#this is all just set up for the story i actually want to write in this universe

[screampied]

‘ #KNOCK(HER)OUT ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. you get more than what you bargained for by getting involved with two boxers—two boxers that can’t keep their hands off the pretty new journalist. what happens in the ring stays in the ring though…. right?

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader x t. fushiguro & s. ryōmen, boxer!au, thrēesome, manhandling, unprotected, semi public, size kink, ōral (f & m receiving), head lock, spīt, sqūirting, they fight over you, brēeding, fīngering, implied multiple ōrgasms, nipple play.

an. based on this ask, haven’t recovered since :,)

sukuna ryōmen and toji fushiguro. . .

the talk of the town. top most infamous boxers of your city, they were supposedly rivals but ended up becoming super close friends. 'friends' was probably a stretch. acquaintances was probably a far better word to describe the two. there was hardly anyone that didn’t tune into your detailed magazines about them—your occupation? a journalist. you’d be the first to write about their fights, their strengths, weaknesses, their total wins & losses, and even a few unnecessary things like their love life. you were new, but you were good. always in the front row, you’d watch them spar against some of the most scariest opponents imaginable. something about guys taking it out in the ring right before your eyes got your panties in a twist. how unprofessional..

you only did it for the money, the publicity— a lot of people adored your skill to make such stories so interesting. between toji and sukuna, they were almost always compared, and oh did they hate it. ex rivals continuously pinned against each other, it’d piss anyone off. although, you were in dire need for a new story topic to write and you just so happen to stumble into their private gym.

“yo,” a rough sly yet cunning voice mutters, and it’s so deep—you recognize it from anywhere, toji fushiguro in the flesh. “are ya lost? no fuckin’ autographs.”

“don’t be rude, ‘toj,” and your eyes avert towards sukuna— he’s a few inches taller and your eyes roam at them both. they had droplets of sweat racing down their washboard abs, scars coating their skin with ruffled hair as if they’d just finished a match. sukuna drags his feet towards you before his eyes light up. “ohh, i know you,” he snickers, grabbing your notepad before nudging his friend. “she’s our little journalist toji. and she’s a damn fine one too..”

“. . . uh,” was all you could make out, feeling a sudden tightness in your stomach. your eyes continue to stare, your lewd thoughts only become more and more vulgar. seconds pass before you realize sukuna took your notebook, toji pauses his sets to get a good look at you. “i thought this was the ladies' room.”

“girl bye,” toji grumbles with two hands buried into his shorts pockets— he reads right through you as if you were some sort of exposed novel. people said he was a lot sassier in person but you didn’t think it’d actually be true. green dark eyes linger onto you for a long time before he stretches, leaning down to get a good glimpse at your figure. “did you come here just to stare or what?”

you were taken aback at how blunt he was.

a coy grin appears on his lips as he watches you struggle to formulate a good enough response.

you were nosy, you were really really nosy. for once, perhaps you didn’t wanna just jot down things about these two— just maybe, just maybe . . you wanted a hands-on experience.

“i… needed new material for my article before the next match starts,” you utter, squeezing your thighs together. sukuna tilts his head, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel hot. toji’s stare was ten times more intimate, darkened irises practically staring right into your soul—you knew this wasn’t the bathroom, you were lying. “i was hoping maybe you’d give me some uh . . inspo.”

they were both towering over you with height, you felt small—like an ant that was preparing itself to be crushed by a villainous shoe.

“inspiration, she says?” sukuna hums, his voice is low—raspy, an almost purr hiding underneath it before he moves closer towards you. “just tell us what you really want, princess.”

“nah don’t get all shy now,” toji chimes in once he sees you grow more sheepish. they both close in on you—you felt like you were trapped in a fever dream, you weren’t exactly complaining either. they smelled so good, a mixture of sultry sweat and a loud scent of heavy cologne that wafts throughout the entire training room. “you got our attention so spit it out, girl.”

“i— i want you both.” you finally mutter after seven long consecutive seconds. with the way toji’s staring right through you, you felt like your stomach sank between your legs - your legs that were throbbing with nothing but mere arousal, again perhaps this was unprofessional. no, it was very unprofessional—but anyone would kill to be in your position, being sandwiched between the top two boxers of your city.

sukuna snickers. “both? what makes you think i’d wanna share with this bum?”

“shut up,” toji snarls, and the way his facial expressions tense a bit—so attractive. the headlines + press was right about toji, he was a lot more handsome in person. he was a fairly new boxer yet a pure lady's man. he’s had a plethora of fangirls while in the ring and maybe you were one of them. as he inches towards you with a hand softly gripping underneath your chin, he inhales. his entire facial structure, so chiseled—brief dark stubble coats the entirety lower half of his jaw and he rubs his left boxing glove against his left knee. “that really want you want? both of us?” and his voice softens. it’s a bit more pitchy and low, and he sneers. “on me, look at me when you reply too, girl.”

your lip gradually pulls down from his thumb playing against it. you felt so hot, the air suddenly felt thick.

a sudden lump gets caught in your throat before you mumble. “i want you both,” and your eyes meet the dark-haired boxer, simultaneously glancing at his attire— shirtless, boxing shorts on with his custom-made ‘fushiguro’ briefs wilting near the top—only showing the hem part. just a teensy detail like that was so enticing that you even spot a few parts of his exposing snatched waist. only after awhile you then abruptly snap out of your vulgar fantasm. “…please.”

“the real question is, pretty little journalist,” sukuna steps in, a hand stroking against your chin. you didn’t know where to even look. both boxers had their hands on you and the tightened squeezing between your plush thighs grew even more. “can you handle both?”

“yes.” you’d speak in a soft voice, most likely as of now you were probably speaking from between your legs—you didn’t care though, everyone’s a little delusional at some point. emphasis on a little in your case, because you had no idea what you were getting in to with these two.

toji snickers. “hm,” he mutters, eyes focusing on you for a long time before he raises his chin. “fine. let’s test your strength then,” and he briefly gazes at sukuna. “sukuna. we can take her ‘n the ring.”

and they mean it quite literally— taking you, the both of them versus you, except you weren’t relatively fighting.

not in that sense, but it was versus an opponent that was throbbing between your thighs.

the arena was empty, about a good hundred or more vacant blood-shot red seats scatter everywhere.

inside the ring, it was a mere raised platform, guided and shaped by strong stringy ropes that were yanking between poles at each side and corner. you lay on the spongy canvas of the ring’s floor before biting back a moan.

“scared yet?” sukuna hums, and he props himself right between your legs. this was risky—entirely risky, anyone could just walk in. besides, you were pretty sure they had a match in about a good forty-five minutes. with sprawled-out legs, he moved closer before dragging a thumb down your panties. his voice was a bit deeper than toji’s, they both shared the same amount of rasp.

sukuna had the charm, toji had the suaveness.

you shake your head, feeling yourself grow even hotter the more he stalls time. it feels warm, the entire air around you is humidly thick and you whine as he teasingly bites your panties. not enough to pierce his teeth into your folds, but he bites near the fabric—you watch, the string of your underwear slowly dragging with him. yet, you can’t help but glance at toji who’s just standing there—arms crossed and that same scowl that stuck against his face. “mhm,” he jibes, eyes flickering towards toji. “toji. she’s looking at you.”

“i know she fuckin’ is,” he grumbles, and your head tilts upward. you’re face first with his bulge that was right against your face. talk about space, it was right there. such a big bulge, who were you even kidding though—you found yourself gawking at his bulge at every match he had. with the skin-tight shorts he’d worn, you just knew he was nothing more than a packer. “nosy girl. y’er mouth bored or somethin’?” and he watches your hands paw at the hem of his tucked-out briefs. “need a bit of throat training, huh?”

sukuna’s playing with your panties still. by now, he’s peeling them towards the crevices of your thighs and you whine whilst you feel a thumb of his drag down your honeyed slit. sopping wet, just a three-second stare and he was suddenly esurient.

“look at me, not him,” toji lightly turns your head to face back up to him again. his bulge, his damn bulge that was right up against you. you nod, feeling your mouth dry—you wanted your throat to be filled, it wasn’t even a question. toji gruffs lowly, moving your chin side to side. “huuuh? girl, i don’t speak silence. thought i told ya how to use those words when you speak.”

“i- i wanna suck you off, ‘toj,” and you get cut off once he pulls his boxing shorts down halfway, bringing your face close to his briefs. you’re taken by surprise once he makes you rub your face against his hardened bulge—you moan, as if on instinct, your tongue lolls out just to taste him. even if it’s just the clothed fabric protecting his actual cock, it was something.

he scoffs. “y’er a nasty girl, huh,” he mumbles, peering down to see sukuna starting to lick against your cunt. your legs quaver upon impact and you slump back against the corner of the ring. “can’t wait, yeah. want me to train this empty throat? maybe it’ll make ya a better journalist, nosy ass.”

you’d almost laugh at his little side remark if it wasn’t for sukuna’s tongue lapping against your slick entrance. your lips part as you lean back, a hand going through his hair. “mphm,” he grunts, one hand squeezing the right part of your thigh. “sweetest taste i’ve had in a . . . looong while.” and he’s so sloppy, not even a few seconds pass before he’s already slurping. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and that’s when toji hauls down his briefs.

you gulp, damn.

he wasn’t just big, he was huge…

your mouth starts to salivate the more you stared at the swollen shaft. toji was a big guy . . hence meaning, toji he was a thick guy.

staggering height and a fat base to back it up, he had about two veins running down the side. his tip was a reddish pink, you could already taste him throbbing in your mouth. toji was quite well shaved a bit— though, it was a few specks of black hairs scattered everywhere. however, his happy trail was so pleasing to look. it roams all down his sculpted body, he sighs once you slowly wrap a hand around his cock.

“spit the fuck on it.”

five words and you didn’t hesitate to roll out your pink tongue once more.

you gather a good amount before watching it coat against his pink sweet tip. he groans, watching your hand stroke him a bit. he was so big, so fucking big that you could barely wrap your entire hand around his dick. toji groans, watching you make a total mess out of yourself. pretty glossy lips, pretty glossy lips that would soon be wrapped around his hefty length.

once you get it wet enough, you gently move your mouth onto him. he hisses, the warmth of your throat has his abs clenching.

“m-mhm,” you’d moan out, though your words were purely muffled. sukuna’s sucking on your clit, occasionally nipping and nibbling on it just to make you squirm even more. it was cute— the way your legs could barely hold still, so this was your weak spot. it’s what he thought to himself, lapping his tongue against your slick entrance. brief kisses coat near your folds before he maneuvers such circles against your pussy. feeling his canines nip against your folds every few seconds had you feral in the best way possible.

“y’er makin’ her squirm all over, ‘kuna,” toji lowly chuckles, such baritone in his voice that it makes you soak even more. you didn’t even know how it was possible with the way you were just profusely dripping like a faucet. not even—you put faucets to shame with how slick you were, quickly coating the lower part of sukuna’s chin with your syrupy taste. “open that mouth a ‘lil more, yeah . . . yeah,” and he tilts your head back a bit, prying your mouth open some more. he starts to slowly sink his cock in, so slow. the pace was incredibly tantalizing, your tongue runs against his slit before he pushed more inches inside. “fuckkk, girl,” he continues to grunt out, knees already starting to buckle. the way you took him in, hollow cheeks all puffed, you were already starting to drool a bit. small amounts of your saliva trickle past the corners of your lips as he goes deeper and deeper. deeper until his tip ends up mashing against your uvula and you gag.

“. . ooooh,” he hums, and just a simple noise as that was so seductive. “good…. good,” he swallows, a hand digging through your hair before maintaining a good grip against it. “now . . let’s test this pretty throat’s durability, hm.”

your little nod makes his sly smile widen, your jaw hangs and he starts to gradually piston his hips. such a mess, he was just so big that you were surprised all of it even fit.

“alllll the way down, shit,” your head starts to move, bobbling as your tongue swiftly running against his pulsating head. he gnashes his teeth together, dim eyes flickering towards your hands. you were feeling hot yourself so you made a cute attempt at reaching between your legs. doing so only greets you to a soft concise smack.

“hands to yourself, silly girl,” sukuna grumbles, and this time he grabs your wrist. he simpers, watching you try to even still rub one out but with his grip, you weren’t getting anywhere. as your mouth was occupied with such inches, you whimper once you feel sukuna spank your cunt a few times. “don’t touch my pussy.”

one turns into two, then three, then four. . .

your pretty cunt starts to become his new obsession—the way you’d squelch for him so easily, he gets hard in his boxers. so wet, he knows the layout as if he’s so used to doing this. you wouldn’t be surprised, especially with a tongue like he had. lapping left and right, he parts your legs just a bit farther before the tip of his tongue swirls all around it. he lays it flat, getting a good enough taste before giving it yet another mean spank.

you whimper, feeling your tummy cave in before toji makes you face him once more. “eyes up here, eyes on me,” and he sounds almost jealous the more you focus your attention strictly on his boxer acquaintance. you’re still stroking him, a thumb sliding down a vein that prods alongside his shaft and he groans. your throat, so warm that he starts to feel his right thigh bounce. “should be . . usin’ this throat for shit like this instead of running that mouth.” his voice pitches lower, boxer shorts pulled down and his hair was slightly ruffled. you stare up at toji and he gives you that same cunning smirk. oh, you were soaked. again, this simply felt like a fever dream. even if at the slightest chance that you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up.

toji’s quite talkative throughout the entire thing, sukuna’s dragging you further and further onto your incoming release and your legs start to rapidly shake even more. you whine and mewl out such sweetened moans, occasionally coming back up for air as you kept his cock warm in your mouth. each time it hits the roof of your mouth, you let off a straddled noise and he finds it so cute, so filthy.

