s something you learned that you want to pass along to art making newbies. Don’t listen to advice if it is extremely quotable. Pay no attention to it especially if it accompanies a photo of a famous artist and fits perfectly into an instagram post. If it’s easy to remember then it’s probably empty, crap inspiration. Those things are entertainments and not words to live by.

 If you’re interested in making art you’ll keep making it. It takes day in, day out patience and exploration and mutation to discover how you really work, not some idea of how an artist works. 

Sometimes it will be very hard, sometimes it will be so breathtakingly easy you think that your problems have been solved forever. Neither situation ever lasts, but cultivate and nurture your curiosity and what you love, and you’ll find ways to make it through the rough times and keep on making things one way or another.

Who are some of your favorite artists to follow and/or see in a show? Lately I’ve been really enjoying the work of Nathaniel Russell whose work makes this great space where funny, grounded matter-of-factness and sweet nothingness sit comfortably together. His drawing also reminds me of Ben Shahn, my all-time favorite drawer. 

I really like Amy Bennet’s oils, these intimate studies of isolation in suburbia where mundanity overlaps with quiet drama and melancholy. Her work obliquely reminds me of Edwin Ushiro’s work, though his stuff is the opposite of melancholic. He captures almost incidental but haunted moments from growing up in Hawaii and infuses them with warmth, and it’s in a style influenced in a super personal way by animation. It reminds me of Satoshi Kon’s movies in its well observed, slice-of-life elements. Edwin’s sketchbooks are a treasure too.  Esther Pearl Watson’s recent autobiographical paintings, Hellen Jo’s latest badass watercolors, Amber Wellman’s funny, playful oil paintings, and Matthew Palladino’s watercolors are also favorites. 

Megan Whitmarsh’s work is some of my favorite to see in person. Her installation with Jade Gordon at the Hammer’s “Made In LA “ show was maybe the funnest work I’ve ever seen and interacted with. I went to see the Ai Wei Wei show at the Marciano Foundation, which I thought was impressive in scale and execution but still somehow lame, but I stumbled on a Mike Kelley installation/ video piece I’d never seen before in the upstairs collection and loved it so much, but I can’t remember the name of it at the moment. 

It’s 2 videos shown side by side of the same guy wearing a cape singing almost the same song simultaneously, but each version has different words at different points. It’s a love song but one version is more bitter and mean and one is sickly sweet. Anyway, highly recommended!

What do you have coming up the rest of the year that you can share with us?  For just a few more days there’s a show up at the Oakland Asian Cultural Center with a bunch of my original paintings for a comic I illustrated about the 442, the Japanese American Army unit of World War II. Plus it has some personal work about Japanese American Incarceration and images from my family’s experience in the concentration camps. My grandfather was incarcerated in the Arkansas camps, and he was a soldier in the 442. 

Next up, I’m in a slew of group shows all happening within a few weeks of each other this month. Poor scheduling on my part as usual, but it’s nice to be invited to so many. I just sent off my piece to the “Seeing Red” show curated by Jeff Hamada of the BOOOOOOOM art and culture blog. That show will be at Thinkspace in LA. Giant Robot has been kind enough to host another solo show for me in September. 

I’ve been busy experimenting with some more 3d stuff that pushes the more narrative side of my work which I hope to show there. We’ll see how the experiments turn out. I’ve also been working on a ton of prints and ideas for books. This year I want to focus on working in print, making zines and comics, and writing a lot more. 

FOLLOW ROB | INSTAGRAM | WEBSITE | SHOP 

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Rob Sato #Art School #painting #interview

[babyboy-cody]

I LOVE THE FOURSOMEEEE alr but like what if all of the boys were out and you were at home and you were just feeling so needy you start to touch yourself thinking you can just get off real quick and they come home and they’re ALL SO ANGRY and they all fuck you roughly and they’re all over you at the same time cuz they know that overwhelms you AND YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THEM BEING SO MAD like you try and get sweet jimmy to cut you a break knowing that he’s a softie but he offers no slack 🥵

(didn’t know i needed this until now,,,THANK YOU FILTHY ANON 😩🥵)

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Jim softly asks, eyes wide and worried with a small pout on his lips.

“I’ll be fine,” you laugh and hold his cheeks, gently kissing his lips to reassure him. “I’m probably gonna catch up on my shows, have some wine, take a bath.”

“Jimmy, you heard her. She’s a big girl,” Duncan teases with a grin as he slides on his coat.

“And if anything happens, she knows what to do and who to call, right?” Michael questions and stands beside you with a hand on your hip.

“I do know,” you say and look at Jim. “Now go! Have fun doing whatever it is you guys do on Friday nights.”

You kiss them all on the lips, but Jim’s lingers for a few more seconds. Duncan sighs and pulls the brunette away from you.

“Lets go, Romeo,” Duncan says and tosses you a wink.

“Have fun!” You call out with a smile and a wave as you lean against the door.

Jim sits in the backseat and offers you a pout, making you laugh softly to yourself. You blow him a kiss and watch as the car drives away. You decide in the next few hours what to do. You’re already caught up on your shows and watched the last three seasons of FRIENDS. When it started nearing 10 pm, you went into the master bathroom to start your peaceful bath. As the hot water filled the tub, you added essential oils and bath salts, a sweet rose scent filling your sinuses. You pinned your hair up and had free baby hairs framing your neck. As you submerged yourself in the bubble bath, you let out a low moan from the heat surrounding your aura.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the water, but it starts getting chilly and your fingers are starting to prune. You wrap yourself in a soft towel and go to the bedroom that you all share at times, although you each have your own.

A thought suddenly comes to mind. The guys have been out for nearly four hours. You’re all alone in a big house, fresh and clean from your steamy bath. A small grin etched itself on your lips as you made your way to the large wardrobe. Behind the endless amount of clothes is a tiny box that contains your most beloved object.

“Hello again, tiny friend,” you giggle quietly and hold the small vibrator in your hand.

You’d never admit it out loud, but when you’re alone for hours at a time, you get needy and have to release some building tension. With a giddy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, you discard your towel and lay in the middle of the bed. You spread your legs wide and turn on the vibrator to a low setting. The buzzing makes you shiver with anticipation as there’s a frog in your throat. You grab one of your breasts and pinch your nipples. You let out a small moan as you settle the vibrator over your clit, slowly circling and applying the right amount of pressure.

“Yes,” you hiss and throw your head back as you clench around air. “Mmm.”

You feel your slick sliding down your ass, some pooling on the sheets under you. As you spread your thighs wider and click the small button to make the vibrations higher, you don’t hear the front door open and close. You’re so deep in your thoughts as you spread your puffy lids wider to rub the vibrator around your clit.

“Daddy,” you mewl and arch your back as more slick slides out of your cunt and drips onto the covers.

“Well, well, well,” you hear from the doorway, and you immediately open your eyes and gasp as you see Michael, Duncan, and Jim standing in the room.

You turn off the vibrator and shyly closed your legs as an embarrassed flush crosses your cheeks. You feel so exposed under their intense gaze.

“And what do you think you were doing?” Michael lowly asked as he held his arms behind his back in a dominant manner.

“Um…I was just…” you fumbled with your words as Jim shut the door and walked in between both men.

“You were just…” Duncan trailed off and slowly came around the bed, trailing a finger up your trembling thigh.

“Too needy to wait for a good dicking,” Jim chuckles darkly and stares into your wide eyes.

The wild look in his eyes has you swallowing nervously. You squirm as they all come closer to the bed. Duncan begins to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt up his arms. Michael does the same and sighs quietly in disappointment.

“What’s the one rule we have in this house, little dove?” Michael asks you with authority in his tone.

“T–To not touch myself when you’re gone,” you quietly respond and avoid their wandering eyes on your naked body.

“And what did you do when we were gone?” Duncan asks you as his hand reaches between your legs to pull your thighs apart.

You let out a small whine and look over at Jim.

“Answer the question,” Jim orders you, his voice low and dark, and it catches you off guard with how dominant he sounds.

“I–I touched myself,” you whimper and feel your eyes already clouding with unshed tears.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” Duncan laughs and lands a swift smack across your wet pussy, the slap making you finally sob and jerk away. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Michael and Duncan suddenly grab your ankles to pull you down the bed. They force your legs apart as Jim kneels between them with an innocent smile. Duncan smacks your pussy again. You cry out as tears roll down your temples. Your thighs are shaking in their grips as Jim tilts his head in mock sympathy.

“What’s wrong?” He asks in a soft voice.

“She doesn’t deserve to speak at this moment,” Michael states, eyes dark and voice low.

“What she does deserve is a nice, hard fucking for being a disobedient brat who couldn’t keep her hands away from her little cunt for only a few hours,” Duncan growls and roughly gropes your breasts.

Michael’s hand massages your inner thigh as Jim’s thumbs spread your puffy, sticky folds apart. Your body is on fire and your muscles are tense as three pairs of hands are touching you all over. Your hands are clawing at the covers as you’re suddenly stuffed full of Michael’s three fingers.

“Look at that,” Duncan hums as your cunt squeezes Michael’s long fingers. “She’s just dripping all over.”

You let out a shaky moan as Jim’s three fingers slowly slide under Michael’s. His fingers prod downwards as Michael’s curl upwards. Your mouth falls open at the doubled sensation. Your thighs threaten to close as they begin to pick up the pace.

“Keep those fucking legs open,” Duncan gravelly tells you, harshly grabbing your thigh to yank it apart.

You’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, a large hand pushing your face into the covers as another smacks your ass so hard that it has you screaming. Another hand smacks the same spot. Then another. And another. They’re all taking turns spanking you raw. Slick is sliding down your thighs as you shake and cry out from the pain blossoming around your ass cheeks.

“Does that hurt?” Jim quietly asks as he wipes your tears.

You nod and let out a hiccup.

“Too bad,” Jim mumbles and slaps your ass so hard that you see black dots in your vision.

You feel a tongue dive between your puffy folds to slurp of any slick. There’s a hard burn forming on your thighs and you automatically know that it’s Duncan doing the assault. The burn on your lower cheeks and the burn from his beard has you mewling. Two hands slap your ass and pulls your cheeks apart. Your asshole clenches around air as you feel another tongue swipe at the puckered rim.

“Mmm!” You squeal and arch your back to push your ass further onto the mouths of Michael and Duncan.

They both pull away, and you hear low mumbling. You try to turn your head to look at them, but Jim’s hand wraps around your hair to keep you from doing so. He stares down at you with a small smirk and rubs his thumb around your swollen lips. You suckle his thumb and moan quietly as you feel a thick cock rub against your drooling cunt.

But then you feel another cock rubbing around to spread your wetness. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to protest, but both tips are slowly pushing inside your pussy. Jim’s stuffs his cock just as you squeal, and the noise is muffled around his base. He groans and grabs the back of your head to keep you from backing up.

Michael and Duncan grab your hips on either side and slowly push their cocks further inside your pussy. The burn and agonizingly stretch has you crying around Jim’s cock. You’ve never taken two dicks in your pussy before. It’s usually one in your ass, one in your cunt, and one in your mouth. But two in the same hole? It has your eyes rolling back as you choke and try to desperately breathe around Jim.

“Dirty fucking brat has two cocks fucking her weeping cunt,” Duncan laughs and smacks your ass as he and Michael begin to fuck into you.

You couldn’t close your legs together because they’re pinning them down with their knees. Jim pounds into your mouth as your throat contracts around his thickness. You gag and choke as drool drips out of your mouth and slides down your chin.

Your body is on fire and you can’t seem to think as your brain is practically turned to mush. Your pussy burns so good that you can’t help but squeeze around the two cocks fucking you into the mattress. It hurts so good, but it seems too much.

Jim allows you to pull back, a king string of saliva connecting from your swollen lips to his dripping mushroomed head. He looks down at you with darkness in his eyes as he smacks his cock against your cheeks and lips.

