#i can never remember all the feathers and his tail and legs and marking and also hes melting and he's screaming and i'm screaming

[ghosts-fantastic-art]

I'll soar up to the sky

[undertheopensky]

Catch Your Breath

Whumptober Day 30: “Not much longer…”

Characters: Legend, Sky

Trigger warnings: allergies, breathing difficulty, asthma, falling

Read on Ao3!

---

A lot of people, Sky reflects, thought of allergies as kind of funny. Lots of sneezing, watery eyes, even gastrointestinal misery is just funny. People looking foolish when their bodies betray them.

As he watches Legend struggle to breathe, he thinks those people are stupid.

---

It’s not that they didn’t know Legend has an allergy.

Way back when, when the group as a group was new, and Wind asked what the white stuff Wild was adding to the stew was, they’d realised in short order the differences in their eras had real consequences. Sky and Wind can’t have any kind of dairy. Time has a nut allergy that he says was worse when he was a kid, but no one wants to risk it. Shellfish makes Four violently sick. And Legend?

Legend’s allergic to feathers.

“Okay, I know we promised not to make fun of each other for medical stuff, but feathers?” Warriors says. “That is hilarious. Are you pulling my leg?”

“Nope,” says Legend. He’s unbothered, more interested in arranging the contents of his bag to his liking. “When I visited my grandparent’s farm, I was always banned from the cucco coop and anything to do with the pigeons. Prob’ly not as bad as the Old Man’s nut allergy –” and he points a bizarrely carved little twig in Time’s direction that Sky suddenly desperately needs to see in detail – “but it’s something I’m supposed to tell the healers, so.”

“Yes, and thankyou, Legend, it’s important to know,” says Hyrule. The healer smacks Warriors when he goes to open his mouth again, and that’s pretty much the end of it.

After that, it just… doesn’t come up. The one time they visit the ranch and Legend accidentally ends up on cucco duty, he quietly switches out with Four. Otherwise, there’s just not much cause for the heroes to interact with feathered creatures. Though several of them have had experiences with marauding crows, the mischievous birds don’t really count as monsters. They’ve never come across any infected ones at least. (“Not that those bastards need to get any smarter,” Four grumbles with uncharacteristic acid in his tone.) In fact, none of the infected monster hordes they hunt down includes any feathery fiends, except as very occasional decoration. It never seems to bother him, and Legend never brings it up himself. It falls to the back of everyone’s minds.

---

Sky’s carefully cleaning dark blood from Fi when he hears Wind groan in complaint. “What, already?”

He can’t help but agree. It’s been less than five minutes since the last stalfos fell; they’re still breathing hard, still patching up scrapes and bruises and the one arrow-slice from where Wild had not quite dodged in time. And they’re already being thrown through another portal?

At least it didn’t show up right as they were bedding down this time.

One by one, they head for the portal, Sky following at the tail end of the line. It’s not on purpose. He’s just feeling it, a bit, feeling the poor sleep from the night before (ha) and the heavy weight of the humidity. Actually the thought of leaving the humidity behind is what finally drives him to step through and let the dark nothingness of the portal suck him under.

It’s always an eerie feeling. Ghostly fingers trailing over exposed skin. The cold chill of the void, so dark it doesn’t matter whether your eyes are open or closed. The adrenaline rush of falling. Wind yanking at his hair, his clothes –

No, wait, there’s no wind in the void. He’s really falling.

Sky opens his eyes to a landscape of eye-searing white touched with blue and gold. It’s dizzying, it’s blinding, it’s familiar. For a moment all he can feel is the incandescent joy of coming home.

Then he remembers eight heroes with no loftwings to catch them, and his whistle is more than a little desperate.

Flashes of colour spread out below him, bright against the clouds; Sky starts marking a path in his head, who to catch first. Wars and Time and Hyrule and Twilight, all the people without gliding items. He prays the others can hold out long enough for him to come back for them. None of them are meant for true flight, but with so many already – can Crimson even take the weight? If it came down to it, who would he leave behind –

A loftwing’s cry breaks his train of thought, and the relief would knock him over if he was standing. Crimson’s diving for him, but a pair of Skyloft knights are diving alongside, aiming for his scattered friends. He doesn’t have to catch all of them.

Sky twists on himself to face the clouds; the wind is tearing at his hair, at his sailcloth, at his blurred and watering eyes. It’s freezing, he’s not wearing as many layers after Wild’s muggy jungles, but he doesn’t have time to change. All he really needs right now is his sailcloth, not to catch but to stabilise.

Crimson’s back rises to meet him. Sky hits the saddle with stinging force and scrambles to get into position; to see over Crimson’s head and tip him back down towards his still-falling brothers. Who’s closest, who’s –

There’s a flash of red that isn’t Crimson, as Legend wrestles with his Roc’s Cape and tries to keep it from tearing free. It’s not made for this kind of use, and – he’s close. If he spirals around – Four is lighter and his cape held him longer, and Crimson can snatch him out of the sky with his talons before it gives out, and then they’re dropping through the sky after Legend when the magic in his Cape falters and fails.

Four screams. Sky can’t spare the breath or the focus to reassure him – they’re drawing even with Legend, then easing underneath, then coming out of the dive in a smooth arc that intercepts Legend’s fall at the precise moment he crosses Sky’s saddle.

Before his momentum can drag him back into open air Sky snaps an arm around Legend’s waist, as ungiving as iron. Legend helps by clinging to Crimson’s saddle. Passenger secured, Sky quickly scans the air. The last scrap of colour has just been snatched up by a third Knight, and if he squints he thinks he counts out the six of them, all safely in someone’s charge. Everyone is safe. He didn’t lose any of them.

Adrenaline and panic-sweat cooling on his skin, Sky shivers. They’d gotten almost frighteningly close to the cloud layer – Sky’s a knight, he’s used to seeing it, never mind how often he’s deliberately dropped through it – so it takes a few heavy wingbeats for Crimson to steer their trajectory back upward. It’s slow going. It gives him time to sit back, to steady his breathing, to realise just how fast his heart was beating and let the grey haze at the edges of his vision fade away.

Legend coughs. Then coughs again.

Sky frowns. There’s a thin whistle to the vet’s breathing that the wind had disguised. “Legend, you okay?” he asks, just as the veteran doubles over into a real coughing fit.

He sounds awful. He hadn’t taken any real blows in the fight, he shouldn’t be struggling to breathe like this. Had he been hiding an illness? After the fit Hyrule threw the last time Wind pretended he didn’t have a cold the whole group had wordlessly decided to just let the healer have his way, and he’d thought Legend was on board with that.

It doesn’t – it doesn’t sound like he’s trying to bring something up, though it’s deep and in his chest. It sounds like he can’t get any air, almost like Sky when the thick air of the Surface gets overwhelming. Like his throat is closing over, wind whistling through narrower and narrower passages –

Sky realises all at once.

Not an injury, not an illness – Legend’s allergic to feathers, and he just crash-landed on a whole platform of them.

Sky scrambles to prop him up, though he suspects the damage is done. Legend leans back against him. His breathing is maybe a little easier with his chest open, coughs louder and further apart. When he sucks in air, it sounds like it’s screaming through metal pipes, high and thin. But he can breathe.

They level out. There’s an island in the distance that the overloaded knights are headed for, but it’s small and isolated, intended as a jumping point for people with loftwings to catch them. It’ll take time to explain the situation, that they don’t have loftwings and need lifts back to the mainland, and that’s time Legend may not have.

Sky leans forward, holding Legend to his chest, and tries to think.

They need the infirmary, they’ll be able to treat the breath attack – but then they need somewhere feather free for Legend to rest, and there’s nowhere on Skyloft that fits that description. Loftwings are everywhere. The infirmary’s even got special-built troughs for them when their riders are in there and they refuse to leave! Every building has windows Loftwings can open and at least stick their heads in, if not hop straight through, and every floor bears scratches from their talons.

Legend wheezes. His fingers dig painfully into Sky’s supporting arm.

Determination solidifies. That will have to wait.

Sky leans into the turn as Crimson changes headings. Goddess, he loves his loftwing – as soon as Sky realised what they needed Crimson was responding. It’s the loss of this kind of bond that’s so devastating to him, when he considers the disappearance of loftwings over the ages. That the others have never known having a partner who knows your every move.

Legend’s stopped coughing but his breathing’s worse: pained little wheezes as he struggles to breathe, shuddering with every inhale like it’s a fight – his face is red and his eyes are wet and Sky doesn’t know if it’s breathlessness or pain.

“Hang in there Legend, we’re nearly there,” he says.

When they make landfall Crimson hovers long enough to drop Four the short, safe distance to the thickly grassed area meant for such deposits, then they’re off again. Sky hears Four shout behind them. Realises belatedly that between the wind and his own terror Four likely didn’t know what was happening – but he’s safe where he is, and if someone else finds him they can help him regroup if the others don’t land in the same spot, and –

That’s a problem for later. Right now, he needs to save Legend’s life.

No sailcloth dives with a passenger. Crimson lands on the tiles right in front of the infirmary with a soft grunt, and Sky flashes gratitude at him as he throws himself off his back and runs.

“Aren,” he shouts as he shoulders the door open, “Aren, I need help!”

[akaittou]

Design thoughts/plans for the elder Olympians so I have to commit to at least some of them:

Hestia was the first swallowed by Kronos, with the most space to work with in his stomach. The time took its toll regardless, and she was in a bad shape when regurgitated. No one knows how or how much she's recovered, because she wears a garb that covers everything save for her soot-blackened hands and her warm smile and has sworn off ever taking lovers let alone a spouse. She's most commonly around 16ft (~490cm) tall.