“relax y’er throat, girl,” he mutters, a firm grip on your scalp. with glossy eyes, you follow his words and you stop gagging a bit. he grunts, getting hard every time your pretty eyes make direct contact with him. “such a pretty girl when you listen.” and his tone gets a bit more sensual, more tender.

you whine, feeling sukuna insert a single finger inside of you—you swallow his digit almost immediately and you cringe at hearing your own salaciously lewd squelches.

soaking, sopping wet,

three perfect words to describe between your legs, you choke out a moan once you feel that sensation brew right up inside your stomach. steadily, it was coming closer and closer. you’re breathing through your nose—feeling a few of his pubic hairs tickle against you. you’re moaning, eyes becoming half-lidded and droopy. toji had a mere pout stretching against his face and he felt himself coming close too.

the icing on the cake was your tongue, the way you swirl and slide it against his frenulum—he groans out a low grunt that rings throughout the arena. it reverberates, it's raspy and it only makes you even more aroused. “s-shit, you close too?”

you nod, and toji jeers, finding it amusing to taunt with you as you’re about to reach your inevitable peak. “yeah? gonna make a mess on ‘kuna’s face?”

“told ya don’t call me that,” sukuna grouses, resuming to pump not one but two fingers into you now—you’re almost there. it’s a hot feeling stirring up near your lower abdomen, a pool of it. your eyes start to roll, still slobbering down toji’s cock before he starts to thrust and thrust into your mouth.

“make me.” toji stared at him—and the both of them grew quiet before laughing with each other.

idiots.

your maw opens just a bit wider, and he’s shoving himself in and out of your tight throat—the noises that follow are so lewd, he finds you so pretty like this. mascara all smeared and runny, your hand continues to wrap around his length—his sagged base, so full. you start to salivate again, imagining what his taste was like. you craved it like you crave sweets, sukuna’s tongue running against your clit only made things far more intense before you start to convulse.

“f-fuckkk, ‘m gonna cum,” toji rasps, tilting your head back a bit more. you stare at him, tongue still grazing against the pulsing slit before after a few more pumps—he shoots a nice velvety load into your mouth. he grunts lowly, nostrils flaring up, jaw tightening and all. “. . damn,” he swallows, allowing himself to slow down. you end up finishing around the same time, costing sukuna’s mouth with a honeyed amount of your slick and he hums. you whimper, legs barely able to hold themselves up before you feel toji’s dick pour the remnants of his cum flat on your tongue. “nah, don’t fuckin’ swallow yet. stick it out, lemme see that shit.”

your legs felt like they were about to fall off, sukuna’s kissing near your now swollen entrance and you slowly loll out your tongue. obeying, you didn’t exactly swallow yet and he hums. “best savor that shit,” he groans, giving his veiny cock a few subtle strokes before he smacks his angry tip against your tongue. “and where’s my thank you for the meal, baby?”

“t—thwak y—you toji,” you speak, barely coherent with his seed splattered all on your tongue. you didn’t wanna spill any, and if you did—you didn’t wanna stick around to find out his reaction.

“yeah,” he huffs. “you can swallow now. get every drop in.”

sukuna moves towards you, you’re still laid on the ring’s mat before he softly wraps a hand around your throat. “hey. don’t let this bastard have all the fun, i want a taste too,” and you're taken by surprise once he pulls you into a deep steamy kiss. you moan, feeling him quite literally take your breath away. your tongue drags against sukuna’s chin, the bitterness. a concoction mixture of your saliva and his mixes, and you whine once he snakes a hand up your blazer. you taste yourself on his tongue and it’s so dirty, hot breaths mash against each other, teeth gnashing, and only then do you feel his cunning smirk.

“no one told you to hog her,” toji grumbles, pulling you back towards him. you briefly gasp for air and they both stare at each other, then you. “tell me, baby. who’d you think win in a fight? me or this . . . thing.”

sukuna glares.

“i don’t … know,” you pant out, heaving from your current orgasm—so cute, yet you only wanted more. from kissing sukuna to having your throat entirely filled, you didn’t know which was better. “can we finish?”

“aw, is someone impatient?” sukuna titters, and you stare at his glistening body—beads of sweat race down his precious v-line, the ideal body for a boxer. you just couldn’t stop staring at his pecs, so chiseled. you even thought his pictures were edited, but seeing them up close . . you wanted him, you wanted both of them. “hm. how ‘bout this? we teach you a few ah, moves. full nelson to start, ‘s pretty easy.”

easy, sure.

with it all being easy, you’d least expect to be put into a full nelson position. a mere popular wrestling position, although you’d be performing it with no one other than sukuna.

he’d have you slump back against him, hooking both arms underneath your thighs as you’re taking such mean thrusts from him. time and time again, you’re spasming out. mouth all open, saliva running down the very corners of your lips before you moan. “s—sukuna, oh my godddd,” and you glance up at toji who’s got a cute pout, stroking himself. you lost count of the time, it’s probably been about a good thirty-three minutes by now, thirty plus minutes of various teeth shattering orgasms. your head hits back against him and each time his tip smacks against your cervix, you short circuit. “fuck, fuck, right there, hit it thereee.”

“you coachin’ me how to fuck, dumb girl?” he chortles with a groan shortly following—he was so deep, the heftiness of his base taps against you each time you bounce back against his cock. he sucks his teeth, the way you easily took him had him groaning all up against your ear. “gotta get a little more stretchy, we gotta . . hah, work on your flexibility too, huh.”

“sukuna hurry the fuck up. watching you fuck my girl ‘s boring as shit,” toji grouses, pumping his cock into his fist every few seconds—you stare and he’s so needy, you could tell. his scowl he had earlier forms into a cute pout, dark eyebrows furrowing together and he’s growing impatient.

you caught that though. ‘my’ girl.

who would have thought toji . . the womanizing boxer who’s never had time for any woman throughout his career would start batting for you?

“your girl?” sukuna snickers, resuming to hold your legs up a bit further. he reaches so deep, that your stomach starts to seize and your maw drops. hooded eyes, your lashes flutter and you felt continuous strained breaths get yanked from your lungs. “your girl yet she’s gettin’ fucked by me? the better boxer?”

toji snarls, and he kneels to kiss you. you moan, barely able to return the gesture since you were in the midst of taking sukuna. with being gifted with such sharp thrusts, you dig your nails into his thighs before running tangling your tongue alongside toji’s. his breath was warm, you whine once you feel one of his hands stroke your cheek.

“aha, look at him. already whipped before me,” sukuna snickers, feeling you sink and gape around him—he stretched you out so good already, it was so relentless. each time you bounce back against his lap, the ringing in your ears grows louder and louder. he feels his dick twitch inside you. seeing you make out with toji irks him a bit before he spanks your ass—the recoil making him even more aroused than before. sukuna hums, seeing the current pout on toji’s face before nodding, “aw. toji wants a turn too, yeah? don’t ya . . big guy?” and he intakes a breath, your pussy constricting around his length as sukuna pulls you further to slam back and forth against him. you’re moving against him now as his dick jackhammers right into your gummy was. your mouth idly dangles with your tongue stil shamelessly lolled out. a raw moan rips from the back of your throat at the pure feeling of utter bliss.

so thick, so girthy—you gasp once you feel his fingers tend towards your neglected tits. toji shortly follows, a hand going between your thighs. your cunt was all stuffed of sukuna, feeding your swollen pussy was so many inches. “hngh, f-fuck, fuckkk,” you’d whine between wet, saturated kisses. toji purposely feels against your folds, all stuffed and sopping wet. he rubs a thumb against your slick entrance as your legs were just about to give out. “toji, m-more. need you to touch me more.”

“you don’t need shit, little girl,” he corrects you, squeezing your lips together before presses a kiss against it. you moan, your ass stinging every few seconds from the stings of sukuna’s palm making direct contact against your ass cheek. spank after spank, oh how he adores the jiggle. he could watch it all day, even in slow motion if he could. “such a cute thing though, had the nerve to say you thought our training room was the fuckin’ ladies' room.”

you cringe once he repeats that. the same ringing going through your ears once more. your ears perk, hearing sukuna’s raspy grunts against the shells of your lobes before you start to stammer, “toji, touch me.”

“i’ll touch this messy body when i wanna,” he gruffs, leaning to nip kisses near your neck. sukuna’s still holding you up—you’re like a rag doll, eyes goggling from the stretch before you start to feel it. not your orgasm, but something entirely different. it was a new type of pressure, sweet whiny moans emit out of you before you feel sukuna’s rude tip thrash against your g-spot again, and again, and again..

toji’s thumb softly strokes underneath your neck as he pulls you into a short kiss. you whimper, pulling away before spreading your legs a bit further.

“i— something’s coming, i f-feel tingly.”

sukuna roughly laughs against your ear, seemingly getting what you were implying. “yeah, gonna make another mess on us, princess? oh. i mean on me, heh?”

you shudder, your pussy feeling entirely stuffed and your eyes merely roll way back. he fit nice and snug, you bare around him before a whine drags out your throat. so deep, so so deep, you’re spasming—each relentless piston of his hips makes you whine louder. a feeling that was purely euphoric welts right against you, and you’re laid all back against sukuna’s bare chest, riding him in reverse. “c-choke me, ‘kuna, choke me, please.”

“want me to put you in a headlock, yeah,” he whispers to you in a rough low voice. you moan, feeling him lick against your earlobe before toji strokes your cheek. you could tell he wanted a turn too, the pout on his lips stretching even further. you’re nodding against him before your cunt gapes more. “sure. i’ll let you in on what my opponents feel, pretty girl.”

you moan, his voice was so low up against your ear, you’re about to cum. or were you, you swallow thickly despite having a sudden dry throat— voice all raspy and strained from moaning for such a duration that your head’s woozy. it feels too good, your thighs ache and quaver before you feel a beefy arm wrap around your neck. “upsie daisy, thereee we go,” and he scoots you on his lap just a bit farther. he’s buried to the hilt. you moan, toji pulling you into the nth kiss of the night, lips moving in pure tandem. just when you’re about to finish, you feel him rub against your stuffed cunt once more. yet that’s only when you decide to move your hands towards the boxers . . . nipples.

“t-the fuck,” he grunts in a hoarse tone, his voice was suddenly a bit shaky. it was cute—you couldn’t lie to yourself, you found yourself staring at toji’s chest way more often than you should. practically always shirtless, his pecs were huge. such pink swollen nipples, you slide a thumb against it and he shivers from your touch. “fuckin’ weirdo. ‘m sensitive there, s-shit.”

he doesn’t tell you to stop—instead, he grips your hair not so tightly but firmly. you look up at him, speaking in a tiny yet sheepish tone. “can— can i?”

“can ya what?” he grits, watching as sukuna continues to feed your cunt of his cock — you were just about to burst, you felt it and your toes clench and curl all up. so cute.

with a thumb still sliding against his pecs tenderly, you murmur. dilated pupils flicker towards his chest, then back up at him. “. . can,” you huff out in short breaths, tummy seizing, breathing hot and heavy. “can i suck on them?”

“no you can’t fuckin’ suck on them. what kinda question is tha—”

“toji, don’t be fuckin’ mean. you claim she’s your girl so let her suck your tits, big guy.” sukuna chimes in, releasing his soft grip against your neck. you gasp, leaning way back against him now. he was so warm pent up against you—you whimper out, sukuna leans against your ear and he starts to talk you through your incoming orgasm. “right? wanna make toji a little whiny bitch?”

“shut the fuck up,” he rasps, and his pecs literally stare at you—so beefy, you could have sworn they twitched. he groans, watching you give him such eyes before he inches closer towards you, bending down. “…….fine. whatever.”

still grinding against sukuna’s lap, you hold toji’s pecs before latching your tongue against it. his face scrunches up and it’s so cute, for whatever reason, the way your tongue curls against his perky nipples feels … good. awkwardly, he pulls your head closer towards his chest, eyeing closely as you briefly start to suck. as usual, you were so sloppy too—moaning up against his sensitive skin, rolling your tongue all against his nipple.

“nasty little g—girl,” he chokes out.

you glance up at him, parting your lips away before he makes you go back to tending to his tense nipples. “i didn’t tell you to stop. use y’er fuckin’ tongue some more. and stare at me while you do that . . . weird shit.”

toji’s voice significantly pitches and you’re so into it that you don’t even realize that before you know it, you end up squirting. everything comes at once, you’re pulsing with sukuna’s cock still twitching vigorously inside you and you whimper, mouth still sucking onto toji’s tits nipples. low laughter could be heard from behind you, and it’s all so much. your pussy was equivalent to a waterpark, gushing out all into sukuna’s lap. “fuckkk, princess,” he chortles, slowing down your hips and he ends up finishing a few seconds after you.

when he came inside, it came out quite a lot too. a hefty amount, it came out in ropes to where he paints the entirety of your womb. so warm from the inside, your tummy briefly caves in and your legs felt like mush.

“heh, did you just squirt?” sukuna points out, cock still twitching inside but he just lies still. you’re stretched out literally on the mat, seeing pure stars— the lights of the arena merely blinding you before you lie back against him. “a squirter and you’re tapping out already? aw boo. ‘n here i thought you could handle a few more rounds in the ring, princess.”

“i— i can,” you protest, parting your lips away from toji’s sheeny pecs. your lips were spit-glossed, he stared at you before squatting down to stare at the mess right between your legs. so messy, sukuna lifts you off of him and it just pours right down between your thighs. “i can go for more.”

toji hums, taking a quick three-second glance at his watch. “five fuckin’ minutes, ‘s all you’ll get with . . me,” and it’s cute because a mere pink forms on his face.

he’s still embarrassed from you sucking on his nipples that he tries to act all tough—but that only makes his tone quaver even more. “match’s gonna start soon. sukuna, let’s take her both.”

he snickers, pulling your shirt that was tucked underneath your blazer all the way up.

“both?” and sukuna lifts you to sit on top of toji, straddling him. you were being preparing to be overly stuffed with not one but two cocks. you fall face forward into toji’s broad chest, the coldness of his chain that wraps around his neck brushes against your skin before he helps you align yourself.

you moan, feeling sukuna get behind too—you gulp, toji’s fondling your breasts that almost poke out through your unbuttoned shirt whilst sukuna was behind. you’d be taking them both— one in each hole. “can you handle us both at the same time, pretty girl? toji’s known for his record of lasting a good ah . . . two solid rounds.”

toji glares, feeling himself start to open you up again. with his plump crownhead of his cock, he splits you open, and he is a tad thicker than sukuna—you moan, wrapping flimsy arms around him before sukuna enters from behind with toji focusing on the front. “shut up. you say that ‘n act like i won’t k.o. you right now.”