“J–Jimmy!” You sob, tears rolling down your wet cheeks and disappearing under your saliva coated chin. “T–Tell them to–to slow do–down!”

“You asked for this, little girl,” he grins and bends down to grab your throat, nose brushing against yours. “It’s going to be a long night. Try to get comfortable.”

And with that, he shoves his cock back into your mouth as you get the soul fucked out of you by two glorious dicks from two gorgeous men.

#MORE FOURSOMES #yes gawd #mean!daddies #this was sooo filthy #and i fucking love it 🥴🥴😩

[rumraisinregret]

Unhooded chapter 5: Frost

Fenedhis, it was cold this morning.

Abelas brought his clasped hands up to his mouth and breathed into the cavity they made, his hot breath billowing out as steam between his fingers. He stomped in place for just a second to get the blood flowing to his numbed feet as they stood on the hard packed earth of the practice grounds. He was glad he made the decision to wear his gold armor today as they accommodated thicker under clothes.

He would have cast a warming spell over himself, had he not forbade the soldiers sparring before him from doing the same. If this cold snap continued for much longer, he would have to lift that particular restriction.

The weather this far north was usually milder, the past two winters he had spent with Fen’harel had been pleasant enough. A short, but welcome break from the oppressive heat and humidity of the summers that seemed to last far too long. Occasionally it rained, but it never snowed and the streams never froze. But when he woke this morning, there had been a layer of ice on the top of the water in his cistern. He had to break it and warm it before washing.

Now he stood in the pre-dawn light, observing a battalion of recruits demonstrate the skills they had learned these past months, an icy mist curling around their legs with every thrust and block. His lieutenants who roamed between the sets, correcting technique and praising progress, were bundled up with their cloaks wrapped tightly around them.  

He was inspecting the progress of the troops today and assessing the effectiveness of the new training methods they were using. Abelas’ eyes lingered on a petite woman to his right. She had been one of the ones to shy away when he pressed the attack during the first day of training, her arms raised above her head, forfeiting the match herself before he could get a hit in.

Now he watched as she evaded a downward thrust and, gathering a thick smoke around herself, slipped under and around her opponent’s guard to stab him in the back with her wooden training dagger. He saw similar such improvement amongst all one hundred pairs in front of him.

“Good,” he shouted. “Switch.”

Each bout ended and the partners switched who was on the offensive. And the ringing clang of fighting commenced once more.

He had them continue for some time before breaking for breakfast, as the sun slowly rose above the tops of the trees. Despite its brilliance, the warmth it provided was minimal, and did nothing to dispel the lingering chill in the air. He was not looking forward to his shift on watch tonight if this freeze was going to continue.

Even though he was the commander and didn’t answer to anyone but the Dread Wolf himself, he still liked to keep himself in the watch rotation. The perimeter of the camp was under constant guard, and not just because Fen’harel was paranoid. There was and always would be the very real threat of discovery that necessitated that scouts patrolled the outskirts of the camp day and night.

So Abelas took one shift a week. It was the one shift no one else wanted to be on: from dinner to just before sun up on the last night of the week. Most everyone else had that evening off. It was the one time they could relax and goof off, most of them getting drunk on the Embrium flower wine some of them brewed. He had never developed much of a taste for frivolity or cheap alcohol, so instead, he stood watch.

After the Lieutenants dismissed the troops for their morning meal, Abelas returned to his tent to prepare his own food. He had a small cache where he stored ingredients in a magically chilled strongbox and a larger chest for less perishable items. He selected a potato, a handful of white mushrooms, and a small onion and set them on the chopping block by his fire pit.

He had also begun a collection of pots and pans, but he didn’t have much room so his collection had remained limited. He grabbed his skillet and placed it on the grate over the unlit logs.

One of his neighbors built a chicken coop between their tents two springs ago, with several others around the camp following suit. He went and scooped two eggs out from under a broody hen, before returning to start his fire.

He had just called a tongue of flame into his palm when a message runner stopped in front of him.

“Commander, sir!” the man said with a salute.

Abelas glared up from his crouched position. “What is it?” he rumbled before lowering his hand to the kindling.

The man’s brow creased anxiously. “Sorry for bothering you, sir.” He swallowed. “Fen’harel has requested your presence in Command.”

“Very well. Tell him I will be there shortly.”

The man ran off almost before the last word left his lips. They had all learned by then that his temper grew short when he was disturbed with official business while he was seated in front of his fire. And consequently, all of his messages, unless they were urgent, were held until he went back on duty. But what could be more urgent than a summons straight from Fen’harel?

Once the man was out of sight, Abelas dropped his head with a sigh. He would have liked something a bit more involved for breakfast, but it seemed it was not meant to be. So instead, he quickly fried up the eggs and put everything else back.

He was still licking the grease from his lips when he ducked into the Command Tent where the Dread Wolf and Talitha the spy master were waiting for him. They stood on either side of the table with a map spread out and pinned to its surface.  A welcome warmth enveloped him as he passed into the area spell that heated the tent.  

“Thank you for joining us, Commander,” Talitha sneered, her lip curling in derision. “I’m so sorry to have disturbed you.”

Abelas straightened, smoothing his cloak over the front of his armor. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he said, addressing Fen’harel.

The as yet silent elf raised a hand to silence another jab by Talitha. “It is no problem, Abelas,” he replied, “We are not in a rush.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Fen’harel began his face impassive, “the spy master was about to give me her report on the results of the investigation into Radavur and Varda Lavellan. I am interested to hear what you have found out in your own investigation.”

Talitha looked confused for just a moment before she turned it into a sly grin. “Ah, so the Commander was tasked with the interrogation, was he? And how did that go?”

“We will come to that,” Fen’harel interjected. “Let us hear the news out of Wycome first.”

Abelas was grateful for the opportunity to gather his thoughts on the matter before making an official statement. Especially since Talitha seemed eager to twist his words today, for whatever reason. The truth was, he found the Lavellan woman to be too much of a distraction, both mentally and physically, that he had quite deliberately pushed the entire matter out of his mind the better to focus on his responsibilities.

Talitha started with a drawn out sigh, as if it was all beneath her. “My agents infiltrated what was left of the Alienage in Wycome. Apparently, having a Dalish Keeper leading the city council has had an impact on the way the humans there view elves. Almost everyone who used to live in the Alienage have integrated into the general population of the city. Along with the Dalish clan, there are so many elves living freely there that our spies went unnoticed.

“It took a while to get close to anyone who knew the blacksmith’s family personally. They kept mostly to themselves. The daughter was something of a black sheep in the clan, so most people avoided them, except for some of the other craftsmen out of necessity.

“Not much was known about his late wife. Decades ago, she was found wandering in the wilderness and stark raving mad by all accounts. The clan took her in which is when the blacksmith met her. Around five years later, the daughter was born, and several years after that, there was another child. Most accounts agree it was another girl child.

“When the clan was still moving from place to place in the Free Marches,” she passed her hand over that part of the map, “there was an attack by humans who felt the elves were encroaching on their territory. Clan Lavellan lost rather a lot of people at that time, including the blacksmith’s wife and apparently their youngest child, although accounts vary about what happened to the child.

“As for any connection with the Inquisitor, not many people remembered Eléntari Lavellan as a child. ‘She spent time around every hearth, as all the children do’ as one of the elders we spoke to put it. The Dalish do not keep very good track of their children and seem to let them run wild with everyone taking a hand in raising them,” Talitha laughed derisively, clearly thinking she would do better, “but her family must have been killed in the same attack as the blacksmith’s wife, because after that, she was taken in by the Keeper and raised to be First.”

Fen’harel glanced sadly to the ground. “She never spoke about her family,” he said, so quietly that Talitha did not hear him, for she continued.

“There was no evidence of any correspondence between the former Inquisitor and anyone in the clan besides the Keeper, who has a habit of then sharing the contents of the letters with the rest of the members. The Dalish in general do not appear to be very good secret keepers amongst themselves.” Here she stopped and consulted her notes.

“In the two months since they’ve entered the camp, the blacksmith and his daughter have been under constant surveillance, as per your orders.” She nodded to the Dread Wolf. “They have not acted suspiciously or tried to send any messages to the outside world. They’ve been genuinely helpful to anyone who asks. And as you know, he has begun making armor and weapons to outfit your growing army. They do not set off any warnings to me,” she concluded.

Fen’harel was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Thank you for your report. You may cease the surveillance on them.” Then he turned to Abelas. “You spoke to them,” he said, “what was your impression?”

The spy master turned to him as well and gave him a smile like a cat that just got into the cream.

Abelas didn’t know what she was up to, but he suspected he wasn’t going to like it when he found out. He tried to ignore it and turned his attention back to their leader, clearing his throat. “I agree with Talitha’s assessment that they are not spies. Much of what they said corroborated the story that your agents brought back from Wycome.” He told them of his conversations with both Radavur and Varda, and expounded on the clan’s treatment of Varda and their reasons for leaving. “I feel that they can be trusted,” he said when he had finished.

Talitha laughed and started speaking again as soon as Abelas stopped. “I don’t know that the Commander can be trusted to be an impartial judge of character in this instance.” Her grin turned wicked as she sidled up to him. “The blacksmith’s daughter is a pretty thing, isn’t she? You seem rather taken with her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abelas said, coldly. He steadfastly did not meet her eyes as they bored into the side of his head.

Fen’harel’s brows rose in surprise and the corners of his mouth quirked up as he studied Abelas’ expression.

“Don’t you?” Talitha continued. “Some of my people saw you flexing your muscles for her a few weeks ago before entering her quarters. They say you were in there for quite some time.”

So that’s what she thought she knew. He was right, he didn’t like it.

“I was in her flet for barely five minutes,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Oh ho! So you admit it,” she crowed, “and that’s saying something about your performance, Commander. Only five minutes, shameful!” She giggled.

Abelas rounded on her, ready to refute her absurd claims, but Fen’harel raised a hand between them. “Stop bickering, you two,” he ordered sharply. “And there is no need to be crude.” He directed the last bit to Talitha.

She ducked her head contritely. “Apologies, Lord Fen’harel,” she mumbled.

“You will not bring it up again.” He pierced her with a glare. “You may leave. I would speak with Abelas alone.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said and fled into the crisp morning air.

When she had left, Fen’Harel resumed his study of Abelas. “Is there any truth to her claims?”

“Of course not,” he said, a little too quickly.

The Dread Wolf raised an eyebrow.

Abelas pressed his mouth into a thin line. This was not the conversation he wanted to have this morning. He exhaled in a heavy sigh and elaborated, “She needed help carrying something and I offered. Nothing happened like what Talitha was implying.”

Fen’harel waved his hand dismissively. “I did not think it had. But that part is none of my business nor is it to what I was referring.”

Abelas creased his brow in confusion. “What then?”

“Are you interested in Varda Lavellan?”

Abelas was going to deny it immediately, but then he hesitated. Why exactly was he so adamant in eluding her around camp this last month? He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again to gather his thoughts. “She,” he swallowed, “she affects me. In a way that I cannot deny is intriguing. But it is most distracting, and I will not let it divert me from my duties. For that reason I have been avoiding her.”

Fen’harel gave him a knowing smile but his eyes held a depth of sorrow that Abelas understood all too well. “Then you are a stronger man than I,” he said simply and turned to look at the map on the table.

“Tarlen?” Abelas asked surprised at the familiarity with which the statement had been delivered.

Fen’harel sighed. “I do wish you would call me Solas, at least when private matters are being discussed.”

Abelas stopped short at that. It wasn’t the first time it had been asked of him, but he hadn’t truly given much thought to the previous request. This particular line of questioning, however, made him reconsider. “Very well.”

“Thank you,” Fen’harel – no, Solas said, still wearing that sad smile. “I will not get into the details of my personal affairs, although we both know of my lapse in restraint regarding another of the Lavellan women. They do seem to have an effect on old soldiers like us, do they not? There would be no harm in a momentary personal diversion, it might even be good for your morale, as long as you do not allow it to keep you from your obligations, of course.”