Demeter suffered for a long time in Kronos' stomach as well, but she gained the divinity of growth and nourishment very quickly, and applied it to herself. What scars remain are overgrown with verdant and golden plants of produce, or soft and smooth like a well baked bread. Only in winter does her skin grow translucent and cracking, and seep with fine droplets of golden ichor that match her golden blade. She's most commonly around 15ft (~460cm) tall.

Hera was damaged like her sisters, but few can remember her as such, as Zeus brought her the rarest ointments and the most esoteric of treatments when courting her. All signs that remain of the strange procedures from foreign lands are dappled feathers adorning her skin and the horns of a cow upon her head. She's most commonly around 15½ft (~500cm) tall.

Hades was the second to last to be swallowed, and would not force his sisters unto fuirther suffering by jostling for a better position within Kronos' stomach. As a result he suffered damage as severe as that of Hestia, fighting the Titanomachy while constantly pushing back creeping death. Taking over the domain of the underworld let him survive, though while his siblings and later wife have helped fix most of the visible damage — he grows black wool for hair and beard, his hands are the talons of a screech owl, and Zeus swears he's seen the whipping tail of a dog once so his legs might belong to a willing beast as well — he garbs himself almost as heavily as his eldest sister so the full extend of his scarring remains unknown. He's most commonly around 20ft (~610cm) tall.

Poseidon was the last one swallowed, but as none of the other siblings were digested, there was little space to avoid consumption. By the time he was regurgitated there was little skin left on him, and his legs were all but lost. With aid from his mother and from then-oceanic Aphrodite he replaced what he could to be able to fight, and once taking over the domain of the seas reformed himself almost entirely with aspects of beings belonging to it — orca, seahorse, devil ray, anemone, urchin, dolphinfish. He's most commonly around 30ft (~920cm) long in his aquatic form and around 13ft (~400cm) tall transformed into a humanoid.

Zeus was never swallowed at all and so he's not corroded to translucency in places the way most of his siblings are. He doesn't look entirely human however, having tested some of the things he obtained for Hera and Hades during and after the Titanomachy on himself. He's rather proud of his crown of horns, his eagle talons, and his dappling of golden feathers, however, since they're marks of further triumph against his father. He's most commonly around 17ft (~520cm) tall.

[friendlylemonade]

Damn, well, I didn’t expect this… but, I am a woman of my word, so I’ll post the first drafts for each episode when I finish them, here’s the first one

Chapter 1 Prologue

 

Syrian held her head high as she stood among her siblings. Of course she’d succeed but…. Still, it was a terrifying thing to think about… She knew that it’d come, she’d been preparing for this practically her entire life and bore her heart and soul into training but just the thought of fighting her own family was enough to send shivers down her spine. She didn’t hear anything yet, so she decided that it was safe to discreetly peek at her sisters and brothers from her peripheral.

 

On her immediate right, she saw Parrot. He was the second hatched and one of the stronger kids, he wanted this just as much as she did, trying his best to be, Well… the best. He was a tough, determined boy and she loved him dearly. Yes, his tri-coloured feathers were strange, but weren’t they all? On her immediate left, Raven stood beside her. Raven was a harsh contrast to Parrot, being the youngest of their hatching. An excitable, charming girl was what she was, and Syrian couldn’t have hoped for anything more (don’t get her wrong) it was just…. She knew that Raven wouldn’t win this, she was never the best fighter and any dragon who had met her would tell you the same. It was okay though, because though Raven knew she wasn’t good at fighting, she was okay with it, she-

 

The click clack of talons echoed through the cave, and Syrian subconsciously straightened her tail, her large ears twisting and turning at the sudden sound after so many minutes in silence. Soon, a grey-yellow dragon came into view, his heavily scarred body not unlike a hatchling’s first painting. Syrian resisted the urge to throw herself into the nearest hole, this was war, intimidating dragons were everywhere.

 

“You all know why I’ve come, you’ve known for years, but if you’ve somehow erased it from your shrunken brains, let me explain,” the dragon snarked, flaring his wings slightly as he talked, “Only one of you can fight in the war, so we need the best of you to do it, you will fight, and I will pick the best of you to come into my army. It’s usually easy to tell who’s winning, and I don’t think this time will be any different,” remarked the general, glaring pointedly at Raven’s small form as he finished. Syrian felt a small ember of anger begin to glow as she tried to keep a straight face.

 

“On my mark, you will start, and when one of you is chosen, you will stop at my call, understood?” Asked the yellow dragon.

 

“Sir, yes, sir!” The dragons chorused back, some subtly glancing at the others. The general nodded and flew to a high ledge, where Kiwi and Goose, her parents, were sitting already. Syrian looked to Goose, she had large scars covering her left leg, crawling all the way up her wing. As a fledgling, Syrian would trace the scars and wonder how Goose got them, imagining fantasies of her mother fighting off an unreasonable amount of flame dragons. Goose had long since retired from her position as a soldier due to her wounds, and even though she had been offered to have her mane cut to shoe her bravery, Goose denied, something about not wanting to have choppers in the cave when she was planning for younglings. Syrian didn’t really remember, and even now, she had her doubts about how much of that story was true. Syrian shook the thought out of her head and stood taller.

 

“Fight!” The general yelled suddenly, and Syrian didn’t have a chance to think before a red blur slammed into her right side. Syrian shouted in surprise as she was tackled to the ground, Parrot fanning his wings as he lifted a fluffy paw. Baring her teeth, Syrian scratched his underside, discombobulating him and giving her enough time to roll over and slam her brother into the ground, effectively pinning his limbs down with her own. Syrian craned her neck for a bite when a heavy weight settled onto her back. Kicking her back legs, whatever was on her back flew into the cave wall in front of her. Sighing, Syrian looked down, but whatever had happened worked, because Parrot was gone from underneath her. Syrian looked around wildly, trying to locate her red sibling before she saw Raven charging for her straight on. Rearing on her hind legs, Syrian caught her sister’s face with her sharp claws and scraped them along her face.

 

Syrian hesitated for a moment, did she really want to do this? These types of wounds would scar, and she loved her siblings, would she sacrifice that just to become a soldier and possibly die? In her moment of pause, Raven bit her paw hardly, a growl coming from her sister’s throat. Syrian hissed in pain. So much for mercy. Syrian slashed her talons along her sister's bloody face and then immediately slammed her closed paws into Raven’s elbows, making the smaller dragon fall to the stone ground. Hissing slightly, Syrian clawed at her sister’s exposed side, all the while Raven batted her wings in a feeble attempt at warding off the larger dragon.

 

“Stop!” The general yelled, and just a quickly, Syrian stepped back from Raven. The large yellow dragon flew down to meet the combatants just as Syrian stepped into line. The scarred dragon walked along the row of dragons and stopped as he reached Syrian.

 

“That one will do,” the general said, pointing to Syrian as he looked to Kiwi and Goose. Syrian’s eyes widened; she didn’t think she did that well. Goose smiled as Syrian saw some of her siblings glare in envy from the corner of her eye.

 

“Grab your items,” proposed the general as he nodded to the cave exit. Syrian beamed as she skipped over to her sleeping cave to grab her items. This was amazing! She’d really be a soldier! She could fight in the war! This was-

 

“Syrian,” Parrot croaked, and Syrian whipped her head around to see him looking at something in the corner. Following his gaze, Syrian saw….. Raven, laying on the cold cave floor, unmoving.

[leviathans-watching]

can I request a gn mc asking the brothers (and maybe dateables too if you want) to play with their wings/tail? I’ve always had the urge to just mess with Mammons wings and Levi’s tail especially

it’s okay if you don’t want to do it tho! Thank you :) 💙

touching the brothers' tails/horns/etc.

includes: the brothers x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated t | m.list | pt 2

a/n: wow i almost want to explore lucifer's a lot further </3 anyway i hope you enjoy and ty for requesting! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, or req so come stop by!!

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

➳ lucifer stiffens as he feels your hands gently running through the feathers of his wings. you slow, but when he reminds silent, pick up the action again, every movement intentional and soft. it feels so good. lucifer cannot remember the last time someone other than himself had touched his wings. after he became a devil, they were something he was ashamed of for a long time and his brothers quickly learned they were no longer to touch them, and by the time he’d be okay with it, it was too late. but your touch feels like heaven, and lucifer’s afraid to look at your face out of fear of revulsion, he can’t find himself to pull away either.

➳ mammon yelps when he feels a touch on his wings, turning quickly. you yank your hand back, apologetic. “you’re good to touch them,” he says, “i was just surprised.” taking his invitation, you stroke the bones, following them from the bottom up, moving to the skin on his back. he shivers as you trace your way across his veins, feeling oddly exposed. but it also feels kind of nice, like you’re scratching an itch he hadn’t realized he had.

➳ levi flushes when his tail lashes, bumping against your leg. “sorry, it has a mind of its own,” he says, and you laugh. without asking, you run a hand down the scales, scratching your fingernails carefully over the smooth surface. “that feels good,” levi whispers, and you smile, continuing to run your hand up and down and up and down. honestly, the touch is more soothing that he’d have thought, and before he knows it, he’s half asleep, leaning against your side.

➳ satan wakes up with his head in your lap. he must have fallen asleep reading. as he gets his thoughts in order, he realizes he’s in his demon form, and you’re gently scratching his head, running your hands across his horns in a slow, repetitive motion. nobody’s ever touched his horns like that before. with his brothers, they were merely a place to grab onto when they scuffled, and he himself had never paid much attention to them, simply accepting them as part of his appearance, but your touch is making him reevaluate everything. content to stay where and as he is, he lets his eyes slip shut once more but doesn't sleep, simply reveling in your touch.