“oh yeah?” sukuna cavils, and you gasp, landing on the cold canvas with an 'oof' once the boxer lightly places you down. you pout—glancing up at the two of them who were having a face off at a time like this. sukuna already pulled out and they stared each other down before toji slyly smiles. “is that a fact?” and for a brief moment, he leers down at toji’s sheeny lips— the dark-haired boxer slides his tongue against his scar before humming.

“don’t play, you know it is,” he replies, giving you one ogle before turning back towards his rival. “y’know, ‘kuna. you sure talk a lot of shit but you couldn’t even pin me down if you tried.”

sukuna rasps lowly, inching closer before they were inches apart—you thought they were gonna kiss at this rate. oh, something like this would be such a good inspiration for the headlines.

“if you wanted my attention, should have said so,” sukuna sneers, rubbing his hand that was carefully wrapped up in a white bandage against his slim torso. “besides, i think we all know who can last more rounds.”

“did you two just forget about me—?” you furrow your eyebrows, literally still soaked and laid against the corner of the ring. they shoot you a glance before turning back towards each other.

toji scoffs back at sukuna, ignoring you. “prove it then. pin me the fuck down, hot shot.”

“bend the fuck over then, big guy. we’ll show the pretty journalist who’s gonna win this night’s match. round fuckin’ one.”

#★vegasbaby. #toji x reader #toji smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #toji fushiguro smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #jjk drabbles #cw sex mention #cw breeding

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hey! Not sure if you do requests, sorry if you don’t! If you want to, could you do a story where a supervillain typically goes easy on a group of rookie heroes, as he usually fights them just for fun, and could destroy them if he wanted.

He just lets them think they can beat him.

Then, something happens (maybe they cross a line, and one of the heroes tries to stop their team from crossing that line but they don't listen) where the supervillain shows them just how powerful he actually is?:

Ask anonymously

Hi there Annablogsposts! I do requests, I’m just typically really slow getting to them, lol. I’d love to write this for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

Hero entered the meeting room, where Leader and the rest of their team were already talking.

“So we’re in agreement, then?” Leader asked.

Teammate One nodded.

“If we take Henchman, we can interrogate them and learn more about Supervillain’s plans than we ever could through just reconnaissance.”

“Woah woah woah,” Hero said, “are we talking kidnapping?”

“Uh, yeah?” Teammate Two said, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

“But isn’t kidnapping, I don’t know, wrong? I mean, Henchman doesn’t even have powers- they’re not even in the field most of the time. Why would we-”

Leader folded their arms across their chest.

“Hero, do you want to stop Supervillain or not? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Now, Teammate One is going to be look-out, while you-”

“No,” Hero said.

Leader blinked.

“No?”

“No,” Hero repeated, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of something that goes against my morals, not to mention what we stand for. None of us should even be talking about this, let alone actually going through with it!”

Hero didn’t wait for Leader’s response. They turned and left the meeting room, only stopping when they got back to their own room.

…

Hero jolted awake, stirred by the sounds of a struggle. They checked the clock. Three in the morning. Their team must have gone through with it after all.

Hero crept into the room that had been set up as a holding cell. They peeked in and saw Henchman, battered and bloody, breathing hard. Hero’s eyes widened. Their own team did this!?

Hero unlocked the door and knelt by the criminal. Their eyes were glassy and dilated. Drugged. It wasn’t even a fair fight.

“I’m gonna help you,” Hero whispered.

“Hero?” Henchman croaked dazedly.

Hero had already left, bolting to the med bay to get supplies. They rushed back into the cell and got to work.

“This is more Teammate Two’s thing, but I’m gonna try my best,” Hero said quietly.

The room was silent, save for the occasional whimper from Henchman. When Hero finished, they had stitched up the deeper wounds and bandaged the more shallow ones.

Hero opened their mouth to ask a question when the far wall exploded into tiny bits. Supervillain stood there, a dark look on their face.

“Henchman?” Supervillain called.

“In here!” Henchman slurred.

Supervillain rushed to their right hand’s side.

“Who did it? One of them, or all of them?” Supervillain asked.

“A-all but this one,” Henchman said, nodding to Hero.

Supervillain looked up at Hero. Their eyes drifted to the medical supplies, and Hero’s bloodied hands.

“Not one for breaking the rules, hm?” Supervillain asked.

Hero sat frozen in shock. Supervillain had never been able to take out a wall like that before. Supervillain had always had minimal powers. How did they do this?

“Hero, wait for me outside,” Supervillain said, “and take Henchman with you.”

Hero opened their mouth, but no sound came out.

“Come on,” Henchman said, struggling to get up.

That spurred Hero into action. They helped Henchman up, and took them outside, stepping over bits of rubble and letting Henchman put their weight on them for support.

Hero turned.

“What are you gonna do?” they asked timidly.

Supervillain adjusted their gloves, their fingers curling into fists.

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

…

Hero waited outside until they heard the screaming. Those were their team’s voices. They laid Henchman down, leaning them up against a tree.

“I need to go help them,” Hero said, “stay here.”

“Thought you’d say that,” Henchman grunted, pulling something from a concealed pocket in their boot.

Hero barely had time to question what it was before the object was slammed into their thigh.

“Sorry, kid,” Henchman said, “but you don’t need to get hurt on account of them.”

Hero’s world spun. They stumbled, falling to the ground right next to Henchman. Henchman positioned them against their chest, so they’d be more comfortable. Hero drifted off a moment later.

…

Supervillain dusted themselves off, stepping over the mess of unconscious bodies strewn about the room. They approached Henchman, taking note of Hero, fast asleep.

“They tried to run in?” Supervillain asked knowingly.

Henchman shrugged, nodding.

“Poor thing,” Supervillain sighed, “we’ll sort them out. They deserve better.”

Supervillain picked both Henchman and Hero up with ease, as though they were little more than a few feathers. They flew off, back to their base. The rest of the team would wake up so see themselves and their compound in shambles. Hero, on the other hand, would wake up in a lavish bedroom. It pays to not anger the most powerful Supervillain in the world.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#eyyyy finally got a request done! #as requested #hero x villain #hero x villain community #heroes and villains #supervillain #henchman #team whump #hero whump #writeblr #writing #whump #creative writing #snippet #drugging #kidnapping

[xxsugarbonesxx]

Librarian Miguel x Flower Shop Owner

tags: tooth rotting amounts of fluff and some suggestive bits. No one is spider man in this AU, mainly just character set up stuff :3 and no gender is specified for reader any1 can read it

hopefully this will be me getting back into writing since i took a break from it lol (this was done in 30-40 minutes at 2am so sorry if it isnt too high quality) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

In the little rural town of Nueva, there was a library, it was owned and operated by the single hottest man in town, and probably the whole state, Miguel O’Hara. 

Miguel O’Hara was a simple man really, he ironed his clothes, did sudoku on the train and ate a bagel with light cream cheese, an assortment of raspberries, blackberries and blueberries every morning every day for breakfast. 

He took his coffee dark with the littlest splash of cream and one sugar cube. Two sugar cubes would be just reckless. Coffee could be substituted with Camellia flower tea when he was out of coffee, peppermint for when he had a migraine.

All the women in town would sing his praises to another. Little was known about him besides that after the death of his daughter he moved to Nueva and opened his library. In front of his library was a small community garden and a bench dedicated to his dear daughter by the double doors. 

No one brought it up, no one asked, and he liked it that way. He liked the simplicity of Nueva. The air was cleaner, the people there warmer and the ringing in his ears seemingly disappeared when he moved there. 

He liked to keep his library neat and tidy, he had plenty of rules set in place to follow…children's books in the front and adult books in the back. The spicer content was shelved by the cook books so no kids found them. You are to only use the various lamps in the library, never the big light. It totally ruined the cozy atmosphere he had set up. 

Jazz, Frank Sinatra, and Selena Quintanilla was the only music allowed to be played, he didn’t like any other types of music. Coffee was free as long as you returned your mug to the table his coffee maker was on once you were done. No talking louder than a whisper, and only pet the library cat if you had all your shots. That was mostly a joke, but Miguel didn’t want people who weren’t up to date on their immunizations touching his cat.

It was almost closing time, and there were only a few people left. The familiar cast of characters Miguel had come to know now wandering the maze of shelves. Ben Riley was using one of the community monitors. Sending emails back and forth to his girlfriend in Canada. Only god knew if she was real or not.

When Miguel asked why Ben just bought his own laptop or computer to converse with his girlfriend, Ben explained he didn’t want to go through the trouble of setting up a laptop when he could just walk to the library to use one for free.

Miguel couldn’t help but hold back the fattest eye roll known to man when he heard that.

Peter Parker was looking for cookbooks for the dinner he was gonna make to win his ex wife back. Stressing over the perfect dish to make as young Mayday Parker debated whether she wanted to check out GoodNight Moon or Skippyjon Jones for her bedtime story tonight.

Then there was Pavitr Prabhakar and Gayatri Singh. Debatably his most adorable regulars. Miguel would watch the two teenagers stumble through their awkward study dates, he couldn't help but feel the littlest bit proud of Pav when he finally worked up the courage and kissed her. 

But his favorite, hands down, was you. You owned the little flower shop across the street from his library next to the bakery. On the opening, you had brought him a bunch of sunflowers tied with a pearl white ribbon as a gift. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he was actually allergic to sunflowers and graciously took the generous gift with a stuffy nose and kind smile.

You would come waltzing in, batting your eyelashes like you were auditioning for a mascara commercial. At first he had no interest in romance, but you were just so…kind, caring, loving, compassionate. You were so slow and soft spoken, giving him the space he needed while he grieved and was there afterwards to hug him and dry his tears. 

At the beginning, you’d only stop by and help him in the library or check out a novel or two, but as you became a frequent visitor, you stopped coming just to help him…and started coming just to see him.

He remembered how one day, you had arrived at the library as usual. A perplexed look on your darling face with your hands behind your back. You had spent all of the night before carefully crafting a special bouquet of lilies and tulips. Making sure there wasn't anything in it he was allergic to.

After dancing around the subject, you had slowly confessed her feelings to him. 

The next hour was spent in the back room of the library. Feverishly groping another and kissing frantically, your glasses kept sliding against each other’s as you both ran to rip each other's clothes off another's bodies.

Miguel was still that simple man he was all those years ago when he moved to the sleepy town of Nueva. The idea of building a real relationship with someone scared him from how many times he'd been hurt in the past and the fresh wounds from the death of his child.

But now he has you. He has someone to come home to besides the empty walls of his little cottage home. He has a significant other to fill that void and to lift him up, someone to be his lock screen picture.

Someone to tell all the things he’s learned from the regulars at the library. He told you about Ben getting catfished, Peter winning MJ over with homemade ratatouille and a promise, about Pav and Gayatri’s kiss while the both of you snuggled up on the couch over a bottle of strawberry wine.

You'd both started the relationship a little rocky, not knowing whether this was right with the things Miguel was working through then. But it soon proved to be the best decision either of you could have made. 

He had your wedding picture next to Gabriela's school picture day portrait on his desk. 

His favorite parts of his day were when you’d walk from your shop to the library on your lunch break to eat together, and in the evenings when he'd read the book you were currently reading out loud to you in the evenings, before going to sleep together. 

He was still that simple man, but now he’d share his bagels with you. He’d offer to iron your clothes for you, and even when you didn’t understand, he showed you how to play sudoku on the long train rides. Even though you were just nodding along to hear him talk about something he enjoyed.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #2099<3 #spiderman 2099 #writing #across the spiderverse #fluff #miguel ohara fluff #just cutesy reader being cutesy w their man #tooth rotting fluff

[looneyleyle]

the self-destructive habits of a hopeless romantic ~ j. hughes

synopsis: monetizing one's self-sabotaging habits, surprisingly, has its downfalls. one of them being leaving that one attractive hockey player that is an absolute gentleman who loves you with his whole entire heart.

warnings: self-sabotage, self-deprecation, angsty (but with happy ending)

word count: 3425 words

note: once again unedited but i wanted to get this one out there

???'s pov

time and time again, the world has seen the self destructive habits of humans. well, that makes it seem serious. the world has seen the countless missed opportunities due to a fear of another's reaction. the world has seen the blunders due to saving face. the world has seen the heartbreaks due to miscommunication. time and time again, the world has seen how people sabotage their own lives for the dumbest reasons.

esther graham was no different.

in fact, she capitalized on her ability to put herself into the worst emotional distress possible. every heartbreak produced a great work of literature that would nearly sell out in bookstores all over the northeast. she wasn't a new york times best seller by any means, but she was a small town writer from mont vernon, new hampshire. she made a name for herself during her time at hamilton college in their creative writing program. in her junior year of college, she published her first book, woes of a teenage failure, a novel following what could have been for a young college drop out named sophia. the book was a hit amongst her peers and professors, and by word of mouth, ended up selling 200 copies. the book, as ms. graham remarked, was her own "what-if" story, as she almost dropped out of college the beginning of her sophomore year.

and how do i know so much about ms. graham?

well, because i am ms. esther graham.

and i'm here to tell you all about the biggest blunder of my life.

after my first book, i hit major writing block. i would stare at my computer screen for hours just to delete the only three words that i could come up with. i would sit in coffee shops, pen in hand, ready for inspiration to strike, and yet, nothing. i was nearing the end of my college career, riding on the coattails of my first and only book's success, and couldn't figure out how to continue. my professors taught me plenty of ways to try and combat writer's block, but nothing worked.

until i met ryan. a devilishly handsome man all the way from the cheese state of wisconsin, who was meeting up with some college friends for the annual boston beanpot. we had our meet cute at a nearby pizza joint, in which i sat down and started chatting with him, thinking he was a publisher that i was supposed to meet with. after realizing my blunder when he had absolutely no idea what an anthology was, he asked if i wanted to join him and his friends at the beanpot, as one of their friends had cancelled, leaving them with an extra ticket.

ryan and i dated for four months. we would take turns traveling between my college in new york and his in wisconsin until eventually it became too much, or should i say, too little for him, and he broke it off. in my rage and complete depression from the breakup, i wrote my next hit, until the sun sets, a 142-page anthology of gut-wrenching poems, which was eventually integrated into hamilton college's curriculum for their young adult modern literature class. i was quite proud of that.

after that, i found myself yet again staring at blanks screens and empty notepads.

that is, until chloe. a beautiful new york native whom i had actually met while dating ryan. she was a hostess at a restaurant ryan and i would always go to. she was pursuing her masters in psychology, which gave me fascinating insights and tactics to use in my books. we were never officially together, but we had something for almost three months before she was whisked off by some californian named ella. i never saw her again, which prompted my next book, the ninth floor, a murder mystery following a closeted lesbian couple in 1940's hollywood (it was one of the girlfriends the whole time).

at this point, when i hit a creative block for the third time, i realized that i needed my heart or brain to be in absolute shambles in order to produce my best work. i needed to be at some sort of life crisis, and the easiest way to do so was to love another and let that love be ripped out of your life.

so, i began dating for the sake of my career. it was like i sought out the most manipulative, scummy people in the world who were able to get away with it just because they were attractive. over the course of a year, my first year out of college, i dated a total of three men and one woman, and poured my emotions out into a collection of short stories titled lavender.

and that was when i met jack.

i was in new jersey for a book signing at this little bookstore which, as it turns out, was right by the prudential center. as i left the bookstore, i was nearly run over by an overly excited man-child with a giant bag slung upon his shoulder.

