#for them to back out and decide i'm not worth the effort

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a dragon.

It's not so bad, at first. He's an extremely magical sort of dragon so he can easily take on a humanoid shape, and he has dominion over an entire mountain, with a magical gate that leads to his palace. Said palace has a fully stocked treasury, a library, garden, etc, with the only real downsides being that the place is kind of huge and very difficult for a neet with limited housekeeping or landscaping skills to keep up with. The original dragon had enslaved a bunch of fairy spirits to do it for him, but since Shen Yuan has moral objections to that, he'd let them all go and they'd run off before he could even think to offer to hire any of them as paid employees instead. Not that he can blame them for being in a hurry to get gone.

He does his best, and generally enjoys being a dragon lazing on his mountain, or wandering the beauty of his palace and investigating the books and scrolls kept there. He doesn't actually seem to need to eat or drink, so that's not really an issue, and nobody looks keen to bother him. But after a few months the dust starts to really pile up, and trying to figure out how to do his own laundry without modern equipment leads to several disasters, and even though he doesn't need to eat he's starting to think it would be quite nice to have a fancy sit-down dinner and enjoy it for its own sake anyway. He has an enchanted larder but his food prep skills aren't up to much.

So, Shen Yuan ventures away from his mountain. He keeps to his human disguise when he's not traveling, and at first tries to hire on some help from a nearby city. But when he explains that he lives on the mountain, he realizes the difficulty, because everyone in the area knows that only the dragon lives there. So they all think he's either a liar or a fraud, or some servant of a nefarious supernatural creature angling to trick and possibly devour them.

Shen Yuan tries approaching another town in his dragon form, to see if anyone will actually deal with him if he's being upfront and honest about the situation, but the townspeople just panic. He returns to his mountain to rethink his strategies, and in the meanwhile the alarmed locals hire a swordsman to go after him. The guy gives him a few very painful cuts before Shen Yuan mostly-accidentally sends him careening into a boulder. One broken arm later the swordsman is gently persuaded that the pay he was offered isn't worth the effort on this job, and leaves.

Discouraged, Shen Yuan decides he's gonna give this one last try. He picks the second closest city, flies up, and is like yes hello, yes I am indeed a dragon, no I'm not trying to burn down your walls, yes it would be excellent if you stopped shooting arrows at me, look they don't even get past the scales? It's kind of silly? Okay, yes, thank you very much. Good. Now, the thing is, I'm looking for some people. I want to take them back to my mountain with me, to my incredibly nice palace, and -- what was that? A princess? No no I don't want a princess, what would I even do with one? If anything I'm looking for the complete opposite of a princess!

Anyway, the locals take this to mean that the dragon is demanding a sacrifice in the form of a pretty boy of no particular pedigree, and Shen Yuan takes this to mean that he's finally made his case clear and they're going to dig up someone who is willing to overlook his being a dragon in exchange for free room and board and fair wages out of his massive treasury.

SY's a bit disheartened when the entire city could only apparently turn up one such person -- an underfed teenage boy who looks at Shen Yuan like, despite the situation, he is still expecting to be eaten at any moment. Poor thing! But at least having one servant means he can potentially get more, especially if it all goes well. The lad can tell others that working for a dragon isn't so bad! Well, provided that he doesn't give up in alarm at the state of the mountain palace.

For his part, Luo Binghe at first thinks he's definitely going to get eaten, and then that this dragon is weirdly nice about planning to eat him, and then that maybe the dragon has other (even less savory!) plans for him, until finally he sees the state of the dragon's laundry and the foot-thick layer of dust in the corners, and gets completely distracted. Mortal terror forgotten, those floors should not be that filthy, Lord Dragon respectfully that isn't how anyone should prepare rice either, but oh Binghe has never seen a kitchen so nice before in his life...!

Anyway, needless to say, it works out just fine.

[furiousgoldfish]

Speaking from a bad place, so bear with me. Has anyone thought about how being important or special to other people is based just on the people closest to you?

We regard strangers as people who are fairly irrelevant to us, because they have little to no impact to our life, and their lives and struggles won't generally touch us. In contrast, lives of people directly around us have a great impact on us, and they decide our relevancy. We give them roles in our lives, like friends, mentors, partners, lovers, caretakers, and in that regard they're special to us, irreplaceable. We also want to have an equally strong meaning in their life, to have a warm place in their heart and respect in their minds, as they do for us.

When people around us who hold great relevancy for us, also give us that same relevancy back, we feel important, we know we're special to them. That our role in their life shapes their experience, gives them gratitude and they've accepted us as someone they want and need around.

In contrast to that, when people in our life refuse to give us that same respect, warmth and relevancy, then we wonder what is wrong with us. What is missing so we can't be appreciated and regarded with the same love and respect that we show to them. Lack of mutuality makes us sink down with insecurity, self doubt and deep feeling that we're not enough, that we've done something wrong, not to deserve the same that we give to others.

And it also works out the same in isolation, if you have no one close to you, no one who has your well being in mind or cares for what becomes of you, it feels like you're important to no one, like you are not special whatsoever, even like you could be disposable if nobody cares at all.

But none of that is based on what's inside of us, who we are or how much love and good we are capable of giving and showing. It's nothing even related to our behaviour and actions, you could put anyone in these situations and results would be generally similar; person who is not experiencing reciprocity, or is left to fend for themselves alone, will lose the feeling that they're important or special in any way.

Isn't that weird? That we can end up judging our own worth based on nothing we did, or nothing we are, just based on how people around us are treating us, or whether we have anyone around us at all. In our essence we didn't change at all, it's just who is or isn't around, that determines our worth.

If we're put in a group of people who want to create bonds based on good things they see in us, we'll become able of seeing that good in ourselves. If we're surrounded by people who all feel the same as we do, act on the same moral code, readily reciprocate respect and warmth that we show to them, we won't feel like anything is wrong with us. We'll feel at home.

And since this is so intrinsic to being a person, to long for this and only feel relevant, safe and cared for in these circumstances, isn't it natural that we all deserve that? To be surrounded by people who make us feel like nothing is wrong with us, and like we're at home? Who help us focus on everything good in us, and give us no reasons to believe that we should be rejected or banished at all? Since abuse did the absolute opposite, and forced us to believe there's only reasons for abandonment, hatred and contempt, I believe being in the environment where people see many reasons to want us in their lives, would heal us.

[mysicklove]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 19: PROSTATE MASSAGE

With: Nagi Seishiro

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Sub! nagi, gn! reader, anal fingering, twitching, hand job, crying and drool

A/N: This is my first Kinktober fic i completed!!! lowkey hate it, and def need to make them shorter but...enjoy?

Nagi, for what it's worth, is a pillow prince. But of course, you could have assumed this a first glance. He doesn't expect much in bed and doesn't do much either. He liked receiving pleasure but didn’t like the tedious work to gain it.

But the arrangement worked out well for you guys. You love watching his pretty face contort from pleasure and the way he grips onto you with each upcoming orgasm. And besides, putting in the work was the fun of it all.

He has heard the lines, "Just sit there, and look pretty." so many times now that they seem now slightly turn him on. Whenever he hears them he prepares himself for unimaginable pleasure. To sit back, relax, and let you take care of him.

He also didn't mind trying new things; he was bolder than most and was easily persuaded with kisses down his neck. As long as he didn't have to do much, he was completely fine with it.

Today the two of you were trying a prostate massage.

You brought it up to him a couple of days earlier, and for the next couple of days, he watched an unfathomable amount of porn on it. He decided that he can lay on his stomach, and wouldn't have to do a thing. So the idea didn't sound too bad.

He has never tried anal play. It wasn't like he didn't want to, but it takes so much effort for the prepping and the cleaning. It seemed to be a bore, and besides he was content slumping against your chest as you jerked him off. So, this was a whole new world to him.

True to his word he lays on his stomach, clutching a little nervously at the sheets as his head lays on the pillow in front of you. You've lifted his hip so that he has to balance on his knees (he of course whined, not wanting to hold some of his weight). It gave you the perfect view of his ass and made it easier to plunge your fingers into him.

You sit cross-legged on the headboard with his legs on either side of you. In front of you is his ass, slightly trembling from what you could guess nerves. You rub at it, gently kneading the pale flesh. “It's alright, we are going to go slow Seish.”

You grab the lube when he slightly nods, gulping, but trusting you. Slowly, you drip some on your fingers and the rest on the actual source itself. He flinches at the coolness and you smile fondly at him, trying to hold back a coo from how cute he is.

You move slightly forward, and grab one of his cheeks, pulling it apart to give yourself a better view. When your eyes travel to hit the pink hole, you gulp and grab the other cheek to really show the whole thing.

He lets out a small whine at the movement and he buries his face into the pillow. "It's embarrassing."

You ignore him and release one to slightly drag your fingers across his hole. He slightly jumps and your eyes lighten. "Oh Seishiro you're so cute. I'm going to have so much fun with you."

He doesn’t say anything, but unconsciously he pushes his hips slightly backward at the praise. “I’m putting one in,” You say, trying to break the intense stare at his hole that was now clenching and unclenching around nothing.

He nods, and you slowly press your finger into the now slippery enterance. You stare as your finger slowly begins to disappear and take notice to how warm he is. It almost makes you shiver, and you have to hold back your teasing.

You continue forward as he continues to whine and gasp until you are knuckle deep. You feel around, and he jumps, moaning into the pillow beneath him.

Then you bring your other finger up, and begin to prod at the room next to you finger. "Just one more, yeah?"

"Mhmmm."

You take that as a yes and slightly push the next one in. His thighs twitch, and it's noticeably harder to press in. "So tight," You coo, using your other hand to gently slap his thigh in approval.

"S-Shut up. I've never done this before."

"I would hope so. I wouldn't want you presenting your ass for anyone else."

You force the finger in, and he keens, gripping the pillow. You giggle and continue forward, until like your other finger, buried completely inside him. "Alright let's try to find it." You mumble, curling your fingers inside him.

He cranes his neck to look back at you, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Find whaaaahhh!”

His eyes slightly roll back, and he bites onto the pillow at the sudden intense pleasure he has never felt before. “Well that was easy. We are trying to stimulate your prostate, remember? Don’t tell me you’re fucked dumb ready?”

Your fingers continue to curl and rub over the spot, and the poor boy is now leaking on the bedsheet. He tries to ignore it and instead focuses on the strange pleasure that rocks his entire body. “I-I knew that…Just is that it?”

In response, you press down on the gland, and his eyes widen. His legs collapse in on themselves, and you have to forcibly lift him back up. You watch with a grin at the way his legs tremble and struggle to stay put, twitching in front of you. “Think so. From the way you are reacting.”

His hips are pressed upward, and his back is arched all pretty for you as if this is what he was meant to do. But, he shakes his head in denial. "It f-feels weird."

He moans into the sheets and begins to slowly press back into your fingers, making you slightly giggle. “Weird? Or maybe good?”

“Don’t know!” His mouth is open, and he’s panting into the pillow, and with every drag of your fingers, he seems to forget how to breathe. Holding his breath as he tries to process the pleasure he has never felt before. 

You switch movements to sliding in and out of his hole. His body jerks at this, as he feels your fingers prod in full force at his prostate. More precum drips out of his cock, and he’s rocking back and forth, confused about what he wants. Was it too much or too little?

He seems to be withering under you, and it was adorable. You’ve never seen him like this. He was usually pretty composed. You’ve seen him drool and cry, but never have you seen his body move so sporadically from the intense pleasure.

He starts to cry, slightly scared of how much control this gland has over him. But he can’t seem to hate how his legs tremble and his fists clench unintentionally. It feels so good.  He wants more, even if it causes him to break.

The bed frame begins to creak from his frantic movements, and he starts to drool. Everything about this was so endearing. Usually, he laid limp against your chest while your stroke him off and only moved ever so slightly with his orgasm. This is what you wanted to see. Withering completely, eyes wide and confused on the intense pleasure. He was the prettiest like this.

"You’re so cute, Seishiro. Look at how active you are today!"

He lets out a small whimper and clutches harder onto the pillow. You've started to move your finger quicker, and he can't keep up with the ruthless pace. He was growing dizzy and confused. "Not trying to. My body keeps moving and I don't know why!"

Your eyes widen, and blood rushes to your crotch from his words. Your hand finds his cock, and as a reward, you begin stroking him off. “S-Shit,” He mumbles into the pillow when he hears the lewd squelching sound of your hand and his leaking cock.

His hips now rock forward into your hand, and then backward into your fingers. The twitching has stopped, and by now you’ve had to pick up his hips multiple times because he kept crumbling on himself. You couldn’t even tease him about it, you knew he was trying to not escape the pleasure. It was just making his legs weak and the thought sent your own head spinning.

“Do you want to cum from your ass Seishiro?” His cheek is now smushed into the pillow, tears and drool dripping down and onto the white pillow. His hands are interchanging between clenching and falling limp on the sheets. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels powerless under your hold.

“Wanna. Wanna,” He mumbles, as his hips begin to crumble again. His eyes are hazy, and he must have fallen deep into the subspace now. You don’t mind, but his legs continue to give out. You pick them back up before he collapses on the bed, sending a light smack to his ass in a teasing warning. The poor thing hisses but holds his ground on the bed even with the trembling of his legs.

He then slightly whines without the hand on his cock and you roll your eyes with a smile. Then, you add some more lube and continue your frantic movements. His back arches deeper, and moans fall with every breath. 

You hum, and continue your antics, silently laughing at how composed you are contrasting his twitching form. His mouth tries to form words, but he can’t because with every press of your finger, his mind goes blank.

You press a kiss to the smooth flesh, and mumble into it, “I want you to cum for me.”

His hands grip at the sheets and he gulps, feeling his orgasm build up. It’s different this time, it feels so much stronger, and he’s nervous about how he is going to react. But you are soothing him, kissing him, and cooing at him. If its too much, you’ll be there with him to coax him through it. You have to be.