➳ asmo giggles as he feels you stroke his wing. “that tickles!” you chuckle, smearing lotion across the course skin, making sure to get every wrinkle and fold. asmo’d never been able to reach all of his wings himself, and only was able to convince one of his brothers to help once in a blue moon, so hanging out around to help him groom and moisturize was truly amazing. especially since you were so gentle and careful, your attention to detail showing in every movement. your hands felt nothing like his brothers’, and for that, asmo was immensely grateful.

➳ beel shivers as your fingers follow the striped birthmarks that go down his neck and collarbone. your fingers are slightly cold, especially considering he runs warm, and the touch feels almost ghostly with how light your touch is. it’s amazing, really, as you make every part of him feel special, including the parts he'd never cared about before, like his markings. your hands dips lower for a brief moment, to his chest, and he inhales slightly, but it doesn’t linger, moving back up before he knows it. his heart pounds behind his ribs and he’s sure that if your fingers were to explore the area over it, you’d be able to tell.

➳ belphie flinches as you touch his tail. “i know it looks soft but there are thorns in there,” he says, striving for casualness. “so don’t complain if you get pricked.” your hands slow down slightly, but you don’t pull away, combing out the hair at the end of it. it’s frightfully tangled but you’re patient and belphie knows that when you finish it will be fully untangled and neat. your administrations feel kind of nice, actually, but he wouldn’t dare admit it. (something in him tells him you know that already anyway, so what’s the point?)

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Huaisang is the cutest thing monsters have ever seen, they can be yao dragons or giant turtles one look at nhs and they want to feed hug or kidnapt him nmj trainning involved recovering his baby brother from every monsters nest around qinge

ao3

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, his teeth gritted together and his arms shaking from the strain of holding Baxia up. “He’s mine.”

The massive tiger glared down at him over Baxia’s blade, currently stuck in its teeth, and growled something.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. His legs were shaking now, too. “I know, trust me, I know! I’m human, he’s – young, yes, yes, I know. But he’s my little brother! I’m not giving him up!”

The tiger spat out the blade, knocking Nie Mingjue backwards on his ass.

“And when you change your mind?” the tiger demanded. “Will you abandon him then?”

“No!” Nie Mingjue exclaimed. “Never! He’s my brother!”

“Mark your words,” the tiger said ominously. “Or else.”

It turned and stalked off, its tail waving arrogantly in the air, until its towering white form disappeared into the distance.

Nie Mingjue sighed in relief. “Huaisang?” he called, and a small head popped out of the nest the tiger had started building, blinking owlishly at him. “Come on, come to da-ge. It’s time to go home.”

“But Master Tiger said we were going to play…”

“Yes, well, he wanted to play for too long,” Nie Mingjue said. “Only a few centuries, give or take. Let’s go.”

-

It started back when Nie Huaisang was born.

No, more accurately, it started when Nie Mingjue’s father fell in love with someone he probably oughtn’t have, which according to the sect was not a terribly uncommon problem for him to have, and decided to bring home a bride.

Nie Mingjue could still remember the first time he’d seen the Second Madame Nie. They’d all been lined up to greet her, all the sect and close members of the clan in rows according to rank, Nie Mingjue fidgeting in the inside of the house proper in his first tangle with formal clothing outside of the discussion conferences. She had come sweeping in with her head held as high as a princess, seductive and bewitching.

Every movement had been perfect, the eyes of all the men fogging over in lust and the women in admiration – or visa versa, depending on their personal preferences – and a wicked smile had lit up her face when she had stepped across the threshold, officially becoming the sect leader’s wife, and maybe everything would have gone along with whatever plan she’d had back then if she hadn’t next seen him.

“Oh, look at you,” she exclaimed, rushing over to pinch Nie Mingjue’s cheeks between her hands. “What a delectable little morsel you are!”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said, staring up at her with big round somewhat-worried eyes.

“You charming little dumpling,” she said. “You adorable mouthful of meat! Spoonful of egg yolk!”

Nie Mingjue cast his eyes around to see if anyone would be willing to help him.

“My eldest son,” Nie Mingjue’s father said, not without pride – albeit perhaps a puzzled sort of pride. “He’s probably just about old enough to come to the forecourt, if you don’t want him to live with you –”

“Oh no,” she said. “He’s definitely living with me.”

And so she stayed, and Nie Mingjue stayed with her, and she doted on him in a way he found pleasant if mildly disconcerting. Within a year, she was pregnant, and irritated with it; six months after that, she was round and complaining, even though Nie Mingjue solemnly assured her that she was as beautiful as ever.

“This is your fault, you know,” she told him, and he blinked at her. “It is! Don’t get me wrong, your father’s a charming bull when he wants to be, and of course he fucks like a champion stud, but I stayed here for you, my little cabbage roll, my charming chunk of liver.”

She patted her belly.

“That means this here is all because of you. So you’d better take responsibility!”

Nie Mingjue considered the issue for a little. The argument seemed plausible, so he raised his hands and put them on her rounded stomach. “I will take care and watch over him for all my life,” he vowed, and the baby inside kicked his hand in response, sealing the pact.

“Oh you are so cute,” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “My darling pork bun! My little fish cake! I could eat you right up, if only you were just a little bit older!”

When Nie Huaisang was born, she disappeared in a welter of blood, but Nie Mingjue’s oath remained.

The trouble started after that.

-

“You can’t raise a cub like that properly,” the winged lion argued, bating its wings as if that would help it make its point better.

Nie Mingjue glared at him. “Watch me!”

“It’s for your own good, little human. He needs his own kind –”

“I’m not listening to a treasure-seeker!”

The lion scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that most humans think I’m good luck!”

“You’re not trying to steal most humans’ little brothers, are you?!”

The winged lion sighed, a deep sound, so very noble and long-suffering that Nie Mingjue couldn’t resist the urge to lift his foot and kick the lion right in the paw.

“Brat!”

“Don’t care!” he shouted. “You leave my brother alone! He’s my responsibility, not yours! Piss off!”

“You can’t even feed him properly -”

“I’ll figure it out!” Nie Mingjue bared his teeth and wished he was old enough for a saber.

“You little…fine. Fine! I’ll bring you a book on how to feed a huli jing kit, and you keep to it, you hear me?”

“I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “But don’t you even think of taking him away!”

“On your own head be it,” the winged lion grumbled. “Not everyone’s as understanding as me.”

-

“Why are you wet?” Nie Mingjue’s father asked him.

“Water monkeys,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “There was a nest.”

“Water monkeys? Don’t they normally stay away from people…? Or, I suppose, were these ones feral?”

“Thieves.”

“Ah. Well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose…bad luck for you to run into them here, of all places. But good experience! How many people your age can say that they fought water monkeys?”

“Can we go home?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little plaintively, and rubbed his nose. “How much can you really have to say to the Jiang sect, anyway?”

His father chuckled. “More than either of us would like, unfortunately. But if you’ve had enough of water, which no one can blame you for, maybe you and Huaisang can go shopping in the pier instead?”

That would work, Nie Mingjue thought, and nodded happily.

(Sect Leader Jiang was extremely embarrassed about the ghostly rats in the night-market – he claimed they’d never seen neither nose nor tail of them before the Nie brothers had accidentally tripped over their trap and had to flee from the swarm...)

-

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nie-er-gongzi,” the white-clad cultivator from the mountain said, smiling broadly and saluting deeply.

Xiao Xingchen had made himself famous during his first half-dozen night-hunts alone for his extraordinary grace, bearing and strength, and he said he was on a mission to help the world. He was beautiful, virtuous, and matched each ideal of gentlemanly arts.

Sects throughout the cultivation world were drooling at the thought of enticing him to join them, fighting for the opportunity to put in a good word with him.

Not all sects.

Nie Mingjue stepped forward, purposely putting Nie Huaisang behind him.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he said, hand on the hilt of his saber. “Buzz off, birdbrain.”

Xiao Xingchen might wear white, but Nie Mingjue knew a zhuque chick when he saw one.

-

“I found something for my aviary, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang, seven years old and delighted with his clumsy autonomy, announced.

Nie Mingjue, less than a full year into his new role as sect leader, rubbed his eyes. “Oh?” he asked, only somewhat wanting to scream endlessly into the void, which was better than usual. “That’s nice, Huaisang…”

“Come look! It’s so pretty!”

“I’m a bit busy –”

“But da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue sighed and got up, following Nie Huaisang to the door only to come to a complete stop.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said to the fenghuang currently pretending to be a rooster in a cage, as if anyone would actually mistake phoenix flames for regular feathers. “Do you have no dignity left?!”

-

“You can’t adopt the bashe,” Nie Mingjue said to Nie Huaisang, who pouted. “It eats elephants; we’d be broke within three months.”

He turned to the giant python.

“You can’t adopt Huaisang,” he said. “I will literally murder you.”

-

“Why can’t I go watch the eclipse?” Nie Huaisang complained. “Everyone else is going!”

“I’m not risking a tiangou.”

“The…dog that eats the sun? Really, da-ge, is that even real?”

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, “you’re grounded just for saying that.”

Nie Huaisang grinned.

-

“Maybe I want to go and live among the qilin!” Nie Huaisang screamed, fourteen and hormonal about it.

“Well you don’t get a choice!” Nie Mingjue bellowed back.

“You’re not my father! I don’t have to listen to what you say!”

“I’m your fucking sect leader and yes you do!”

“I hate you!”