"luke, watch out, you nearly killed that woman!" a voice yelled from where the man came from.

"i'm so sorry about that miss, my brother can get a bit overexcited sometimes." looking at the person talking to me, i found a young, very attractive brunet with the most adorable smile. i straightened myself up instinctively, wanting to appear presentable.

"no worries. if you don't mind me asking, what got him so riled up that he almost trampled me?" the man let out a laugh at my statement.

"of course, we owe you at least that much for your near-death experience. he just got nominated for the calder trophy." he explained, as if those words meant anything to me. seeing my blank stare, he clarified. "a rookie of the year award. we play for the new jersey devils." the boy in question came up and joined us, grinning ear to ear.

"ahhh, i see. i'm not a big hockey watcher, which i know is absolute blasphemy for someone who grew up in new hampshire." his jaw nearly dropped.

"you're from up here and don't like hockey? we have to change that." he exclaimed. in my peripheral vision, i could see his brother trying to hide his laughter at his brother's forwardness.

"ill have to come and watch a game sometime." i mused.

"we have a game coming up next week against the blue jackets. i could maybe snatch you a seat in exchange for your number." he proposed. his brother snorted at that, having to turn around to hide his obvious laughter. the man paid his brother no mind, just looking at me with a big smile on his face.

"trying to bribe me mister?"

"is it working?" i put my hand out and he immediately put his phone in my hand, adding my information into his contacts.

"esther? that's nice, you look like a esther." i quirked an eyebrow at him, but continued on anyways.

"and you? what should i call you?"

"call me yours. or jack, either works." the brother was doubled over on the floor at this point, jack finally acknowledging him by kicking him slightly, making him fall over.

"anyways, ms. esther, we have to get going, but ill see you next week at our game." he put out his hand for me to shake.

"you've got yourself a deal jack."

and just like that, jack and i started talking. his eagerness was cute, he texted me no more than ten minutes after meeting me. we talked every day, mainly on calls, asking each other questions and such to get to know each other.

and sure enough, the next week, i found myself back in new jersey watching the brothers play. i assumed jack was going to be some sort of benchwarmer or something, but that didn't seem to be the case. despite my lack of hockey knowledge, i could tell the boy was good, and he had quite a fan base if the amount of women wearing his jersey meant anything. and i felt severely out of place, simply wearing a grey sweater and jeans, unlike everyone else in the stands, decked out in red.

after that, i found myself going to a couple more hockey games, for no particular reason. jack would try to explain the game over video calls and our occasional coffee meet ups, but i couldn't for the life of me wrap my head around it. why do they all get off the ice every five seconds? and what the hell is offsides?? jack always laughed at my confusion, telling me that i'd get it one day.

we spent a couple months thriving off of video chats and once-in-a-blue-moon hangouts, until i got a job as an editor for a local paper. i was good at editing, always having good grammar and an eye for design, but it wasn't my dream. despite it not being my dream, i needed a stable income, and fast. my mind was devoid of ideas, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon.

plus, it helped that this stable income happened to be in new york city, putting me a lot closer to a certain someone. and, with me being closer, that certain someone would pop on by a lot more than before. and eventually, chinese takeout dinners turned into staying the night, which turned into coming up for the weekend, which turned into the line of friendship being crossed into something more.

and then, i made the dumbest mistake of my life.

i let him go.

now, i know what you must be thinking. he must have done something wrong, he must have cheated or neglected me or done something so completely unforgivable that i would just throw away the most amazing thing in my life. and i wish i was here to tell you that was the truth.

but it wasn't.

jack was nothing but a gentleman, and i was just a broken girl doing the only thing i knew how to do: leave. i like to tell myself that it was for my career, that i needed to write another book, that i wasn't fulfilled in my job and that i was putting myself first by doing this, but i was perfectly content with my life. i was an editor for a major publishing company, i started writing little happy poems about my mundane life with jack, and wanted nothing more. i had no reason to run away. i just woke up in his bed one day and realized that i wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and i couldn't accept that. i had gotten so used to leaving people that i assumed that they would leave me if i hadn't done so first, and i couldn't lose the one real thing i ever had.

so naturally, my self-destructive, self-sabotaging self let him go, the exact opposite of what i wanted.

and when i got back to my apartment after writing jack a confusing and half-assed letter, i cried. i cried and cried and cried, and i always wrote about characters crying until they couldn't anymore, but that day, i couldn't find the end to my tears. for hours tears would either slowly leak or violently pour from my eyes, and they never did end, not even when i passed out on my couch from exhaustion.

and after a week, i was expecting to pick myself up and start writing my next best seller, coping with my writing. but i sat there, and my florescent computer screen simply sat there, staring back at me. and when i left my apartment for a change of scenery, the blank pages of my notebook mocked me. i flipped through past works, all of them being little poems about jack, and the waterworks continued, right in the middle of a starbucks.

after a week and four days, i couldn't take it. i had to make things right, i had to at least see him. it always worked in the books, right? someone makes a huge mistake, they break up, they see each other again and realize they're both miserable without each other and then get back together and live happily ever after.

when i knocked on the door to jack's apartment, i was met with an unimpressed looking luke. at the sight of him, the waterworks started up again.

"you're an idiot, you know that?" i nodded furiously at this, sobs wrecking through my body. i couldn't see through the tears in my eyes, but i could tell the luke hadn't moved a muscle.

"he deserved better and you know that." i felt my soul being crushed. "i mean, a letter? seriously esther? and a half-assed one at that. i know damn well you don't have a degree in creative writing for that bullshit."

i opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came up. what would i say, that i was a broken person? cop out. that i did it to everyone? not much better. that i got scared? fucking coward.

"if you think that you deserve to see my brother, then i'll let you in." he told me, moving out of the way, door open wide. i just stood there, staring at him through teary eyes. my brain cheered, finally able to go in, but my feet wouldn't move.

my heart still clenched and ached, and with every thought of moving forward, into that apartment, it hurt more. jack didn't deserve this. after all the nights of him reading my poems about him and praising my work, after all the sweet things he'd say when i was down, after all the little acts of kindness he showed me, after all the love he poured into us, he didn't deserve to be broken by me. hurt people hurt people, the scholars had that right. he didn't deserve to be broken.

and so, i got ready to leave, again.

"i'm sorry." was all i said, turning around with heavy legs and a heavy heart. i heard luke let out a sigh as i walked away, closing the door behind him.

a couple of days went by and i found myself back at their apartment. i knew they wouldn't be there, they had an away game in anaheim the night before, and i knew from my time with jack that they would always spend the night in the city before coming back, especially after a win, a 5-0 win no less.

i stood there in front of their door, a small box in my hands, contemplating. jack didn't deserve this, but a selfish part of me needed this. i placed the box gingerly outside of their door and left the building. if the box was taken by some nosy neighbor, or thrown in the trash by some janitor, then it would be fate. it would be a sign to move on. but, there was a chance that jack and luke would come back to their apartment, and would pick up the box, and jack would recognize my handwriting. and, instead of throwing the box in the trash like any normal self-respecting person receiving a box from their shitty ex, he would take it to his room, and open it up to see my notebook, with a bookmark starting at the pages when i first started seeing him. and he would read the poems and maybe, just maybe, he'd see the note written on the bookmark to meet me at the park near his apartment, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be willing to hear me out.

i went to that park every single day for exactly one month and six days, always arriving by 1 pm, never late. and i would stay there until 4 pm, waiting.

on the 37th day, i was sitting there, editing, funnily enough, a sports column about the recent devils and islanders game. i watched it, absolutely terrible game it was, the islanders beating the devils for the first time in the season. our sports journalist, while passionate and very knowledgeable about seemingly every sport out there, had a knack for writing long, run-on sentences that reflected his rambling nature. as i sat there on the same park bench i had been sitting on for the previous 36 days, a figure stopped in front of me. i finished up the sentence i was working on before looking up.

and while i hate cliches, the wind was absolutely knocked out of my lungs.

"h-hey jack." i started, immediately putting away my work, giving him my full attention.

"hey esther." a shiver ran down my spine from him just saying my name. it had been so long, and while it lost its loving tone, i welcomed it with open arms. jack moved, taking the spot next to me, looking out at the trees in front of us. when it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, i started the conversation.

"i see you read the notebook."

"i finished it three weeks ago." he replied, voice lacking its usual emotion. tears welled up in my eyes. three weeks.

"oh."

"i came here immediately after finishing it." i felt my eyes bulge out of their sockets at that. he continued, "i went to that bench over there and watched as you fidgeted in your spot, looking frantically at everyone who passed by. i watched the next day as you sat in the pouring rain with no umbrella. i sat over on that bench every day that i was here since reading your notebook."

a silence fell upon us, my mind reeling, trying to figure out what he was trying to say, from his emotionless face to the fact that he came.

"do you know how much it hurt? waking up to empty sheets and some half-assed note with the lamest excuses on earth?" i hadn't really paid mind to the tears rolling down my cheeks until he brought that up, sending me back to that morning, quickly scribbling out some gibberish before leaving the best part of my life behind.

"i was going to wait another month, y'know. to see if you were still gonna come here every day."

"so why didn't you?" i asked, sniffling intensely, trying to calm down my sobs.

"luke said i was absolutely miserable without you. coach told me i wasn't focused. my teammates pointed out that i barely left my apartment. the icing on the cake was when my mom started asking if you would be coming over to the lakehouse this summer. i realized, as pathetic as it seems, that i can't live without you."

my attempts at stopping my crying were thrown out the window at that. i could probably fill the hudson river with the amount of tears i had shed over the past two months.

"how can i make it up to you. please, please let me make it up to you." i begged, fully facing him, my hands angrily playing with the sleeves of my shirt because if i didn't, i would be reaching out to the man in front of me.

"never pull that shit again." he bargained, looking me dead in the eyes for the first time in months. and in that moment, i saw just how bad he was doing. sunken eyes with heavy bags, his skin dull, hair slightly unkempt under his hat.

"never again." i promised, putting out my pinky to him, something he would always do when he promised me to not get hurt in games. he let out a hoarse laugh, looking away from me, and when he looked back, i saw the tears brewing in his eyes. he took my pinky in his and held it there, between us.

"now, i'm not gonna just take you right back after all that. that was really shitty and i need some time to get over that. but, as i've found out, i can't really function without you. so maybe you could start with coming to my games again, and i could take you out for coffee next week."

"sounds perfect."

i accepted my life as an editor for the local newspaper, accepted that i probably wouldn't write another page-turning sell-out book, accepted that i was completely content with whatever happened to me, so long as jack was there with me.

and with that, my self-destructive, soul-crushing, heart-breaking tendencies reached their end.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x oc #new jersey devils #fanfic

[lurkingshan]

Unknown Episode 11

Well, let me get this out of the way upfront. This episode brought us to the big moment we've all been waiting for, the final turn in Yuan and Qian's relationship--and unfortunately, it didn't quite land.

I've been sitting with this episode, contemplating my disappointment with the first sequence, and I think it comes down to this show that has been so assured and confident through most of its run faltering at the crucial moment and seeming to lose faith in its own storytelling to the point that it used editing tricks to compensate. The choice to chop up and sequence this narrative lynchpin of a scene out of order is baffling, and it's a choice that significantly stepped on the most important emotional climax of the story. I was confused to go from the conversation outside to a sudden kiss, then disappointed when we cut back to a very short exchange between Qian and Yuan that was supposed to provide the basis for this turn with only some thin dialogue that didn't connect the beats of the scene, and then into an intense sexual encounter (that was constantly interrupted by repetitive flashbacks) that should have felt like a triumphant and revelatory moment but didn't because of the way we got there.

I know I'm not the only one feeling that way, since folks have been creating and distributing reedited versions of the scene, and Youku actually uploaded a new version free on YouTube with all the flashbacks removed (a clear move toward fan appeasement after the show received a lot of negative feedback on the scene). The editing and the flashbacks were annoying, but honestly the fundamental problem was the scene they wrote did not sufficiently sell the change for Qian--he goes from saying he is still not certain what he wants to being ready to be dicked down in a couple minutes' time, with nothing in the exchange providing any new information or impetus for the shift. The performers did great work but unfortunately the writing and directing and editing decisions around this sequence were just bad; it's frustrating for this to happen with arguably the most important scene of the romance.

A note about the novel: the way this final turn happened there was quite different and, candidly, better in just about every way, from the impetus for the change to the beats of the revelation to the progression of physical intimacy on a pace that felt much more attuned to the emotional complexities at play. I do not know why the show did...this when they had better source material content to work with, but here we are. I absolutely recommend that anyone who loves this show read it!