He cums, harder than he has before. He was right, it was different, his whole body tightens and contracts. He can feel himself even tighten around your finger, and tries to ignore the way you hum in approval at the warm, hugging feeling.

His legs finally do collapse on himself, and this time you don’t bother to pull him up. He’s shaking, from the way his toes curl, to the tips of his fingers that grip onto the sheets above him. Tears pull at his eyes, and he has let out more cum than he is used to. The liquid stains the sheets and is trapped between his stomach and the bedding. 

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he silently screams into the pillow, and lets the tears drip down his face. His legs move forward and back, and his hands twitch. It was cute seeing how little control he has over his own body. And just from a couple of touches from his prostate? He was in heaven. 

He loves it. He loves it so much. How hasn’t he experienced an anal orgasm? He wants more of this.

He comes down from his high, and you smile at him. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, hoping to help soothe him from how intense it was. He’s still gasping, when he finally comes down, and you pet his hair through it all.

You reach for the washcloth next to you, knowing the white-haired boy well enough by now. He was always done by the first round, and nothing could persuade him. 

But, much to your surprise, he grips at your wrists before you could grab at it. He looks at you, an unfamiliar lazy smile pulling at his lips. “Again?”

You grin, sending a harsh smack to his cheeks, which causes him to jump. “Glady.”

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[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fifteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.7k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.

Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water's surface, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 

"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.

Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.

You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. Everything is starting to turn into Blue's favorite color. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 

There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. It's a shame they taste so good because the petals are a beautiful fuschia. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.

The moment you returned yesterday, she had asked how training with Ghost went. That was quick, she'd observed. Weasling past the rules of your friendship, you gave her a half-lie: He went easy on me this first time. She didn't seem fully convinced that Ghost and 'going easy' belonged in the same sentence together.

"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"

Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” She looks at your near-empty hand. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."

"There are. I just suck at catching them."

She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh— Ghost was looking for you, by the way."

It takes you a moment to respond. "He was?"

"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."

The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to think about arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 

He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 

"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.

Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He speaks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."

"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"

He nods. "Only found one. Could be others so we'll keep an eye out."

"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 

Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"

"Right," you grimace. "Blood and rot. Their favorites."

Setting down the catch and spear, you help Ghost gather some wood from the modest pyramid stacked beside the cabin. He nudges the Grey with a booted foot, making it tumble limply into the trench. Starting the fire in there should keep the flames contained.

As you silently place the wood and some kindling over the carcass, your mind is in two places at once. With Ghost right next to you, it's impossible to not think about yesterday; how it felt to be grabbed by him, how he questioned you again about the ammo trip, and how you can't help but detest the thought of him looking at you in pity like he once he did. 

You also think about how much you fucking hate Greys. Christ, they are disgusting. Your fingers accidentally brush against the paper-thin skin that hangs off the bones and a shudder travels up your spine.

Ghost starts the fire with a match and the two of you watch the flames catch, quietly at first— then, they roar through the corpse, quickly turning it black. Bitter smoke intermingles with the crisp spring air and the smell has you coughing into your arm.

Blue has taken it upon herself to avoid the fire, making an audible gagging sound before scooping up Grim. In her absence, you shift from foot to foot, stealing a glance at Ghost. He watches the ash build up and the flames tamper down in mild interest. 

Your fingers curl up into balls, fisting the excess fabric. "Are you worried about more?" you ask him.

It's the first thing you've said to him - actually said to him - since cutting your training short. He loosens a breath and slightly shrugs his broad shoulders. "No. I told you. We never see more than a few at a time." You weren't worried, but if you were, his dismissal of the subject would reassure you. "You should be careful until I finish your bow, though. Unless you're good at throwing knives."

"I'm not," you almost snort, voice no louder than it needs to be. "But Blue is quite good at it. She's been killing squirrels for me."

He hums his response, a low sound that gets lost in the crackle of embers, and you wonder if that's him showing a lack of interest in this kind of conversation with you. With a deep inhale, you change the subject to one you can't ignore.

"Ghost— I want to apologize," you turn to face him, straightening your shoulders. "I wasted your time yesterday. It won't happen again. If we could... give it another try, I would like that."

The smoke is starting to fade. Ghost breaks his gaze from it to study you. You try not to shrink away, wondering what he's thinking. If he feels pity, it's impossible to detect in the dark irises set behind his mask, though, you've never been able to find much of anything in them. 

"You didn't waste my time, Twix. I have an interest in your capabilities." 

"What?" 

"If you're going to be staying here," he elaborates, "—then your strength is of value to me. I'd like to know that if I ask you to do something, you can do it. That if shit happens again, I can rely on you."

"You can," you breathe out. "I am... capable."

"You are," he agrees, looking away. "You're good with a bow. You think quick. But you're still weak, and you doubt yourself." The blunt comments make your brows lower, but you can't help but feel satisfied with the glimpses of approval. "Yesterday was my fault. You weren't ready for it and I should've known that."

"I am ready," you protest, lips parting as you shake your head. "Let me try again. I don't want to be coddled."

"I'm not going to coddle you," he replies in a firm drawl. "I want you stronger first. Let's start there."

“Okay.”

A hand.

There's a hand on your shoulder, heavy and firm, offering a slight shake. With a gasp, your eyes fly open to darkness, only the white of a skull visible above you, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. 

"What the hell?" are the first words you sputter, voice harsh and raw from sleep. You grip your throat to clear it. 

He scans your face. "Get up. Come on."

"What? What... what fucking time is it?"

"Almost dawn. Let's go."

It takes a few deep breaths to calm the rush of adrenaline ignited by his abrupt wake-up call. Go where? you think to ask, but instead, you slick a hand through your hair, warily rubbing your eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

Somehow you end up outside, wading through the sprawled-out fog as you follow behind his silhouette, the morning so early and quiet that it would've felt like a dream if not for your crunching footsteps. You braid your into a single, tight braid along the way. With such shitty sleep, you're too out of it to even scowl at his backside, wondering how getting up at this hour will in any way make you stronger. 

The answer is in the two axes he carries and the towering oak tree he stops in front of, your eyes climbing up the height of it before landing back down on Ghost. Your hands are forced out of your coat pockets when an axe is offered to you, fingers curling around the handle and abs tightening from the surprising weight of it.

Confusion rolls around in your gut. Slowly, you ask, "Um. You... want me to cut this thing down?"

"We need more wood after yesterday." He inclines his head and gives a tap of his own axe to the thick trunk. "Good size for you to start with."

"It's huge," you mutter under your breath. "Why do we have to do this so early?"

If there's any reasoning to it at all, he doesn't bother sharing. Rather, he stalks over to another tree about ten meters away. The calm air is soon shattered by the rough sound of metal biting wood as he starts effortlessly cutting the trunk. A large part of you considers dropping the axe and leaving without a word, but you ignore it.

"Alright then," you whisper to yourself. 

It's not the first time you've chopped down a tree. You used to help Paul with it, and truthfully, you're surprised Ghost has never asked you to do chores like this sooner. It's certainly bigger than the skinny, young trees you used to go for, evident in how little of a dent you make with the first swing.

Either you're as weak as Ghost claims, or this axe of his is heavier than the one Paul had because your biceps feel strained by the third hit.

"Have you never done this before?"

The voice at your back nearly makes you drop the axe. Whirling around, you face the colossal presence of him and wonder how you didn't notice it sooner.

"I have." You rest the thick blade on the ground, grumbling. "Do you have a thing for sneaking up on people?"

"Be more aware of your surroundings." His tone teeters towards admonishing, and he looks you over before ticking up a brow. "And fix your stance before you throw your bloody back out."

He nudges the toe of his boot against yours, forcing you to spread your feet further apart. Your lips roll together as he grunts in approval. "Try again now."

When he takes a step back, you face the tree again, bending your elbows before extending them sharply. The blade cuts deeper this time, if only by a little.

"You're focusing too much on your arms," he remarks behind your shoulder. 

Your eyebrow twitches. "I'm... I'm holding the axe with my arms. Why would I not focus on them?"

"When you're shooting arrows, what muscles do you use the most?"

Thinking back to those lessons from Paul, you answer almost immediately. "My back." It's always the part that gets most sore. "And my... my shoulders, I guess."

"Focus more on those."

His advice helps. The next swing deals considerable damage to the bark. You turn to see his response, but he's already gone back to his tree.

The next few days involve so much chopping and sawing that you think you might be starting to hate wood and all of its forms. After the trees are down, you have to cut them into sizeable logs. The back-and-forth motion leaves your arm numb. You quickly realize why Ghost is making you get up early for this work— once the sun is out, it becomes miserable, cold sweat cascading down your back and temples. 

Blue decides this is not the kind of training she's interested in watching. You don't see much of her except during dinner where she offers to cook the squirrels she's caught for you. You don't object. You pick the meat apart down to the needly bones, wiggle your sore toes of their confinements, and knock out earlier than either of them. Fatigue goes back to claiming you swift and heavy, like a current that pulls you down, down, down. The dreams sit behind a dark wall, blocked for now. 

It goes on like this for a whole week, and somewhere along the way, you stop hating it. The grunts that leave your mouth are laced with exertion and focus. Your arms don't hurt as much. You split the logs apart as your mind fills with thoughts of everything you hate. Greys. Death. Pity. You imagine breaking all those things into a hundred, rotten pieces. It feels... good.

One morning, you awaken to sunlight already bleeding through the plywood, and confusion sits you up. You look around, wondering why Ghost didn't get you up sooner, only to find Blue lying belly-down on the raggedy rug, flipping through one of her new magazines.

"Where's Ghost?" 

"Good morning to you, too," she sings. Her chin inclines from where it rests in her palm. "I decided you need a different kind of training today. He's setting it up."

"You... you decided that, huh?"

She hums. "I made you breakfast. Go eat." She waves her hand. "I'm sure he'll be done soon."

You have no idea what she's talking about, but your stomach guides you to the cooked meat calling your name. She points out things in the magazine, like old celebrities and ridiculous perfume ads, cute boys and yummy sweets she wishes she could try; you nod along as you eat.

When he returns, she perks up. Practically tugs on your arm. You have to remind her that you're still barefoot. She impatiently groans the entire time you are lacing up your boots, taking your sweet time on purpose. 

The pond is where she leads you. That place where you first saw her.

Except today, there is a thin log stretched across one end to the other. A bridge.

"We have got to work on your balance, my student," Blue announces, hands on her hips. A gentle, warm breeze tousles her hair and she swipes it from her face. "We can't have a repeat of you-know-what."

Your brows shoot up and a chuff of breath leaves your nose. "Are you trying to say I have no sense of balance?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Come on, now."

You almost forgot Ghost followed the two of you out here until he sits on a tree stump with his carving knife and the bow he's making. He's been working on it for a few hours every day. Today, when you steal a glance as Blue clasps your hand and leads you to the homemade bridge, it almost looks like a bow, finally taking on a curved shape. You can't see much of it, though, because soon you are being instructed to cross the log.

"Without falling," Blue adds. 

"Easy," you tease, shrugging. 

"Prove it."

The log is about the width of the metal beam, but much shorter. You cross over it, arms outstretched at your sides and boots hovering a few feet above glistening water that is teeming with fish. When you step down on the other side, you shoot Blue a grin.

She rubs her chin. "Not bad, not bad. Again."

You do it again with ease, even though your muscles are still stiff from your morning workouts. 

"Okay, this time, we're going to make it more realistic." 

By realistic, she means baring her teeth in a growl and sticking her arms out like a Grey. All of a sudden, you are being chased across the log, Blue running behind you. Explicatives leave your lips until your boot misses a step and you fall into the water. This time, the shallow pond offers a comfortable temperature that doesn't send your body into panic mode. You break the surface, able to stand up on the rocky bottom, and throw your wet hair out of your face as laughter bubbles up your throat on its own accord.

You look up at Blue, playfully glaring. She smirks.

"Come here, Grey," you say.

You grab her by the ankle and pull her down into the water with you. She gasps and giggles, thrashing around in her soaked clothes as you splash water in her face. 

"Or," you taunt, "Should I say Amelia?"

Her eyes widen. "How did you—" 

Then, she's leaping at you, pushing your head under the water. "Don't ever call me that."

"Or what?" You tease and swim away, scaly fish brushing against your ankles as the wide legs of your jeans ride up. "You'll kill me?"

"Might have to!"

You're not sure how long the two of you swim in there. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Until your fingertips are pruney like how they used to get when you used to swim in the pool with your sister.

You hoist yourself out of the pond and sit by the water's edge, drenched shirt clinging to your breasts uncomfortably, but you don't care. You've felt far more uncomfortable things. The buttery sunlight kisses your exposed cheeks as you wring out your hair, Blue sitting beside you to do the same thing.

She peels off her wet jeans, probably uncomfortable in them. You would do the same if you were eleven and didn't care. On her thigh, the thick scar from her bullet wound blemishes the soft, pale skin.

"I'm a better teacher than Ghost, huh?" she says.

"So far," you nod, glancing at him. When you do, his eyes meet yours across the short distance. Only for a second. Before they flicker back down to the bow.

"He hates swimming, you know."

You look at her. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He never really goes in with me." She shrugs and buries her fingers in the grass. "Hey. Look. There are those violets I told you about."

You follow the direction of her eyes and sure enough, a patch of wild violets decorate the ground, gently bent in the breeze. As your clothes dry, the two of you pluck them. They are beautiful. Dark purple petals. You braid them into her hair. She tries to do the same for you, but her braiding skills need some work. It's a nice break from the past week you've had, your sore limbs sprawled against the grass to dry.

It's when the sun starts to lower that Blue puts her jeans back on. Your clothes are still wet, and the wind is starting to pick up, spreading gooseflesh across your skin. 

"Here."

The familiar low voice announces his presence. Tucking your wet hair behind your ears, you look up at Ghost. The two of you haven't exchanged many words except for his occasional correction of your form while cutting wood. 

He stands against the sun. You take the finished bow from him in quiet awe. It's even nicer up close, the smoothed oak caressing your palms as you glide them up and down the length of this new weapon. The first one he gave you was made for a child, but this one is larger, the perfect size for you. Your index finger gives a pluck to the string, feeling the hum of vibrations. He must have just added that. 