Abelas smiled grimly, “I do not know if that would be wise. Was there another reason you wanted to speak with me?”

“Returning to the business at hand then,” Solas perused the map again, his fingers skimming over some of the eastern most islands. “Before you arrived, Talitha said word had reached her of the location of an artifact that is vital to my plans. I leave tonight for Llomerynn. And as always, I leave you and the other generals in charge.”

“Yes, of course,” Abelas responded, unsurprised by the suddenness of the unplanned trip. The Dread Wolf rarely stayed with his army for long periods of time, only checking in several times a year. The increased rate that the ancient artifacts were being uncovered, however, necessitated more frequent stays from him. “I will continue the training of the troops and look over the welfare of our people as I always do.”

“I have no doubt in your ability.” And then, strangely, he clapped Abelas on the shoulder. “But at the same time, I both admire and worry about your complete devotion to duty. All of your other Sentinels seem to have found some kind of recreational outlet to aid them in returning to everyday life. Not you.”

Abelas shifted his feet and looked away from those searching eyes. “Are we still speaking of this, Solas?”

Fen’harel, to his credit, had the decency to look apologetic. “It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. I will not speak of it again. That is all.”

Abelas left the tent with a bow and went about the rest of his day, but he had much more to think over than when it had started.

****************

His shift on watch passed uneventfully. The area of the perimeter that he patrolled, the outskirts of the western side of the camp and the Eluvian clearing, was dark and quiet all night. Except for just after nightfall when the mirror lit up as Fen’harel approached it with a small entourage at his back. Abelas silently watched from just outside the tree line as the Dread Wolf gave the rest of his advisors some last minute instructions before turning to the mirror. The reflected gleam of the Eluvian’s light on Abelas’ armor must have caught his eye because he gave Abelas one final nod, and then stepped through and was gone.  

Abelas went back to his post, sometimes walking the perimeter, sometimes sitting in a tall tree where he could see and hear the entire area. It was peaceful and quiet in the camp after the fires burned low and everyone retired to their tents, something he only got to see in these rare moments.

He spent the time thinking over the conversation in the Command Tent that day. Of course he had found outlets for himself. Ways for him to just be him, alone. But he supposed that because they were solitary activities, no one else would know about them. All they would see was the soldier, the general. And true, the hobbies he had picked up were the quiet sort that old men enjoyed in their twilight years. Not the boisterousness of a man in his prime. He contemplated which way he truly felt. And that turned his mind to the one thing boisterous young men were particularly known for.  

Making the decision to stop avoiding Varda Lavellan was an easy one, he was already putting too much energy into it as it was. Since she could usually be found in the smithy with her father, it was difficult for Abelas to inspect and approve of the new armor being made if he did not go to see it. It would certainly take some of the pressure off of the already taxed messengers if he just went in person.

But he also decided not to encourage the flirtation that kept happening between them. And he absolutely was not going to touch her again, that would destroy all of his efforts and he would have to start back at square one. He was not the kind of man to be ruled by his desires, he assured himself.

He thought of his friend Souren as well. After Souren’s wounds had healed and he was cleared to return to active duty, he and Adhlea had left almost immediately to escort another recruiting party. Abelas was not sure if Souren was serious in his regard for Varda, but being away from her as he was would either diminish his interest or double it. Abelas would be sure to ask him how he felt when he returned.

But that made it sound like Abelas was interested in pursuing something with Varda, which he steadfastly was not, so he pushed the whole matter from his mind. For several minutes. Until the image of her green eyes sparkling with mirth surfaced in his thoughts. And all his assurances to himself flew out the proverbial window.

He told himself he would not seek her out later after he got some sleep, and that lie got him through the rest of his watch.

It grew colder as the night progressed, the freeze growing deeper by the hour. By the time another guard came to relieve him an hour before dawn, he had had to refresh the spell warming his body three times and was growing more perturbed by the strangeness of the weather.

His footsteps crunched quietly in the frost coated grass as he slipped through the still sleeping camp and into his tent. When he emerged again a few moments later into the misty predawn light, he had changed out of his armor into some of the few ordinary clothes he owned. They were woolen and warm, that being all he cared about at the moment. He fastened his fur-lined cloak around his neck again, raised the hood, and with his fishing pole and bucket in hand, made his way south to the stream that flowed just outside camp.

He was not surprised to find his favorite fishing hole was covered in a layer of ice. Hoping the cold water wouldn’t ruin his chances of catching his dinner for that evening, he placed his hand flat on the ice and sent waves of heat out from his palm. Once he had melted a large enough hole, he dropped his line into the water and sat back on a rock, one of many that jutted out at the edge of the stream and made a perfect seat.

He had a free morning as usual after his overnight shift, so he would sit here pulling on energy from the Fade to keep him alert until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Then he would go get some sleep until one of his lieutenants woke him up at midday to plan troop movements or practice battle strategy or whatever it was going to be today. He’d rather not think of it yet.

He relaxed into his rocky seat and let his mind go blissfully blank for once. He watched the mist swirl around the trees, he watched a fish start to lazily circle his line, and he sat still and thought of nothing. It was beautiful. The light of day began to grow.

And then a twig snapped in the woods on the other side of the stream. And then another one. And another.

He was instantly fully alert, but he remained as still as death. He looked down, moving just his eyes, and saw that the fish had swam away. The sharp snaps continued steadily as they drew nearer. He waited with baited breath to see who or what was coming toward him in the icy fog. It was either something large or someone wholly unfamiliar in woodcraft, probably human or Qunari; no elf would make that much racket walking through a forest. He had no weapons on him. Where was the scout patrolling this section of the perimeter?

A figure appeared under the hanging branches of the willow tree across from him, still obscured by the mist. They were slight, no horns, and had a large bundle strapped to their back. He watched in confusion as they took a swaying willow branch in hand, reached up as high as they could, and broke it off with a snap. They continued in this fashion moving closer to him all the while, until he could make out a hint of bright red hair swaying around curving hips, and he relaxed.

It was Varda Lavellan, collecting willow and reed and vine in the tall basket on her back. They stuck out like crude arrows in an ungainly quiver. She hadn’t seen him, she seemed completely oblivious to anything other than her task, so he continued to watch her inconspicuously.

The chilled breeze brought rosy color to her nose and high cheeks, nearly concealing her freckles and making a stark contrast with her otherwise pale complexion. Her jade eyes were bright, focused on her work. Her slender fingers were deft and sure as they measured the perfect length at which to break the switches. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He shifted, just enough to catch her attention, trying not to startle her. He miscalculated. She swiveled to face him with a loud gasp, her hands flying to cover her mouth. When she recognized him, she let out her breath in a relieved puff of steam, placing a palm over her heart. “Abelas, you startled me.” Her voice was the barest sigh of a whisper.

“You should pay better attention to your surroundings,” he scolded. “I could have killed you.” Her eyes widened in shock at that. “Had I been so inclined,” he amended. “Or I could have been an enemy.”

Her expression grew serious and her eyes shifted back to the branches in front of her. “Yes, of course,” she said, still quiet, “of course, you’re right. I’ve grown to feel safe here, that I forget we are at war.”

“Not yet and not here,” he said soberly.

She raised her eyes to his again. “Let’s hope not.” She snapped off another branch. “What are you doing out so early?”

“Fishing, but you scared all the fish away.”

“Oh I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, but when she saw the upturn of his lips she relaxed and returned the smile. She considered the weight of the burden on her back. “I’m collecting basket-making materials. It’s easiest to break them off when it’s cold like this, so I thought I would take advantage while it lasts. But I suppose I have enough. I’ll leave you alone to get back to it.” She turned to head back to her grove, which he only just realized was a stone’s throw to his left.

He did not have much time to lament her going. She quickly reconsidered, perhaps feeling his eyes on the back of her head because she turned back before she got too far. She walked up to the rock he sat on, meeting his gaze. “May I join you? I promise not to scare anymore fish.”

He shrugged noncommittally and watched as she searched the area beside his rock for a place to sit. She found another rock a little back from the edge of the stream to be acceptable. When she was comfortable, she removed the basket from her back and, producing a knife from her belt, began stripping the bark from the willow switches.

They sat in silence for some time, the only sound between them the quick slices of her blade and the gentle ripping of bark. He went back to watching his line and saw that the fish had returned. Now he just had to see if it would bite.

Varda waited until he reeled it in and put it in the bucket at his feet before she spoke again. “I wanted to apologize for the last time we spoke,” she started, keeping her eyes on her fingers. “My mouth has a tendency to get me into trouble. What I said was inappropriate. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You did not make me uncomfortable. Think nothing of it.” Which was true. The only thing he had felt at her suggestion that dinner would earn him time in her bed had been want. Intense and demanding want.

Talking to her father after she had put him in such a state had made him uncomfortable, but that was not her fault. And she certainly did not need to know about it.

“Okay, good,” she responded, not meeting his eyes. “I thought that since you seemed to be avoiding me that you were angry with me.”

So she had noticed. He shook his head, smoothing his brow and making sure his expression gave nothing away. “No, I am not angry and I have not been avoiding you. My duties take up much of my time. I have been training new recruits.” He cast his line again. “But you will be seeing much of me in the coming weeks with the increased production at the smithy. I will need to inspect everything.”

“Oh, that’s good, then,” she said, still pensive. She paused to scrutinize a particularly stubborn patch of bark. Abelas turned his head to watch her. She spun to him suddenly, her eyes widening when she found him looking at her. He did not look away. “Because I’d like for us to be friends,” she declared. She must have lost her nerve then because she added timidly, “If that is agreeable to you.”

He felt a smile rising on his face and he nodded. “I would like that.”

They held each other’s gaze for an extended moment. Until her eyes shifted to the side and she chuckled. “I think you have another bite.”

His attention jumped back to his line and he soon had another fish in the bucket. They both returned to their tasks, but this time the silence between them was comfortable and relaxed. He glanced at her once and found that she had a pleasant grin on her lips and in her eyes. And he couldn’t help but grin too.

He thought about telling her the results of the investigation and that she was cleared of suspicion. He thought about telling her he knew what had happened to her mother. But he decided against it. He felt she might not like him knowing more about her past than what she was ready to tell him.

The sun rose above the horizon. The frost started to melt. He caught one more fish and found that he could not suppress his yawn any longer. She had stripped all of her willow branches by then and was starting to twist them into thick skeins of whicker. She looked up though when she heard him yawn.

“I was on watch all night,” he explained. His eyelids were getting heavier and he was sure he looked fairly haggard. I should head back, he thought, I have caught more than enough for dinner. And then he had to stifle another yawn.

It seemed to signal the end of their break because she began packing all of her materials back into her basket. “You should take better care of yourself,” she said. “Take the time to rest properly.”

He stood, wrapping the line around his pole. “I am fine.” He bent and picked up his bucket of fish.

“I’m sure you are, but you shouldn’t run yourself ragged.” Her brow furrowed and she peered at him piercingly as if she could see all the areas in his life where he had been careless.

She really was worried for him. How strange. He could not remember the last time someone had cause to show any real concern for his wellbeing. His heart welled up at the thought.

She stepped closer to him, holding out a hand, “May I help you carry something?”

He huffed a small chuckle, “Your concern is sweet, but I can manage.”

“If you’re sure.” She looked doubtful but she lowered her hand. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

His gaze grew soft. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”

She smiled with her lips pressed tightly together, as if she wanted to say something more on the matter, but all she did was nod.

“Until later, Varda.”

“Get some sleep, Abelas.”

They turned away at the same time, walking in their separate directions. When he thought it would be safe, he looked back, hoping to watch her discreetly. She was already watching him. Their eyes met across the distance. She waved bashfully. Then she turned and continued on her way.