So, with that disappointment expressed, on to the rest of the episode, in which Yuan and Qian settled into their couple era. I was deeply amused by Qian taking to their sex life like a moth to a flame to the point of daydreaming in meetings, but I do wish the episode had focused more on the natural tension and role confusion that should have resulted from this huge shift in their relationship. They touched on that a bit in the scene where Yuan asked Qian if his hug was from his brother or his boyfriend, but they didn't delve into those complexities in the way I hoped they would. I enjoyed their date at the local restaurant (and loved their friendly neighborhood gangster helping to set the mood) and how much it felt like they were surrounded by their history as they moved through all of these familiar locations where they've had important moments. I didn't much care for the insertion of the health scare plot or the time spent on Le and the doc, though I'm always happy for more Sam Lin even if it comes in the form of a weird late stage and wholly unnecessary ship.

My favorite scene between Yuan and Qian in this episode was far and away the discussion on the stairs with Qian reflecting on his fears of becoming more like his mother and Yuan biting him to snap him out of his fatalistic attitude (this felt like such a classic Priest tribute, she always has biting in her romances). It was a helpful re-centering of what they do for each other and why Yuan is an important presence in Qian's life. I didn't think we needed the health scare for Qian, but I did love Qian choosing to go to this place where he found Yuan to contemplate his life and what matters, with Yuan in turn reflecting that even though he's seen a lot more of the world now, he still prefers to come home to this street. I found that exchange so moving and I think it was important for Qian to hear that.

And that scene led to my other favorite thing in this episode, which was everything to do with Lili and her bond with her brothers. I teared up to see her standing against the wall where Qian has measured their growth talking about the sneaky ways she would try to care for Qian when they were younger, with San Pang listening attentively and gazing at her adoringly. It was such a small moment, but a really lovely window into their relationship dynamic and the shared history they also have together. And when Yuan and Qian came in hand in hand and she just ran to them and offered up her love and acceptance, I felt so much warmth for this family and everything they've survived together.

#unknown the series #taiwanese bl #shan shouts into the void

[wetcatspellcaster]

Metapost: "The Ascendent"

**this is a meta for my fic, Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth, and NOT a discussion of the BG3 game canon in any way. If you try and make this into a disk-horse, I will BITE you**

(spoilers under the cut for Chapters 1-23 of Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth).

So... remember in the Chapter One endnote when I said I was a Spike/Buffy fan first, and a person second? x

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

In more seriousness, there was a number of fictional seasonings/ingredients that went into creating what I felt was the villain of a Gothic horror, and what I felt could turn the Ascendent into something that was both 'fixable', and something I enjoyed writing.

Those ingredients were:

Spike and the idea of 'soulless' vampires in the BtVS canon - do I like this conceit of BtVS worldbuilding and how it's used in the show? No. I think it often underlines how bad Whedon is at writing romance. BUT I do think it gives Buffy this free pass for which vampires she can/can't like or adopt, and I needed some of that for my protagonist. I need a 'I can fix him' moment - BtVS has those in fucking SPADES.

Howl's Moving Castle (this one was accidental, I'm still mad at myself but I can't deny it's there) - man conducts magic ritual for power, removing an essential part of himself in the process that needs to be returned

Picture of Dorian Gray (the idea of an exterior staying pristine while something hidden suffers and decays)

Curse of Strahd (the soulless in Barovia, which I mentioned in Chapter 23)

The idea of default moral alignments in D&D. I have a whole chapter arguing against this in my thesis (mostly bc it's often applied to entire races) but I was fascinated by creating a set of circumstances where I feel like a default moral alignment is valid, actually. 7,000 deaths seems like a good set up. I wanted to imagine a being that was trapped within a default moral alignment, and the laws of its very being prevent it from being good no matter what it tries, and it knows that (this kind of creates a feedback loop with the Spike/Buffy stuff)

The parts of the BG3 canon I took and REMADE (I'm stressing this throughout, I was making a horror story and a horror monster your honour):

Astarion conducts the Rite of Profane Ascension with scars on his back, but has to scar Cazador's back personally, suggesting that um... the Rite REALLY SHOULDN'T BE CONDUCTED BY SOMEONE WHO'S GOT THOSE SCARS. Cazador wasn't going to do it that way, is all I'm saying!!

The idea that Ascended!Ending Astarion is a concentrated version of certain traits that have persisted throughout his story - his flirtiness, his understanding of sex as a mechanism and expression of power, his use of a façade as a mask for trauma he refuses to acknowledge.

The lines alluding to dissociation in the brothel foursome, post-Ascension.

The idea that Astarion seduced Tav to survive or protect himself- in my case, because I made the Ascendent empty save for Astarion's survival instinct, the idea that he would gravitate towards Tav as one of his default modes to potentially survive made sense to me - this is why it becomes an obsession.

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

For me, when writing, the Ascendent is a few things:

An intensification of vampirism in a different, fucked-up direction. Yeah, A!Astarion, you can walk in sunlight and you can eat and drink and don't need blood. But you are still a hungering maw of emptiness that feels like it will never be whole or close and connected to the living - just now in a wildly different, metaphysical/existential direction! Welcome to depression, alienation, and otherness!

A soulless being, that knows it is soulless - that initially was very happy with its life but then as the years passed, increasingly spends its every waking moment knowing there is something innately wrong with it that it can't seem to shake, no matter how much it engages with life and all the pleasures of life. (see the 'every meal without savour' speech)

A magically literal metaphor for Astarion's dissociation in moments of extreme trauma, up to and including the fight with Cazador - essentially, the moments when there is nothing but a performance or an exterior, because the self/soul are suffering and they cant' come to phone right now

Astarion's survival instinct. As I say in Chapter 23 - Mephistopheles thinks it is an empty body, who's performance is trying to deny the reality of it's own existence. Rosalie, who has a bit more understanding of Astarion, sees that the performance is not just a coping mechanism but one of Astarion's main modes of survival. The Ascendent is Astarion's survival instinct/techniques for endurance, without any soul or person behind them to protect. This is how I tried to tie in the flirty, hypersexual persona and wrap it with a bow.

I wanted a monster that was undeniably scary, and monstrous to me (oh? you can't fit in or be happy no matter what you do and no matter how hard you try, and you think there's something intrinsically off? how's that autism diagnosis going Emma) but that I also felt sympathy and true sorrow for. I needed to have motivations for him chasing after Tav that I could write meaningfully from and sympathise with.

Not only has Astarion used Tav as a life-raft once before, they've also proven to be the most secure thing he's ever clung to. Of course a rabid survival instinct Astarion would become obsessed, and see them as a potential solution to the problem (this was then intensified by Rosalie also being a walking, overbearing moral compass, and having bound him in a contract in the first week of living, accidentally - a lawful good immoveable objects meets a default moral alignment unstoppable force.)

...Because I also wanted that moral alignment spice!! Wizards of the Coast, default moral alignment is fucked up actually!!! Imagine something trying so desperately to be good - literally being bound in a pact and having been told to be good - but the laws of the universe and its very essence are like "nah mate, we kind of want to destroy and annihilate everything, we're neutral evil personified". That's scary!! that's fucked up!! that's what a birth from 7000 deaths gets you!!!

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

So, now for the actual timeline, for people who aren't interested in my silly musings but mostly just want answers lmfao.

Rosalie makes the decision not to intervene in Cazador's mansion, making it seem like she'll support whatever decision Astarion will make there.

Rite of Profane Ascension happens. Astarion conducts the ritual, rips his own soul from his body, the Ascendent is born with literally zero context. Mephistopheles is fucked in Cania, because a bunch of stuff has just gone wrong.

(oh, by the way, the Ascendent knows Infernal as a default language. Bc it's born from an Infernal rite.)

The Ascendent is now default neutral evil, and feeling some kind of way. Rosalie and him break up. He's supposed to have everything, but the one thing he thought was a done deal - his most stalwart suppporter - just rejected him.

Netherbrain defeat (the Ascendent is not invited. Imagine being an all-powerful, hypersexual survival instinct vampire, and your ex-girlfriend neither wants you for sex, nor your power.)

Rosalie accidentally binds the Ascendent (a soulless devil) in a pact demanding that he never kill anyone, when that's literally what the Ascendent's new existence/new default moral alignment is driving him to do. Then, she fucks off and goes into hiding.

Well. The Ascendent can just get another wizard, to help him learn all of Cazador's secrets to cope [Hemlock is recruited].

The years go by! The Ascendent is doing sooooo well. Everything is great, guys! I'm rich, I'm beautiful, I have lavish parties and lots of sex - why do I feel nothing? I'm a vampire perfected - I have no hunger for blood, I can walk in the sun, I can enjoy all the freedoms of a living, breathing man - why do I feel like I'm starving? Why does everything turn to ashes in my mouth? I have friends - oops, I've sabotaged all those friendships with my innate neutral evil destruction. Why can't I feel anything? What's wrong with me? I'm doing everything right? Why doesn't it feel that way?

Also, I can't kill anything to feel better about it, because my hidden ex-girlfriend bound me in a pact.

In this time, to reflect the gradual degradation of the Ascendent's happiness and it's increasing awareness that it is something Other and innately wrong, the reflection starts going weird. Starts going strange. Starts getting a bit fucked up. Almost as if, when he looks in the mirror and sees a person, *nothing* should be what's there. Imagine being a spawn who couldn't see your reflection, and then a vampire who could see it's reflection, but knows that they're innately empty. Knows there's nothing there. I'd freak out a little bit about it as well tbh, I'd go a bit tooth and claw and elongated jaw about it.

The Ascendent finally admits that's there must be something kinda fucked about it. Life just ain't working out, lads. He starts looking for any and all impossible cures that will help with the malaise in his soul (and that innate essence problem, caused by default moral alignment). These include: more bad decisions, such as a house in Cania bc the Ascendent is hoping he'll feel more at home with devils than he does with mortals. All it does is make him feel more isolated and alone.

But eventually, he settles on two things! - Wish (Hemlock's idea), and Rosalie (the Ascendent's idea). Clearly, we just need Rosalie back! Her leaving is actually what fucked him up in the first place - none of this existential bullshit! She fixed us one, she can fix us again.

But looking for Rosalie hasn't worked out. In order to get a shot at her, the Ascendent goes and bargains for his own soul from Mephistopheles. Mephistopheles, adding a new sheet in excel titled 'what the fuck happens when i give this soulless monster a soul to play with?', agrees and starts tracking his new data.

Obviously, just putting the soul back in yourself will fix you. But the Ascendent, the nothingness living inside Astarion's body, will die. Taking the soul back would erase itself. The Ascendent - who is survival instinct personified - would never do this.

So instead, it starts interviewing and cannibalising the soul. Bc a soul is what it needs, this is the closest it's ever felt to being alive. Bc it's made this all about Rosalie, he thinks he's found his solution. The chase is making him feel alive again. It's true love, lads! not the soul.

Wish auction happens - the Ascendent is beaten to the punch by some unknown (hot) wizard.

This avenue cut off, the Ascendent makes the decision to try and win Rosalie back.

Astarion advises that to make her come back to the Gate, he should murder a bunch of people. Because this comes from the soul, not the soulless devil nothingness, it circumvents the pact.

...The events of Pieces begin!

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

And finally - the Ascendent tries to destroy Jar!Starion for many reasons in Chapter 19:

The Ascendent knows that it dies, if the soul and the body get reunited (or is that constant high alert survival instinct just no longer needed, because the problem is fixed? you decide.)

The Ascendent values Tav above itself. Tav is going to fix them. Astarion believes he could never fix himself.

Dissociation - that soul isn't me. I'm here, looking at my soul. If I get too close, it'll kill me.

Self-hatred - that soul isn't me. That man made a mistake, and I've had to live with the consequences. He doesn't deserve to live, for what he's made me become.

The knowledge that Rosalie/Tav will only ever want that version of him, not the one that's living and breathing, that sees itself as the most wretched, fucked-up version of itself. So... give them no choice. They have to deal with me and love me at my worst.

And if the Rite didn't work - if the version of the Ascendent walking around isn't the best one, and the one people want... what was it all for? Why does the Ascendent feel like this? Why does it have to suffer?

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

....And, that's my little meta post! If anyone has any questions about the timeline or any motivations at any points in the fic, I'm obviously more than happy to explain things via ask/comment, as always!

TLDR: I just wanted to make a Gothic horror. I wanted a dark romance, fucked up obsession vampire/mortal dynamic, but I also wanted a situation that was scary for both Astarion and my Tav. I personally think an Astarion who is so dissociated and separate from reality that he feels that in his bones daily, is scary. It's the lingering impact of the traumas the Rite and those 7,000 souls embodied.

I was literally just trying to make it a horror, for everyone involved.

#metaposts #long posts #my writing #wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #spoilers! #i've never really explained my writing process before in this depth so... I hope it makes sense! #writing meta

[samlee2224]

Can we hear about your milgram oc 🥺🥺

( no pressure ofc )

I have 12 Milgram OCs! But now there are only 8 ( or 9 ? ) people who have stories. I'll introduce them to you!!↓

(I use Translate app and my little abilities, hope you can read and understand it.)

In Samleegram, We have 2 prison guards and 10 prisoners

Prison Guards

[000]

Name : Es (エス)

CV : Sakamoto Maaya (坂本 真綾)

Gender : Unknown

Age : 15

Birthday : Unknown

Height : 153 cm.

Bloodtype : Unknown

Image color : #8EC6BB (Monte Carlo)

Es bright and cheerful, They is close to almost every prisoner. They always make free time to talk with prisoners. But no one knew that they was secretly recording prisoners' information all the time.

They patrolled at night every day. Many people think it's because they works hard. But actually they was just trying to find a way out of here.

Es often gets teased by Ar for being short. So they asks Jackalope for a new pair of shoes. That makes them 160 cm tall. which is higher than Ar. LOL

((Es rarely wears a hat because it makes seeing difficult.😢 Es always cooks for everyone to eat, sometimes some prisoners come to help them. (but Ar doesn't help.)))

__________

[000]

Name : Ar (アル)

CV : Uchiyama Yumi (内山 夕実)

Gender : Unknown

Age : 15

Birthday : Unknown

Height : 159 cm.

Bloodtype : Unknown

Image color : #8EB8C6 (Polo Blue)

In fact, Ar was the assistant prison guard. Its main duty is to interrogate prisoners. They was verbally violent during the interrogation. In this prison, there was hardly anyone to like them. (← It should be like that)

Ar is very foul-mouthed and has a temper. (💀) Do you see that whistle? They usually blow it when prisoners don't behave as they please. ( Why does it sound cute..? )

((Ar doesn't often wear hats either. But it's because he's just lazy. Sometimes Ar wears Es’s hat because Ar can't find their own.))