"Thank you," you tell him honestly. Whatever uncertainty or irritation you might feel about him doesn't change the swell of gratitude you feel in this moment. It’s a tangible thing that sits in your chest. “It's... great, really."

"Might take some getting used to,” he says gruffly.

You shrug. "That's alright."

You glance to your left where Blue is still changing. With a swallow, you hold the bow tight to your chest. "Do you think I'm ready to try more tomorrow? Not just the wood. I feel like... I feel like I've been getting stronger from it already."

He gives a short nod. "Tomorrow, then."

[scoobydoodean]

So—Dean is refusing to torture Alistair in the beginning of "On The Head Of A Pin", right? And Uriel is telling him he has to. And you’d think that when Dean asks to speak to Cas alone, it’d be in an effort to bargain or plead (something Uriel isn’t amenable to at all and never has been) or to let Cas give him a more candid and convincing argument on how this is the right thing.

But when Dean gets Cas alone, he just wants to know why Uriel is in charge of Cas now, and then he wants to tell Cas torturing Alistair is going to bring something horrifying out of Dean. Cas doesn’t do any convincing at all. He doesn’t make any further argument for why Dean has to do this—he doesn’t tell Dean it’s for the greater good. Hell—it seems like Cas got demoted because he balked at asking Dean to do this to begin with. Cas doesn’t want Dean to do this and doesn’t try to convince him to! But the scene cuts and Dean is pushing his torture-set-on-wheels into the room where Alistair is being kept! So why? How does that interaction result in Dean suddenly deciding to do something he was refusing to do moments before???

I think it’s because Cas showed Dean sympathy.

The episode opens with Dean trying to tell Sam he’s hurting. He’s grieving Pam (they’re driving from her funeral), he feels like her death is his fault, he feels like they aren’t making any progress on saving the world—they’re just fuck ups who are going to fail.

DEAN I'm tired of burying friends, Sam. SAM Look, we catch a fresh trail— DEAN And we follow it, I know. Like I said, I'm just—I'm just getting tired. SAM Well, get angry!

No sympathy from Sam. Sam wants Dean to nut up—and that's what Sam said last episode too, and it's what he said the episode before that too while under the Siren's spell.

They get into the motel and Uriel and Cas are standing there waiting for them when Dean just wanted to sleep after an awful day, and Uriel says they're needed. Dean says he just got back from needed, and Uriel tells him to mind his tone. Then of course,

CASTIEL Dean, we know this is difficult to understand. URIEL And we— URIEL gives CASTIEL a significant look. URIEL —don't care.

So no one is showing Dean any sympathy, right? Everyone is telling him to shut up and do what needs to be done—except Cas. Cas is sympathizing with him. And when Dean gets Cas alone?

DEAN You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out. CASTIEL For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.

And that's all it takes. That's literally all it takes—is just a single shred of sympathy—someone saying that they care that Dean is in pain—that they care what this will do to him and don't wish this on him. Just someone saying that they understand and that they care is enough and Dean agrees.

Don't ever let anyone tell you Dean "needs tough love".

[madameriasims4]

Basic Reduxe Kitchen

CC Set of 14 BGC Items

A combination of my Back to Basics and Basic Luxe kitchens, because I really liked my mesh for the Luxe ones, but I will always love butcher-block tops more than any other kitchen surface. It's a pretty standard kitchen and I think the file names are self-explanatory, so here are some bullet-points-of-interest:

Like my Basic Luxe kitchen, the counter's end pieces have been changed to an alternate full-tile model and a half-tile model for more customization.

The cabinet also contains half-tile end pieces

This color palette draws a few swatches from the Basic Luxe palette, but I changed the hardware color slightly, and grabbed a bunch of colors from sforz's various palettes

The dining set packages come in two standalone versions: one set that matches the rest of the kitchen's swatches, and another set of 18 solid wood tones (bottom two rows of palette image)

Disclaimer: I re-mapped the UVs for the island tops and some counter tops, so the dirt overlays may be funky-looking. Since you're supposed to clean them when they're dirty anyway I decided it wasn't worth the effort to figure out a seamless texture for them (if you saw the uv map you would understand)

Download link below the cut!

There isn't really much to say about this one! I thought it was going to be an easy project (when will I learn?) but I found some mistakes in the original meshes (nothing big but I'm a perfectionist) and fixed them along the way, which took extra time. And then I spent forever trying to decide on colors, and then trying to trim down the count (I cut 2 whole wood tones which helped decrease the number by about 30%).

I also decided to do custom thumbnails for these, because I liked the way they came out in my Basic Luxe set. I spent about three days manually generating, exporting, editing, and importing thumbnails (and even set up an auto-clicker program to help me!)... only to find out that S4S added a "catalogue thumbnail underlay" option in one of their updates. I'm still mentally recovering from that (read patch notes!!) 😔

Anyway, at least I got to play with ReShade a bunch! I've been mostly using it for screenshots in ESO, which is an online game that I can't pause, so being able to take my time and play with shaders and get juuuuust the right look was a real treat!

I use Peacemaker's No Occluder mod to prevent weird shadows from appliances/cabinets.

Credit: Kitchen Clutter | Solid Wood Texture by @myshunosun

Download (Patreon) Always free, no ads.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hello I am going on a holiday to Eryri next month & I like to read up about an area before going there... do u have any reading or documentary or podcast recs? I'm particularly interested in the ecology & minority language activism & like. Peoples history & rural lives! I know this is stuff u know about in Wales but idk if north Wales is ur region! Míle buiochas ón Eireann!

Fáilte go dtí an Bhreatain Bheag! Or croeso i Gymru. Exciting! Keep an eye on the notes for others chiming in with good recs for documentaries and the like, I'm going to just give a super quick guide

Okay, pronunciation guide for place names and that is here in written form and here in video form. I cannot recommend strongly enough that you try to use the Welsh place names rather than the English translations. Duolingo is flawed but serviceable if you want to hear and learn some basic phrases. If you can at least throw out a 'bore da' to people you pass/shopkeepers, you'll be very well liked. You don't need to be fluent by any means, but Making An Effort is seen as, like, the nicest and politest and most wonderful thing in Wales, and particularly in regions like Eryri.

Because! It's one of the biggest remaining Welsh language strongholds. If you look at language maps over time in Wales, a pattern emerges:

And the current (2021) figures show this:

And you are going to this bit:

So you're heading into the Welshest bit in all of Wales! And the bit with the strongest and longest history of Welsh, too.

Which also means there's a lot of activism-related stuff in that area. It's probably worth you reading up on the history of Tryweryn (which was a bit further east, but sets the scene well); there was also a BIG thing a couple of decades ago where activists would burn down English-owned holiday homes (while they were empty in winter, not, like, with the English in them). This is because, in addition to the usual issues with the social impacts of holiday homes (driving up prices meaning locals can't live there, eroding communities, etc), holiday homes in Welsh language heartlands are a significant and tangible threat to the language. Even today, the issue of holiday homes is an extremely touchy subject, as is the issue of (mostly-English) people moving into the area because "It's so pretty!!!" and then not learning the language.

(Yet another reason they will love you if you Make An Effort)

Historically speaking, you'll be in a chunk of the country that was the ancestral seat of the last kings of Wales (Gwynedd). The final one, Llywelyn ein Llyw Olaf, was ambushed and murdered in 1282, which was the beginning of the end for fighting off English rule. In fact, Owain Glyndŵr later crowned himself king of Wales for about two years, but weirdly, no one acknowledges this as real kingship for some reason - if you google his name, he's always listed as a soldier or military commander, which really opens up a whole "Who gets to say when someone is royalty" debate, but he did actually claim descent from the House of Aberffraw anyway, so ultimately it still links back to Llywelyn.

Ecology! Temperate alpine. There actually isn't a global scientific distinction between hill and mountain, but most countries set an arbitrary height standard. This means it varies from country to country depending on how tall their topology is. Wales, however, bucks this trend, and instead decides based on what is formally referred to as 'land use' and colloquially referred to as 'Vibes'. If it's a hill, it's tamed - if it's a mountain, it's wild. This means Eryri is fairly short by the standards of tedious foreigners who regard mountains as a sort of geological dick waving competition, but it's in fact a whole mountain range; it's also older than Saturn's rings. And, crucially, it's very much sufficiently above sea level to have an alpine ecosystem.

There are three endemic (i.e. not occurring anywhere else in the world) species in Eryri, to whit:

The Snowdon lily. A small and delicate flower growing in protected and inaccessible spots on yr Wyddfa (formally known as Snowdon). Excessively vulnerable to trampling, so the national park keeps sections where it grows fenced off.

The Snowdon beetle. RAINBOW BEETLE.

The gwyniad. A sub-species of whitefish until recently exclusively found in Llyn Tegid (Bala Lake), trapped there after the ice age and now developing its own genetic profile distinct from other whitefish. Some dickhead in the 80s introduced the ruffe to the lake for fishing, and the ruffe eats the gwyniad's eggs, so they've now transplanted eggs to Llyn Arenig Fawr nearby as a conservation measure.

There's also feral goats. And Welsh mountain ponies. Ooh, and, red kites - in the UK red kites were so heavily persecuted they eventually fell to just 7 breeding pairs in Wales. We established a protected zone and hired Nepalese Gurkhas to guard the nests and thus saved it from extirpation so successfully they later translocated Welsh birds to other spots in the UK. It's a big conservation success story, and now red kites are considered to be the national bird of Wales. They have a very distinctive silhouette, too, look for the forked tail.

Oh, and, we have a unique habitat type called ffridd, which you see a lot of in Eryri.

Final wildlife pictures to close:

Anyway - have a great time! Enjoy muchly.

[neteyamslovrr]

KXANI - pt.1

summary: you have never fit in with the scientists, but on the night jake was lost in the forest so were you. staying with the people was your one true dream, yet when you are anything but welcome and jake get's to experience the people. you find yourself seeking comfort in tsu'tey

contents: 2.3k words, fem!avatar reader, set avatar 2009, kind of a prolouge, angst (only a lil)

authors note: i hope you guys enjoy this!! i'm really hyped to write a series especially my man tsu'tey. if this goes well definitely will be making a taglist so ask to be on it !!

all parts - next part

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

It was all you had dreamed of since you landed on Pandora. To be with the people, to walk beside them. Well, behind them. You weren’t exactly welcome.

You still remembered the day you were chased through the forest with Jake, jumping into the waterfall on nothing but a will to live. You remembered Neytiri jumping in front of you, saving you both, you had never been more thankful and terrified of someone in your life.

You remembered how a group of men on direhorse threw ropes around your feet then continued to lead to the Hometree. It was surreal, to be with them. To live among them. But it wasn’t how you had hoped.

You hoped to meet with them, learn there culture and be able to retell your findings when you returned to your natural form. Yet, it was nothing like that.

It was because of Jake. He was the warrior of the ‘Jarhead’ clan. God, he was so intolerable but yet he was the one person who could understand your struggles of being with the people because he was right there beside you.

But with all you efforts over the years to learn about the Na’vi, it was nothing in comparison to him being tutored by Neytiri.

On the night when the Olo’eyktan decided to keep you both, it was rather a keep the man and his dog. They thought nothing of you, just another sky scientist. So, you weren’t entitled to Neytiri’s teachings, you were entitled to stare from far away and hope that maybe you could gain a bit of knowledge from observing the pair.

That’s what you were doing right now, crouching down hiding behind a lush shrub looking at the two talk to Tsu’tey as Jake sat in a puddle of mud. Maybe you weren’t missing out on too much?

Resting on the balls of your feet and long fingers keeping the bush apart you peered onto the ongoing scene. But Tsu’tey had disappeared. He must’ve gone off in a hurry, it wasn’t like he enjoyed the company of you two aliens anyway.

“You. What is wrong with you?”

“FUCK!” You jumped in fright falling to the ground looking up at an unimpressed Tsu’tey from above you. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest as you tried to regain your composure, shying away from the looming figure.

“Go home. You will not embarrass yourself like that there.” You desperately wanted to go back to your human form, but it wasn’t worth it. This, what you were experiencing was ground-breaking to your studies. Plus, Grace would skin you.

Pushing yourself off the ground, brushing the dirt off your grazed knee your stared up at him. How do you even respond to him? He was terrifying. Such a powerful figure it seemed stupid to stand up to him.

You were no Jake. You wouldn’t ridicule the future leader, and you were no ‘warrior’. You were truly just a useless being to them. Nothing to learn, nothing to gain.

“Tsa’hik has medicine for that. Go” You wished your feet would move. God, this is so embarrassing! Are you really paralysed in fear? Because of Tsu’tey. It’s laughable. You tried to move, but all you could do was stare into his unimpressed eyes and wish your link failed so you could escape this hellhole. “Are you ill?”

“No.”

“Then why are you not moving?” Sometimes you were grateful you learnt Na’vi so you could have more in depth and intellectual conversations with the people. This is not what you imagined your conversations would be.

“No. I am.” Tsu’tey scoffed at you. Fuck. What if you just died. Didn’t come back. Met Eywa and apologized for the inconvenience.

“You alien, should go. Fix whatever is wrong with you.” Yet he wasn’t leaving. You pleaded that he would leave in a huff, upset at stupidity. But he still stood there!

“I am afraid of you.” It was a meek whisper. Something you should never of said as your heart beated aggressively against your ribs as if it was trying to escape its chamber.

Tsu’tey let out the heartiest chuckle as he stared down at you. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. Oh how you wished your feet weren’t bolted into the ground. He was genuinely amused. This was easily the funniest thing that had happened to him recently. And it was definitely going to be a story he was going to retell later on.

“So are children alien. You are like a child.”

“Thankyou.” You sneered up at him, still too embarrassed to meet his harsh gaze.

“Do you know where Tsa’hik is?” He tilted his head, his long braid falling over his shoulder as he peered down at you.