As he watched her until the trees concealed her from view, he congratulated himself on the success of a strictly platonic, friendly conversation with her. There was no need to be afraid he would act recklessly and try to pursue her.

Who was he kidding? Well, at least he hadn’t touched her.  

#fanfic #fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #abelas fanfiction #my writing #abelas #abelas x lavellan #scheduled post

[yawninginf]

Fade: Childish Ch.1

Summary of series: Wind feels he doesn’t fit in because of his age. He just needs an oportunity to prove his worth to the others, and himself.

Notes: Look at that I wrote a second fanfic! I’m sorry it’s not the sequel ti Instict cause I just couldn’t get it flow. Let’s just hope I manage finish this series. Expect grammar/vocabulary mistakes cause English is not my native language, typoes etc. If you bother to read this and spot a mistake while doing so, please correct me.

Warnings: blood description, death (but not death), very little minor angst

Universe by @linkeduniverse

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Wind is upset.

He feels burried under a ton of worries, questions troubling his mind and lots, lots of anger. He can’t seem to stay still. He wanders around the camp, picking up random rocks and throwing them into the campfire that is slowly turning small branches as well as large pieces of wood into ashes.

He prefers not to look at Hyrule, or his glare will fall onto the head wound he carries and is still pulsing pain into him because of Wind.

The injured hero is sitting on a fallen tree log covered in wild mushrooms and dark moss, surrounded by plenty of ancient, towering oak trees. A bandage stained with mud is poorly wrapped around his scalp and the dried blood makes his tuffs of hair glue together in an unpleasant way. His hairstyle is messy, there are hairs dyed red from the blood that has fallen onto them and mixed with dirt and dust. His expression gives out the rough day he’s been through, but that doesn’t stop a faint smile from forming on his face when he sees the youngest hero.

Wind sighs in annoyance, trying to get away from the guilt and nausea stiring up his stomach. It isn’t his fault the rest of the group always assumes he needs to be pampered.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

“Wind watch out!” An ambush. Nothing more than a few bokoblins and even less moblins. Piece of cake. It should hage been. “I’m fine-I’m fine I swear!” Wind is in the middle of a bokoblin gang, three or four of them staring aggressively at him and softly but threateningly tapping their wooden clubs on the back of their ugly hands. Wind doesn’t wait for them to strike.

He sprints towards the biggest of them who seems to be their chief and lets out a loud clear battlecry. With his increased speed he raises his sword and is ready to stab the flesh of the vicious creature but it turns to the side just before the fatal strike lands at it’s target. Wind stumbles upon the gap in front of him and uses all of his strengh to keep his balance, dangerously leaning to the front. He is about to sigh in relief when he hears the floppy footsteps of the creatures a breath away from him. A raised bokoclub, he turns to try and reflect the hit but he knows he can’t manage on time.

Hyrule is nearby. He doesn’t hesitate to try and protect his younger friend. He runs, not being aware of his surrounding, not hearing Wind’s unfinished protest against his action. Time stops as he falls to the ground, drifting a scared Wind below him.

The bokoblin lowers it’s weapon and it’s mark is now Hyrule’s head. It goes down with a hollow thud and red blood starts to ooze from the wound.

Hyrule feels dizzy. The world beside him starts to shake and he can’t keep his eyes open. He feels stinging pain pulsing from the side of his head and a sudden heat has taken over the upper side of his body. His lips are trembling and when his look falls on the scratched but unharmed Wind, he fades away, closing his eyes.

“Please….I won’t forgive you if you die on me” a whisper and Wind’s terrified, panicked face meets with his injured friend’s. He doesn’t have time to care for the injury since the monsters are still threatening their lives. He turns his head up and realises with terror that he has lost his sword.

Warriors is the nearest to them and as Wind sends his glare up to him, he is already pulling his blade out of the dead body of the last bokoblin. Everyone pays their attention to the badly injured Hyrule quietly sleeping on Wind’s lap. Blood is everywhere; on Hyrule’s hair, on Wind’s clothes, even on the ground and the club that did the damage.

“QUICK!…..HELP HIM!” shouts Wind with a cracked voice and immidiately looks down at his friend, then at the vast amount of blood on his hands, feeling terror and a glimpse of disgust at the same time.

Warriors kneels down by them and checks Hyrule’s pulse, the rest of the heroes running towards them, showered in worry. “Is he…” Legend says with a low tone, afraid to let out the words.

“No. But he will if we don’t get him a red potion right now. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

Sky rummages through their stuff and relievingly takes out a glass bottle with a red liquid inside. It has something…magical in it and you can tell by giving it a simple look. You can’t explain it. As you watch the liquid flow in harmonic circles inside the bottle, form assymetrical waves and move like a dancing fairy, a creature made by pure magic, ready to take away all of your pain. Observing it feels like the soft soothing by a mother to her child, it’s gentle movements wash away every worry, they relax every tense muscle of your body.

Hand by hand the bottle is passed down Time’s grasp and with the help of Four he pours the healing potion into the limb mouth of the fallen hero. He subconsiously gulps it down his throat and his breathing immidiately becomes easier.

He mumbles something like an ancient saying in his sleep, then suddenly opens his eyes wide and stares at Wild. His eyes become slits from the pain as his palm touches his wound. He makes an effort to get up and before he can collapse to his knees, Wind pusses him up from his armpits and along with Sky they support his weight until he is ready to count on his own legs. “I’m okay” he says “I just need to wash the blood off, and a bandage…”

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Wind ignores the gesture politely ment for him because the back of his mind is always returning to the morning battle. He sould have been quicker. And they should have let him take the blow. Why was acceptable for Hyrule to be injured and not for Wind? “Like I haven’t been hurt before” he murmurs under his breath and soon the cook of the group catches his attention.

Wind watches as Wild makes their lunch, a soup made of garlic, boar meat, carrots and….other ingredients he isn’t able to identify. He looks so absorbed into what he’s doing, and the way he lovingly stirs the soup in the pot gives out his passion for cooking. This is the only time his characteristics seem to be relaxed and his muscles not tense. He expertly knows exactly what to add in the pot, when, how and the right amound of it. After a while Wild notices the young pirate’s soft glare pinned on him. He feels confused for just a second, then gifts Wind with an akward, yet pure smile, coming right from the depths of his finally calm soul.

The pirate continues walking around the place their camp is set. On the corner of his eye he can spot Time and Twilight practicing with their swords further at the nearby glade, showered by the light of the midday sun.

A peacefull feeling, able to break into the hearts of the coldest soldiers. A gentle breeze softly moves the leaves to the direction of the dense forest, all tints of green mixing together in a feast of nature. Bright and long grass turns golden under the sunrays randomly falling onto the petals of the prettiest flowers one has ever seen. They say an image is worth a thousand words. A pity Wind doesn’t care for words at this moment. He lets the two related heroes bond together without being interrupted and walks away, taking his moody disposition with him.

Every occasion the other heroes had shown their disbelief that he can manage what they can, comes to his mind as a blury memory, for his brain has found the perfect time to mess with him and play games. He can’t control it.

He tries to get his attention elsewhere–ah, Four is just coming back from the deep of the forest, carying a bunch of cut tree branches that will be used to keep the campfire lit for Wild to cook.

The weather surrounding their camp may be all nice and lovely, but their destination is covered in thick fog and dark mist, so they aren’t moving forward yet.

Four is struggling under the weight of the wood on his hands and is tilting right and left while he’s walking, as if he is about to fall every second.

Wind’s eye shines, the thought of being helpfull washes his pondering away. He starts walking towards the shortest hero, eager to help as he can. He is cut midways by a running Sky that offers a helping hand to Four. “No thank you-I-I don’t need help but it’s kind of y–” he trips over an anomaly on the ground and the hero of the sky grabs him on time to not fall face flat on the dirt.

Unfortunately or not, the branches he was carrying don’t avoid that fate and slip off his hold with a loud thud. As Four turns to face a bright-smiled-Sky and thank him, Wind is brought back to his misery.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

“We need more wood to last us until we start venturing again” Time announces, “any volunteers?” Wind felt more excited than ever to bring the resources back to the camp. He raised his hand up, feeling restless as he put his weight on one foot then the other playfully, imperceptibly hopping from his desire to make himself usefull.

Time looks around in unsatisfactory. Everyone has an excuse to not take the task and so far Wind is the only one available, his eyes faintly screaming “me, me!”. Time sighs and is about to announce Wind the responsibility of the chore when Four puts himself in. “Wind can keep his rest. I’m sure he is tired from the fight.”

“But I–”

“It’s okay, I’ll go. I don’t have anything important to do either way.”

Wind crosses his arms and huffs in annoyance. His breath blowing out of his mouth drifts some of his bang hairs out of the way but they come back at their original place right after.

He accepted it. Partially. Although now, it all makes sense to him. In the back of his head, he always has a suspicion that the others find him too young and a fear that, maybe, they’re right. Now he considers it’s all clear. But he will prove them wrong eventually.

“Right?”

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Dawn. Everyone is gathered around the campfire, its light seemingly becoming brighter as the colours of the sky begin to fade, taking their last form before nightfall. The majority of the clouds are dyed in a breathtaking way by the setting sun; shades of pink, like the petals of a young rose, darker in some parts and even velvet red in others. The whole sky has surrendered its light blue colour to an orange tint that makes you feel as if you were living inside a dream you wish you wouldn’t wake up from. It feels like observing the life of another being from a far away realm, like dwelling on a parallel universe.

“Technically, we are” Wind points out to himself in an imaginary, sarcastic tone and he feels nausious out of a sudden. He feels moving in all directions, as in a mysterious dance that shakes every bit of his existence. Glaring at a wide eyed Warriors swallowing earlier than he should have done, at Wild tripping over nothing and his bangs moving like choochoo jelly when he manages to get up, at Four as the sword he was inspecting slips through his hands, at Legend cursing under his cut by the seizures breath, at Sky supporting his body by pushing his belly and looking ready to throw up any moment now, at Time and Twilight sending looks of agreement to eachother, he knows he is not losing his mind. It is shaking, just not in the way an earthquake would. Not in the way the sea would move his ship, had it wanted to shake the life out of every member of his crew. No, the place around them still seems as peacefull as a graveyard near the time the sun should start its journey to the top of the morning sky.

They’re changing worlds.

Again.

The beautiful view of the sunset changes to that of the pitch dark, starless night, earlier than it should have, the colours fade more quickly than normal. The trees fall even though they are still proudly standing skyward, the ground is on fire even though the grass and wildflowers remain unharmed.

And suddenly, it starts to rain. Peacefull are the salty droplets, they follow gently one another until they reach their landing spot and meet with falling petals of the blooming nature that were lifted to the sky by the whole process. Wind looks around in surprise. His mouth opens widely, slowly, without being ordered to, as he realises they are still at the same Hyrule. He directs his head to the others and their expression is as troubled and surprised as he feels. “Is it over yet?” the younger hero thinks and a tint of hope brightens his eyes.

He of all people should have known.

It’s calm before the storm.

There’s a fallen tree log covered by various mushrooms, a lot of them could kill you if you attempted to make them your next and presumably last meal. They all subconsiously look at it like they have just witnessed the destruction of the most precious treasure to be guarded in the deepest and most secure place in all of Hyrule.

And just when their eyes are settled on the log, it happens. The sky seems to tear open in a deafening sound not easy to be defined and starts to pour all the mass of water Wind’s Hyrule would offer for the fish to live and the sailors to travel.

Thunder strikes right on the tallest tree in the whole forest, cracking it open just as an apple would be torn in two pieces after you cut it with a decent knife. The Links all flinch back at the sight and their shocked gasps can be heard echoing all over the place.

Wind tries to gulp his fear away but he just can’t escape the panic forming on his face, he can’t slow down his ever increasing heartbeat. With his eyes he searches for a way out of the storm, a way to stop the shivers running down his spine.