__________

Prisoners

[021]

Name : Kinoshita Haru (木下 晴)

CV : Kitamura Eri (喜多村 英梨)

Gender : Female

Age : 22

Birthday : January 6

Height : 173 cm.

Bloodtype : A

Image color : #F59795 (Wewak)

Haru hardly speaks to anyone. She usually communicates by writing on the board. She also isn't good at facial expressions, which makes some people think she's strange.

Haru often smokes with Masato (024) regularly. And She seem to be trying to approach Akihiko (26) for unknown reasons.

She used to like to sing and play music, she used to set up a band with a close friend before. But why did she stop doing it? Hmmm? you'll have to wait until this part of the story is revealed.✌️

((I intend to design Haru to look like a man. Due to her past story But she is a woman. However You can use the anypronoun with her that she/her he/him or they/them. She doesn't seriously about this.))

__________

[022]

Name : Murata Kei (村田 軽 )

CV : Murata Ayumu (村瀬 歩)

Gender : Male

Age : 14

Birthday : August 19

Height : 154 cm.

Bloodtype : AB

Image color : #BCCCD1 (Link Water)

Kei is the youngest prisoner. He has dark circles under his eyes that are clearly visible. It's because he almost didn't sleep. Even though he went to sleep, he had a nightmare anyway, so he thought it was better to take that time to study.

He often said that he was not guilty , Never kill people , Milgram caught him wrong. And he wanted to leave here very much. 'My father will definitely find me.' He always said that.

Kei looks particularly close to Hinata(023), maybe because of his similar age, he often follows her like a chick(?) Everyone in prison always sees them next to each other.

((He used to ask for cosmetics from Es, so Es thought that in fact, he might love beauty?))

__________

[023]

Name : Tsugiyama Hinata (杉山 日向)

CV : Hanazawa Kana (花��� 香菜)

Gender : Female

Age : 15

Birthday : March 23

Height : 148 cm.

Bloodtype : A

Image color : #F4CFC5 (Coral Candy)

Hinata is a friendly person and always talks to others. Everyone sees her cheerful and looks polite all the time. But once in a while she accidentally slipped out of a rude word. Make everyone shock…

She bandaged her arms all the time. Ritsu (028) volunteered to change the bandage for her often, but she often refused him and did it on her own. She didn't want anyone to see the that wound.

Hinata didn't have the attitude of wanting to leave milgram at all. Hinata thought that this place was much more comfortable than her house. If not sticking to the vote that she didn't like it.

((Hinata doesn't like the uniform that Milgram provides. Because it makes everyone see the bandage clearly.💢))

__________

[024]

Name : Kimura Masato (木村 正人)

CV : Hirata Hiroki (平田 広明)

Gender : Male

Age : 43

Birthday : February 20

Height : 187 cm.

Bloodtype : O

Image color : #78BC8E (Bay Leaf)

He is the oldest person in milgram. He lived a sluggish life as if he had completely lost faith in this world. Sometimes he acted like a father of children in prison.👴

Masato talks to Ritsu(028) most often. discussing life problems, adult edition (sounds depressing). He often smokes with Haru(021) on a regular basis, even if the other party lets him talk to a single swim.

Masato didn't pay much attention to milgram, But if he could choose, he wanted to get out of here, Because he still didn't complete his duty.

((He thinks it's not bad to have free cigarettes.))

__________

[026]

Name : Matsui Akihiko (松井 昭彦)

CV : Taniyama Kishou (谷山 紀章)

Gender : Male

Age : 18

Birthday : April 1

Height : 169 cm.

Bloodtype : A

Image color : #FFBF65 (Rajah)

I haven't made much of his story yet. But as you can see, He's not very friendly.

Akihiko often quarrels with Ar regularly (He actually quarrels with everyone but.. uh… with Ar the most.)

__________

[028]

Name : Itsuki Ritsu (樹 律)

CV : Furukawa Makoto (古川 慎)

Gender : Male

Age : 35

Birthday : June 30

Height : 182 cm.

Bloodtype : B

Image color : #3359BF (Cerulean Blue)

Please marry m- NO, I mean, Ritsu always takes care of others, maybe because he's a doctor, so he's trusted by everyone.

He is very close to Masato(024), probably because Masato is the male of his age closest to himself.

((Look at his smile ^^ 🥺))

__________

[030]

Name : Higuchi Ryota (樋口 僚太)

CV : Uchida Yuma (内田 雄馬)

Gender : Male

Age : 20

Birthday : October 12

Height : 174 cm.

Bloodtype : O

Image color : #C1D48C (Deco)

Ryota doesn't have any other information yet, I'll update it later!

__________

Thank you for reading to the end!!

#ocgram #milgram oc #milgram #oc #samleegram #samlee oc

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 16 | Friends and Curiosities

Chapter Sixteen | Friends and Curiosities

Parker couldn’t believe it. Within such a short amount of time, he suddenly had a dozen followers and friends on his page.

Sure, he didn’t know them personally, but everyone was welcoming and polite – two things he was eager to report to his mom when she expressed concern. The miniscule boy also made sure his mom knew he was being safe, not giving out too much personal information, and that the topic of his condition hadn’t even been brought up.

One person commented on his profile picture being interesting, which was a picture of Parker standing in front of his computer screen, but he just explained it was a background and that he wanted to showcase the platform he was publishing on. Karl was the kid’s name, and evidently he and Parker were the same age.

All in all, Parker was pleased with his interactions and the people he was meeting. Lots of them had advice and things for him to check out, and he liked all of the things he was seeing.

There were sketches of space and vast mountains as well as the everyday interactions. There were hundreds of stories from writers just like him.

It felt nice. It felt like some kind of community with people supporting and helping one another. A sense of satisfaction filled the young teen every time he checked his notifications and saw he was getting the chance to meet someone new.

“Just look here, mom,” said Parker eagerly as he showed his mom the latest post he made. “It has almost fifteen likes!” He looked up into his mom’s features and saw her beaming with pride.

“That’s so great, Parker,” she complemented. “Are you going to post your latest story from Mr. Tamplin’s class?”

“I… think so. I don’t know yet though. It doesn’t feel done,” he replied, feeling his cheeks getting warm. The latest story he came up with for Mr. Tamplin’s class was a fiction fantasy story about a sprite named Tal’el. It essentially was his backstory for the Dungeons and Dragons campaign he and his friends started.

Basically, he was a small fairy-like person who was a poison master for his people until he decided he wanted to go out adventuring and exploring. The Dungeon Game Master said it was fine if he played a smaller character, thankfully not questioning why he would want to do such a thing and found a special class for him to play as.

The story actually won a young adult author award for his class and Parker had Mr. Tamplin to thank since it was he who tutored him through his writing slumps. He was now refining it for his literature class.

“Well, don’t be scared to post it sweetie. You’re such a great writer and can do whatever you set your mind to,” encouraged his mom. “Now before you get sucked into checking your notifications, finish your homework and get ready for bed. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes, momma,” Parker replied, rolling his screen back into place in the main area. The structure walls rumbled as his mom closed the outside walls to his home. It was hard to believe it had been a whole month since he “moved in” to this new space.

Parker loved it, in a weird way.

Not to sound ungrateful, but having his own space to roam around, especially in a space that felt suited to him, made him feel just a little bit normal. He liked that he was usually at eye-level with his mom instead of having her loom over him. Just the thought made him shudder involuntarily, and he wasn’t sure why.

It made him feel guilty every time the sensation seized him.

But, now was not the time to dwell on that. It was time for bed.

Parker walked into his room and rummaged through his dresser to find his oversized space t-shirt and elastic band sleep shorts. Then, he went back to the computer and finished submitting his assignments. The words filled the page and Parker hoped that his paper on the evolution of technology was going to be good enough to get him the grade he needed.

Parker’s other assignments were a breeze. Math was simple enough and the biology project about documenting the growth of plants was going smoothly. It was his other project, his story for his literature course, that he was worried about. It was his same story that he was using for his channel, but it was more a mild fear of rejection and lack of perfection.

His online friends liked it, but would his teacher? His followers?

Parker sighed and leaned against the wall before slinking down further into the chair. His eyes focused on the blinking line in front of him as he stared at the end of the fifth chapter he had been editing. Something about this story felt particularly personal, but Parker remembered hearing once about how writers put more of themselves than they’re aware of when they’re making characters and stories.

Perhaps this was just part of that feeling?

The teen sighed and stretched when, suddenly, his lights flickered up above him.

Confusion injected itself into his mind as he stared at the wired lights on the ceiling. His eyes flicked over to the wall switch.

Perhaps just a fluke?

The notion was dismissed when the lights flickered two more times, all of his lights dimming and glowing systematically.

Something raised the hair on the back of Parker’s neck. He felt like he was on pins and needles, the anticipation of a drop while suspended in mid-air. Cautiously, the curious teen stood up and walked over to the switch, examining it closely.

It was still up and wasn’t jiggling or loose.

The lights flickered again.

It felt like he was in a spooky movie, of which Parker had only ever seen one in his life along with a couple of older “thrillers” like Alien and Jaws. Even those movies were censored because his mom didn’t want him to get too spooked.

Was there something wrong with the plug?

Parker glanced at the window at the back by the stairs and, just for a moment, he could have sworn he saw something.

It looked like the quick flick of a shadow.

It was quick and Parker wasn’t even sure if he knew what he saw. He did just step out of his room after all, and he had been staring at his computer screen, which he knew sometimes made shadows appear when there weren’t any.

He held deathly still, his entire body locking up like a perfect figurine. His body fell naturally into the position as he slowly crouched and laid his hand against the floor, as if he could detect any trembling or motion.

He didn’t get a chance to investigate for long though. Before he could make his way to the stairs in his crouched position, there was a knock on the table that made Parker nearly jump out of his skin.

“Parker? Are you going to bed soon?” Parker’s entire body shivered as he pushed himself upright and heaved in a few deep breaths. Every nerve in his body felt electrified. While his heart continued to thrum rapidly, he cleared his throat and called over his shoulder to his mom as the sides of the walls began to open.

“Y-y-yeah, mom. I’m ready for bed,” said Parker. He glanced up at the lights stayed on without the slightest hint of a flicker. The walls opened fully and, instantly, Parker saw his mom’s brow furrow quizzically.

“Everything okay? You look a bit pale,” she said. The maternal instinct in Amanda kicked in and she reached forward and pressed the tip of her finger against Parker’s forehead. He shied away from it, which was typical teenage behavior, but something else felt off about Parker that Amanda couldn’t quite place.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. I just…” Parker stopped short. It felt like something physically squirmed in his mind, preventing him from saying something about the shadow and the lights. He shook the notion loose, confused as to why this instinct flared up in him, and proceeded with his thought. “I just saw the lights flicker and got spooked.”

“Oh?” Amanda replied as she glanced over and looked down at the power strip that fed electricity into Parker’s Place. Nothing looked off about it to her, but she still knelt and glanced around the ground.

Still nothing.

“Well,” she sighed as she stood and walked back over to the front of Parker’s tiny home. “I don’t see anything. It looks like it’s all plugged in, but we’ll check on it tomorrow. Okay? For now, it’s bedtime.”

“Yes, momma,” replied Parker as he walked up to the edge and accepted the kiss on his torso that his mom gave him. With that, Amanda smiled and watched as Parker curled under the blankets, forming an almost imperceptible lump in the bed. “Goodnight momma. I love you.”

“I love you too, Parker. Sweet dreams my love.” Amanda closed the walls and secured them tightly before tiptoeing out of the room and to her own room to turn in for the night.

Just in the other room, Parker laid there with his heart still fluttering nervously. Everything in him was still on edge, and the curiosity of what was going on with his lights was really bothering him. Parker enjoyed a good mystery or puzzle, but he generally liked ones he could solve.

This one wasn’t solved yet.

For what felt like a couple of hours, Parker tossed and turned in his bed as a mixture of homework assignments and curiosities about the power outlet swirled like a mist in his mind. The more the young teen thought, the more it annoyed him that he didn’t have the answers.

He had had enough.

Parker pushed himself up and decided to go and check out the source of the flickering lights. If it was a cable going bad or possibly the breaker being loose, he needed to get a new one as soon as possible. It would be terrible if he was in class and his power went out. His mom said they would do it in the morning, but Parker knew himself; and he knew he couldn’t sleep if he didn’t at least go and see it for himself.

He couldn’t afford to not check it out with his presentation tomorrow.

The teen stepped noiselessly through his house and exited the front door. As he walked around, he noticed a few things that just seemed, in a word, natural.

Sound was amplified. The darkness in the corners of the room seemed brighter. He could feel every tremble in the desk from his footsteps.

As he made it outside, a choice presented itself to him. For a moment, he considered going down the climbing line he installed himself on the backside of the desk.

But he knew if he slipped on the rope and got hurt, which he never did, his mom would make him take down the line.

He decided to risk it.

It was late. She was asleep. Parker was as sure footed as a goat and knew he would be fine all the way down. The temptation was also too great for the teen to resist. Plus, it would be a lot faster.

There was something about the experience that was, in a word, liberating. The free fall. The catch. The feel of the rope in between his fingers.

It felt natural.

The urge to climb and fall and hide never failed to fascinate parker. Whether it was something his condition genetically programmed him to do so or if it was some personality trait he possessed, he didn’t know.

What he did know was the sensation was addictive and he was itching for a good climb.

Parker snagged the line in between his fingers and leaned over the edge of the desk. There was a mild sense of vertigo that swelled inside him, but he loved it. The weightlessness seized him as he let himself slip over the edge, hands and feet firmly in place and secured on the line.

The line burned against the teen’s palms and against his legs as he quickly descended. It felt like something a secret agent would do, and it felt epic.

The moment Parker’s feet hit the ground, he felt himself instinctually look around and crouch low. Silently, he stepped across the planks of wood that constructed the floor and walked toward the power strip that was only a few feet away. The whole thing was four times Parker’s size, but he navigated through the wires with ease.