“I do not.” You tried to shovel down the shakiness in your voice, you could definitely cry right now.

“Of course, you don’t. Because you don’t belong here. I will take you to Tsa’hik. I would do it for a child.” He motioned for you to follow him as he rode off towards the base of the Hometree. “Hurry up alien child!” He laughed at his jokes as he pointed to you as he looked at other Na’vi also giggling at you as well.

What the fuck is your video log going to be today. ‘Got made fun of! Great find!’ This sucked! While Jake is learning the way of the people, you’re the people’s newest comedy act. 

Dragging your feet to the Tsa’hiks room you were ushered to sit on a woven colourful mat in the middle of this section of the tree. Adorned in decorative items and many medicines and herbs you found yourself being stared down by Mo’at.

“She grazed her knee falling from a squatting height Tsa’hik.” Tsu’tey still managed to find a way to make fun of you even when he was talking to a superior.

Mo’at scoffed at you, mumbling something under her breath you did catch a few words. But they’re not necessarily for repeating. “How did you fall?” Mo’at’s intimidating voice caught you off-guard. You didn’t think she would speak to you directly.

“I- um. Tsu-. Tsu’tey startled me.” It was an insane struggled to get out, to admit you had a slightly serious graze because the man chuckling behind you scared you shitless.

“Ah.” She couldn’t find it in her to hide her disappointment apparently. Shaking her head, she applied a pungent medicine to your knee. Surprisingly, it didn’t sting the only sensation was that it was particularly cold for a paste that had been sitting in the open. “Maybe it is useful to do some stuff around the village. We do not welcome demons, especially not parasites.”

Parasite? That is what she thought of you. Oh, that’s just lovely. It felt like your stomach decided to go skydiving and take a miles high leap out of your body.

“Send her back. She is parasite, not needed.” Tsu’tey said this sentence in English. He needed you to understand it, it was his every intention to. It hurt for some reason. Well not some reason he had said something incredibly hurtful. But it was so deserved, so justifiable. Didn’t mean it wasn’t incredibly upsetting to hear.

“We cannot. Jake is an odd dreamwalker. A new demon. She must stay as he does, it is Eywa’s will.” He was silenced at the mention of Eywa. No one would question her intentions not even yourself. “She must learn. You will teach.”

“What?!” Tsu’tey voice boomed out echoing throughout the hollow tree. Is this how Jake felt that night? Because the taste of bile was growing in your throat as you stared at the huffing man. Nononono. He cannot teach, he’ll slit your throat the minute he has the chance.

“She will not be a hunter, no warrior. But she can learn the ways of the people. Teach her Tsu’tey do not question my decisions young one.”

“….yes Tsa’hik…”

Times like these you wished you could go back to your human form. So that your emotions wouldn’t be so easily understood with the swish of your tail and movement of your ears. Still sitting on the floor of the Tsa’hik’s area your ears were pressed against your head and tail swishing quite frequently.

“Go to the river to wash off the paste soon. It will stain your skin.” Mo’at told your before you were being harshly stared at by Tsu’tey. You were yet to understand the way Na’vi must telepathically communicate. It wasn’t even a millisecond after Mo’at finished that she had gave Tsu’tey the look to take you to the river.

You just wished you could understand those looks as well. “Come now. We walk.” He was so assertive it was frightening, the way he commanded you with a single order, you were so respectful of his place in the clan. It did make him like you slightly more than Jake.

“Do not kill her.” Mo’at said harshly to the tall man as you felt that bile rise to your throat again. Kill. What a word!

“I did not plan on it.” Tsu’tey smirked as he wandered off expecting you to follow but you didn’t. You just stared at Mo’at for reassurance. A simple nod to say ‘Yes! Big scary man won’t murder you!’ and she must’ve sensed your desperation.

Mo’at gave a curt nod and ushered for you to go with him with a flick of her hand. With the reassurance of the Tsa’hik you walked with Tsu’tey. Well, behind Tsu’tey to the river.

Every step was awkward. The past on your knee was starting to dry and made cracking noises every time you bent your knee. The crunch of the leaves under both of your heavy feet were the only conversation between the two of you. Eventually, after the short walk. Though it felt long due to the silence. Was finished at the sound of the flourishing waterfall meeting your ears.

It was so powerful, yet so beautiful. It reminded you of something. But nothing was coming to mind so you decided to just focus on the rushing sound as you ended your journey.

“Well done demon. You made it.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, he thought he was hilarious.

“Thankyou.” You knew it wasn’t a compliment from him, but what else were you to say. Jake would of found a better comeback but you couldn’t.

“You are funny demon.” He said it so nonchalantly but to you it felt as if your heart bursts into a million butterflies. A compliment from a Na’vi felt so special, you felt slightly appreciated. And for it to be from Tsu’tey made it 100 times more meaningful considering how much distaste he has for you and Jake.

“Thankyou Tsu’tey.” Your genuine smile was one he had not seen yet. It was a new expression. Obviously, it looked familiar as it was on the body of a Na’vi but there was something so bright about your smile he couldn’t shake off. It was just something weird he assumed. Demons do weird things especially when they’re in bodies they’re not meant to be in.

“The paste must come off. Or else your knee will be yellow for weeks.” You nodded and hopped into the water. It was about knee height, so you had to bend to move the water over your knee completely.

“Is there a specific way to get it off. It is a foreign medicine to me.”

“It’s foreign because you don’t belong here.” Tsu’tey was just so harsh with his words, they were said with so much power, yet he felt sincere. It was odd. So odd. “Give me your leg.”

“What do you mean? HEY!” Tsu’tey had grabbed your injured leg yanking it into his arms making you twist and fumble trying not to go headfirst into the water.

His long fingers wrapped around your shin as he used his other hand to cup water into his hand and covering the yellow paste. Every time you fumbled trying to balance he let a ‘tsk’ leave his mouth. His fingertips felt as if they were being burnt into your skin as he gripped your leg tightly.

“Stop moving. I am getting the paste off.” He looked harshly into your eyes, his golden iris’ staring straight into your own.

“I’m trying!” it was an exacerbated statement. Tsu’tey saw the way your ears flicked down and you tensed all the muscles in your abdomen to try and stay still.

He felt a pound of his heart call out to him to not be so harsh. But why? You were nothing but a demon. A complacent one, but still a demon. You were better than Jake in his books. You listened stayed out of trouble, didn’t hang out with his future mate. But you were so odd. Nothing like any of the other demons. You were too complacent, too shy, too fearful. It was odd. Maybe that’s why his heart pounded.

With a final scrub the paste was gone and he let you leg down gently, an abrupt change to the quick and harsh picking up of your leg before. “Thankyou Tsu’tey.” He simply hummed in reply giving you a curt nod. This wave of confidence had overcome you. It was like you felt dizzy with courage. “Tsu’tey.”

The way you said his voice was weird to him. It was pronounced so clearly as if it was the only word you had learnt to say in his language. “Yes?”

“I know that..uh never mind.” The confidence vanished as soon as he stared into your eyes once again. His whole body facing towards you, his mind and soul focused on the words coming out of your mouth. It was too intimidating especially now as he waited for you to say more.

“Speak. What do you know?” His deep voice was memorizing, the way his chest rose proudly every word he spoke. He was so intriguing.

“I know that you don’t like me… and that I do not belong here. But I would like to help, I don’t want to be a p-parasite.” The word parasite stung on your tongue, and it was obvious how Tsu’tey winced at the word as well.

Truthfully, he regretted saying it so clearly to you. He only regretted when he saw the way your tail swished and the shine in your eyes. Maybe that’s why he felt crazy. Maybe that’s why he felt kind towards you. Maybe that’s why he agreed so fast.

“Only because you are smart, not stupid like Jakesully. I will teach you demon.” He reached out to grip onto your shoulder. It was a moment you don’t think you’d ever forget. The way his fingers held tightly onto you, his eyes looked so sincere and the usual scowl on his face had disappeared and turned in a stern look on promise.

This was the look of friendship, of teaching, you were about to learn the way of the people.

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

reblogs + replies so appreciated, i love you forever if you do yes i mean it i love you

[equizona]

⤷ ROMANTIC HEADCANONS

michael afton || five night's at freddy's

gender-neutral reader

masterlist, navigation

i'm having michael brainrot and I can't when write his name right and also the new tumblr update can go choke on some shoelaces

⤷ MICHAEL AFTON

Michael is the type to get jealous easily. He's insecure, has abandonment issues, is making minimum wage and has a fuck ton of trauma attached to him. He knows he isn't the best boyfriend one could ask for, and that you probably deserve so much more, so seeing you with other people he just knows are better than him? It makes him want to crawl into a hole and cry.

Despite how easily he gets jealous, he doesn't show it very often. He refuses to guilt you into staying with him, or isolate you from having relationships outside of him. His father did that with his mother, and he got front row seats to see how well that turned out for them.

Michael doesn't make a lot of money, so he can't get you expensive gifts or take you out on fancy dates. Instead you both often go on walks, have picnics and watch movies at home. He'll save up for occasional amusement park, circus or whatever else you like for dates, though he tries to save those for special occasions.

He probably stays over at your place quite often. He doesn't like to be alone and he doesn't like the idea that he'll wake up tomorrow and get a call that someone broke in and killed you, or something like that. He stays over where you live often for that reason. He doesn't let you go to his place, either, since he knows the animatronics could easily figure out where he lives if they wanted.

He gets a lot of nightmares, too. He doesn't expect you to comfort him or anything, he knows he can be stressful and doesn't want your sleep being put aside for something as stupid as a bad dream. He doesn't really want you to do so, either, since he feels so guilty. The best thing you can do for him is let him cling to you, hug him back and go back to sleep.

He most certainly has an eating disorder. He forgets to eat and drink most of the time, and majority of the time when he doesn't forget he either thinks it's too much work or too expensive or just not worth the effort. However, if you bring him food or a drink, he'll make sure to consume all of it, no matter how nauseous it makes him. If he ends up vomiting, he might have a breakdown from guilt. Especially if you made it yourself.

On a less angst filled note, Michael is really good at making food. If you have ingredients and don't mind him messing around your kitchen, he will make the most heavenly tasting food you can imagine. Since he doesn't work during the day, he'll make you breakfast when he gets back, alongside lunch for whatever you have to do during the day.

He'll also make you dinner, with him making you m meals a good chunk of the time, it makes there be at least one less thing to stress you out. At least, that's what he's hoping for. If you give him the money, he'll go grocery shopping for you as well! He has all your preferred brands memorized too, so not to worry about that.

His parents didn't teach him very basics things about hygiene or cleaning, so while he isn't really a messy person, he doesn't know how most things work and decides to just leave things where they are. If you teach him to do the dishes, use the laundry machine or a vacuum, and assure him you won't get mad if he does something wrong, he might try doing some of your chores for you.

If he does it right and it makes you happy when he does it, he'll keep doing it. It makes him pretty happy, actually, to be doing it. He remembers his classmates whining about having to do chores with their mothers while he spent most of his day worried he's get yelled at for moving a glass over to the sink from the counter. Most might think it's boring to clean, but he thinks it's nice. And if it makes you happy, and makes your life easier? He's pretty ecstatic to be doing the dishes.

Michael naturally runs really hot. He could be your personal heater easily, and he's very comfortable and warm to hug. Despite how warm he is, he gets cold super easily, so he's always dressing warm and laying under blankets, which just makes Jim run even warmer.

He has a soft spot for children. If he builds a more stable life and routine with you, he'll probably try doing babysitting during the day for some extra money. He's actually really good with kids, too, even if he might seem sort of intimidating at first. He's also able to make all of them eat their vegetables and fruits, so parents adore him as well.

He is weak for matching things. Matching outfits? Keychains? Bracelets? Phone cases? Mugs? Blankets? Shoes? He doesn't care, he just loves the idea of matching with you.

He likes doing arts & crafts. Sometimes the kids make him do it with them too, and he's pretty good! He occasionally gives you those handmade bead bracelets. If he sees you wearing them he'll probably cling to you for the rest of the day.

Michael is actually like, really good at singing. He'll sing when he cleans, when he's doing his night shifts, when he's cooking or baking. If you like his singing, he might sing you a lullaby to help you sleep. If you sing with him he will be the happiest person on earth.

He likes a lot of things that are less traditionally masculine and more traditionally feminine, like flowers and soft things. (Blankets, stuffed animals, etc.) If you get him flowers, he'll press or dry them so he can keep them for much longer.

He's not much of a fan of animals, and animals don't like him that much. The exception being foxes, since he thinks they're very pretty. If you have any pets, he'd be happy to help you takecare of them, but he won't have a very deep emotional connection with the animal.

[skribblezcorner]

Zosan haircut time!!!!

had to write this after getting the idea from my last post lmao. I love the idea of Sanji being like "ugh you look fucking terrible" and then forcing Zoro to take care of himself. they're so stupid and gay and in love omg. beginning part is mostly Zoro and Nami but that's ok because they're wlw/mlm solidarity always!!!!

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

More than anything, Zoro loves sunbathing on the Sunny's deck. Something about the warm light makes him want to melt into the wood. However, Zoro finds it very hard to enjoy the sun when it is boiling outside, and he swears he can hear his sweat sizzle when it meets the wooden flooring.

"We're going through a summer climate, just wait it out." Nami sips on her martini, laid out on a lounge chair and taking cover under an umbrella.

"Easy for you to say, you witch. You stole all the shade." While Nami's basking in the shadow of her parasol, Zoro's sprawled out on deck, sweating his fucking balls off. His whole body is damp, and he's stripped down into just a pair of loose shorts to cool off.

"Go hang out with your boyfriend in the kitchen," She says.

"He's not my boyfriend. I fucking hate you."

"The feeling's mutual, you sweaty loser."

Zoro groans, peeling himself off of the floor to sit up and comb his fingers through his shaggy hair. It's too long to stay out of the way, and it's uncomfortably wet where it sticks to his forehead. Zoro would tie it back, but it's too short for that. In short, he is suffering.

"I'm gonna die from heatstroke because of you," Zoro shakes the excess moisture from his hands.