Another sharp lightning tears the sky. It doesn’t fade in the horizon, it travels all the way to the more and more unstable ground, it lands a breath away from a hyperventilating Wind and the sock makes the pirate fall to the earth.

“WIND!” He hears a worried cry from one of his friends, he is too afraid and shocked to find who the voice belongs to.

The youngest hero crawls a few steps back and with panic he turns his head, realising the others are slowly turning into dust. Wild is layed on the ground, his hands reaching out and slowly vanishing and leaving a hole where they should have been. Twilight is kneeling beside him, staring at his trembling fingers, slowly turning into dust soon to be caried away with the raging gusts of the wind.

Four glares at the little left of him, his arms and legs are gone, his torso starts decaying as well, the spots his parts once started are covered in mist and dust, spreading all over his body like an infection. He looks up to Hyrule running towards him. His eyes have nothing left of the courageous hero he thought he was.

“FOUR!!” Hyrule screams in despair watching as the last bit of his friend’s existence fades away. “No…no no no, NO!” This can’t be happening. Not to them, not now, not so quickly.

He looks around. Time is now starting to go through the process. Twilight is gone. Wild, Four, gone. Wind is still on the ground when finally he gets up seeking for help and decides that Warriors’ protective arms are the closest to safety.

Wind is sobbing now, not because he is afraid to go, he is just afraid to let go of his new friends, his family.

“Why..?”

The rest?

They fade too.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

The pirate feels like falling.

He is falling and he lands hard as well.

He looks around him. He sees the others. They have some bruises and scratches and most are rubbing their head.

“Are we…dead?” He mutters seemingly confused and scared.

Wouldn’t they not feel pain if they were dead though?

“I–I don’t think so.” Twilight replies.

Wind stays silent and makes an effort to get up. He shoves the dirt off his pants ignoring the stinging he feels from the various scratches all over his body.

Just like everyone else, the youngest hero looks around in awe and tangled emotions. They haven’t died, they have just moved to another world. Nobody seems to recognise this place and address it as his Hyrule. It doesn’t feel like Hyrule at all. The trees are few and odd, they look like none the heroes have ever seen, or every one of the species combined.

The Links are trying their best to understand what has just happened, without success. Whispers and theories are exchanged but the pieces do not seem to stick together.

“Anyhow, wherever we are at the moment, we can’t be assured that the inhabitants are not hostile nor that there aren’t monsters lurking in the corners of this world.” Time lectured, implying they should not be caught off guard. At the sound of the eldest’s voice, everyone stood quiet.

“Now, check your stuff and what we lack. Cherish your wounds and ready yourselves; we have some exploring to do.”

#the legend of zelda #loz fanfic #fanfiction #linked universe fanfic #hero of warriors #hero of winds #hero of twilight #hero of time #hero of the wild #wind waker #spirit tracks #phantom hourglass #my writing #Eri writes #loz breath of the wild #breath of the wild #ocarina of time #linked universe #twilight princess #hyrule warriors #majora's mask #bokoblin #loz botw #loz link #loz #legend of zelda #hero of courage #hero of legend #hero of four sword #minish cap

[kagehinataboke]

if you’re still taking kiss prompts can you do todobaku a kiss out of spite or envy with jealous bakugou? Ur writing is amazing btw thank u for blessing us with quality tdbk food 🙏🙏🙏

aww thank you dear uwu, i’m more than happy to provide y’all with that good fucking food 💯👏🏻

we have todobaku: a kiss… [46/47] out of envy/jealousy and spite

hope you enjoy it hon c: i put a lot into this one just for you hungry tdbk fans (^.-)~

*

Bakugou doesn’t usually like to spend weekends at U.A., but his parents are out of town this month and he’s being forced to remain in the dorms. That would be completely fine—if fucking shitty Deku and Icy Hot weren’t there, too. Todoroki apparently stays every weekend, which isn’t surprising given his fuckface of a dad. But Deku is staying to keep him company, and it pisses Bakugou off an unusual amount.

He’s sitting in the commons trying to stretch, and those two dunbfucks keep making noise from the kitchen. Whatever the fuck they’re doing, every giggle from Deku sets Bakugou further over the edge. Why did that nerd have to stick around? If it was just the two of them, he could—

Bakugou stiffens and cuts off the thought, nearly popping his knee out of place when he straightens it too quickly. Shit. Could what? What would he want to do if they were alone?

Fuck, what the hell is this gross feeling? He’s not jealous… He could never be jealous of Deku. But if that’s really the case, why is his chest so tight? His forehead twitches every time he hears another crash from the kitchen—and maybe that’s because he wants to be the one out there. How can Deku talk to Todoroki so effortlessly, he stews over. How does he do it?

There’s one more (especially loud) crash, and Bakugou grits his teeth. That’s it: he can’t put up with this shit anymore. Midoriya has a damn house and an awesome family and can get the fuck out.

“What the fuck are you two doing?!” Bakugou yells, storming into the kitchen on the warpath. The metaphor is fitting, because it looks like a flour bomb has gone off: it’s fucking everywhere, floor to ceiling, and even in Todoroki’s hair. The two morons both look up like wild animals caught digging through garbage, Deku holding a flattened flour bag in one hand.

“We… we were just trying to get the flour,” he supplies quietly, flinching when Bakugou snatches the crumpled bag and throws it in the garbage. “Um… Sorry, Kacchan…”

“Shut the fuck up and go home already,” Bakugou orders, retrieving a broom. “I’m going to clean this up.”

“You can’t just kick me out—“

Bakugou silences him with a glare. “Now, Deku.”

Deku gives in surprisingly quickly, murmuring a muted apology to Todoroki before leaving the kitchen, trailing flour across the floor. Bakugou starts sweeping, but it’ll take years to clean everything up. The flour has seeped into every crevice in the entire kitchen. How the fuck did they even do this?

“I’m sorry,” Todoroki says after a moment of loaded silence, lingering behind him. “I’ll help you.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou grumbles. He tries to step past him to get the dustpan, but Todoroki grabs him by the wrist and presses his back against the counter. “Get off me, dammit. The flour—“

“What’s wrong with you?” Todoroki interrupts, staring so intently at him that it’s unnerving. “What was that about?”

It’s hard to think when he’s being cornered, so Bakugou reverses their positions to make himself feel better. “As if you don’t know, fucking up the kitchen and making so much noise and being so casual with—“ He cuts himself off in the nick of time, releasing Todoroki’s wrist to grab the dustpan from behind him with a click of the tongue. “Whatever. Just back off.”

The fight isn’t over: Todoroki grabs him again, the dustpan clattering to the floor. Bakugou tussles with him before losing his balance on the slippery floor. They both go down, sending a mushroom cloud of flour into the air.

“Get off me!” Bakugou growls, trying to push Todoroki’s weight off his chest. He won’t budge an inch.

“I won’t move until you talk to me,” he insists, expression annoyingly earnest. “You had no reason to treat Midoriya like that, and—“

Bakugou growls in frustration and roughly throws him off, sending up another cloud of four. He pins Todoroki in the midst of the white mess, coughing it out of his lungs. “Don’t. You really want me to fucking say it? I don’t like that shitty nerd hanging around.”

“I don’t understand.” Todoroki blows floury hair out of his face, holding onto Bakugou’s wrists where he’s grabbing him. “Are you—“

“Stop.” Bakugou is forced to release one of Todoroki’s arms in order to cover his mouth. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear anything else from you—“ Todoroki licks his hand and Bakugou shrieks, yanking it away quickly. “Ew, what the fuck—“

“Got you.” Todoroki hits his elbow, knocking him off balance and once again reversing their positions. The back-and-forth is growing old. “I can’t read your mind, Bakugou. Tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles, stubbornly averting his eyes. “Fuck, there’s fucking flour everywhere. Move.”

“Talk,” Todoroki demands. “I won’t move until you—“

Bakugou knees him in the chest mid-sentence, scrambling across the floor to get away. Recovering quickly, Todoroki grabs his ankle and drags him backward. He yelps when Bakugou kicks off his hand, but he uses his quirk to make the floor icy, slipping him when he tries to get up. “Really? Are you fucking crazy?! Let go!”

“You never talk to me, so why are you acting jealous?” The words shock Bakugou into stillness, and Todoroki seizes the chance to pin him down again. “What, do you like Midoriya?”

“That shitty bastard? I’ll fucking kill you.” Bakugou closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at him, struggling to hold back the explosion of feelings he wants to let out. He’s held them back for too long to give in now. “Why can’t you mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?”

Todoroki ignores him again. “If you don’t like Midoriya, that logically means it’s me. You like—“

“Shut up!” The bomb goes off, and Bakugou surges up to wrestle Todoroki to the ground. They’ve almost cleared the flour away with how many times they’ve disturbed it. Unfortunately, Bakugou can’t stop the flow of words pouring out of his mouth. “So I fucking like you, is that what I should say? Seeing you with Deku pisses me off. Seeing you with others pisses me off. I like you but I can’t even talk to you. Is that what you want to hear, huh?!”

Todoroki stares at him in startled silence, but Bakugou’s blood is still boiling with spite and frustration. His grip on Todoroki’s wrists tightens, trying to talk himself out of it even as he kisses him. He tastes like flour, and Bakugou feels like he has to sneeze because of it, but it’s impossible to stop. Anger and jealousy and hate and so many other things are mixing in his chest and exploding across his tongue—and then Todoroki’s.

Fuck. No, this is bad. He’s been holding back his feelings for so long, and all it takes is one loaded look to break him. He can’t let his emotions boil over so easily…

Bakugou forces himself to pull away, leaving Todoroki gasping and both of them coughing out lungfuls of flour. “Fuck,” he says under his breath, wiping a mix of saliva and flour from his lips. “Shit. Pretend… pretend that didn’t happen.” He feels his heart stop when he notices the blush creeping up Todoroki’s neck. “It didn’t happen! Shit.”

“Are you kidding?” Todoroki’s face splits into a smile that absolutely kills Bakugou’s rationality. He’s never seen it before, and fuck, if it isn’t breathtaking. “You should get jealous more often. That was… whoa.”

“We just assaulted each other in a kitchen, we’re fucking covered in flour,” Bakugou mutters, “and you choose the words ‘that was whoa’?” He can’t help but snort. “You’re not as cool as everyone thinks.”

“But you like me.” Todoroki’s stupid smile makes Bakugou want to die. Why is he revealing it now, of all times? How unfair. “You like me.“

“Obviously: I wouldn’t kiss someone I didn’t like, you dipshit.” Bakugou sighs and collapses, admitting defeat. His feelings are being accepted: he isn’t being pushed away. Todoroki is holding onto his arms and smiling and it’s making his head spin. What kind of sappy rom-com shit is this—and why does he like it so damn much?

“Yeah, okay,” Bakugou murmurs eventually, pushing himself up to lock eyes with Todoroki again. It feels liberating to finally be able to say what he’s been holding back for so long. “I like you. I really like you.”

#the boys wrestling in flour is my new aesthetic #shit #good food for the tdbk soul #todobaku #bakutodo #tdbk #bnha #answered asks #kiss prompts #my writing #long post

[rhnuzlocke]

Chapter Five: No Spare Parts

Ren and Panahi battled a trainer and her Zigzagoon on a grassy knoll overlooking a little seaside village. The Zigzagoon charged, and Panahi hit it in the face with Water Gun. It teetered, dizzy, and collapsed.

“Nice shot, Panahi!”

“Why, thank you!”

The trainer recalled her pokemon. “Nice battle. That is some Wingull.”

“Thanks!” Panahi flew to Ren’s shoulder as the trainer waved and went on her way. “You see that? She said you were a good battler.”

Panahi shuffled her wings primly. “I never said I wasn’t.”

Ren did not get to tease her any further as they were interrupted by a loud chirp from the lone tree sitting atop the hill. There was a Common Taillow with a bright splash of red across its face and breast sitting on one of the branches. It called out to Panahi and Ren again, gesturing with its wings.