His hands worked quickly to check the buttons and reset panels, and the teen could find nothing wrong with any of it.

Perhaps something is up with the electrical cover in the wall? Parker wondered silently. He jumped over the stiff cord that led to the wall and approached the trim on the wall which had small notches in it, so he didn’t need to snag a ladder.

As he approached, Parker noticed something by the very base of the electrical cover that made his hair stand on end.

It was a drill bit.

Flat head.

It was a tad bit rusty, and Parker didn’t recognize it from his mom’s kit that she used to help construct his space. He approached and picked it up, realizing it wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be. In his hands, it was about twice the size of the drill that his mom used, and he realized he could probably carry it around easy enough; but where did it come from?

I don’t think this is mom’s drill bit. How’d it get here?

Parker glanced up at the electrical cover and felt his heart skip a beat as he noticed the screw for the wall socket was protruding from the wall ever so slightly.

His entire body was shaking now, but he wasn’t sure why.

Had his mom messed with the electrical cover with some old tools that she forgot about?

It didn’t seem like her.

Parker stepped up on the trim, balancing precariously and using the cord to stabilize himself, as he pushed on the very bottom of the electrical cover.

With almost no effort, the piece wiggled free and the screw clattered to the ground. The end looked a lot shorter than the others. He knew because he helped his mom replace the covers a few weeks ago.

The young teen took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he dared to peek inside. Engulfing darkness belonging to the wall consumed his vision. There was something exciting and enticing about the darkness in front of him.

It felt, in a word, familiar.

But why?

Parker felt his head beginning to throb as his mind stirred some fragmented memory, but it was hazy and distant.

What really set the teen on edge, however, was when he dared to push himself up onto the ledge to peer better into the wall and noticed something else that made his insides fill with nervous energy.

There was something that looked like a pencil mark. Two lines with a triangle on top followed by a little check mark on the inside. To Parker, it looked like a kid’s drawing of a house with a check mark inside of it.

Was this something his mom did?

Or was this some kind of construction mark?

What was this?

What did it mean?

The teen stared at the marks and then back to the darkness of the wall. Just like the shadows of the room when he stepped out of his house, the looming abyss of those narrow spaces between the walls didn’t seem very dark. It almost seemed inviting.

There was something about that confined space between the drywall and the studs and exterior boards that made Parker feel like he was back in his space. It was familiar.

But why?

Parker hadn’t realized that he had been learning forward to the point where he was barely hanging onto the edge of the electrical cover and leaning into the walls. It took the sound of his foot skidding against the wood and nearly tumbling headfirst into the space in front of him.

Startled and shaken, Parker pulled himself back out of the entryway into the walls, forced the electrical cover back onto its perch, and hurried back to his room. He was in such a tizzy, the young teen didn’t even realize he had gone straight to the secured line he left and climbed up it in record time, ignoring the staircase mere feet away.

His little feet barely made noise as he scurried back to his room, securing the door and slipping under his covers without so much as a squeak.

Parker’s mind was racing. What was that he just saw? And what was that weird draw he had toward the walls?

Hopefully, his mom would have the answers.

First thing in the morning, he would ask her. She would make everything better, right?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

#borrower #g/t #g/t community #borrowers #giant/tiny #handheld #giant tiny #tiny #giant #gianttiny #the borrowers #gt community #gentle giant #My Borrowed son #gt fluff #sfw gt #sfw #sfw g/t #sfw giant/tiny #Parker #g/t concept #g/t comfort #g/t characters #g/t writing #g/t fluff #size difference #g/t idea #g/t interaction #g/t author #g/t angst

[lazuliquetzal]

Whee Fight Scenes! (This Is A Seirei no Moribito Advertisement)

For the past couple of years I have been almost exclusively writing fanfiction for action-fantasy video games which has led to me developing opinions on writing fight scenes. I used to hate writing them because what even happen fight, really, like what the hell??? But now I’ve learned to tolerate them! Sometimes I even enjoy writing them! So now I will share my wisdom with you. 

(Disclaimer: This post was written so I could avoid writing a fight scene.)

My credentials: I occasionally write fight scenes in my action-fantasy video game fanfictions, and I have seen Seirei no Moribito the anime several times. I do not claim to be an expert on fight scenes, but I do claim to love Seirei no Moribito to bits.

Part 1. The Set Up

There’s this excellent anime about a mercenary on a life-long quest for redemption who ends up taking a cursed prince under her protection. It’s about unraveling propaganda and colonialism, and also about kicking ass. The first time I watched this anime, when I got to the episode 3 rice field fight, I thought, “holy shit, I see now that a good fight scene requires not only a kick-ass fight, but also narrative/emotional build up in order to give the scene weight and tension.”

Like, lots of anime have excellent and extremely iconic fights, but this was the show that really made the writing aspect of it stick in my brain. Seirei no Moribito is also an adaptation of a book, which might why this stood out to me: the way its fight scenes are constructed are not as reliant on the actual visuals so much as they are on everything else (the animation for the fight is gorgeous, too, like, just watch this show please it’s so good). That said, I haven’t actually read the book. But I have seen this show several times and the rice field fight gets me so hype.

(And also every other fight scene. I’m never over episode 13. If you have to watch only one (1) episode of Seirei no Moribito, watch episode 13. But also, don’t do that. Watch the entire thing you coward.)

Anyway. What’s going on in Seirei no Moribito episode 3?

Part 1a. The Narrative Stage

Ep3 is early on in the series. The rice field fight is not the first action scene, but it is the first fight scene. This is what we know going in:

Balsa, our main character, is a formidable mercenary with a practical mind and a strong sense of honor. She has sworn to protect Chagum, the prince of the Empire. Her goal is to keep Chagum alive at all costs, because saving his life is crucial to her personal goal of redemption.

The Emperor (Chagum’s father) has dispatched his elite warriors to kill the prince, as they believe that he is possessed by an evil water spirit. Their goal is to kill the prince because the evil water spirit is a bad omen for the empire, and they believe that killing the prince will save the kingdom.

Balsa’s spear is damaged, and she is outnumbered. She has the disadvantage.

We are, of course, rooting for Balsa and Chagum at this point in the story. Balsa’s our main character, she’s super cool, and child assassination is a bad look. We know that Balsa is strong: we’ve seen her do athletic stunts, and it’s been alluded to that she is extremely skilled with the spear. This fight is the first time we get to see her use it, so it’s very exciting to the viewer. We want to see her in action.

Part 1b. The Emotional Stage

Chagum doesn’t have much of a personality at this point: we know he’s a child prince, and we know his dad wants to kill him. So we don’t know him well, but he’s already sympathetic due to circumstance.

When Balsa and Chagum get to the rice fields, they are almost home-free. They’ve spent a lot of effort trying to redirect the emperor’s warriors and the plan almost worked. We are extremely close to safety, so the fact that this is when the emperor’s elite catch up is very tense and frustrating.

All this puts the audience in the mindset of: oh man, they’re so close, I really need Balsa to win! I don’t want the kid die! You can taste the safety, you are almost there—it’s the type of tension that gets you invested in the outcome of the fight.

Part 1c. The Physical Stage

The first half, and the faster-paced portion of the fight takes place in a rice field at night (a classic). Wide open, with water to splash in, and nowhere to hide. It’s right on the edge of the thick forest, which gives Balsa and Chagum an immediate goal: get to the denser terrain so that they might break line of sight of their pursuers.

The second half of the fight is less of a fight and more of a close-up, emotional moment of action. It takes place in a clearing by the edge of the forest.

The physical location of the fight ties in with the short-term goals of the characters: the open field forces Balsa into direct confrontation even though she wants to run, and the clearing by the edge of the forest gives Jin (one of the emperor’s warriors) the illusion of privacy when he tries to kill Chagum, and it gives Balsa cover to hide until she can intervene.

Part 1 – TL;DR

Even before you get to the actual fight, the setup of the fight has inherent tension and intrigue. One can reasonably assume that Balsa and Chagum will survive, because this is episode 3 of a 26 episode anime. But you don’t know if her damaged spear will hold out. You don’t know why the emperor wants Chagum dead. You don’t know if Balsa will kill the emperor’s guards, or if she’ll be able to make a clean getaway with the prince. All these uncertainties create mystery, which creates tension. And tension is what makes the fight fun.

Part 2. The Purpose

I mentioned earlier that this is the first actual fight in the show.

It’s the payoff for a bunch of little questions that have cropped up so far. How strong is Balsa? Is she good enough to win, even when outnumbered? What does her fighting style look like?

A lot of action stories have big fight early on, and that’s because a well-done fight scene squeezes in a massive amount of characterization. In this fight, we learn a lot about Balsa, and we learn a lot about the Emperor and the difference between the Emperor and the people who work for him.

Some questions that get explored: How do they think under pressure? What kind of fighting do they do? Are they strategic? Reactive? Brute force or trickster? How do they solve problems? How far are these people willing to go to achieve their goals?

There’s a moment in this fight when Balsa is wounded, and the emperor’s warriors retrieve Prince Chagum. Balsa ends up retreating into the forest. Jin says something along the lines of: she’s a mercenary, she works for money and she’s already been paid; she won’t risk her life to come back and get the prince.

But she does. Even though she’s been wounded, and even though she had the perfect opportunity to walk away, she comes back and saves Prince Chagum at the expense of her own health. Balsa keeps her promises; Balsa’s personal quest for redemption is more important to her than her life. We know her, now!

Fight scenes are great for characterization because it’s a deviation from status quo. A person’s default state is not “battle,” and stories thrive on extraordinary circumstances. “How does this character change/act/perform under pressure?” is a really great characterization question, and a fight scene is the opportunity to show the answer rather than tell it.

Fight scenes are also great for thematic debate. You get the opportunity to literalize the conflict between different philosophies via characters fighting each other. EZ story moment. You know that one Howard Ashman quote about how, in musicals, the characters sing when they’re too emotional to speak? That’s what fight scenes are to me. The characters fight when they can’t talk to each other.

And then, of course, a fight scene is also moving the plot along. The conflict is happening, information is being exchanged/discovered/buried. Some characters life, some characters get hurt, some characters die. A fight scene is a way to physically bring characters to the state they need to be in for the story to progress (in the right emotional state, the right physical state, the right location, etc). Lots of things going on, which is good—you want all of your scenes to be purposeful.

Part 3. The Details

All of that had to do with the zoomed-out, overall story view of the fight (how the fight fits into the overall story). I am now going to continue to gush about the episode 3 rice field fight up close (how does the fight scene work in isolation). Because Seirei no Moribito rocks.

Part 3a. The Setting

I already mentioned the open rice field/dense forest dichotomy and how that affects the characters’ short-term goals. It’s also a great choice to establish Balsa’s superior technical ability with her spear. The rice field is wide open and relatively flat—no obstructions or distractions, with everyone on equal ground. There are no tricks to pull, no environmental quirks to exploit: this is a clean fight between Balsa and the emperor’s warriors. When she comes out on top, it’s because she’s better than them.

Depending on the character, it might be better to change the terrain. Have the stealthy warrior fight in a forest, where they can appear and reappear and use their sneakiness to their advantage. Put a trickster in a situation where they can improvise traps. There is an aspect of your character that you want to show off, so set the stage so that they can show off. It’ll be totally badass and fun.

Part 3b. The Short-Term Goals

When you read a story, you can reasonably assume that the protagonist will stay alive (especially if you are not near the end of the story). Knowing the outcome can make a story stale if you're not careful. You can lose tension if there’s no risk. Some stories try to create a world/tone/atmosphere so that anyone can die. A lot don’t because that’s a little depressing.

My friend @yellowocaballero has an excellent post on this regarding OP protagonists, but to summarize: if you know the protagonist is always going to win the physical fight, you have to make the win condition not about that. Balsa isn’t OP, but giving characters goals beyond “win the fight” can make a fight so much more interesting.

In the rice field fight, Balsa does not have to defeat the emperor's warriors: she has to get Chagum and herself away alive. Her goal is to make a clean getaway. When the warriors show up, she makes the decision to confront them, and her goal is not just to win, but to win so decisively that they won’t be able to follow her. When Chagum gets caught, she changes her goal to ‘keep him safe at all costs, no matter the harm done to myself’, and she gets seriously wounded. She can succeed in some goals, but fail in others, and the story reacts and keeps changing. It’s the same principle behind why rolling a nat 1 is so entertaining in D&D. The more you fail, the more creative you have to get. 

Part 3c. Monkey Brain

There is just something so cool and so satisfying and so fun about seeing a character kick ass. There is also something very cool and very satisfying about seeing a character get beat up. The rice field fight has it all: Balsa kicking ass, and also getting beat up. It’s fun! Fight scenes that know exactly why they are cool are just so good. Hell yeah, overindulge and use every single weapon despite how impractical they are. Yes please show someone pulling off an unrealistic move for the coolness factor. Absolutely include the explosion-that-would-definitely-kill-but-doesn’t. 

Part 3 — TL;DR 

If you want the fight to be cool, make it cool! Set it in a cool place! Give your characters opportunities to show off! Make it interesting by changing the win conditions! Conflicting goals forces characters to prioritize and it makes scenes fun!

Part 4. Words???

Unfortunately, as mentioned, Seirei no Moribito is an anime and I haven’t read the book so I cannot analyze and gush about its prose in this section. Otherwise, the advertisement would continue. You’re safe for the moment.

Re: prose, there’s probably a post out there that goes over the language of fight scenes better than I ever could. I write with the diction of a middle-grade author because I read PJatO too much as a child and it rewrote my DNA. This is not a bad thing, this is just a fact. So I’m just gonna fire off fight scene writing advice I heard from around:

Filter words — if you want a more immersive reading experience, you want to avoid filtering the action through the narration. So use sentences like: “Her arm hurt” as opposed to “she felt her arm hurt”. But if you’re trying to distance the reader, like recreating the feeling of shock/dissociation, then filter words would help achieve that effect.

Make the rhythm of your prose match the energy of the fight. Short and choppy feels fast in the brain. Long and wordy feels overwhelming. Fragmented sentences and run-ons are chaotic. Customize the vibes.