Nami scoffs. "Stop whining, hop in the sea or something."

Zoro briefly considers this, but decides that's more effort than it's worth and tries to take a nap instead.

Zoro hears someone stroll out of the galley, and cracks his eye open to see Sanji balancing a tray of smoothies in one hand with a beach towel in the other. He's dressed down, an open Hawaiian shirt and blue shorts replacing his usual suit.

"Hello, my darling, Nami-san! I've just prepared smoothies. Would you like one?"

"Yes, Sanji-- thank you so much," She says smugly, while looking directly at Zoro. "You're a saint, You know that?"

He watches the cook hand Nami a drink from the tray, and Sanji's eyes follow her gaze to the floor where he's lying. "Oh my god, marimo. you look like -excuse my language, Nami-san- a fucking caveman."

"What are you talking about?" Zoro would pick a fight, but it's way too hot to bother.

The blonde cringes. "Your hair looks like someone ate it and then spat it back out onto your head."

"Okay, well, fuck you too then!" God, everyone's out for him today. What has Zoro ever done to deserve this?

"Ugh. Stand up, you dunce." Sanji nudges Zoro's head with a sandaled foot. "You need a haircut."

"I can give myself a haircut." Zoro nods in the direction of his swords, trying to move as little as possible.

"Are you insa- no! I'm cutting your hair, properly. Now get up."

"I don't wanna."

"I swear to god," Sanji sighs. "My dearest Nami, do you mind holding this for a bit?"

Nami peers at the two of them through her oversized sunglasses, a knowing smirk on her face as she takes the tray from Sanji's hands. "No problem."

Zoro doesn't have time to get a word in before Sanji reaches for his ear and bodily drags him all the way to the bathroom.

----- "I don't understand how you let it get this bad," The blonde lectures.

Zoro grumbles as he slouches on a stool in front of the bathroom sink, glaring at his own reflection. Sanji was partially right with his comment earlier - Zoro's hair is a damp, scraggly mess on top of his head right now. From where he is, Zoro can see the cook as he lines up all his fancy hair-cutting stuff, whispering insults under his breath. He looks kind of...domestic, out of his suit. It's the one thing Zoro appreciates whenever the Sunny passes through climates like this. "Okay, I'm going to attempt to fix this mess, and you are going to stay still," Sanji asserts as he slides into place behind Zoro. "as in, do not move."

"I know what 'stay still' means."

"Surprising. I thought you only spoke in grunts."

They both fall silent, Sanji draping a towel over Zoro's shoulders and clicking a button on the clippers in his hand. Gentle fingers push Zoro's head forward to access the strands at the nape of his neck. The whirring of the machinery and Sanji's hums every now and then are the only sounds in the cramped bathroom, and Zoro almost falls asleep to the feeling of the blond's hands in his hair.

"Hey." Sanji delivers two sharp taps to the back of Zoro's head. "Stop slouching, you're making it uneven."

"I'm so hot."

"I'm sure you are, you meathead. sit up."

Zoro begrudgingly straightens his back, getting a better view of the cook's freckled face reflected in the mirror. He always gets freckles when it's sunny out. They look like little constellations, scattered across his cheeks like that. Zoro wants to touch them so badly.

A few minutes pass, and Sanji moves to the front of his hair, taking a black comb from the counter to parse through the mess draping over Zoro's forehead. His face is scrunched in concentration, a crease between his eyebrows visible as he snips away with a pair of silver scissors. Zoro just...watches, staring intently into the other man's eyes. He's not sure if he's delirious from the heat, but is the cook's face turning red?

Sanji pauses his ministrations to frown at him. "Stop fucking looking at me. It's creepy."

"Sorry, sir." That earns him a snort and another smack to the side of his head. Zoro closes his eye (reluctantly. very reluctantly).

It feels like forever before Sanji finishes up his hair, ruffling it slightly before commanding Zoro to open his eyes.

The haircut is cropped close to his neck in the back, his overgrown sideburns shaped to follow his hairline. His hair is still a bit long on top, but it doesn't fall over his face.

Zoro's reflection looks better; neat, almost. He actually really likes it.

"It's okay, I guess." Zoro's lying through his teeth. It's fantastic, anything Sanji ever does is fantastic.

Sanji looks at him through the mirror. "Hm. Handsome little marimo." He nods in self-approval before packing up all his stuff, whisking the towel from around Zoro's shoulders to take to the laundry room.

Zoro sits there, bewildered, watching the other man maneuver around the tiny space unbothered- what?

He turns to look at Sanji as the blonde saunters out of the bathroom, definitely already busying himself with something else.

When Zoro turns back to his reflection, he doesn't fight the tiny smile that crosses his face. Sanji thinks he's Handsome.

The smile's gone just as quick as it came, replaced with a scowl as he hears a female voice giggling through the wall to his right.

"Nami, I'm going to murder you."

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

Nami was eavesdropping the entire time lmfao.

Nami, to Zoro: wow so handsome!! such a handsome wittle marimo arent you so wittle?? ooga booga doo!!!

Zoro: i am not above killing lesbians. Anyway BRAND NEW HC that Sanji gets freckles when he's in the sun he's such a cutie patootie i love him.

Pre-slash Zosan domesticity fuels my soul <33333

ALSOO!!! opening up asks cuz im running out of ideas :P if you ask me for something I'll probably write it thanks

[miracledarling]

my personal success stories #1

part 1: appearance changes 💄

so one of my biggest goals for manifesting was appearance changes. it was something that i used to be insecure about and i would complain about. but now i'm more satisfied with how i look. my self-concept and my appearance have improved over time in different aspects through different ways. so i'm just going to put a few of my personal appearance change success stories. i talk about some person things i experienced and maybe you may relate so i hope it motivates you.

the backstory

as i mentioned a few times before, i first found out about loa through subliminals. at first i thought subliminals were just complete bs because why would listening to music and rain sounds make my lips bigger and make me skinnier?? wtf. but after a while i decided to try manifesting appearance change. through subliminals. i wanted to manifest my desired face and body.

i was fed with TONS of limimiting beliefs back then. i gave up on manifesting appearance changes after a a bit. it wasn't worth my time or energy as so i thought. i was avoiding mirrors and it just made life a little more stressful.

a while later i decided i would go back to manifesting things. i rewatched some of sammy ingram's videos, which i used to binge watch when i was new to loa. i started to listen to subliminlas again, since they have actually given me small succsses beforehand. and i made vision boards. i repeated affirmations to myself when i was bored. just started applying little by little.

facial features

for facial features i kept some of them and changed some of them because i was kind of satisfied already. i manfiested my eyes to be a little bigger, and my lips to be a bit plumper. i just affirmed to get it and used some subliminals. my face still looks recognizable, just small changes i wanted here and there whenever i felt like it. and i literally posted a FACE REVEAL so don't argue with me lmao.

clearer skin

one thing i really wanted to manifest was flawless skin. because i was insecure about acne. this manifestation took place pretty recently compared to the other ones i talked about here. i started by manifesting skincare products but then went on to manifest natually having clear skin all together. whenever i looked into the mirror i affirmed that my skln was so clear and i drank water assuming it would clear my skin more. i also listened to lay subliminal's clear skin subliminal and it gave me HUGE results. so overall i got pretty clear skin with little effort or time.

body and weight loss

[tw//weight] another thing i was able to manifest was losing weight and changes to my body. the first time i did this was "unconsciously," before i got into loa so this was like months ago. i would look in the mirror and constantly tell myself(affiirm)that i'm so skinny, my thighs are so thin, etc. and whenever i saw images of kpop idols i would affirm that my body was just like their's except mine is better. i was scared i was going to gain weight but turns out when i went to the doctor checkup i actually lost weight, was 43kg(95lbs) before was around 42kg(93lbs) during the checkup and i didn't work out or diet. in fact, i ate more and i had online school at the time so i barely even walked around lmao.

i used to be insecure about my thighs but now my thighs are thin and i have a big thigh gap. my waist and arms are thin as well. now my body looks like something in between rosé's and joy's except i'm shorter than them. i've also gotten a ton of compliments. i usually wear loose clothes but when i wore something tighter people would call me body goals because of my body shape. and my friend would tell me that i'm SUPER skinny🤧 even tho i eat a lot of junk food and almost never exercise except used to do sports before(which actually gains muscles). i'm still thin even though my weight slightly increases compared to the first time i manifested wl since i'm taller, did sports in the beginning of the school year and gain muscles, and my body is still growing bc i'm still a teenager.

glow ups

i don't know if this counts but i manifested glowing up before school started this year. although most of the things i manifest were much later on, i still did got a few of my first "small" results in the summer, when i first found out about manifestation. i manifested getting some random changes such as new hair, new clothes, makeup products, etc. but i ended up noticably looking "different" from how i looked before.

[purinfelix]

joao fluff where him and the reader decorate their house for christmas together and then bake cookies + watch christmas movies + cuddle afterwards! it’s okay if yoy don’t celebrate christmas, i could request a diff prompt :) I LOVE UR WORK AND UR USER AS WELL 💗

love actually, is all around ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: joao felix x reader (established relationship) summary: just some good old christmas-themed fluff !! warnings: none w/c: 1k

a/n: like i said with the Gavi one, i had completely misunderstood how soon christmas actually was so i'm so so sorry for how long this took and how late it is (but also the joao Christmas tree decorating vid lowk came out at a perfect time)... still anon tysm ily and thank u for being patient !!! hope you enjoy and have a good christmas !! <3

“No, look here Joao,” you sigh, squinting at the back of the empty cookie-mix box, “it says to put the eggs in after the butter.”

“Now why on earth would I do that,” he sighs, already grabbing two eggs from the carton and cracking them both in before you can stop him. If you weren’t so focused on the fact he cracked them both with one hand with such ease, you probably would’ve been more upset about the fact he was sabotaging the gingerbread cookies you two were attempting to make.

But even if he did, you were in no mood to be upset today - in fact, it was virtually impossible to be anything but utterly content at the scene you two had set out for yourself. You and your boyfriend had spent the better part of the afternoon decorating your apartment in time for the holiday season. And several fights with tangled Christmas lights, uncooperative sticky tape and broken baubles later, you had managed to make your shared space festive enough. Even from the kitchen you could spot the tree, who’s soft glow gave your living room an ambience and your heart a warmth that made all your efforts worth it.

You had even managed to talk your boyfriend into dressing the part, the two of you were wearing matching plaid pyjama bottoms. Meanwhile, Floki pattered around in a tiny reindeer outfit Joao had bought for him on a whim and seemed way too excited to see him in. And you couldn’t help but share his beaming smile once he finally wrestled the dog into the suit.

Watching Floki jump around your feet had distracted you from the issue at hand until you heard the sound of wet batter slapping onto itself, causing you to whip your head up to where your boyfriend stood tightly gripping a wooden spoon.

“Should it be this,” he paused, eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the right word, “wet?”

“I don’t think so …”

You leant in a little closer, worry growing in you as you looked at the concerningly runny batter. However your boyfriend was determined to go on, simply shrugging as he dumped it out onto the floured counter with a small huff. Before you could stop him he was already hands deep in the brown mush, face twisted into an almost adorably focused expression complete with a bottom lip jutted out just enough to form a pout. You found yourself resigned to just watching him as he worked through the dough, an endeared smile spread across your face - at least until he turned to you, hands covered with sticky residue and a look that had morphed from focus to frustration, and you decided you would lend a hand.

Once your gingerbread cookies, or at least your attempt at gingerbread cookies, were in the oven and the two of you had cleaned the stubborn remnants of the dough off of your hands you found yourself curled up on the couch beside your boyfriend. The combination of the pyjama pants and Christmas sweater he had insisted on wearing made Joao the embodiment of a heat pack, and the perfect thing to snuggle up to given the cold weather outside - even if he was more concerned with picking the perfect movie for the two of you to watch than reciprocating your hugs.

Still, you let out a soft hum of happiness once he finally picked one after what seemed like an eternity of searching and could set down the remote to wrap an arm around you and pull you even closer - which you had thought was physically impossible given how you kept shuffling up next to him. As the movie opening played, you felt his hand come up to catch on a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his finger to twirl it. It was a half-thought out action and a habit he had developed in quiet moments like these the two of you spent alone, a silent way of expressing his love.

“This is nice,” you heard him say softly, not needing to raise his voice anymore above a whisper given how close the two of you were. It was an obvious enough statement, but said in a way that conveyed a second message - one that said “This is nice, and I’m glad I get to experience it with you.”

“It is,” you mumbled in response, feeling the temptation of fatigue tugging your eyelids closed. Joao noticed this, and only let out an amused chuckle as he pushed your hair away from your face and offered more of his shoulder for you to lean on.

“I hope we get to have many more Christmases together,” he breathed, watching you try to fight your urge to sleep with nothing but love in his eyes.

“We will,” you said in response, which, even through your haze of sleepiness, sounded as definite as a sure fact.

You recognised the familiar feeling of Joao’s lips gently pecking your forehead as you drifted off to sleep, curled up next to him. You could just make out faintly the smell of ginger, cinammon and all the other spices you had used in your cookie batter still clinging to him. You could hear Floki pattering around in the background, the bells on his reindeer costume jingling softly, as well as the steady beat of Joao’s heart. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so content, so at peace, so calm, and the last thought that graced your mind was about how you would give anything to make sure you could relive this moment a thousand times again.

At least, it would’ve been - if you hadn’t been woken up rudely by the loud beeping of your kitchen timer, the distinct smell of something burning, and Joao cursing under his breath as thick clouds of smoke squeezed their way out of your oven from your gingerbread cookies, or at least what remained of them.

[neverchecking]

Hi I love you wirk

And I love how you call totk link sage

Also the cold attack boost outfit I love it my favorite The open back and showing his hips 🤤😋 hot

And I love the zonia

And I have a request

Can I request yandere sage x ruyla ( autocorrect Keeps fixing his name) king of the zonia daughter reader

Smut

Like the reader was sent to the future from her dad with out anyone knowing

And tells link to find his daughter who asleep not to far away from his shrine and go to a the time temple top and the zonia worker will show him the way

And they reade is a sweet flower but looks up to Link.