“I don’t care if you hate me! You still aren’t going to go live in a field with some magic pointy deer and that’s final!”

The qilin herd wisely chose to withdraw.

-

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao hissed, and Nie Mingjue looked up from his work at him – he hadn’t heard Meng Yao this upset since he’d shoved him into a closet to get him out of way during the whole dangkang boar hunt debacle. “Da-ge, there’s a dragon outside.”

“Again?” Nie Mingjue said, standing up to stretch and feeling oddly unbalanced. They’d just finished another session with the song of Clarity, so he really shouldn’t be feeling like this; he would need to write to Lan Xichen again about his fears that the treatment really wasn’t working. Lan Xichen would probably only say to give it more time, another chance, but still… “Let me go talk to them. Dragons are the worst.”

“No, da-ge, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said. “It’s not a water-serpent or – or even a jiaolong – it’s a dragon.”

“A flood-dragon is a type of dragon,” Nie Mingjue said, following Jin Guangyao outside. “You know that, it’s in the name, what’s the big – oh, I see. It’s a celestial dragon.”

Jin Guangyao glared at him with an expression suggesting that he was under-reacting, but Nie Mingjue really didn’t have the capacity in him to reach with appropriate fervor at the moment. He and Nie Huaisang had been fighting a lot recently, every little thing escalating into a giant argument, and he was no longer sure if he was doing the right thing in trying to force Nie Huaisang onto the path of his ancestors. After all, unlike Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang had – somewhat different ancestors, on his maternal side.

And, he supposed, Nie Huaisang was old enough to decide otherwise, if he truly wished…

Still, Nie Mingjue was as stubborn as a mule and had no intention of giving up his baby brother without a fight, so he braced himself and went over to the frankly massive creature draped over the entrance gateway and much of the training yard that the entirety of the Nie sect was doing its utmost best to pretend that they weren’t seeing.

Nie Huaisang was sitting on the thing’s five claws – an imperial celestial dragon, apparently – because of course he was.

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue called up to the dragon, which turned its head to regard him, an entire production that took nearly a quarter ké to accomplish. “The brat there is mine, please return him.”

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao hissed again, but Nie Mingjue waved him away.

“You have raised him well,” the dragon said, which was…a good deal nicer than most of these interactions usually went.

“…thanks?” Nie Mingjue said suspiciously, ignoring Jin Guangyao’s splutters of “It talks?!” “I think?”

“I have chosen to grant you a boon,” the dragon announced.

“…right,” Nie Mingjue said. “If this ‘boon’ is that you’ll take him off my hands, I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse. He may be trouble, but he’s still my brother.”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, indignant. “Don’t be rude. I asked him for this!”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him, unable to resist the feeling of hurt even though he’d already told himself to expect something like this. “…you want to leave?”

“No, da-ge, don’t be ridiculous. I asked him to improve your health!”

Ah.

“Huaisang –” he started to say.

“Don’t you ‘Huaisang’ me!” his little brother shouted. “I know you’re trying to hide it, but it’s getting worse, isn’t it? San-ge told me so! He said I should get ready!”

Nie Mingjue made a mental note to strangle Jin Guangyao, who had no right to say something like that to Nie Huaisang even if maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to emotionally prepare Nie Huaisang for the upcoming bereavement and inheritance he would need to face.

“Anyway, he said to get ready, so I did!”

“You can’t just ask a divine dragon to fix me, Huaisang. That’s not how this works.”

“Uh, it totally does, and I did, and he agreed. So there!”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and glared. “And what did he want in return?”

“The boon is a reward for your past merit, not a trade for the deeds of the future,” the dragon said, not even slightly hiding how its whiskers were shaking with suppressed laughter. “You have travelled a difficult road, and borne the weight of it well. And besides…”

“Besides?”

“If you were to die, he would undoubtedly petition the creatures of the underworld to return you.”

“Well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, having not considered that. “Fine. Whatever. Heal me and I’ll try to keep an eye on my health going forward.”

Maybe more Clarity? He could try to free up his schedule, get in a few more sessions…

“I just give up,” Jin Guangyao said behind him. “I just fucking give up.”

Nie Mingjue, assuming that he was talking about Nie Huaisang’s nonsense, agreed whole-heartedly.

[raeynbowboi]

How to Build Apollo in DnD 5e

That’s right, today we’re tackling a herculean task by trying to build the golden boy of the Olympic Gods: Apollo. Now, obviously, we can’t build Apollo as an actual factual literal god, it would break the game and it would be preposterous. However, Apollo translates really nicely into DnD. He has many skills, multiple powers so that we don’t have to pad his spell list with crap, and he’s also shown off his fighting style across multiple myths and legends. Keep in mind that while I am using Apollo himself as our template, this is also a GREAT resource for if you want to play as a Demigod child of Apollo (such as Will Solace), a worshipper of Apollo, Apollo’s chosen champion, or if Zeus has condemned your godly gloriousness into the pimply awkward adolescent body of one Lester Papadopoulos. 

To start things off, we should examine Apollo’s many skills, abilities, and his MANY MANY MANY domains as a god.

Athletics - Apollo is the god of athleticism, though he shares this domain with Hermes. The original Olympic Games were held in his honor, young Greek boys held him up as the ideal of masculine physicality, and they still crowned winners with his sacred laurel wreath long after the games stopped being held for him.

Animal Handling - Before giving them to Hermes, Apollo was a pastoral god with a herd of cattle, and he also has horses that draw his solar chariot across the sky. There’s also art showing Apollo riding on the back of a swan, and he had a crow as his sacred messenger at least until he got angry and burned its feathers black.

History - Apollo’s been around a long time, and more importantly, he’s the second smartest and the second wisest of all the gods after only Athena herself. He invented mathematics, and two of his muse daughters embody history and astronomy, big staples of Ancient Greek scholarly rhetoric. A third daughter covers epic poetry which by modern standards would make her the muse of novels and plot-driven storytelling.

Intimidation - Diomedes carved a bloody canyon through the Trojan forces, but one threat from Apollo was all it took for him to scamper off with his tail between his legs.

Medicine - Apollo is the god of medicine, and as such, would be good at healing and checking for injuries.

Performance - This one’s a no-brainer, Apollo is the god of music, the father of the muses and the demigod Orpheus, and beat pan in a well-known musical battle.

Perception - Apollo is the god of prophecy, it’s hard to get the drop on a guy who may have seen your attack coming 30 years before you tried anything.

Persuasion - With the possible exception of Zeus and Aphrodite, Apollo is definitely a contender for the largest list of lovers by a single Olympian God. They had a terrible penchant for ending poorly, and he didn’t always pass his persuasion checks, but dang it if he didn’t try his hardest.

Religion - Apollo is a god. This is where I’d put any skill check for knowledge of Greek mythology, such as remembering myths, legends, heroes, demigods, the weaknesses of monsters, and mythological artifacts.

Now that we’ve covered Apollo’s skills that we should aim to provide him with, let’s examine his domains and abilities for appropriate spells, and figure out what spell lists he needs to be pulling from.

Magical Abilities

Archery/Athleticism

Divine Favor (Paladin, War Cleric) Heroism (Bard, Paladin, Battle Smith Artificer, Order Cleric, Peace Cleric) Hunter’s Mark (Ranger, Vengeance Paladin) Jump (Artificer, Druid, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Longstrider (Artificer, Bard, Druid, Ranger, Wizard) Zephyr Strike (Ranger) Cordon of Arrows (Ranger) Enhance Ability (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard, Glory Paladin) Conjure Barrage (Ranger) Crusader’s Mantle (Paladin) Flame Arrows (Artificer, Druid, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Haste (Artificer, Sorcerer, Wizard, Land Druid (Grassland), Glory Paladin, Vengeance Paladin) Lightning Arrow (Ranger) Skill Empowerment (Artificer, Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Conjure Volley (Ranger) Steel Wind Strike (Ranger, Wizard) Swift Quiver (Ranger)

Disease

Inflict Wounds (Cleric, Oathbreaker Paladin) Ray of Sickness (Sorcerer, Wizard, Death Cleric) Ray of Enfeeblement (Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Vampiric Touch (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric) Blight (Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Death Cleric, Grave Cleric, Oathbreaker Paladin, Alchemist Artificer) Sickening Radiance (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Vitriolic Sphere (Sorcerer, Wizard) Contagion (Cleric, Druid, Oathbreaker Paladin, Undying Warlock) Harm (Cleric)

Fire

Create Bonfire (Artificer, Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Firebolt (Artificer, Sorcerer, Wizard) Burning Hands (Sorcerer, Wizard, Light Cleric, Wildfire Druid, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Hellish Rebuke (Warlock, Oathbreaker Paladin) Aganazzar’s Scorcher (Sorcerer, Wizard) Dragon’s Breath - Fire* (Sorcerer, Wizard) Flaming Sphere (Druid, Wizard, Alchemist Artificer, Light Cleric, Celestial Warlock) Heat Metal (Artificer, Bard, Druid, Forge Cleric) Scorching Ray (Sorcerer, Wizard, Artillerist Artificer, Light Cleric, Wildfire Druid, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Fireball (Sorcerer, Wizard, Artillerist Artificer, Light Cleric, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti) Flame Stride (Artificer, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Fire Shield (Wizard, Wildfire Druid, Armorer Artificer, Battle Smith Artificer, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Wall of Fire (Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard, Artillerist Artificer, Light Cleric, Forge Cleric, Celestial Warlock, Fiend Warlock) Flame Strike (Cleric, Wildfire Druid, Devotion Paladin, Glory Paladin, Celestial Warlock, Fiend Warlock, Genie Warlock (Efreeti)) Immolation (Sorcerer, Wizard) Investiture of Flame (Druid, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Delayed Blast Fireball (Sorcerer, Wizard) Firestorm (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer) Incendiary Cloud (Sorcerer, Wizard)