“She saw us win that match and she wants to battle,” Panahi translated, then narrowed her eyes and clacked her beak irritably. “She also says she’ll join your team if we can beat her.”

And why did you accept her challenge?  

“I figured she must have wanted a trainer really badly. And I thought I could at least give her enough practice to help her impress someone. You know, because I’m a fool.”

“Well, how about it, Ahi?”

“Sure thing, Honey. I think I can take a Taillow, even a cocky one.”

“Alright, open with a Water Gun. Soak her wings!”

Panahi took to the air, and the Taillow followed a second later. Panahi shot off a stream of water as the Taillow arrowed towards her. But before it landed, the Taillow opened her mouth wide, and huge wave of concussive sound burst forth. The Water Gun fell apart, and the sound wave collided with Panahi like a wall. She reeled backward through the air before her wings crumpled and she plummeted. Ren ran forward and caught her.

“Houou no niji! Are you okay, Ahi?”

Panahi groaned and Ren withdrew her. The Taillow landed back on her perch and waited, eyes glinting in anticipation.

“Akahana, are you up for this?” The Poochyena nodded grimly and stalked forward, legs stiff and hackles bristling. “You won’t be able to take more than one hit from her, so you have to make yours count. Wait for her to dive and use Thunder Fang.”

The Taillow swooped down, and Akahana leapt to the side as the Taillow released another Boomburst. Akahana was knocked sideways—a glancing blow—but she rolled and sprung back to her paws in one fluid motion. The Taillow flapped a few times in surprised before banking sharply to come in for another pass, diving lower this time. Akahana coiled, sparks leaking from her jaws. The Taillow waited until she was very close before opening its mouth to fire.

“NOW!” Ren cried.

Akahana sprang into the air, and the sound wave ruffled her fur as it passed beneath her. She rolled forward, catching the Taillow’s tail in her teeth, and there was a bright flash as she discharged. The Taillow jerked violently backward, and its back hit the ground hard just before Akahana landed on top of it, forepaws pinning its wings. The Taillow convulsed beneath her, and electricity fizzled through its feathers.

Ren ran forward and dropped to her knees as she reached into her bag, and Akahana jumped off the prone Taillow. “You better not be dead,” Ren muttered as she sprayed it carefully with a potion.

Akahana sat back on her haunches and sighed, fur laying flat again. A moment later, the Taillow opened its eyes.

“Thank Arceus.” Ren sighed, and her head lolled into her hand for several seconds before she came back to herself and sprayed the Taillow again, this time with a paralyze heal.

The Taillow’s breathing evened out, and Ren rounded on Akahana. “Chikuso! What the hell was that! Were you trying to kill them?”

“No,” Akahana responded, cocking her head. “She could have hurt me just as badly with a move like that.”

“She’s a wild, you’re not. She hasn’t learned control.”

“Training or no, battling is dangerous. You must know that?”

Before Ren could answer, the Taillow popped up. It hopped over to Akahana and chirped cheerfully with a dip of her head.

Akahana dipped her head back. “Thank you.”

That gave Ren pause. “She’s not mad?”

“She understands.”

Ren started to say something back, but it caught in her throat. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to sort it out. In the end, she closed her mouth and rubbed her left hand over the long thin scar on her right forearm. The pokemon continued their conversation without her as she wrestled with herself.

“Ren.”

Ren startled back to the present, and it was jarring. For a moment she couldn’t remember what was happening.

Akahana continued. “She would like to be on your team. She says most of the trainers that came through here couldn’t beat her. She was very impressed.”

“Are you sure she—”

“Please.” Once again that stopped Ren dead. “She’s strong. I know we have a flying-type already, but she really wants to train with us.”

Ren willed herself to focus and locked eyes with Akahana. She looked… pleading. It took Ren a moment to sort that, but then it was obvious. Akahana did feel badly about hurting the Taillow. It was an accident, and Ren had yelled at her for it.

So, we aren’t going to talk about that now?  

“You already know what happened.”

That’s hardly the point.  

“Just give me a bit more time. It will come up plenty.”

As you wish.  

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’d be honored to have her.” Ren pulled out a pokeball and offered it. The Taillow looked back at Akahana for confirmation before hopping forward excitedly and pecking the button. Ren looked down at the ball for a moment before stowing it.

“I’m sorry, Aka. You’re right, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She clutched her arm again and rode through the surge in her stomach. “I just—I have a hard time—” Her hand was changing color  from lack of circulation, but it still wasn’t enough. “Nevermind,” she sighed and let go. “That was one hell of a battle.”

Ren offers her hand to Akahana, with a cautious smile. Akahana hesitated for a moment, looking at Ren’s face with her piercing red eyes. Then she closed them and pressed her head into Ren’s hand.

...

Ren trudged through dark, dense woods with Panahi resting on one shoulder and Iki curled in her arms. Everything was covered with moss, vines, and lichen save for the ferns and mushrooms that sprouted up between roots and rotting logs. Leaf litter crunched beneath her boots, and the canopy tapered above them. She had been in forests before, even old ones, but none like this.

Akahana trotted ahead this time, raising her head periodically to scent the air. Tāraki leapt through the branches ahead of them, attempting to lead, but his path wandered. Māia the Taillow tittered at him, then swooped in a new direction, calling for the others to follow. Ren caught up while they argued. She slumped, letting out a sigh.

“I don’t even mind that we’re lost. I just need a break.”

“I hate how closed it is in here,” said Panahi. “I can’t see the sky at all. May I go in my ball for a while?”

“Absolutely,” said Ren with relief and straightened as the Wingull’s weight left her shoulder.

“It is kind of scary in here,” Iki admitted. “Can I go too?”

“Sure,” Ren sighed and withdrew her as well. “Who wants to tell her she’ll be doing a lot of training in this forest?”

“I think we’re starting to attract attention,” Akahana growled.

Ren looked around more carefully and began to notice that they were surrounded by unusually large mushrooms. Then she saw one move and could hear it quietly snickering. She pulled out her dex, which informed her that they were all Shroomish of about half a dozen different variants.

“Maa… Kai would love this.”

Akahana grumbled, and Ren opened her mouth to inform the bickering pair of their current situation, when one of the Shroomish made itself known by stepping forward into the clearing. Its dome was porcelain white with just a little brown at the top, and its squat legs were a dark sepia. It tittered at them, setting off what sounded a lot like laughter from the rest.

“We are not lost!” Tāraki insisted, and Māia’s tweet seemed of a similar sentiment.

“Do you know where a pond with dark water is?” Akahana cut across them. She rolled her eyes at whatever the Shroomish said back but followed when it began to march off slightly to the right of where they were headed. “She’ll take us.”

“You’re the best, Aka.”

Akahana acknowledged that with a flick of her ears, and the other Shroomish parted to let them pass. Tāraki and Māia shrugged at each other and followed.

It turned out they had been fairly close to Tea Pond but probably wouldn’t have found it themselves. Ren stripped down to her sports bra and spandex shorts and took a swim. Panahi paddled around placidly, and Iki skittered nervously across the surface, never straying far from Ren. Tāraki crouched on a rock near the shore and amused himself by plunging his hand in and watching it disappear into the dark water. Māia swept back and forth overhead, practicing her aerial acrobatics, and Akahana and the Shroomish watched from the bank.

Ren dried off on shore with Iki crouching beneath her tented knees. Once she’d had something to eat, she set about assigning exercises to her team.

“Panahi, I want you to practice your Water Gun accuracy on a moving target. Tāraki, you’re the target, and I want you to dodge as best as you can. Try out whatever you feel and see what works.”

“Awesome!” Tāraki crowed, already bouncing. “Come on, Panahi!”

“Alright, Fiddlehead,” Panahi sighed, stretching out her long wings.

“Iki, I want you to practice landing Fell Stinger on Akahana.” The Surskit glanced nervously at Akahana but nodded. “And Akahana I want you to lean on that Quick Feet ability to keep away without running.” Akahana nodded curtly and paced off a little way to get clear of Panahi’s spray. “Māia, you and I are gonna do some drills to get that Quick Attack up to par.”

The Taillow whistled back and leapt off her branch to begin.

Iki peered up at Māia as she swooped, banked, and dove, barely able to follow her movements. She shuffled a little farther away.

“Are you ready?” Akahana prompted, and Iki startled.

“Actually, I was wondering if—if I could ask you for some advice? Before we start?”

Akahana sat down. “Sure. What about?”

“Um, well, any general advice you might have about battling. You always seem like you know what you’re doing, and I… I have no idea.”

Akahana, doesn’t answer immediately, taking time to consider her response. “You need to look out for yourself. Don’t let her put you in danger.”

Iki’s eyes went wide with surprise, and she glanced worriedly at Ren. “She wouldn’t do that, would she?”

“I don’t know. That’s the point.” Iki drooped, and Akahana sighed. “Look, the way I figure it, any trainer that puts up with that mon,” she jerked her head at Tāraki, who was taking a Water Gun directly to the face because he’d a fancy backflip instead of ducking sensibly, “can’t be that bad, or that picky. That’s why I agreed to be on her team. But this battling business is a competition for them. They play for themselves with our lives. She’s good at this, so if we stick with her, we’ll get stronger. But the more powerful we become, the greater the competition. Some day, one of us might not be strong enough, might not compliment the roster enough, might become expendable. I can hope she stays grounded, gets attached to us, takes care of us. But it’s not wise to rely on it. Humans can be fickle and cruel.”

Iki turns turned away and watched Ren and her teammates for a minute. “…You’re right, and if anybody’s going to be expendable, it’s me. I’m just a bug. Battling scares me, but I have nothing to go back to. This is my best shot at a real life, a life that means something…”

Akahana sighed deeply. “Same here, bug.”

“Did that really happen? I guess I’m not that surprised but—wait, how did you see that? I know you've been in my head, but I didn’t know that was how they became friends.”

They are connected to you, and so I am bonded with them as well.  

“Even though Iki…”

It does not matter. You are still bonded.  

“Naruhodo… Why did you show me this?”

I wanted you to understand whose belief you won, how hard it was, and how much you have done for all of them.  

“Well, I always knew Akahana had reservations, and her loyalty always felt like an honor. But I suppose it is different to see it.”

Exactly.  

“Right. Now, on to my original reason for looking back at this particular training session…”

“Take a breather, Māia! You did great!” Ren called.

“I’m tapping out for a bit,” Panahi huffed behind them. “I don’t have a single Water Gun left in me.”

Tāraki whined and slunk back over when Ren called him. “I have another exercise if you still have still have so much energy.”

“Ooh! What is it?”

“Absorb practice. You’ll be learning Mega Drain soon and we really need to get your focus up.”

“But I hate Absorb,” Tāraki grumbled as he turned to start.

Ren turned to find Panahi and the Shroomish engaged in conversation. Panahi nodded along as she listened, and it didn’t take long for Ren’s curiosity to get the better of her.

“What is she saying?”

“She’s interested in the training exercises,” Panahi explained. “She’s never seen it before. She thought you had to battle other pokemon to get stronger.”

“Well, you still do have to battle other pokemon. It’s the only way to gain power. But the exercises build up your potential and make you stronger over the long haul. And of course, practicing strategies, movements, and execution makes winning battles a lot easier and safer, so it speeds your rate of growth too.”

Panahi and the Shroomish stared at her.

“I’m sorry. That was probably a bit much.”

“Not at all, Honey. It’s always a comfort to hear how well you know this business. Makes me proud to have signed on with you.” Ren felt herself turning red, and Panahi smiled. “Let me just make sure our wild friend here understood all of that.”

Ren was grateful for the opportunity to recompose herself while the Shroomish listened intently to Panahi’s translation.

“She loved it,” Panahi reported. She wants to stay and watch us a bit more if that’s alright. She says she’ll show us some other features of the forest in exchange.”