And link falls for her.

And won't let anyone take her even if it mean Baby trapping her please and thank you

And I love you.

At first I was like Raylu???? Then I noticed you mentioned autocorrect and I was like ah- Rauru.

You absolutely can. I love every part of this idea. I feel like a perfect companion to Sage is one that is just such a sunshiney baby.

Anyway, I meant to get this out last night after work, but I got high instead and spent an hour watching the ceiling fan. I also wrote like the weirdest draft ideas and I'm deciding if they're worth fleshing out at all.

(Sage is TotK Link!)

Also smut so MDNI! 18+

Smut CW: Breeding kink, baby trapping, reader is a little naive. Sage. He's a crusty little bastard. (affectionately) Dumbification.

It had many names, the Legend of the Dragon's Daughter. Many of which titled it as either a legend or a story. A myth. Some warned of great dangers surrounding the aura of the spirit the legend told about. Other's told of the pure divinity that this being held in the palm of their hand. The grace and adroitness that lined their very pores was spoken of so fondly by the older generations who had heard the story from their own grandparents, who had heard it from theirs and so on and so forth. The older Zora especially spoke of her in such a tone he found himself lending a little belief to the legend.

The story told of a daughter, blessed to the first King and Queen of Hyrule by the Three Goddesses themselves. A princess bestowed with the gift of beauty and grace, a beacon to the budding kingdom. There were even carvings under Hyrule Castle, hidden by toppled boulders, that portrayed her image.

And he would admit. She looked like a being having been blessed by the heavens above.

The carvings had showed an ugly side to an already bitter story. How this princess, this goddess sculpted muse, was struck down by the Demon King as a means to get back at both King Rauru and Queen Sonia. The carvings from there had been too worn down to get a clear reading, but it was enough to pique his interest. Besides, what else did he have to do? Save a princess who had no issues with leaving him to die? Deal with monsters that the people of Hyrule already knew damn well how to deal with and were no longer scared of them? Traverse the depths and all the lightroots he had already found?

At least this way, he may get some new power out of it. If nothing else, at least he had a good story for Traysi.

His first area to investigate was the sky island he woke up on. He could still spot Rauru's spirit in certain areas, understanding the solemn look he seemed to wear much more than he previously did.

It was also much easier to travel around the island this time around, which was a bonus.

When prodded for answers, something complicated flashed over the spirit's face before it settled into a Grim acceptance. One Link had worn too often right after remembering the untimely demise of the Champions.

"She was gravely injured. My precious sunshine. I almost lost her that day." He had spoken in a grave echo, eyes glazed and far off, as if seeing his daughter right in front of him. "My sister, Mineru, had offered her services in an effort to preserve her soul. I am unsure if it had worked. I haven't had the heart to look. I would be such a disappointment to her fiery heart and iron strong will to shine in the brightest ways possible. She was kept in the Temple of Time if you are at all curious."

He was. He was curious. He wanted to see this being for himself. If Rauru spoke so highly of you, it had to be worth it. And it was either this or go save Zelda, and he figured she was fine doing what she currently was for a little while longer.

At least until he looked further into this.

Walking into the temple, he hummed to himself as he looked around, spotting the blue glow of Rauru near a wall closer to the exit. He nodded solemnly when Link approached. The hand that matched his own raised to the wall, pulling forth one of those green symbols that chimed at his hand. The bricks shuffled and moved while Rauru faded out, leaving an unactive construct in front of him. It rattled to life, chirping up at him before recognizing that he was friend and not foe. The Construct explained that he was designed to protect the chasm the Princess was being kept in, but since Rauru had deemed him worthy, he would escort the blond to the place. It wasn't a long journey, not at all, just down a spiraling staircase with stone walls curtained by moss.

But the moment he laid eyes on you, he understood why you were hidden.

You face was lax in such a peaceful expression as your body remained weightless, suspended in a bubble of seafoam green and ocean blue. Your hair was splaying up behind you as if you were underwater with your hands clasped around a hilt of a sword. Even the sword itself was divinity in a blade, glowing a bright white from it's place in front of you. You were clad in white robes trimmed in cold with a stone necklace laced around your delicate neck, those same white earrings hanging from your ears.

You were...ethereal. From the curve of your jawbone to the plump flesh of your cheeks, he was enthralled by your very essence. The curve of your shoulders and the toned flow of your arms, even the dip in your collarbone-- all of it had his eyes trailing every bend and curve of your body.

What he wouldn't do to get a piece of you.

He ached to just touch your sun-kissed skin, to feel it under his palms as he held you. To feel the run of your hips, fingers gripping at the dips that decorated them. To paint them a splattering of blues and purples in a lasting reminder of who he was and what he had done to you. To bite and nibble at the flesh just to hear the kind of cries you would make.

Goddess, he couldn't imagine what your voice sounded like, but he wanted to. He wanted to hear what it sounded like while you breathlessly gasped out. To hear what it sounded like when you cried out his name in pure ecstasy as you withered underneath of him. To hear you give yourself to him entirely.

He wanted to feel your weight on top of him, to experience your hands in his hair (Or cupping his cheeks if he chose to allow himself that vulnerability), to live in your orbit, worshipping you as his one true Goddess.

His eyes landed on the same green symbol that unlocked everything pertaining to the Zonai. He raised his hand in response. It lit up a bright green before fading. The bubble shined brightly before growing, eventually popping and exposing you to the elements. Which why? You were so vulnerable like that? Why not just give you to him directly? You were at risk like this. Couldn't they SEE THAT-

Whatever invisible force keeping you suspended gently laid you on your feet, which were bare, only adorned with an anklet matching your necklace. The tip of the sword in your hand clinked against the stone floor. The echo of it made your eyes, your gorgeous, gorgeous eyes, snap open. If he thought seeing you before was captivating, this was downright...enchanting. The light of your irises positively glowed as your silently gasped, hands tightening around the hilt of the weapon. He rushed to your side as he saw your balance falter, cradling you in his arms as one of your hands came to gently hold your own temple. Even just the sound of your groan made him swallow hard, fighting the blood threatening to rush to his (dick-) cheeks.

You blinked before realizing that he was not someone you knew, pushing him away with much more force than he would expect from someone fresh out of a comatose state. The only thing stopping him from wrapping his arms around you once more was the tip of the very blade now prodding at his neck. He swallowed.

"Who are you?" You demanded, hold on the weapon shaking just a tad.

(Which was so adorable. How someone like you, all soft skin and doe eyes, expected to make someone like him, rugged scars and gnarled morals, bend to you was beyond him.)

(But he'd love to see you try anyway.)

"Where are my people?! Or Queen Sonia and King Rauru?!" Oh, you were so cute.

He wanted to decimate that innocence you carried.

With a careful hand, he gently pushed the blade aside with the back of a hand, letting a smug smirk settle on his lips. Your cheeks immediately reddened as your attention remained on him. Just as he liked it, he decided then and there. He liked having your attention (and only yours) on him. But having you acting so hostile towards him just wouldn't stand. But you didn't know any better, not yet anyway, so he'd let it slide.

He gently explained that you had been fatally wounded protecting your people, something that your parents were endlessly proud of you for-- even in death. While it was a direct shot in his, admittedly lacking, heart to be the one to tell you of the passed time and the death of your parents (The sacrifice of your father and the betrayal that lead to your mother's death), he was evidently the best and only option. He understood, on an intimate level, what it was like to loose so much time, healing yourself, while the rest of the world carried on, carrying the loss of friends and family with it. He knew what it was like. It had to be why you two were so perfect for each other.

He held you as your cried, soothing down your hair as your tears (Which should never have been shed) soaked his shoulder. While he was never interested in defeating the Demon King for Zelda's sake, he may have just found another motive.

One much more worthy of his time and attention.

<><><><>

When he first saw you, he understood why you were hidden, on a surface level.

He understood why much more on a deeper, more intimate one now.

You were so bubbly. Even when faced with the devastation of your home, you remained optimistic, greeting the constructs that roamed around happily. Bestowing your cherished kisses (Those should belong to him.) upon their cold exterior while wiping them free of dirt. Even the wildlife that had squawked and charged at him crooned and chirped under your touch, hankering for the scratches you gifted them under the chin. You saw beauty in the overrun weeds and fauna, taking great interest in the new species that had popped up.

When he took to the mainland, via shrine travel because he would be damned before you got down the same way he originally did, it seemed like you couldn't see everything fast enough. You loved exploring the caves, despite the Like-Likes baring their disgusting teeth and innards (Which he quickly disposed of), ached to get as close as possible to the chasms (Which wasn't very as he refused to risk you falling in), yearned to traverse the mountain peaks and snow dunes of the mainland (Which killed him on the inside since didn't you know how dangerous those were?!).

You were quite the adventurer, full of inexperienced naivety and unpoised curiosity. The exact opposite of the princess he knew. He forgot you were royalty have the time with your mannerisms, nothing like Zelda. Which was so refreshing.

If only you weren't so fragile. He would never admit it (Too your face at least) that he's thought of just tying you down and keeping you in his (He saw it as your shared home these days) home. It was on the far outskirts of Tarrey town (Far enough no one would hear your cries for help should it come to that) with a pasture out front so you could keep a horse nearby as a friend (Should you behave).

(It wouldn't be a young, steady horse. No, most likely an older horse who had long since retired from any sort of running or getaway attempts.)

He just needed a way to keep you stationary.

And it hit him like a Hinox. You two were walking around Hateno (It was deemed safe and far enough from Tarry Town that it was still new to you), when you stopped, let out a high enough squeal his ears pinned to his head as his head snapped towards you. You were always in his peripheral, but now you were right in front of him with his hands quickly holding your arms, checking you over for injury. There were none, but you were beaming like someone had handed you a million rupees (He would. He could. He'd do it just for you), instead redirecting his attention with a call of 'Link, look!'. He had followed your line of sight just as you began squeezing his own hands, expecting you to be aweing over a cow or goat or, Goddess forbid, a dog again (You very nearly took one of stable dogs home last time). But you weren't.

And that's when it hit him.

You were loosing any semblance of a mind you had over a small infant, strapped to their mother's back by a wrap of some sort. The babe smiled at your reaction, letting out a small cascade of giggles that had you squealing in pure joy.

That was it.

The answer was right there! How could he have been so blind?! It was right there. If he gave you a baby, his baby no less, you would have no choice but to remain dormant. You would have to stay right where he put you to not only protect yourself, but to your protect your child. He had no doubt you would do it. You were too kind, too naive, for any other option. Once you figured out you were carrying his child, you'd fall for thing, claiming it as your own before it was any bigger than an apple seed.

And from then on it would just be a matter of formalities. You'd be his for the rest of your lives.

Exactly what he wanted.

Exactly what had led up to this moment. You were nothing but a babbling, crying mess underneath of him, pulling at the roots of his hair as he folded your legs against your chest. You were pleading with him, some mindless demand that he wasn't even sure you knew what you were asking, but it was background noise. He was too focused on watching the way he disappearing into your cunt, a milky sheen coating the shaft of his cock as heavy dollops of past loads dripped past your gaping opening. It was mesmerizing the way your body reacted to him, sucking him in and fighting him every time he pulled out. Even on an unconscious level, you ached for him. Not nearly as much as he breathed for you, but that would come with time. He knew it would. He'd ensure it.

The cry of his name on your lips had the coil in his gut steadily tightening as his pace picked up, thoroughly hammering your insides. He needed to make sure he was prodded right against your cervix for this to work. He needed to get this right. He needed to father any and all of your children. Starting here and now.

Whether you knew about it or not.

You had babbled something about him pulling out too long ago, but he had...distracted you with long laps at your clit and soft nipples along your thighs. He didn't even think of truly ruining you until you were clenching your thighs around his head and drenching his bottom jaw, too gone to properly process anything going on around you.

And he'd keep it that way.

His thumb, rough and calloused, rubbed harsh little circles into your clit, feeling it pulse in time with his ministrations. You whimpered beneath him, chest arching up to push against his own as you cried out, squeezing around him. You were positively milking him for every drop he had to offer.

There was no way you didn't want his children. Not with the way you were clenching around him as he jutted as far as he could go, filling your womb once more. You laid boneless beneath him, hands dropping to hang around his neck as he took a moment to breath. Your cunt spasmed once more and his cock twitched inside of you.

"You're not done yet, are you, Princess?" He purred into your ear, making it flicker as he rolled his hips against yours, even if overstimulation rocked his entire system in a flash of shot nerves.

None of that mattered to him. He had a mission. A mission he would do anything to accomplish.

Anything to keep you as his.

Yes, the reader was holding the Light Sword. Yes, I know that's not how you get it. I just thought it would be a cool tidbit bc YES, Sage seems like the type to get turned on by a hot princess threatening with a sword.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part fifteen preview

Pearly sunlight weaves through the trees, casting freckles across the calm current of the creak. Somewhere, a raven bleats loudly, but your ears block out the sound. The skin between your brows wrinkles with concentration as you tightly grip the wooden makeshift spear, its carved point hovering just above the water.

Numerous fish writhe below you, and your eyes dart between them studiously before finally settling on the meatiest one. With a quick stab, your spear pierces the water, but all it hits is the mucky bottom of the creak. The fish startles with a splash and swims off downstream. 

"Fuck me," you huff, standing up from your squatting position on the rock to soothe the growing ache in your thighs.

Fishing shouldn't be much different than hunting, yet, it's been hours and all you have to show for it is a small chub the size of your palm. With a sigh, you decide your craving for fish isn't worth all this effort and leap off the rock, carrying your measly catch in one hand and spear in the other. Maybe the still waters of the pond could be an easier spot to try someday.