Healing

Spare the Dying (Artificer, Cleric) Cure Wounds (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Celestial Warlock) Healing Word (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Alchemist Artificer) Healing Spirit (Druid, Ranger) Lesser Restoration (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Celestial Warlock) Prayer of Healing (Cleric) Aura of Vitality (Cleric, Druid, Paladin) Beacon of Hope (Cleric, Devotion Paladin) Mass Healing Word (Cleric, Alchemist Artificer) Greater Restoration (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Celestial Warlock) Mass Cure Wounds (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Battle Smith Artificer) Heal (Cleric, Druid) Regenerate (Bard, Cleric, Druid) Mass Heal (Cleric) Power Word Heal (Bard, Cleric)

Light/Sun

Dancing Lights (Artificer, Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Light (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Wizard, Aasimar Race) Sacred Flame (Cleric) Faerie Fire (Artificer, Bard, Druid, Light Cleric, Twilight Cleric, Archfey Warlock) Guiding Bolt (Cleric, Glory Paladin, Celestial Warlock) Branding Smite (Paladin, Battle Smith Artificer, Hexblade Warlock) Blinding Smite (Paladin) Daylight (Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Sorcerer, Celestial Warlock) Dawn (Cleric, Wizard) Destructive Wave (Paladin) Holy Weapon (Cleric, Paladin) Wall of Light (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Sunbeam (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard) Crown of Stars (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Holy Aura (Cleric) Sunburst (Cleric, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard)

Music, Sound, Etc.

Vicious Mockery (Bard) Word of Radiance (Cleric) Thunderwave (Bard, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard, Armorer Artificer, Artillerist Artificer, Tempest Cleric, Fathomless Warlock, Genie Warlock (Djinni)) Knock (Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) Shatter (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard, Armorer Artificer, Artillerist Artificer, Tempest Cleric) Thunder Step (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Divine Word (Cleric) Power Word Pain (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Power Word Stun (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Power Word Kill (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)

Prophecy/Divination

Guidance (Artificer, Cleric, Druid) Detect Magic (Artificer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Sorcerer, Wizard) Identify (Artificer, Bard, Wizard, Knowledge Cleric, Forge Cleric) Augury (Cleric, Druid, Wizard, Open Sea Paladin) Find Traps (Cleric, Druid, Ranger) Locate Animals or Plants (Bard, Druid, Ranger) Locate Object (Bard, Cleric, Druid, Paladin, Ranger, Wizard) Clairvoyance (Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Wizard, Great Old One Warlock) Divination (Cleric, Druid, Wizard) Commune (Cleric, Glory Paladin) Legend Lore (Bard, Cleric, Wizard, Undying Warlock) Contingency (Wizard) True Seeing (Bard, Cleric, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard) Foresight (Bard, Druid, Warlock, Wizard)

SPELL DISTRIBUTION

In order to determine the best way to play Apollo, I’m going to showcase how many spells they get from each group, and add on additional spells based on class features, subclass spell lists, et cetera. The ultimate goal is to try and find a balance between as many of Apollo’s spells as possible.

Bard: (4,0,1,7,3,6,8) 29 + Magical Secrets (6-8): 35-37 Cleric: (1,3,2,14,9,2,10 ) 41 + Light (6): 47, Death (4): 45, Grave (3): 44 Paladin: (3,0,0,3,5,0,2) 13 + Devotion (2): 15, Glory (5): 18, Vengeance (2): 15 Ranger: (11,0,1,3,1,0,4) 20 Sorcerer: (5,5,14,0,5,3) 32 + Divine Soul (32) 64 Warlock: (0,4,3,0,2,5,2) 16 + Celestial (8): 24 Wizard (7,6,15,0,7,7,10) 52 + Theurgy (26): 78

RACES, BACKGROUND, AND ALIGNMENT

Racial Options

As an Olympian, Aasimar is a good fit for Apollo. He gains a resistance to Radiant and Necrotic damage, healing hands, and the light cantrip. Since Apollo doesn’t fly around on his own, the best choice for Apollo would the Scourge Aasimar.

Another good choice would be Variant Human. Give Apollo +1 DEX, +1 Casting Stat, take Athletics, Performance, or Perception for your skill of choice, and give him the Alert feat so he can never be surprised or Fighting Initiate to give Apollo the Archery Fighting Style if you’re not planning on giving him any Fighter levels.

Viable Backgrounds

Acolyte (Insight, Religion) Athlete (Acrobatics, Athletics) Entertainer (Acrobatics, Performance) Noble (History, Persuasion) Custom Background: Olympic Athlete (Athletics, Performance)

CLASSES, SUBCLASSES, AND BUILD OPTIONS

BARD

In terms of raw flavor, Bard is probably the best choice for Apollo, as being the god of music and poetry, as well as his numerous romantic entanglements, fits the image of the classic DnD bard. The Bard’s magical secrets also ensures that any non-Bard spell you really want can still be collected. While Bard doesn’t have the highest count of compatible spells, Bard has a nice, even distribution of Apollo’s abilities, with a little bit of almost everything. Casting with Charisma is also very on-brand for Apollo’s general depiction in media. The bard’s ability to steal any spell also means that it can exploit the Paladin and Ranger spell list specifically and swipe their high-level spells much closer to the bard’s early-to-mid level.

LORE

The Lore Bard specializes in learning and recounting tales of myths and legends, collecting information and gossip, and sharing insights to those who seek it. A rather fitting choice for the master of the Oracle of Delphi and the father of the muses. The added magical secrets is also a great choice to give Apollo more versatility in his magical abilities. The Lore bard also expands its skill list, which is fitting for the overly talented god of music.

VALOR

The bard of the Battlefield, the added focus on melee combat means that this build option is a good fit for not neglecting Apollo’s mastery of archery as a major component of combat without needing to take levels of fighter.

CLERIC

A very good contender for the build, Cleric is the only class out of all of the options that got at least 1 spell in all 8 categories. As Apollo is the god of healing and medicine, Cleric provides the biggest selection of healing spells, as well as the most radiant damage. Clerics have good Hit Die, and with enough Constitution can withstand damage long enough to aid and heal themselves and others. They get access to plenty of divination spells to call upon the help of the gods and the forces of luck and fate at play in the universe to guide them. On the character level, Apollo does seem like the sort of god that would worship himself.

LIGHT

Far and away Apollo’s best choice for building him as a Cleric, Light gives Apollo access to more fire spells to fit his solar theme, and the ability warding flare is rather fitting for the god of light to use.

RANGER

If Apollo didn’t have so many other abilities, Ranger might have been a great choice for him. If you want to fixate entirely on his role as an archer and a hunter god, then by all means, Ranger is a fitting choice for Apollo in that respect. But when taking the whole of his mythos into consideration, it leaves too much on the cutting room floor, and the only real reason I’d consider giving him Ranger levels is that Hunter’s Mark helps encourage him to use his archery skills more.

SORCERER

Honestly, this one might have had a chance if not for Sorcerer’s abysmally small spells known. Thanks to a lack of subclass spells and having to stretch 15 spells across 9 spell levels, the Sorcerer walks away with the smallest spell list of ALL the primary casting classes. It doesn’t matter that Divine Soul Sorcerer gives Apollo access to a wide variety of spells because his miniscule spell book means that he can’t flex that variety whatsoever.

DIVINE SOUL

I wouldn’t advise building Apollo as a sorcerer, but if you’re set on Sorcerer, the Divine Soul is the best possible origin for Apollo, as it gives him access to radiant, fire, divination, healing, and ‘disease’ spells.

WARLOCK

Warlock is a surprisingly decent pick, especially if you’re playing a mortal that obeys Apollo, or even if you’re as Apollo himself swearing fealty to Zeus, Helios, or some other celestial entity. By making Apollo’s pact boon the Pact of the Blade, Apollo can make his pact weapon a bow and arrow, and unlike the Paladin smites, the Warlock can Eldritch Smite with their bow.

CELESTIAL

Like Ranger, the Warlock prioritizes Apollo’s skill with a bow over a lot of flashy magic, but unlike the Ranger, by following the Celestial patron, Apollo gets a rather decent assortment of radiant spells and healing spells. It can’t compare to the shere volume of the full casters, but it certainly works in Apollo’s favor.

WIZARD

Due largely to the Wizard’s massive spell list, it’s not surprising that Apollo actually has an impressive variety of spell options that work for a Wizard build. Lore wise, Apollo as a wizard makes some sense, as Apollo is considered to be clever and wise, even if he is not the single smartest god on Olympus. However, that wide range of magical power comes with two shortcomings: Wizards can’t learn healing spells, and it abandons his archery skills by the side of the road.

BLADESINGER

While the bladesinger does seem to favor melee combat, nothing says that you couldn’t multiclass a little with Fighter or Ranger to give Apollo Archery fighting style and prioritize Apollo’s bow as a bladesinger. Everything else works rather nicely, giving Apollo additional speed, AC, magical power, striking power, and attacks. If you’re hellbent on Apollo being a Wizard, but you still want to give him the melee option, the Bladesinger is the best option to do this with.

DIVINATION

Probably the wizard subclass everyone would assume for Apollo, Divination is one of Apollo’s primary gimmicks, and the portents of the Divination Wizard are ridiculously overpowered. It’s amazing, and the kind of game-breakingly good skills you’d expect when fighting the god of prophecies.