Establish the important details of the setting beforehand so that you don’t have to stop the action to describe the specific placement of a relevant tree stump. I think I heard this one from Brandon Sanderson on a podcast somewhere, but I think about it a lot when I write because blocking is hard enough and it's even harder when you have to stop and attempt to translate the movie in your head into words. I can’t tell you how to block a fight scene. We need to find someone else who is smarter that can tell us.

Part 5. The Point

Fight Scenes are Fun, actually. They can be really effective if you set them up properly! If you know what you want to do with them, you can arrange it to be as cool as possible! You don’t have to be in a visual medium to make fights fun. You just have to figure out how to translate the cool bits into prose, which I think is mostly done through giving your fight cool shit on both the macro story level scale and the micro scene level scale. 

Also, watch Seirei no Moribito.

#i got a comment somewhere that was complimenting my fight scenes which. thank you! fight scenes stress me the FUCK out #but i do think i've gotten a lot better at them since i've started writing so i figured i'd write something about what i learned #and by what i learned i mean. gush about #seirei no moribito #tav this is not a response to your one post about fight scenes earlier that was a coincidence #lazuli talks #writing

[ilynpilled]

i can fully understand the gripes with certain misogynistic tropes/writing issues that are present in the execution of some of cersei’s writing, but i will never understand the “she should have a redemption arc” or “she should be more likeable/less morally dark” perspective. that is not what her character is or has to be to make it great. wanting more female anti-heroes or “redemption arcs” with moral greyness and complexity of the level that asoiaf gives to primarily male characters is entirely understandable, but do some of you people even like cersei as a character, like at its core? like this is not about criticising the execution of certain things when it comes to this character, this is about taking issue with her as a villain fundamentally, which i just do not agree with at all

#i also do not understand why she is juxtaposed only w her brothers #in this respect #like if u wanna take issue w not as many female anti heroes that r allowed the level of true moral greyness of j theon etc i get that #but thats a whole text problem like a family isnt a monolith they r different characters with different drives its not a competition between #them #all three r dealing w some very very diff things too like they r distinct characters #and i honestly dont think cersei’s character set up works with a redemption story like she specifically is way more interesting as she is #she is a discussion of tropes when it comes the ‘female villain’ and u can take issue w the execution but i like the concept a lot #like she is written the way she is for a reason why do u want her to be a different character entirely #like if u want this why not advocate for george making a female character whose story would actually work with the redemption trope instead #of making their writing weaker and less trope busting #ig i just really like with cersei the idea that her being an evil perpetrator doesnt erase her being a victim of misogyny and vice versa #like i like that challenge that she is deserving of sympathy for these things without the need to redeem her or make her ‘likeable’ #patriarchal violence will affect all women #and the story deserves to work just as well with someone u r not supposed to root for #its about the humanization of these people #evil doesnt exist in a vacuum #and it makes perfect sense that these specific systemic conditions create it #and then perpetuate it

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

#billdip #I honestly loved this story start to finish with the ambience and quick pace #hadn't considered the possibility of Bill and Dipper actually working *together* but it's always a good time when they do ❤️ #sorry it took so long to reblog 🥲 #I read it like- Right when you posted. But I had to catch a plane and then drive an extra hour home and immediately get on zoom for class #and today i was just all around exhausted so i slept roughly 70% of the entire day dndsjdndnd #all that to say that I had your fic in the back of my mind and I very much wanted to set some time aside and re-read it when I got the chan #honestly with how well you set things up I would've loved to see your own rendition of their first kiss #You established their relationship really well at the start and brought them together by the end after outsmsrtong those bandits #it feels like you have a better understanding of who they are to each other than even i do 😌 very much a fan #i love when stories incorporate those sort of 'habits' that the love interests fall into #that confuses character A while character B is so clearly using it as an excuse to get close and spend more time with them #i squealed like a maniac when Bill was like oooph lemme walk you home 😏🤠 #sir i am going to wrangle you up if you don't compose yourself #and Dipper's just wary of him because people as handsome as bill used to pick on him 😢 #little does he know he's grown into a 10/10 cutie patootie that any cowboy would be stupid NOT to smooch #I'm a simple man. I read oblivious low-confidence cowboy being pursued by a hottie on a horse. I lose my shit #Awesome wonderful writing!!! so happy to have caught your eye and i hope to continue pumping out content for this wonderfully weird ship

[silencingspellsongs]

would it be crazy to say that i think playing a ttrpg type game based in the redactedverse would be like so much fun actually 🫣

don't ask me what system or how to adapt it to work because i don't have the technical brain for that, i just know that the worldbuilding and the magic system and everything is so interesting and well thought out and the idea of making and roleplaying ocs in this universe with other fans seems like it would be sooo much fun can you tell i'm having withdrawals from my dnd group not playing for months and so i'm projecting it onto my other interests 🫠

#argent rambles #redactedverse #redacted audio #i see a creative fantasy setting with lots of lore and i want to tell a story in it #collaborative storytelling in the way of ttrpg is just one of those ways i want to do it #but there are other ways too... #like hypothetically have i thought up an idea for a audio series playing an original speaker and their bespoke listener in the redactedverse #that would take place in a different cornerstone city so as not to crossover w the actual canon #but would use the worldbuilding and lore of the redactedverse? yeah hypothetically maybe i have #but lets be honest there are a myriad of things holding that idea back #highest on that list being how to make sure it wouldn't seem like stealing #like even making explicitly clear that it was fan content and not affiliated w actual canon #i would be terrified of overstepping boundaries #and also idk how to write a one sided audio roleplay script in the first place lol #all of this to say i love this fictional universe erik has created and it's inspired me with stories i'd love to tell in it as well

[elftwink]

saw a video about 2 player ttrpgs and one of them was like "this one's about a pretend marriage" and i was like oh? and i looked it up on itch (eyes on the prize, fyi) and it's 50% as of right now and i was like OH? and i bought it immediately & ive read most of it and i am a big fan. and i KNOW that i have friends who would have fun playing it (it's a 2 player or 4 player game; the 4 player variant has 2 fake couples) but asking them is going to be so cringe. yeah we're gonna make up people and pretend to be them and then pretend to pretend to get married and the characters when they start their pretending they're gonna be like "oh we don't have any romantic feelings towards each other this is strictly plot" but then (get this) they will start to develop real feelings for each other. and we're gonna act it out together and pretend to be them but don't worry! we have no romantic feelings towards one another. this is strictly plot. when WE (irl) pretend to be in love it's actually platonic, unlike the people who we are pretending to be to each other. so do you have like 2-5 hours you wanna dedicate to that next week

and the worst part is that's 100% what i want. like i have roleplayed romance before with friends it is literally not a big deal because the whole point of roleplay is that the character ISN'T you. but with a fake relationship the crushing weight of dramatic irony hovers behind me

#i do want to play it though it seems fun. i actually think it would be more fun to do the 4 player variant #just bc like. to me fake dating is all about the audience. the way you act alone vs in public #it's about the drama. the show. having other people to bounce of off in rp i think benefits that #eh. im overthinking it i'll get over myself & bring it up. i at least wanna talk about it to people even if we don't intend to play it #i also kinda think you could use the game as more of a writing prompt than a roleplaying game if you wanted? #like. ideally you're still have 2 or 4 people who have a character they mainly control #and you'd like. co-write a story by hashing out responses to each card (which is the main game mechanic) & writing it down #but you would lose some of the imo more like... silly (affectionate) parts of the game? #because some of it is really about the improvisational aspect of both ttrpgs and the fake dating trope #but i still think it would be really fun. and i have done a lot of text-based roleplay before #so i am biased towards it just in general. #i also think you could probs play with 3 players with slight bending of the rules and in and out of game acceptance of polya relationships #esp because the setting is like. vaguely period piece fantasy nobility. you go to fancy parties and shit #i feel like those people had very complicated love lives i think a throuple would be fine #also We Are Playing Pretend #good idea generator #unrelated but did wtf when did they update the post editor the tags are so ugly LOL

[sysig]

Hm ok what's your favorite or a really cool worlbuilding thing you've done? For any fandom or original or even an unimplemented idea

Hmm well at least in the past decade, my big worldbuilding projects have mostly come down to three-ish stories: Other Side of the Gun, Adventures of Gæilo and Ethon, and Just Desserts

OSG was an Invader ZiM fancomic concept I started around 2013 to justify every single Irken headcanon I ever came up with lol - I never finished it, or even really started it, but I put a lot of time and energy into its roughs back in the day :)

^A stick figure recap of Ch. 1, inspired by - what else - the Vargas stick figure recaps lol

One that you can see over here is all the work I did for my DnD campaign, AGE! (Though its sideblog hasn't been updated in a while haha - the AGE tag over here works just as well) I basically homebrewed a pantheon and had an absolute blast designing all the gods and their forms before they became gods and even things like architectural differences in their churches and the BBEG and his motivations and just ah <3 Such a fun project :D

It also laid the groundwork for things like Pokemon Homestyle, specifically all my papercrafts! You can really see how I leveled up haha

And my latest has been Just Desserts! Even with less time under its belt, it's still pretty expansive, as evidenced by my icon and theme and the backlog lol, and it's the one I have the most AUs of! (Though OSG does come close actually haha) There are still some thorny details I'm trying to iron out, especially to do with the magic system, but all the characters and creatures and the fact that I made my own fighting minigame, ah, pleased! I've never been so happy with a sona before Charm! ♥ From the very beginning it's been so fun to work on and I still want to improve!

#Long post #There have been others of course - things like BunBonBop and TMatM and quite a handful of original species lol #I was also involved in an IZRP that got very in depth which is where Bar comes from actually! #As well as my brief stint into being a TGWDLM askblog lol soz to everyone over there ouq #And little stories like Karera no Kotogara and Yanderapy but those mostly set in cartoon-reality y'know? #No magic or sci fi there haha #Man looking back through the OSG stuff kinda makes me wanna unstore Ch. 0 - I've grown a lot since then! #To the point where it almost doesn't feel ''mine'' anymore haha - it has been almost ten years! Maybe to celebrate its anniversary :) #Also yeah if you look hard enough I've been in love with and inspired by Vargas for as long as I've known about it haha #AGE was so much fun <3 I would like to get back to it someday but picking back up after so long is hard! #I still hold all of them fondly of course ♥ Mar especially since they were the tipping point for me loving spiders :D #It's hard to believe Just Desserts is already four years deep! It still feels so new to me haha #I know I big up Charm and her design a lot lol but for me it really is exactly what I want <3 It's my perfect :) #I still really want to get into 3D modeling to make her as I originally envisioned her! #If I had the funds I'd absolutely commission someone but tbh I don't know many names on that side of art haha #I've also heard about people who give advice/brainstorming sessions for magic systems and I've been intrigued ever since :0 #I'd love to sit down with someone and hash out Exactly how their magic works! It feels like it just needs a few more pushes! #Then again that's what I said about the TVAU outfits too haha ♪ Maybe it would all fall into place! #To the base question tho: I never know how to qualify ''implemented'' - does just putting it out there as a concept count? #Writing a story? Making a comic? A series? Polished? Completed?? Where's the line haha #I'm always so full of ideas but focusing on anything long enough to make it ''pretty'' is so hard for me still #I just keep creating never stopping haha

[loregoddess]

"13. what's one thing you'd change about fe3h?" for the ask game :D

Ooooh, lots and lots in regards to the story writing, if only to try and patch all the holes in the worldbuilding. But if I could only have one (1) thing, I think I'd add a way for the player to access Sothis's memories as she regains them, as a way of giving narrative insight into past events, since that's one of the murkier parts of the worldbuilding.

Mechanically though I'd remove the gender-locked classes, which I'm sure is a shock to everyone. But the game should not keep me from slamming Hubert and Linhardt into the gremory class (or dark flier, do you know how much I am miffed I can't make Hubert a dark flier?), and Hilda would work SO well in the warmaster class (and also it's stupid I can't have women in the highest-tier class capable of punching people out; an all-brawling run would be SO funny, esp. if I could use everyone from the same house).

#space-spring #ask game #I still don't have an ask tag #actually I'd just rewrite the entire game narrative so all the characterization for every character was consistent #along with patching and tidying up the worldbuilding #like is it so much to ask that if a story relies on ''events of times past'' as a narrative base to actually y'know #show us those events? #I'd also rewrite like 50% of the characters in Hopes bc they feel really REALLY out of character half the time #the other 50% are in-character and get better writing in some instances so it's not like Hopes was bad all 'round #like the potential is there... #also for Hopes specifically I'd have added so many more playable characters #a ridiculous amount of playable characters #Hopes is uniquely set up for a massive cast of playable characters and they don't capitalize on that and it makes me sad #so uh yeah I'll stop now bc I love these games a lot but I wanted SO Much More out of them at the same time

[itspileofgoodthings]

nothing more beautiful or powerful to see onscreen than when the writers’ vision of a character doesn’t quite match the actor’s interpretation but the contrast doesn’t create contradiction but instant layers and humanity.

#this is about a) Ben Solo b) Steve Harrington #you can tell the writers wrote Steve as a much flatter character—a one note bully. The guy who sleeps with Nancy #The school jock with the 80’s hair #And you can tell Joe Keery was like ‘what if he really liked her what if he was really trying’ #but it’s his eyes vs the writers’ words and that creates such an instant complexity #because human beings DO work like that. they say the thing (most of the time) that context demands #and sometimes there isn’t anything else going on but sometimes there is #Steve is a very thinly drawn character tbh in terms of writing #he has no backstory he doesn’t have a context. He began the story very lazily written but then those pieces start to make sense #In the light of how Keery plays it #Yeah where ARE his parents. Why does he actually have such few friends. Why is that the ‘bully’ keeps getting beat up #and that sets him up for the journey that he goes on. A kid who wants better than the role he’s in in high school and in life #he really is like ‘no I want better I want better than this’ #and his privilege is so precarious you know he will fall and he does and his mistakes are so clear they will cost him almost everything #and that is so compelling #Anyway ben solo is pretty much all Adam. You know JJ and co. Were just like #‘What if …. We had a villain …… whose name was KYLO REN’ #nerd high fives #They did nothing #Adam’s eyes stature face voice MOVEMENT??? Everything #He literally took it away from them and made his own story #the limitations of the writers only adding to the truth of it all