You chose the creak over the pond because it's a greater distance from camp. The longer walk allows you to fixate on the emerald green leaves fluttering in the breeze and the soft chatter of swallows that are returning after their winter migration. It's the most beautiful day in a while, and the warmest, too. For the first time, you departed the cabin without a jacket, opting for only the long-sleeve tee from Ghost. You had the sleeves rolled to your elbows while fishing, but as you trek back through the wild grasses, you push them down and allow the fabric to brush your knuckles. 

There are hardly any flowers left on the Pink Sorrel after all your foraging. Arriving at camp, you amble over the plucked stems, bound across the trench with ease, and spot Blue on the other side of the gate offering Grim a wad of grass.

"Hey," you greet. "Open the gate for me?"

Grim is given a pet across his back before she leaps up to undo the locks. 

“Hey. How’d it go?” The flicker of her eyes to your near-empty hand is answer enough. "Fucking noodles. That's it? I thought there were lots of fish there."

"There are. I just suck at catching them."

She gives you an apologetic smile. "Oh," she chirps. "Ghost was looking for you, by the way."

"He was?"

"Not sure what for." Her brows furrow. "I'm also not sure where he went. He was here, and then—" Her blue eyes glimmer like water in the sunlight as they shift to something in the distance. "Oh, there he is."

The very person you'd spent hours of alone time trying not to regard arrives as a shadow, lugging what appears to be—you squint—a fucking corpse behind him. Upon closer inspection, it is certainly a body, and with how wonky the limbs look as they drag against the ground, it must be a Grey. That's a little more reassuring, and a lot less bothersome, than if it were a human corpse. 

He drops the corpse in front of the trench, rubs his gloved hands together, and then passes through the parted gate. 

"Is that what you wanted Twix for?" Blue asks, nodding to the Grey.

Ghost explains himself in an even more gruff baritone than usual. "Knew I smelled something." He looks at you. "I wanted you to check south while I checked north."

"Oh. Sorry," you say lamely and hold up the small chub. "I was, uh, fishing. Looks like you found the source, though. Just one?"

He nods. "Only found one, could be others." 

As you drag in a deep breath, you recognize the faint smell he must be referring to.

"Why did you bring it here?" you ask curiously. 

Blue is the one to answer. "To burn it. Sometimes it seems like they attract each other, haven't you noticed?"

[pinknipszz]

adagio for strings 2/4

↷ ˊ- true form!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

< previous | next >

"i'm not a crook!"

' - wc: 3.7k

you look more yūrei than human with how you stagger down the winding path, your breaths short and quick and shaky. the moon looks at you like how a mother would when her child is up to no good. she hides behind thick clouds to obscure her light in an effort to keep you from reigning carnage, but you move. to hell with the moon, you think, squinting your eyes to make out the dark shapes ahead. i don’t need a mother to guide me, much less the fucking moon.

you drag your feet across sharp stones hardly wincing, like a crippled animal on broken legs. the weight of your weapon is the only friend you have left, and you swallow the noise that crawls up your throat. you don’t know what it might’ve been. maybe a scream or even a sob, but it doesn’t matter now that the village is close. your eyes adjust to the darkness and you recognize the water well, the stone steps, the statues of yokai that are supposed to protect from natural disasters. you nearly bark a laugh at the irony.

is this what it takes to become a ghost story? you soak in the silence as you limp. in a hundred years or so, you think that farmers will warn their children about playing outside after dark, lest they want to be stolen by a pauper turned vengeful by those who damned her. it feeds your delirium and takes your mind off the ashes. this is only fair. an eye for an eye. considering the years of verbal and physical torment, you find this generous. mosquitoes swarm your space when you stumble over the steps of the first house.

it’s a humble thing, nothing impressive about it, belonging to either a cowherd or a farmer, but there are no sandals or scattered tools on the porch to confirm. after a quick assessment of the surroundings, you slip through a crack between the sliding doors. this’ll work, i’ll make it work. the inside is just as bland upon entering. you scoff, disappointed. there are no pots or paintings or portraits to take, no trophies to collect, but you find grass cushions around a low table for eating. tell-tale signs of life. they encourage you to move.

it doesn’t take much time to find a room, the only room, at the end of the sandalwood hall. you press your ear against the door, heart hammering in your chest, and wait for a few seconds. it remains silent. you pull back to stand face-to-face with the thin paper. a serpentine tongue flits across cracked lips. you don’t know what you’ll see inside. maybe a man and his wife, perhaps a family, sleeping soundly in proper, padded mattresses. they are probably dreaming about silly things, like conquering demons with sharp teeth or becoming the next shogun. 

hot jealousy swirls in the pit of your gut. it bends and snaps unnaturally, dragging its claws along the walls to tear apart your innards. dreaming of silly things is such a fucking privilege. you are more than happy to rip it from them.

but your hand never touches the wooden frame, held back by a ubiquitous force. cicadas whine for you. you blink with a bit of clarity and, for the first time in a while, think twice. your anger comes down to a slow simmer, diluted by a cold wave of realization. you don’t know what you’ll see inside. it repeats like a mantra in your head. you are thin and weak and don’t know how to fight. the words don’t feel like yours, but you listen. a man might draw his sword and strike you down. a woman might scream her head off. what then? the hand around your hatchet loosens its grip.

it repeats, you don’t know what you’ll see inside. 

your jaw is tight when you turn away, refusing to waste your chance on a bunch of strangers, before leaving as quietly as you came. realistically, you aren’t capable of fighting more than one person at a time. adrenaline has a timer that you don’t want to test. plus, there are people more deserving of death, like the kamo women. you consider it but decide that they’re not worth the effort. their esteemed estate sits at the top of the hill, and you’ll likely succumb to exhaustion before reaching it. the female seller is also out of the question; you don’t even know where she lives.

your best bet at revenge is the butcher, knowing that his house is tucked behind some trees down the street. you hesitate a little though. he is strong and powerful with burly arms that can snap brittle necks like yours, surely from experience. he is a challenge far greater than climbing a thousand steps for two women who know nothing about fighting. at least then, the playing field is even. but you remember how scared he was, and how his cowardice ran so deep that he had cried to a clan to get rid of you instead of doing it himself.

dried leaves crunch where you step. a grasshopper jumps away disturbed. that is one thing you hold over his head, it seems, one thing that makes you stronger than a man of muscle.

the walk is short. you reach it in just under five minutes minus the limping. you know that he earns more money than a cowherd and a farmer combined, if the size of his house is anything to go by. he must also be smarter because the door doesn’t budge when you try to slide it open, almost as if he anticipated your imminent arrival. but death doesn’t come knocking politely, and neither should you. you remember how you joked about squeezing through a hole in the back wall, rumored to have been from a strike meant for his prostitute wife. you’ll use it tonight to deliver the punchline.

you round the house and find the secret entrance. it’s boarded so poorly, almost as if he had just filled it with a couple of large rocks from the river and called it a day without bothering to take extra precautions. it takes the same amount of effort to pull them down with sanguine-wrought claws. luckily, the hole is large enough for a person to slip through, and you silently thank his wife, keeping your hatchet close. you hope she’s doing well wherever she is. you haven’t seen her at the market since the rumors have stopped, but you’re not overly concerned. she wasn’t kind to you either.

immediately you notice the air is different inside, almost stagnant. it’s colder too. hairs behind your neck stand on end, but you don’t let it deter you.

you explore the home with light steps. every once in a while, tatami floors creak underneath your feet. you freeze when they do and wait for frantic movements, but there’s none. you take a moment to calm yourself before continuing. in the kitchen, you find the butcher’s most prized possession: his cleaver. it rests on the wooden table abandoned by its owner. you approach to trace the metal. it’s cool to the touch and still sharp despite all of the flesh that it has cut through. this must have cost a fortune, you think. metals are hard to come by.

it would be a valuable thing to have by your side. it’d scare both people and animals more than a rusty hatchet with a weather-stained handle, and you’d never have to live in fear until the day it also deteriorates, but you don’t think that will happen for a long, long time. it’ll serve a message to the rest of them too. you’ll get to spend your final days eating peaches and melons offered out of fear, before being taken by the shogun’s army for a necessary execution. your fingers tingle. i’ll teach myself how to use you, and you reach for the foul weapon.

but your spine straightens at the sound of shuffling from somewhere deep in the house. it’s faint. horribly so, but you hear it. blood rushes to your head. you turn around half-expecting to see something behind you, but the space is empty. the shuffling continues, only this time a little louder, coming from the eastern hall with a single bedroom at the end. the butcher, you breathe shakily, forgetting the cleaver. it must be the butcher. he’s awake. you are tempted to run out of the house, tail tucked between your legs, but you swallow your fear. this bastard is the reason you’re sleeping without a roof tonight. 

you exit the kitchen and walk towards the room, your weapon ready. the shuffling grows louder, more frantic.  you focus your energy on standing upright, eyes burning from the effort to make out the darkness of the hallway. your hand glides along the wall for guidance, dust collecting at your fingertips. you only stop when you feel the familiar wooden frame of a door. when you hesitate for the nth time, the cold air curls around you with its tendrils, urging you forward. it whispers incoherent things. unable to resist temptation, you slide it open with one swift movement.

you think you’re ready for the butcher. you expect to find him twisting back and forth on his futon, or practicing his secret swordsmanship with ungraceful feet, or maybe even pacing the room like all men do. you’ve already thought of a million ways to catch him off-guard, and one of them might have worked if it'd actually been the butcher in the room, but nothing could have prepared you for this. there’s a large mass that’s darker than darkness, hunched in the far left corner, morphing between shapes as if it can’t decide between looking human or plant or animal.

you refuse to take your eyes off of it, like a sick audience for a sick show. the creature contorts unnaturally, bending this way and that before groaning a loud, horrible sound. it bounces off the walls in powerful waves that strain your ears. hissing, you don’t think twice before stepping back, but it’s already too late when tatami floors creak under your feet. immediately it silences, changing form in a blink. it is thinner and taller, closer to a corpse than anything, with features still indistinguishable in the dark. your mouth goes dry.

“what the hell—” it lunges forward. you fail to dodge.

the force of the fall rattles your bones, pushing out the air in your lungs. there is a resounding thud from where your hatchet falls. you aren’t given a chance to recover before it digs its long, black nails into your shoulders, drawing liquid copper, and claws at your flesh. the air is metallic on your tongue when you screech in pain. the creature shakes in turn, mimicking a laugh, and pushes against the lower half of your body to render it useless. you’ve only ever felt like this once in your life, when you had sleep paralysis as a child. the old sensation is ingrained in your memory, and it resurfaces only now. 

a coil snaps in your chest. “get off me!” you scream, thrashing violently. your hands curl into fists that jab at its sides. the creature doesn’t take a definite shape. you might as well be hitting air, but your efforts aren’t entirely futile. it recoils just enough for you to twist to your side and frantically search for your hatchet. when you see it in the far end of the hall, just a few arms-length away, you scramble towards it in desperation. but the creature is relentless. it grabs your ankle and pulls hard, dragging you further into the dark. no. no no no. you fight the paralysis that threatens to consume you, and with one final burst of strength, you kick.

you aren’t exactly sure why the creature lets go, wailing as if it came into contact with hot coal, but you don’t have time to ogle at how it presses itself against the wall in fear. you push yourself back on your feet and wobble quickly towards your weapon. when it’s back in your possession, you hold it tight until your knuckles turn stark white. this time you have no intentions of dropping it. your lungs burn when you breathe, and you’re sure you injured something, but you don’t dwell on it for too long. adrenaline has a timer.

you bare your teeth when the creature approaches. you’re ready to raise the hatchet. you remember the laws of nature when it lunges again, and you dodge. the strongest survive and forget the weak, who are branded for death the second they leave the womb. it runs through your veins like forbidden ichor. those gnarled hands shoot forward with inhuman speed, intent to kill, but you move just in time. you need to be the strongest in the room to win. the creature’s strikes wildly, its steps unpredictable. you cough blood at a particularly hard hit to your side. you need to be the strongest.

the creature falls forwards when you slash its legs. taking advantage of its vulnerable position, you rush forward and watch as it scrambles for footing, before you pull the hatchet up high. it looks at you then. though it lacks a proper face you think that it’s trying to mimic human emotion. you don’t know what it wants to evoke within you, but you hope it knows that it’s useless when you look back without a hint of remorse. the hatchet hits the juncture between its neck and shoulders, digs deep into black, warping mass, and comes off clean from the other side.

you watch it dissipate into nothing as if it was never there. the silence is nearly deafening. i did it. i killed it. your feet move before you could process what just happened, or what you just killed. the world blurs around you. when you pass the kitchen and catch a glimpse of the cleaver, you remember the butcher. he feels like a distant memory. you doubt he’s even alive anymore if the creature had been here the entire time. when you step out, the cool air hugs you tight. it’s still dark. you wonder if any time has passed at all.

when you reach the bottom step, you collapse forward and get a mouthful of dirt. adrenaline leaves your system before you get a chance to say goodbye, replaced instead with bone-deep exhaustion. your body remains glued to the ground as it succumbs to the exertion, fading in and out of consciousness. you dropped your hatchet again, you realize through the haze. you summon enough strength to prod at the space beside you. you swipe left and right, up and down. nothing. your vision blurs with unshed tears.

the pain is unbearable, gripping you like a vice and unwilling to go. even breathing is a difficulty on its own, with each inhale accompanied by a sharp pain in your chest. you know the injury is lethal. you wonder who will find your body first in the morning. maybe a child or a seller. you wonder if they’ll celebrate your death with sake or fresh meat before dumping your body into the river. maybe they won’t want to waste anything at all, so they’ll leave you here to rot and go about their day. before you could enjoy your pity party, a gruff voice cuts through the silence.  “pathetic. that thing was hardly a curse.”

you blink, startled. a few tears fall and mix with the dirt. you don’t dare to look. 