THEURGY

Although technically UA and no longer valid, if your DM will permit the Theurgy Wizard, this is the only way to play Apollo as both a Wizard, and as a god of healing and medicine. Furthermore, Apollo can straight up steal domain features from the cleric domain he chooses, and unlike the Cleric where the choice of Light is obvious, the Theurgy Apollo has a little more wiggle room, since he already gets access to most of the spells we chose Light for. As such, Apollo could choose Life to supercharge his healing, Grave to keep people from dying, or even War to be better adept at fighting with a bow. The choice is really yours and how you feel Apollo works best as a build.

BUILDING APOLLO AS: A VALOR BARD

Race: Scourge Aasimar (+2 CHA, +1 CON) Background: Entertainer (Acrobatics Athletics, Performance) Class: Fighter (1), College of Valor Bard (19) Skills: Animal Handling, Medicine, Perception, Survival Alignment: Chaotic Good

Fighting Style: Archery Number of Attacks: 2 Damage Resistances: Necrotic, Radiant Instrument Proficiency: Lyre

STATS STR 10 DEX 20 CON 14 INT 8 WIS 10 CHA 20

Skill Expertise (4): Athletics Medicine Perception Performance

Bardic Magical Secrets (6): 4 Divination 5 Swift Quiver 5 Contingency 6 Sunbeam 8 Sunburst 9 Mass Heal

Apollo’s Spell List

C Dancing Lights, Light, Mending, Message, Vicious Mockery 1 Cure Wounds, Detect Magic, Hunter’s Mark, Faerie Fire, Thunderwave 2 Lesser Restoration, Locate Object, Shatter 3 Clairvoyance, Mass Healing Word  4 Locate Creature 5 Greater Restoration, Mass Cure Wounds  6 True Seeing 7 Regenerate 8 Power Word: Stun 9 Foresight

BUILDING APOLLO AS: A LIGHT CLERIC

Race: Variant Human (+1 Wis, +1 CON) Background: Entertainer (Acrobatics Athletics, Performance) Class: Ranger (2), Light Domain Cleric (18) Skills: Animal Handling, Medicine, Perception, Survival Alignment: Chaotic Good

Fighting Style: Archery Feats: Alert

STATS STR 8 DEX 16 CON 18 INT 8 WIS 20 CHA 10

Domain Spells:

1 Burning Hands, Faerie Fire 2 Flaming Sphere, Scorching Ray 3 Daylight, Fireball 4 Guardian of Faith, Wall of Fire 5 Flame Strike, Scrying

Apollo’s Spell Book

C Light, Sacred Flame, Spare the Dying, Thaumaturgy, Word of Radiance 1 Cure Wounds, Detect Magic, Guiding Bolt, Hunter’s Mark, Inflict wounds 2 Augury, Lesser Restoration, Locate Object 3 Aura of Vitality, Clairvoyance, Revivify 4 Aura of Life, Divination, Locate Creature 5 Contagion, Dawn, Greater Restoration, Mass Cure Wounds 6 Harm, Heal, Sunbeam 7 Fire Storm, Regenerate 8 Sunburst 9 Mass Heal

I won’t go through the process of building the Warlock or the Wizard, as I only decided to build the two I felt had the strongest case, but I think Apollo came out fairly well considering the monumental task of cramming so many skills and abilities into a single playable character without cheating. Apollo is certainly a tricky god to build, but one that I feel came out pretty well.

[hongism]

the little things - p.seonghwa

↣ pairing: seonghwa x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 2.0k ↣ summary: seonghwa drops by your cottage for an unexpected visit and you talk about the little things

The water is still warm by the time you slip into the bath despite all the time you wasted earlier by cleaning up the bathroom. You sink into the water, a content sigh slipping past your lips, and settle back against the wall of ceramic. It’s cool on your skin, not quite warmed up from the water any longer, but it isn’t too unbearable. The further you sink, the higher the water level rises, and it nearly tips over the edge of the tub as you fidget to get comfortable in the water. You’re in the midst of draining a bit of excess water when you hear the door click, handle twists as someone steps in without warning.

And you usually would be quite terrified of such a thing, but Seonghwa warned you beforehand that he would be coming, and you could sense the heat of his aura the moment he stepped through the back door. It hits you with more strength now, a tell-tale sign that he’s entered the cottage and come into the bathroom, thus you don’t even feel the need to open your eyes to greet him.

“Need supplies?” You inquire through a small hum, arms coming to rest on the edge of the tub.

“Not today.” The witch’s tone is as cool and calm as ever, a bit of raspiness on the tail end of his words, and you feel the corners of your lips twisting up before you know it. You reach down to drain a bit more water, already expecting what’s coming next. Seonghwa doesn’t surprise you one bit when you hear the clink of his belt then the shuffling of clothes as they join yours on the floor. It doesn’t stop you from flinching from the sheer coldness of his fingers as he runs a few digits across your bare back. Goosebumps dance up in the wake of his touch, then a small splash resounds behind you as Seonghwa slips into the water. You glance over your shoulder to greet the man with a smile, his neatly parted blond hair fanned across his forehead. It’s a bit damp, probably due to the rainy weather outside your hut, and you can’t keep from reaching forward to fix his part and situate it back to its old position when it falls.

“Just a visit then, I take it,” you exhale as Seonghwa’s legs come to rest on either side of your hips. He doesn’t offer a verbal response, but his hands do the talking for him, reaching forward to wrap around your midsection and pull you back to his now wet chest. You let him shift your body until he’s in a comfortable position before inching your legs up and bending your knees so you can settle against him. “Any special reason for said visit?”

“I was passing through the area. Seemed criminal not to stop for at least a few minutes.”

You huff out a laugh, watching the water ripple under your breaths, then click your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

“You wouldn’t have gotten in the bath for just a few minutes of my time, Seonghwa.”

The blond regards you with nothing more than a longing stare for a few seconds. When he speaks again, his tone has fallen quiet, almost as though he’s embarrassed or shy to say the words.

“I missed your presence.”

“Hm, the coven didn’t mind your hasty disappearance then?” The angle of your neck is practically painful as you twist to look him in the eye, but Seonghwa drops his shoulder to let you rest easier on it and watch him at the same time.

“They miss you as well actually. I’m surprised I came before Wooyoung found you.” Seonghwa’s tongue peeks out to dart over his lips. There’s a steady thrum of energy between the two of you, a pleasant and warm sensation that sends you further into a content state of relaxation. There’s no need to speak honestly because you’re comfortable enough with this silence, but you’d say anything just to hear Seonghwa’s gentle tone time and time again.

“He visited earlier today,” you say through a grin. Seonghwa can’t see it thanks to the water shrouding your lower half, but Wooyoung gifted you with quite the myriads of marks all along the insides of your thighs – something to remember him by until his next visit as he stated, although you both knew that that wasn’t the thing you would be remembering from your time together.

“Hm, that explains the stench of his aura when he came home.” Seonghwa shakes his head as he thinks of the younger witch’s antics. “Went straight to Yunho’s room too.”

“He’s insatiable, you know that.”

“All too well.”

There’s nothing to say in response, so you don’t force the conversation to continue; instead, you let the silence wrap around the two of you, head falling back to rest near the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. You hardly realize it at first because of how gradual it is, but as more time passes, you feel the water warming up with each passing second. Seonghwa’s fingers twitch against your abdomen, tracing small patterns into the skin there, runes you recognize to be a spell – no doubt a fire one at that.

“You could’ve just said you were cold,” you mutter. You have to bite back a smile as you speak, but it’s to no avail because Seonghwa’s hawk-like stare is on you and examining every twitch of your features.

“You were shivering,” he states, tone so monotonous that you roll your eyes.

“The house gets cold at this time of year.”

“You’re always welcome to stay with us,” Seonghwa says. There’s a hint of pleading to his tone; it’s a question he has asked a hundred times, along with the other dearly beloved members of the coven, and yet you haven’t once taken them up on the offer.

“Yes, I’m aware. Joong sent the raven again this morning shortly before Wooyoung arrived.”

“You know he means well. As does San, otherwise he wouldn’t bother shifting to come deliver the message to you.”

San’s always been a special sort of witch, one who operates in unorthodox manners, such as his tendency to shift into a raven familiar himself rather than employing one. Finding feathers in odd places was a bit disconcerting at first, but Yeosang’s cat ears popping out when he gets too excited were a far greater surprise the first time you witnessed it. The hybrid makes up for the surprises in other areas though, especially the times when he comes to curl up on your lap while you’re working at your desk and slaving over potions late into the night, so you could never stay mad at him for long.

“I lost you there for a second,” Seonghwa chuckles, and you shake your head to free yourself of the thoughts.

“I was thinking.”

“Coin for your thoughts?”

“I’ll give them to you for a kiss,” you tease, snuggling up further into Seonghwa’s embrace. It’s quick and light – if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed the touch entirely – but Seonghwa presses a kiss to your hairline, lips twisted into a smile. “Not that kind of kiss.”

“I might lose all inhibitions if I opted for a different kind.”

“The reason why I won’t come to stay with you all is because I can’t leave the shop unattended,” you explain, moving back to answer Seonghwa’s unspoken question from earlier.

“You could move the shop to our house. Work from the first floor. More space as well.”

“I would feel like too much of a burden to do that.”

“You could never be a burden in our eyes, Y/N,” Seonghwa whispers, tone so full of affection and adoration that it sounds as though he has something lodged in his throat. You twist in his grasp, and his fingers shift to latch onto your waist. He doesn’t say a word as you straddle his hips and rest gently against him with no intentions other than to look him in the eye with more ease. The next few seconds that pass consist of just your stares, ones that linger and search each other for answers and questions that don’t need to be spoken, and he brings you closer to his chest with the same warm hands. “Ma petite étoile.”