Ren smiled. “That sounds great.”

...

Ren trudged contentedly through the forest, following the Shroomish, and Tāraki popped his head out of a nearby tree.

“Is there any way she could move a little faster?” he whined. “I know she has short legs, but I swear she’s slow on purpose.”

“Whine all you want, but I’m glad she found us.”

“I guess Tea Pond was pretty cool,” Tāraki grumbled, face scrunched like there was a sour taste in his mouth “and the berry grove—”

“And let’s not forget how much you loved that moss rock.”

“Well—”

“And that fern glen was pretty sweet.”

“Yes, yes. It was all pretty cool, I’ll admit that. I just think it’s time to get back to the main path.”

“Why so goal oriented all of a sudden?” Ren teased.

The Shroomish chirped, and Tāraki’s face contorted in indignant rage. “That’s why!”

“Got some mouth on her, huh?”

“Yes,” Tāraki hissed through his teeth.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, this should be the last stop on the tour. We are pretty close to Route 104. Then it will be back to the battle grindstone for you. I want to make sure you’re well prepped for the gym. Not to mention we could use at least a little money for food and—”

The Shroomish stopped, listening. Tāraki dropped out of the tree onto Ren’s shoulder. She looked around and saw wild pokemon moving around them, in the opposite direction they were currently headed. The Shroomish purred lowly.

“What’s up?”

“Something strange. Maybe a human in trouble?”

“Let’s find out.”

Ren took the lead, and the Shroomish fell in behind her. As they got nearer, Ren could hear raised voices. She slowed as they approached, placing her boots carefully, so as not to make too much noise. The scene that emerged was an oddly familiar one. There was a middle-aged man on the ground, backed up against a tree trunk with a Poochyena snarling in his face. Only this time it was brown rather than gray and clearly belonged to the tall, rough teenager looming over the scene. He had short, messy hair and was swimming in a red hoodie and charcoal pants two sizes too big for him.

“And that’s when everything started, though it took awhile for me to figure that out.”

“HEY!” Ren yelled before she could think better of it or even really process everything in front of her. “What the hell is going on here?”

The attention of all three snapped to her immediately, and she felt Tāraki’s tail waggle agitatedly behind her head. That drew the eyes of the man on the ground.

“You’re a trainer, right? Please help me! He’s trying to steal my equipment!”

“Stay out of this, kid,” the teen warned her. “You don’t know what this is about.”

Ren’s brow set. “I think I know enough.”

“I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“It did occur to me that he might actually mean that. It sounded like he did. But all the evidence pointed the other way, and I couldn’t risk it. To even threaten to use your pokemon on another person… Desperation can be just as dangerous as malice. I didn’t know what he was capable of, only what I was.”

“Tāraki, Quick Attack!”

Tāraki jumped off her shoulder in a blur of speed and body-checked the Poochyena off the man before any of them could react. The man scrambled backward, and Tāraki and Ren planted themselves between him and the other two.

The teen’s fists balled at his sides. “You’re making a b-b-b-b—a mistake!” he stammered.

“So are you,” Ren shot back. She could see his jaw muscles grow taught before he barked out a command.

“Bite!”

“Absorb!”

Tāraki’s Absorb hit before the Poochyena could reach him, but it kept coming and sunk its teeth into his tail. Tāraki twisted away, face hard and muscles coiled.

“Keep your distance, Tāraki, and keep using Absorb.”

“If that’s how you want to battle—Fang, use Howl, then Bite!”

The Poochyena raised its head and howled, glowing softly as power surged around it. Tāraki charged up another Absorb and launched it as the Poochyena ran at him. Its jaws snapped shut just short of him as he somersaulted out of the way. The Poochyena shuddered as Absorb sapped its energy but it stayed on its feet.

Tāraki couldn’t take another Bite with the Howl boost, so Ren helped him dodge and slowly sap his strength back. Tāraki dove under the Poochyena in a moment of particular daring, but it paid off. The Poochyena tripped and landed hard. Tāraki slapped its flank with his tail as it got back to its paws, and it wobbled. As close as this was, they nearly had it.

“Come on, Fang!” the guy growled. “Get—” but then he stopped because a golden powder was drifting down from the branches above him and his pokemon. Ren followed his gaze and saw the Shroomish using Stun Spore.

“Shit!” he swore and recalled his Poochyena, who was twitching as the paralysis took hold. He began to stumble away, clearly feeling the effects of the spores himself, and paused to brace himself against a tree for a moment. “Th-this isn’t over!” he yelled before starting off again.

Ren made no attempt to follow. “He’s got some nerve calling me kid.” she muttered. “That gangly asshole can’t possibly be over seventeen.” When he was well out of sight, she turned back to the older man, who was standing and brushing himself off. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, thank you, miss.” he said calmly. She had expected him to be in shock after being threatened with a pokemon. “That was very clever with your Shroomish.”

“Oh, no. She’s wild. That was all her,” Ren shrank back from the… compliment? He probably didn’t realize the implication. Maybe he was in shock.

“Well, thank you anyway. You and your Treecko were very brave.”

“No problem.” She offered him a reassuring smile. “But if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly was that all about?”

“I don’t really know myself,” he answered, picking a silver briefcase off the ground. She eyed him carefully, and he shrugged. “Must have thought I had something valuable.”

“I should go report this, but please take my card. I work for Devon. If you ever need a favor, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Ren took the card, and it did look quite normal and legitimate. His name was Dr. Graeme Aarden, and he was the head of the fossil revival department.

You have superb instincts, or at least a very keen mind under pressure.  

“Of course, I looked him up later and found out he was not only a real scientist but a leading expert in his field, which made me feel very silly about being so suspicious.”

But you were right, in a way.  

“I guess I was.”

“Let me at least escort you to the road.” Ren said as he was about to leave. “I was headed that way anyway.”

“Oh, thank you, you are too kind.”

He started walking, and she was about to follow but paused. “Tāraki, I know we had that battle, you did great, but thank the Shroomish for me please. That was super smart of her, and she didn’t have to do that for us.”

Tāraki nodded and passed the message on while they all headed for Route 104.

...

Iki lunged at a trainer’s Seedot, thorn glowing lime green, and managed to catch it just beneath its cap. It keeled over, and the other trainer recalled it.

“Wow. I haven’t lost like that in a while.”

“Hear that, Iki? Nice job!” Iki smiled tentatively. “Oh, and nice battle by the way,” Ren told the trainer and held out her hand. “It was smart to use bide like that.”

“Thanks,” she responded and took the offered hand.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, which Ren’s team waited patiently through, before parting ways with a friendly wave.

There was more light ahead of them on the trail, meaning they were finally close to the edge of the forest.

“I guess it’s time to get to Rustboro.” She turned to look at her team, and her eyes fell on the Shroomish. “I guess this is goodbye, then. Thank you for all of your help.

The Shroomish looked around and then up at Ren, gurgling seriously.

“Actually, she’d rather come with us, if that’s alright,” said Panahi

Ren smiled down at her. “Sure. I’d be honored.”

Tāraki looked a tad annoyed at that, and Akahana blinked in surprise. Ren crouched down and pulled out a pokeball.

“Sorry I don’t have a name for you yet. I’ll try and think of one before I register you at the next center.”

The Shroomish was not the least bit bothered and hit the button. Ren stood and looked fondly at the pokeball.

“So, Tāraki, this isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it?”

“Of course not,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you think she should be on the team, then it’s fine with me. I don’t know if we’ll be best friends, but I’ll try to get along.”

“Thanks, Shima.”

#ORAS #nuzlocke #storylocke #Ren #Taraki #Akahana #Iki #Panahi #Maia #Josh #Fang #lgbtq #chapter

[doyoungdelrey]

all 85 pls

1. describe yourself.

a loud and annoying clown

2. if you could go anywhere for a week all expenses paid where would it be?

Nova Scotia

3. do you have siblings?

Two younger sisters.

4. what is your favorite constellation, why?

Big Dipper b/c its the only one I know.

5. favorite color.

Red, blue or green

6. what kind of music do you listen to?

K-pop, indie and classic pop/rock

7. favorite flower. (you can name as many as you want cause flowers are awesome)

Daisy, carnation, roses

8. if you could do magic, what is the first spell you would learn?

A spell where I could redo the past.

9. favorite childhood memory.

When my youngest sister was born.

10. have you ever been cheated on?

yes. Too hard to explain.

11. if you could describe your perfect room, what would it be?

Filled with plants, painted a light grey and surrounded by photography with the sun coming through the window.

12. favorite animal.

Penguin and Cat

13. what was the last photo you took of?

A ceiling at the Frick.

14. do you believe in soul mates?

Yes, I live that there’s one for everyone.

15. do you hang toilet paper over or under?

Under?

16. your go to place to eat & your favorite thing to get there.

Shake shack and cheese fries.

17. do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Ever since I was a kid, my mother has instilled that belief on us, so yes I believe this.

18. guilty pressures?

I think y’all mean guilty pleasures, so I admit I still watch Arthur (the one with the aardvark). Also, I admit I listen to Taylor swift and Camilla Cabello in occasional times of existential crises.

19. favorite mythical creature, why?

dragons. Idk why though.

20. something most people don’t know about you.

I met Andrew Garfield as I was walking home from school.

21. where did you grow up, what was it like?

I lived in a well-to-do neighborhood with a lot of rich people even though we weren’t rich ourselves.

22. do you believe aliens exist?

No, now leave me alone.

23. what was your last google search?

Nova Scotia.

24. what did your last relationship teach you?

To not rush and trying not to be vulnerable.

25. would you relocate for love?

Yes.

26. do you hold grudges or forgive easy?

I’m 20 and I STILL hold grudges; I need to stop.

27. favorite book.

Little women.

28. do you consider yourself an extrovert or introvert?

I consider myself an introverted extrovert.

29. have you ever kept a journal, do you now?

I did in like third grade. I wish I still did :(

30. top 5 favorite movies.

Jules et Jim, Amelie, CMBYN, The Social Network, Before Sunrise

31. do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

Yes!

32. what is your greatest fear?

Dying and getting rejected.

33. favorite alcoholic beverage.

I don’t drink.

34. most embarrassing thing you’ve done.

Get my build a bears stolen and my parents yelling at me in the first grade for having them stolen.

35. do you believe in ghosts?

No???

36. what is the best and worst part of your personality?

I have the memory of an elephant but that means I’m clumsy AND I am lazy whilst holding grudges on people from three years ago.

37. should you split the dinner bill?

Yes.

38. are you a good liar?

No

39. what keeps you up at night?

My past and the future.

40. would you rather go without your phone or music?

Phone.

41. do you believe in god?

There is something up there, a spirit but not a being.

42. how do you relax when frustrated?

Listen to music and write mediocre poetry.

43. what’s something that offends you?

44. favorite food

45. if you were on a 10 hour flight and could sit and talk to any person the entire time, who would it be?

Suho and his translator. He seems like someone who has a lot to tell..

46. when do you feel the most confident?

In theater class.

47. what do you do on your free time?

Listen to music, go on Tumblr/ig, write, read, sleep, watch TV

48. is there anyone who has completely lost your respect

For someone who tends to hold grudges, no haha.

49. have you ever broken someone’s heart?

yes, I had a friend’s older brother who had a crush on me and I rejected him because I thought he was too awkward. I regret it now.

50. did/do you play sports in school?

nope.

51. when are you happiest?

When I heat good food and listen to good music.

52. coffee or tea?

both.

53. what is one possession you own you wouldn’t want to live without?

My phone. Or my chanyeol pin.

54. what is the first thing you notice about a person?

The way they dress.

55. what is your favorite season, why?

Fall because I was born before halloween. I also love the autumn breeze.

56. what makes you laugh?

Anything and everything. I have terrible sense of humor lmao.

57. are you a clean or messy person?

both.

58. what is important for a successful relationship?