“what happened to that spirit of yours? don’t tell me you’ve given up. get up.” it’s harsher now, like the sound of sharpening two swords.

what else is there to lose?. you force two arms under you, shakily planting your hands to push your upper body off the ground. you find a pair of feet, attached to two strong legs, a solid waist and—

your eyes widen in horror, and for the first time in your life you see a real monster. he possesses four— four— arms, two of which hold weapons you do not recognize, a second pair crossed over his chest. all four of his eyes watching you with disgusting amusement. he reeks of arrogance and condescension, etched in the grooves of his hideous face and the criminal tattoos worn with pride. you don’t know what kind of expression you’re wearing, but he laughs at it so loudly that you wonder how no one has woken up yet.

no, not again. your breaths turn rapid, eyes full blown and wild. i can’t do this again. this guy is different from the one in the house. i can’t— you could only imagine what he sees. a woman with sunken cheeks and torn skin, dressed in dirt and bloodied, battered garbs, lying on the brink of death. you come to think that he’s here to finish you off. at least one of you is enjoying themselves. “there you go,” he purrs, smiling sharp with pointed teeth stained red. “you nearly had me worried. it’d be a shame if you died already.”

you want to scream with what little voice you have left, but it only comes out in short, pained grunts. the monster notices this. carelessly, he throws his weapons behind him to crouch in front of you. he abandons them so easily that you wonder how he thinks of himself so highly that he can fight without them. he’s still massive from this angle, and your neck hurts from the effort to crane up at him. he props a now-free hand on his knee and rests his chin on its palm. “sounds painful,” he drawls, dripping with feigned concern. “need some help?” you simply stare.

“did you forget how to speak?” you think for a moment before shaking your head. “then speak.”

“i c-can’t,” you nearly punch the words out of you. 

a heavy sigh blows over you as he massages the bridge of his nose, grumbling something under his breath. the situation is almost comical. you can’t discern between his anger and disappointment. they blend so well together that you think he only feels both simultaneously, one unable to exist without the other. you aren’t surprised if that’s the case. everything about the monster came in pairs. two arms, two faces. of course he’d feel double the hatred over you. you just don’t understand why he hasn’t killed you yet. a creature like him doesn’t look like he’s capable of patience.

“you know,” his eyes narrow to thin slits. “you cause a lot of trouble in these parts. you’re like a fucking spawner, creating a bunch of pitiful curses.” so he’s not going to help you. the monster leans in to grab your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks tight until your lips pucker. it feels like he’s trying to shatter your jaw with how much pressure he uses. “bet you don’t even know what curses are.” you don’t, but the word is familiar. you think that he catches the glint of recognition in your eyes, because his smile turns devilish.

“it’s a shame that you’re ugly,” he continues, humming to himself as he turns your head left and right. “you barely got any fat on you. you’re giving me close to nothing to work with.” fear shoots down your spine at his words, suddenly realizing the full extent of your vulnerable position. you think he notices that too because he simply chuckles and offers no clarification. his large hand crawls up the side of your face before tangling itself into your matted hair. he pulls back harshly and you wince.

“tell you what. i’ll give you food, water, and a bed if you make a deal with me.” his promise is vile. he takes advantage of your silence knowing full well that you’re unable to ask for its conditions. 

but still, you weigh your options. there is nothing left for you here in this small village. no family or friends to remember, no home to turn to. you were never liked by the residents either, and you doubt you ever will be no matter what you do. plus, people will think that you have something to do with the butcher’s disappearance. although you were supposed to, you’d still be falsely accused for a kill that wasn’t yours, which you still think is highly unfair. you’d be doing everyone a favor if you disappear anyways.

so you look at him with the last bits of your bravery and nod. he grins fiercely, pleased with your decision. 

“uraume,” he says. your eyes widen when a familiar figure materializes from nothing. the monk-child, who you saw at the market, the one that gave you your first pomelo. when they stand side-by-side over your collapsed form, something in your mind clicks. this four-armed freak is what leaves the village so restless. when sellers and ladies aren’t complaining about you, they talk about him. the “cursed object.” you still don’t know what that means. uraume’s expression is just as unreadable when they study you for the nth time. 

“prepare a room at the temple, and cook twice as much for dinner,” he orders, his eyes raking over you. his companion, who you’re starting to believe is his servant, bows their head and mutters a humble “yes sir” before dissolving into air. you gape, eyes are fixated on where they stood. the monster merely chuckles at your ignorance. his grip on your hair loosens, and he pushes your head back into the dirt, surely leaving a mold of your face for the sellers to marvel over the next morning.

you don’t know about the other hands hovering over your back, expelling enough energy to seep through your robes, past your flesh, and into your bones. “you don’t understand now, but you will soon,” his voice is hypnotizing, bleeding through the static in your ears. you feel your ribs click back into place, and you taste earth when you gasp. “i’ll make you an expert in curses.” 

exhaustion finally pulls you into its arms. it is your last embrace for a long, long time.

(masterlist) | listen to adagio for strings!

[lowkeyremi]

RIGHT THERE gojo x fem!reader

In which you switch over to a new spa and gojo is your masseur

content: gojo is flirty (duh), slightly suggestive, reader gets pampered, pet names like darling and doll, lmk if i missed any! (tbh all of them have skilled looking hands but I specifically chose gojo because of all those hand motions he makes)

Nervousness has overcome your body, which is ironic because you're sitting in this lobby with hopes of relaxing your muscles and nerves for the next hour and a half.

The ceilings are high and a perfect shade of white, while the rest of the interior walls are a baby blue color. The floors are made up of speckled marble that pairs right with the coziness of this little place.

It was time to say goodbye to your old massage therapist because she was raising her prices, which you didn't mind much, it was the fact that she was becoming more lazy with your massages that made your money not worth it.

You'd done your research looking at about twenty different places, and the one that had stuck out to you was this tiny little place. Over the phone you'd spoken with a woman named Shoko who handled all the front desk things and booked the appointments.

She booked your first appointment with Gojo Satoru. 'I recommend him for most first timers. He just has a way with relaxing people and getting them to open up.'

If someone can get to know people that easily it must mean they have some ulterior motives right? When your muscles are being loosened your brain starts to numb and it causes you to just spill your thoughts to your masseuse- or in this case masseur. Those words that leave your lips never leave the room though, which brought comfort in the past, but you have no idea how this man works.

As you're sitting there you mentally list everything that needed to be done coming here. You bathed, obviously, shaved, usually you were comfortable enough to strip down to your underwear, you've hydrated yourself, and ate something light to prevent throwing up or an upset stomach.

You're here for a deep-tissue massage. You work from home, but most of the time you're sitting at your desk all day which isn't good for your back. Working out seemed to help most of the time, but still, workouts couldn't fix all the soreness in your body.

At this point you haven't been in for a massage in two months when you decided to stop being a regular at your past favorite place and your muscles were screaming for some much needed attention.

Your breath hitches when you hear the heels of shoes clicking from behind the door that leads back to the rooms where massages are held. The door swings open and you just about stop breathing when you see him. Those pictures on his profile do him no justice to his natural beauty.

White strands of hair frame his face, pretty white lashes blink a few times, and big curious blue eyes look around until they meet yours.

Immediately a smile quirks up on his face, and it has to be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You watch in silence as he walks up to you holding out a hand. His fingers are super long and slender, beautifully manicured, each nail was equally filed and healthy.

"You must be our newbie I was hearin' a lot about. Welcome to Jujutsu Spa and Body Retreat! As you probably know, I'm Satoru Gojo 'n I'll be working your body today." That sounded so wrong in so many ways but hey, he's hot as fuck and you aren't going to arugue.

"God, Gojo can you please come up with a less sensual way to say you'll be massaging our customers? That's so inappropriate." Shoko mumbles from the front desk like this isn't the first time she's had to tell him this.

"Well, Ms. [name] seems to like it by the way she's smiling." You hadn't even noticed you were smiling so when he mentions it you hide your pretty smile away and replace it with a monotone look. He's still holding his hand out for you and you take it. With no effort at all he pulls you up from your seat and lets your arm go so he can lead you to the room you'll be in.

"Um. So I hear you're pretty outgoing." He giggles at your attempt to make small talk but responds anyway, "You heard right, darling! If Shoko booked you with Suguru he might'a scared you away and Nanami doesn't like to talk much so you probably would have been pretty tense the whole time which isn't our goal." The nickname shouldn't affect you as much as it does but the way he says it just produces butterflies in your tummy.

"What if I like silence?" Silence is nice at times and you know that, but the urge to gain a reaction from him was too tempting. Would he be upset that you were implying you wanted someone else, even if only pretend?

"Well, you definitely do not have the right guy then!" He's immune to getting his feelings hurt it seems. As your mind is wondering off he's telling you important information that you should be listening to, so this process is as smooth as possible.

"-got it?" He asks with a big bright smile. You sure as hell do not "got it" and as embarrassing as it is, you bat your lashes, "one more time please? I was a little distracted."

The metal doorknob is in his hand and he pushes the smooth wooden door open. He shakes his head, "Oh darling, how will we get anything done if you can't pay attention? I know I'm cute but you gotta stay focused Doll."

This time as he gives his whole introduction and instructions you listen well, he allows you to sit on the massage table and ask questions before he gets started.

The nervousness that left for a partial amount of time was finally catching up to you. Thinking about it hard enough you realized you'd basically be naked, in front of a really hot guy, who was going to give you a massage.

You try to stare off in the distance and pretend you don't notice the way blue eyes stare you down like a predator staring down its prey. Slowly but surely you peel off your shirt and Gojo seems to notice your sudden shyness.

"Only strip to your level of comfort, Doll." Not trusting your words to be anything good you just nod to let him know that you've heard him. With haste he turns around to prepare everything for your session.

He prepares steamed towels, dry towels, melted coconut oil, essential oils and more. Taking his advice you strip down to your underwear and lay face down on the table.

"Starting with your backside? Good choice!" You mutter an "mhm." Anticipation is making you nervous because you aren't sure how you'll react to those big hands roaming your body.

"Alright, I'm going to begin, tell me if anything hurts, if it's too much, or too little, alright?" His voice is sultry and smooth, coaxing you out of your shell of nervousness.

"Okay." You barely whisper. The sound of knuckles cracking scrambles your brain. Oh shit, he's actually about to put those big pretty hands on you. Hopefully you don't make any embarrassing noises that he'll tease you about later.

"Okay, I'm going to narrate when necessary so there's no surprises." You give him another curt nod.

His voice is so dreamy that it instantly has you relaxing which pleases him. Gojo is very, very good at what he does.

"I'm going to start by applying a little bit of oil to your back so I can warm up the muscles and prep them for the deep tissue massage." He says slowly as he pours a little bit of coconut oil on your back. He makes sure to apply light pressure while kneading the muscles in your lower back. Goosebumps form with how close he is to your butt, but it's covered by a steamed towel.

You can really feel the way his fingers dig in to release some of the tension in your back muscles. Honestly, you feel a little bit tender but it's nothing you can't handle.

Gojo eyes your side boob, licking his lips unintentionally. Which he knows is highly unprofessional but your eyes are closed so you can't even see what he's doing anyway.

The masseur isn't really sure what he's feeling deep in his chest but out of all the people he's massaged none have made him feel whatever you're making him feel.

Once he's finished warming your lower back muscles, he starts to process over on your neck and shoulders, making sure apply the same amount of light pressure.

"What do you do to make your muscles all tight like this?" His voice is quiet as to not disturb the mind-space you might be experiencing from the pleasure.

"I um- I.." Your brain is already going dumb and you feel a little sleepy but you pull yourself together long enough to respond, "I work from home, in my office. So, I'm sitting down a lot."

"Ah, that makes a lot of sense. We tend to get a lot of customers who sit a lot in their work." He reaches a particularly sore spot in your neck which causes a whimper to form in your throat.

Gojo shamelessly feels himself hardening slightly in his pants. What are you doing to him?

"Okay, Doll. I'm going to start really working those muscles. I'm sure you'll feel some discomfort but it's all going to be worth it when we break down that tension, 'kay?" He can tell that you're starting to become nervous again so he encourages you to take a few deep breaths. He does them too, he can't be caught with a slight boner, 100% unprofessional.

"I'm ready." You squeak out with zero confidence in your voice. The rational part of your brain tells you that you should have just nodded instead of trying to speak and embarrass yourself. It seems Gojo doesn't mind though.

He goes in kneading deeply into the small of your back. His own brain starts to malfunction when you moan out at how well he was breaking the tension.

Anyone on the opposite side of the door would think you two were doing something inappropriate. "Feel good?" He asks, and you take note of how his voice sounds slightly broken like you'd done something to make him that way. Which technically you did, but you didn't know that.

"Mhm, sooooo gooddddd." Gojo has to bite his lip to keep from moaning out loud. You're so pretty and he would give anything to have you right on this table. He has enough sense to understand that for once in his life he probably won't get what he wants.

As you're on your way out Gojo hands you a little paper and a pen. "This is just the form asking for a review on my service. It'll help Shoko know if you'll be with me again or someone else." You nod. Your body is much more relaxed than it was when you arrived.

"Oh- and here's my number too." Why is he giving you his number? Instead of asking him aloud you take the little card he hands you and shove it in your pocket.

He guides you back to the waiting area where you fill out the form...

A few minutes later you're handing the paper to Shoko and she gives you a polite smile.

"Will we be seeing you again?"

"Yes, I think I'll be back in a few weeks." You adjust your purse. A small giggle leaves her lips along with a shake of her head.

"I'll let Gojo know.. that is if you enjoyed his service." The brunette holds the piece of paper up to her face so she can read it.

"Alrighty! We look forward to having you again." She waves you goodbye and you do the same.

"Hey, stupid." Shoko greets Gojo waving the paper you had in your hand a few hours ago. Both were on lunch break. Gojo looks up from his phone to see what Shoko could possibly want.

"Yeah?"

"[name] will be seeing you again sometime in a few weeks." She says handing him the paper so he could see the little message you left on the paper.

'You made me feel so at ease. See you soon Gojo :)'

The little note read. His lips curl up into a satisfied smirk, "Heh. What can I say? I'm good at what I do."

note: this took way too long lololol. I wanted to hurry up and finish bc I might start a series (and finish it unlike the little aizawa series I started lmao...) so yeah! hope you guys like it :)