“Okay, Mr. Romantic, that’s enough out of you,” you huff, slapping a hand to Seonghwa’s bare chest. “I’ll think about it.” Seonghwa seems satisfied enough with the answer because he doesn’t offer any words in response, merely pulling you closer until your chin rests on his shoulder. The sudden exposure to the air outside the water causes chills to run down your spine, and before you know it, you’re shivering again from the cold. Seonghwa lets his hands roam over your bare skin though, tracing the same patterns and runes as before and letting warmth spread across the canvas of your back. The action is soothing enough to put you to sleep despite all your attempts to stay awake on top of him. Seonghwa catches you right before you doze off though, a soft tone bringing you back to full consciousness after some time has passed.

“Mingi said he would come by tomorrow to help you move the shipments.”

“What about Jongho?” Your question is a bit slurred from your drowsiness, and Seonghwa laughs a bit at the sound of it, but he must understand your words just fine because he responds nonetheless.

“He and Hongjoong left this morning for a job in the countryside. It’ll be three or four days before they return.”

“How will you last four days without Hongjoong to keep you preoccupied?” You joke, and Seonghwa laughs at your question. The sound reverberates through your chest, adding to the warmth and comfort of his body against yours.

“If Wooyoung didn’t wear you out too much, I’m sure we could come up with some ways to satisfy my needs.”

“You’re such a scoundrel, Seonghwa.” You pull away from Seonghwa’s neck before an idea takes over you, and you immediately drop back to his skin without waiting to hear a response from him. His words cut off into a startled gasp as you nip at the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking softly at the flesh between your teeth until you’re satisfied with the bruise that blossoms there. Seonghwa hisses a loud and sharp sound when you tug away, and his hands tighten around your body to keep you from leaning too far away from him. “And you look even better with marks on you.”

“Yes, well, if you sit any longer in the bath, you’ll shrivel up entirely.”

“Speak for yourself, old man!” A scoff escapes you, and Seonghwa’s eyes flash with something akin to playfulness. His grip turns light then he reaches to stab at your sides, catching you off-guard and tickling you before you can fight back. “Not in the bath!” You squeak through a fit of laughter.

“Then get out of the bath so I can properly tickle you.”

“What happened to other forms of entertainment?”

“Seeing you squirm under my touch is quite entertaining for me.” Seonghwa beams up at you, lips stretched wide to reveal the straight set of teeth behind them, and you melt at the sight of his adorable grin.

“Hmph, fine, but you’ll have to carry me out of here yourself. I’m comfortable like this,” you mumble as you dive back in to rest atop Seonghwa’s chest again.

“Two more minutes.”

“You’ll have to drag me out by my ankles.” You squeeze your arms hard around Seonghwa, a desperate attempt to keep him from moving even though he said two more minutes, and he shakes his head at your antics.

“You’re worse than Wooyoung and Yunho.”

“Make it five and I’ll go willingly.”

“…Five more minutes or I’ll freeze the water under your ass.”

...

a/n: we’re going for it anywayz even tho it’s not nsfw bc i love the idea i just don’t think i Executed it v well bc im not good at solely sfw fics or fluffy things but yeah T-T let me know if you like this? and the au? i’d be open to making this a drabble request series if enough people would be interested?

[lostonehero]

here’s the snippet

working title: Ethan Is Not Okay

Okay,” Ethan says out loud, sitting with his knees up on the floor. “Okay okay okay. Everything is fine. I’m fine now. Everything is okay.”

He feels very warm. There’s a fire inside him that could burn the world down if he really wanted too. Ethan is scared out of his mind.

“You’re not okay!” Potato says, which is new, and would be very cool if it hadn’t come with the… other side effects. He hugs Potato closer, and feels Potato’s ribbon things wrap around him. It’s like a hug. It is a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he chokes out. Why is this so hard?

He feels bad about pushing Potato away earlier (when? He doesn’t remember oh no how long was he dead-) because Potato had to watch him bleed and. Well. Do the thing he is not thinking about, because if he admits to himself that he’s died not once but twice he will have another breakdown.

He hasn’t been thinking about it at all, because when he woke up from his death with Potato sleeping on his chest, he panicked and rushed into Silver’s room and crawled into his bed with Potato.

(He kept stumbling. He couldn’t walk in a straight line because his balance was all wrong.)

Silver hasn’t noticed anything wrong. Silver just complained sleepily about all the feathers Ethan left in his bed.

Ethan is going to keep it that way.

But right now Ethan is hiding in the bathroom, studiously not looking in the mirror. He’s a bit too scared to take off his clothes to get a good look at what’s been done to his body.

The makeup is weird, though. Ethan doesn’t wear makeup, and it’s practically caked on.

Ethan should take a shower.

Ethan is going to have to look in the mirror and at his body at some point.

Ethan sighs, stands up, sets Potato onto the counter of the sink, and then he takes a good look in the mirror.

The makeup does nothing to hide his stressed expression. Behind him, a set of orange and vermillion-feathered wings hang messily.

His eyes are yellow. The makeup doesn’t quite manage to hide the dark markings around them.

The wings look like Ho-oh’s, Ethan thinks in a daze, except the colours are all wrong.

Am I… Shiny?

Ethan knows about Shiny Pokémon: he caught the red Gyarados living in the Lake of Rage. He’s never seen any other Shiny Pokémon before, though. Let alone a shiny Ho-oh. There’s only one Ho-oh after all.

He shakes that thought away. Shower time. It’ll make him feel better. Probably.

Ethan manages to get his shirt off through a lot of squirming. How he got it on in the first place is a mystery since he doesn’t remember wearing this shirt when he, uh, ‘fainted’.

His arms are normal, thankfully. The nails are a little weird which he is not thinking about right now but otherwise perfectly normal arms.

(All his scars are gone, though. Ethan does not want to think of the implications of that.)

“Potato,” he asks, staring at the feathers that line his shoulders and back and go up the back of his neck, “who changed my clothes?”

“Miss Ariana!” he says, which is oh no. Because his boyfriend’s mom found him dead. And cleaned up the blood. Oh no.

He shoves that thought down. He is absolutely terrified of Silver’s mom, for good reason. She likes him though, which helps.

“Thank you, Potato,” he wheezes. Potato lays a ribbon tendril on him and soothes his anxiety away.

Okay. He can do this.

Ethan takes off his pants, and- yeah. Yeah it’s worse than he thought.

He knew he had a tail, made of silver-white feathers and being absolutely enormous, because now he can’t sit without positioning the feathers correctly. But his legs.

Fluffy white feathers start at mid-thigh, which is. Okay. He can deal with that. But past his knee he has black scales like the ones on bird legs, and about midway down his calves he has another joint. Like how bird legs bend. He flexes the new joint on his left leg with horrified fascination.

And his feet.

They’re not fully Ho-oh feet. So. That’s great. But he’s got four toes instead of five, all of them with a razor-sharp talon, and they’re shaped to grab things. That’s why he walks kinda weird now, he supposes distantly.

Potato lays another ribbon on Ethan. “It’s okay!” he calls. “You’re doing great.”

Ethan takes a deep breath. Okay. So. He’s got to figure out the shower now with his changed body.

Alright. He can do this. For Silver. He can pretend nothing is wrong, and hopefully he won’t say anything to the contrary.

I love it so much so uh I guess I'm gonna fight back because this is amazing and you deserve something here's a Zoro, Abby, Drayton, baby twins

Everyone at the dragon gym fled out of the way of Drayton's sister. They knew who she was, and they knew whatever she had in the carriers she was holding was large and probably deadly. She wasn't known for her ability to be safe after all, and the tall looming presence that followed behind her made the poor dragon trainers shrink back in fear.

Zoro was trying and failing to take the twins from Abby he could yes hear that they were dead asleep and probably loved the movement but they were three months old and Abby was basically running with them.

"Who the fuck has been keeping my brother away from me for the last three months." She shouts with her booming voice. Zoro flinched but the twins were sleeping soundly.

"Abby.... could we please go back." Zoro said quietly and immediately stops when Abby gives him a glare that can kill him ten times over. Why did he love someone so terrifying?

Drayton was rushed out by his trainers who basically hid behind him. "Abigail? Why are you here?"

"Three months Drayton, three months." She growls

Drayton could see poor Zoro behind her looking quite submissive. "And what's so important that I have to break my training session which you know I do for months."

Abby thrusts both carriers in front of her. "I'll give you two guesses what you missed."

Drayton goes as pale as his beard. "Are thoes?"

"Yes they are." She huff pulling her arms back. "Yeah you missed all my calls while in labor and everything after that, maybe not do your special training when you know your sister was pregnant."

"Abby I'm sorry, I thought I had more time, I didn't know how close you were. I'm really sorry."

Abby puts her infants down to remove the blanket. "This one is Ingo he's older by 6 minutes, and this one is Emmet. They are identical as far as everyone can tell but I know my boys from each other."

"Abby dont..don't... you're already taking them out of the carrier ok. " Zoro sighs preparing for the worse.

Both twins woke up slowly, but didn't cry they clung to Abby. "Don't what Zoro they are fine, isn't that right my little pups." Abby hold them tight.

"They are perfect aren't they." Drayton hearts just melts. "Can I hold them."

"No"

"What I'm their uncle, I should be allowed to hold them." Drayton huffs

Abby smiles that smile before something bad happens, and she hands him Ingo. "Fine fine don't be a baby."