Honesty and good communication.

59. what was your upcoming like?

I was raised partially by my grandmother. Once I was 5, I was raised by y mom. I was a troubled child, so she spent most of my childhood disciplining. Sometimes I want to tell berthings, but there are moments where I can’t say anything.

60. favorite holiday?

halloween. It is after my birthday.

61. what is the first thing you’d do if you won the lottery?

Put the money in a savings account, give some to charity then the rest to my parents and other family members (sisters, cousin who I think of as a younger sister)

62. what’s the best pizza topping combination?

Broccoli and Pepperoni. Or mushroom and sausage.

63. favorite outdoor activity.

Walking.

64. how are you? honestly.

I’m feeling good because I don’t have to worry about school for a week, but once I go back, I have to worry about finals, etc. I’m also worried about my future because IDK what to do after graduation.

65. would you rather go camping in the woods or stay at a beach resort?

Stay at a resort, duh?!?!?

66. what is the most beautiful thing in nature?

The mountains, specifically the Adirondacks.

67. favorite type of candy?

Snickers.

68. if your life was a book, what would be the title?

Confused and Thirsty Clown

69. what movie quotes do you use of a regular bases?

You talking to me???

70. what was cool when you were young but not cool now?

Build a Bears. They’re over-rated and over priced.

71. what’s the craziest conversation you have ever eves dropped on?

When a woman was telling her friend about her husband (the woman’s husband) cheating her while she was in the hospital for cancer treatment.

72. what’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched?

The ted bundy one on Netflix.

73. what’s the worst hairstyle you’ve had?

The bowl cut. Or my attempt of Wendy’s zimzalabim-era hair (minus the bangs. I still have this hair style)

74. what do you like to cook?

Roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.

75. what’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild?

A lion, when I went to animal kingdom.

76. what’s the funniest tv show you’ve ever seen?

The office. Stanley was and will be my favorite character.

77. do you usually follow your heart or your head?

Heart

78. what is your favorite quote?

79. what’s the weirdest crush you have ever had?

On the kid who played saxophone and picked his nose in middle school. He admitted to having a crush on me in the 10th grade. He was so sweet, yet he weirded me out. I regret notating him though.

80. what’s your love language?

Food

81. do you ever feel alone?

Not gonna lie, I do. I have friends who have their soulmates, yet I don’t have mine. I also suck at making friends.

82. ever been bullied?

Yes. Too complicated to explain.

83. are you usually early or late?

Both

84. what kind of art do you enjoy most?

Like romantic/baroque art, or any paintings made after the 1300s. Mostly impressionism or dutch realism.

85. what do you wish you knew more about?

Ways to be more organized

SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY TAMARA!!!

#sagittariustigerfish #ask #answered

[hennyjolzen]

by PAM GROSSMAN May 30, 2019

Pam Grossman is the author of Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic, and Power.

Witches have always walked among us, populating societies and storyscapes across the globe for thousands of years. From Circe to Hermione, from Morgan le Fay to Marie Laveau, the witch has long existed in the tales we tell about ladies with strange powers that can harm or heal. And although people of all genders have been considered witches, it is a word that is now usually associated with women.

Throughout most of history, she has been someone to fear, an uncanny Other who threatens our safety or manipulates reality for her own mercurial purposes. She’s a pariah, a persona non grata, a bogeywoman to defeat and discard. Though she has often been deemed a destructive entity, in actuality a witchy woman has historically been far more susceptible to attack than an inflictor of violence herself. As with other “terrifying” outsiders, she occupies a paradoxical role in cultural consciousness as both vicious aggressor and vulnerable prey.

Over the past 150 years or so, however, the witch has done another magic trick, by turning from a fright into a figure of inspiration. She is now as likely to be the heroine of your favorite TV show as she is its villain. She might show up in the form of your Wiccan coworker, or the beloved musician who gives off a sorceress vibe in videos or onstage.

There is also a chance that she is you, and that “witch” is an identity you have taken upon yourself for any number of reasons — heartfelt or flippant, public or private.

Today, more women than ever are choosing the way of the witch, whether literally or symbolically. They’re floating down catwalks and sidewalks in gauzy black clothing and adorning themselves with Pinterest-worthy pentagrams and crystals. They’re filling up movie theaters to watch witchy films, and gathering in back rooms and backyards to do rituals, consult tarot cards and set life-altering intentions. They’re marching in the streets with HEX THE PATRIARCHY placards and casting spells each month to try to constrain the commander-in-chief. Year after year, articles keep proclaiming, “It’s the Season of the Witch!” as journalists try to wrap their heads around the mushrooming witch “trend.”

And all of this begs the question: Why?

Why do witches matter? Why are they seemingly everywhere right now? What, exactly, are they? (And why the hell won’t they go away?)

I get asked such things over and over, and you would think that after a lifetime of studying and writing about witches, as well as hosting a witch-themed podcast and being a practitioner of witchcraft myself, my answers would be succinct.

In fact, I find that the more I work with the witch, the more complex she becomes. Hers is a slippery spirit: try to pin her down, and she’ll only recede further into the deep, dark wood.

I do know this for sure though: show me your witches, and I’ll show you your feelings about women. The fact that the resurgence of feminism and the popularity of the witch are ascending at the same time is no coincidence: the two are reflections of each other.

That said, this current Witch Wave is nothing new. I was a teen in the 1990s, the decade that brought us such pop-occulture as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed and The Craft, not to mention riot grrrls and third-wave feminists who taught me that female power could come in a variety of colors and sexualities. I learned that women could lead a revolution while wearing lipstick and combat boots — and sometimes even a cloak.

But my own witchly awakening came at an even earlier age.

Morganville, New Jersey, where I was raised, was a solidly suburban town, but it retained enough natural land features back then to still feel a little bit scruffy in spots. We had a small patch of woods in our backyard that abutted a horse farm, and the two were separated by a wisp of running water that we could cross via a plank of wood. In one corner of the yard, a giant puddle would form whenever it rained, surrounded by a border of ferns. My older sister, Emily, and I called this spot our Magical Place. That it would vanish and then reappear only added to its mystery. It was a portal to the unknown.

These woods are where I first remember doing magic — entering that state of deep play where imaginative action becomes reality. I would spend hours out there, creating rituals with rocks and sticks, drawing secret symbols in the dirt, losing all track of time. It was a space that felt holy and wild, yet still strangely safe.

As we age, we’re supposed to stop filling our heads with such “nonsense.” Unicorns are to be traded in for Barbie dolls (though both are mythical creatures, to be sure). We lose our tooth fairies, walk away from our wizards. Dragons get slain on the altar of youth.

Most kids grow out of their “magic phase.” I grew further into mine.

My grandma Trudy was a librarian at the West Long Branch Library, which meant I got to spend many an afternoon lurking between the 001.9 and 135 Dewey decimal–sections, reading about Bigfoot and dream interpretation and Nostradamus. I spent countless hours in my room, learning about witches and goddesses, and I loved anything by authors like George MacDonald, Roald Dahl, and Michael Ende — writers fluent in the language of enchantment. Books were my broomstick. They allowed me to fly to other realms where anything was possible.

Though fictional witches were my first guides, I soon discovered that magic was something real people could do. I started frequenting new age shops and experimenting with mass-market paperback spell books from the mall. I was raised Jewish but found myself attracted to belief systems that felt more individualized and mystical and that fully honored the feminine. Eventually I found my way to modern Paganism, a self-directed spiritual path that sustains me to this day. I’m not unique in this trajectory of pivoting away from organized religion and toward something more personal: as of September 2017, more than a quarter of U.S. adults — 27% — now say that they think of themselves as spiritual but not religious, according to Pew Research Center.

Now, I identify both as a witch and with the archetype of the witch overall, and I use the term fluidly. At any given time, I might use the word witch to signify my spiritual beliefs, my supernatural interests or my role as an unapologetically complex, dynamic female in a world that prefers its women to be smiling and still. I use it with equal parts sincerity and salt: with a bow to a rich and often painful history of worldwide witchcraft, and a wink to other members of our not-so-secret society of people who fight from the fringes for the liberty to be our weirdest and most wondrous selves. Magic is made in the margins.

To be clear: you don’t have to practice witchcraft or any other alternative form of spirituality to awaken your own inner witch. You may feel attracted to her symbolism, her style or her stories but are not about to rush out to buy a cauldron or go sing songs to the sky. Maybe you’re more of a nasty woman than a devotee of the Goddess. That’s perfectly fine: the witch belongs to you too.

I remain more convinced than ever that the concept of the witch endures because she transcends literalism and because she has so many dark and sparkling things to teach us. Many people get fixated on the “truth” of the witch, and numerous fine history books attempt to tackle the topic from the angle of so-called factuality. Did people actually believe in magic? They most certainly did and still do. Were the thousands of victims who were killed in the 16th- and 17th-century witch hunts actually witches themselves? Most likely not. Are witches real? Why, yes, you’re reading the words of one. All of these things are true.

But whether or not there were actually women and men who practiced witchcraft in Rome or Lancashire or Salem, say, is less interesting to me than the fact that the idea of witches has remained so evocative and influential and so, well, bewitching in the first place.

In other words, the fact and the fiction of the witch are inextricably linked. Each informs the other and always has. I’m fascinated by how one archetype can encompass so many different facets. The witch is a notorious shape-shifter, and she comes in many guises:

A hag in a pointy hat, cackling madly as she boils a pot of bones.

A scarlet-lipped seductress slipping a potion into the drink of her unsuspecting paramour.

A cross-dressing French revolutionary who hears the voices of angels and saints.

A perfectly coifed suburban housewife, twitching her nose to change her circumstances at will, despite her husband’s protests.

A woman dancing in New York City’s Central Park with her coven to mark the change of the seasons or a new lunar phase.

The witch has a green face and a fleet of flying monkeys. She wears scarves and leather and lace.

She lives in Africa; on the island of Aeaea; in a tower; in a chicken-leg hut; in Peoria, Illinois.

She lurks in the forests of fairy tales, in the gilded frames of paintings, in the plotlines of sitcoms and YA novels, and between the bars of ghostly blues songs.

She is solitary.

She comes in threes.

She’s a member of a coven.

Sometimes she’s a he.

She is stunning, she is hideous, she is insidious, she is ubiquitous.

She is our downfall. She is our deliverance.

Our witches say as much about us as they do about anything else — for better and for worse.

More than anything, though, the witch is a shining and shadowy symbol of female power and a force for subverting the status quo. No matter what form she takes, she remains an electric source of magical agitation that we can all plug into whenever we need a high-voltage charge.

She is also a vessel that contains our conflicting feelings about female power: our fear of it, our desire for it and our hope that it can — and will — grow stronger, despite the flames that are thrown at it.

Whether the witch is depicted as villainous or valorous, she is always a figure of freedom — both its loss and its gain. She is perhaps the only female archetype who is an independent operator. Virgins, whores, daughters, mothers, wives — each of these is defined by whom she is sleeping with or not, the care that she is giving or that is given to her, or some sort of symbiotic debt that she must eventually pay.

The witch owes nothing. That is what makes her dangerous. And that is what makes her divine.

Witches have power on their own terms. They have agency. They create. They praise. They commune with the spiritual realm, freely and free of any mediator.

They metamorphose, and they make things happen. They are change agents whose primary purpose is to transform the world as it is into the world they would like it to be.

This is also why being called a witch and calling oneself a witch are usually two vastly different experiences. In the first case, it’s often an act of degradation, an attack against a perceived threat.

The second is an act of reclamation, an expression of autonomy and pride. Both of these aspects of the archetype are important to keep in mind. They may seem like contradictions, but there is much to glean from their interplay.

The witch is the ultimate feminist icon because she is a fully rounded symbol of female oppression and liberation. She shows us how to tap into our own might and magic, despite the many who try to strip us of our power.

We need her now more than ever.