Drayton smiles and holds Ingo carefully. "Hell-" ingo promptly screams in his face being separated from Abby and Emmet. Drayton's ears are ringing and he doesn't even notice Abby take him back to calm him down.

Abby giggles her sons back to being happy and bouncing on her shoulders. "Ingo is quite loud did I forget to mention that."

Zoro just looks very apologetic. "He has a good set of lungs."

Drayton shaking his head his ears still ringing. "You weaponized your own children already."

"I wouldn't say that, but as their mother I know what they like and don't like, and apparently he doesn't like you." She smirks fixing the hats on her boys heads. "Beaides you shoukd be happy Ingo has a great pair of lungs as Zoro said."

Drayton tries to be mad, but he did deserve it, and the kids were really cute. "Alright fine I concede Abby, come on I'll make you two dinner."

"Its one in the afternoon."

"Lunch then come on."

Abby smiles as Zoro gets the carriers, she may be scary but she is his.

[indiavolowetrust]

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS CRYPTIDS

READ THE OBEY ME UNDATEABLES AS CRYPTIDS HERE.

LUCIFER

It has stood there for so very long. Strutted about a bit, sat down to rest, and strutted about some more when other children passed by. It is at an exhibit at the zoo, after all, but you can’t help but think it looks a bit strange. Are peacocks supposed to have pitch-black feathers with thousands of eyes on it? Are peacocks supposed to have a massive crimson eye in the middle of their forehead? Is it even a peacock? You can’t remember if this exhibit was for peacocks. Where are the other people at the zoo?

You read the sign. BENGAL TIGER, it says.

It blinks at you. Its thousand other eyes blink afterwards in unison. As weird as it sounds, you’re pretty sure it’s waiting for you to compliment it.

MAMMON

You think it likes you. Or, at least, it seems to think of you as a friend in some way. The white crow leaves you little gifts everyday on your way home from school. Bits of shiny twine, bottle caps, the occasional soda tab or two. And then you begin to show it more and more attention, even naming it something silly like “Money”, and the thing responds in something like affection. The gifts become more extravagant: a broken necklace made from silver, a single earring, a gold bracelet encrusted with dark red, and an old ring inset with precious stones, to name a few. A pair of expensive-looking cuff links, a whole pair of earrings this time, and a circlet.

And then there is what looks like a golden tooth.

Your mother tells you over breakfast to watch out for suspicious people. There’s been a lot of grave robbing, you see. They’ve been stealing jewelry from the dead.

You drop your spoon into the cereal.

LEVIATHAN

It may be a snake -- a really big one, actually -- but you get the impression that it isn’t really dangerous. I mean, it’s not poisonous, so the worst thing it can do is bite, right? And it doesn’t seem like it would want to do that. It hisses almost playfully when you pet it, wrapping its coils around your arm as if it wants to give you a hug, and a few times you even let it kiss you in the face. You know that snakes don’t really kiss, but what’s the harm in that?

Your crush from third period walks you home one day, holding your hand, and even gives you a kiss on the cheek when he leaves you at your doorstep. Tells you that he’ll see you tomorrow. You don’t see the snake for a while.

His body is found strangled to death a couple weeks later, his arms and legs covered in bite marks from some massive animal. The snake comes up to you the next morning, affectionate as ever. You decide not to do stuff like that anymore.

SATAN

He’s a stray dog. You’d have to be a monster not to give him scraps. So you do, and the dog asks for more. You give him more. For the next few weeks – months, even – it becomes your routine: you sit at the secluded spot in the school courtyard, the giant hound with green eyes saunters up to you, and you share its lunch with it. It naps in the shade while you do your homework after school, seeing how your older brother doesn’t always show up in time to walk you home after your after-school club.

The bully from your fourth period class throws you into the trashcan one day, laughing and taunting you. Her friends join her, and soon you are being surrounded and kicked and stomped on the pavement. But you don’t cry out. You won’t give her the satisfaction.

A blow to your head, and all is dark.

You wake up sometime later. The sunset is beautiful. The area around you is warm – so, so warm – and strangely wet. The dog licks your face and wounds again and again, and you try not to giggle at the sensation. He’s a good boy.

Aside from the carnage that now surrounds you, he is such a good boy. You’ll bring him barbecued meat next time.

ASMODEUS

You gotta admit, it’s a pretty cute scorpion. You’re not really sure why it’s pink or why it’s following you, but at least it hasn’t shown any defensive or aggressive instincts. So it can’t be that aggressive. You let it be as you take the long hike back to your camp site. Your fellow co-workers in the field wouldn’t even believe you, anyway. The damned thing is probably spray-painted or something like that. Some weird kid’s prank.

Strangely enough, however, you notice it scuttling around at camp. Your co-workers seem to be getting stung by a great many insects while in the field, but they don’t seem to mind it. Or even bother treating it, for some reason. Then there’s that weird behavior – no, you’re thinking into it too much. Comparing a bright pink scorpion to a succubus is a little too crazy, even for you.

And then a strange man with pink eyes and a tipped tail stands in front of your tent one night, a rather satisfied smile on his face. You’re the only one that hasn’t been stung, he tells you. It’s your turn.

BEELZEBUB

You’re pretty sure insects aren’t supposed to look like that. Or be that big, for that matter. But he’s kinda cute, being fuzzy and orange and all, and only wants a bit of food every now and then. Mama always makes too much, anyway. A half-eaten pork chop that you didn’t want, an entire plate of rice, extra dumplings – everything, you know? Mama can’t have dinner with you because she has the graveyard shift, your dad always stumbles home smelling like alcohol, and as weird as it is, this orange fuzzy thing is your only friend. So you keep feeding him.

You wake up to screaming one night. They’re arguing like they always do, but – but this time there’s something different. Something wrong. Mama lets out a high-pitched scream, and then all is silent.

Despite being only a kid and armed with a single frying pan, you burst into the room. Blood trails from Mama’s mouth and she’s unconscious, but she’s still breathing. Just barely alive. It looks like she got hit in the head pretty hard.

There’s the sound of eating from across the room. You don’t pay attention to it too much. The fuzzy orange thing saved Mama’s life, so that’s all that matters. And at least you won’t have to feed him for a while.

BELPHEGOR

He is quite possibly the laziest ox you’ve ever seen. Sleeps all day, sleeps all night, and refuses to pull even the lightest of carts. Your uncle says he’s nothing more than a nuisance, really, but he’s nice enough. He even naps with you on long summer days, acting as both a pillow and bed, and it looks like he even grows fond of you. He seeks you out in the fields, presses his big nose into your palm, and nuzzles you.

You run through the fields, your heart hammering in your chest, but you’ll be damned if you let the neighbor’s boy catch you. You’ve already seen something that you weren’t supposed to, and he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. And he’s coming after you.

You hop over the fence. Shouldn’t be too long to the house now. He yells taunts and threats at you as you carve your way through the darkness, nearly running blindly, and then --

He grabs you by the back of your shirt. You scream. You see the glint of a knife, the murderous intent flashing across his eyes, and you know it’s over. You can only hope you die quickly enough.

The next morning, you wake up on something soft. Warm. The lazy ox grumbles beneath you, protesting as you sit upwards in a panic, and then you realize that you are safe. Last night was just a nightmare. It never happened.

And then you happen across the body. There is an indent in the grass around it, as if something massive had just fallen asleep on the body.

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Make Every Moment Last - Chapter 51 Preview

Moving Forward

Despite yesterday’s shocking turn of events, everyone excluding Kirijo and Aigis had to go to school the next day. After everything that happened… it was hard to step into the same building where they had all been chained up just a few hours prior.

It didn’t help that the students were gossiping about Mitsuru’s sudden absence. It felt like twisting a knife, bringing back the member of the student council president sobbing over her father’s corpse.

Even with their leader absent, S.E.E.S. found themselves meeting upstairs in the command room. They couldn’t ignore last night. The scars that they had left — both physical in Ken’s case and mental — were something that they could not ignore.

But that evening, most of them were quiet.

“...The Chairman’s room was cleared out,” said Fuuka, the only one who was brave enough at the moment to start any sort of conversation.

“I’m not surprised considering what he did,” said Akihiko. Minato hummed in reply. That damned murderer…

Kotone cleared her throat, turning to the boy that was sitting beside her. “Ken, how are your wrists?” she asked.

 Ken looked down at the marks left where he had been bound. Silver burned a werewolf’s skin when it came into contact with it, no matter how many times it had been mixed with other metals. The alloy used to make those chains that had bound S.E.E.S. left such burns on Ken’s skin, something he had tried to hide even though they all knew what it had done to him. Luckily Kotone had pulled him aside to bandage them that morning, otherwise they would have forgotten.

“They’re okay…” Ken told Kotone, rubbing over the bandages. “It still hurts to move them, but… I think I’ll be okay.”

“C’mere,” said Kotone, gesturing to Ken to come closer. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Thank you…” Ken wasn’t even trying to argue. He only schooched over and held out his hands so Kotone could treat them. As the witch went about unwinding the bandages, Yukari sighed.

“I just…” she said, sinking deeper into the couch with her arms wrapped around her to create a protective barrier of feathers. “I still can’t believe all of this.”

“It’s in the papers, too. ‘Sudden Death of Kirijo Group’s CEO’,” added Ryoji. He sighed too, face sinking into his scarf. “...though they blame it on an illness…”

“It’s never the truth,” said Minato. He sighed as well, tugging on his headphones with the immense desire to just put those on and block the world out. “...I always felt something was… off about Ikutsuki. Now I know why.” That man he saw over his father… He still can’t believe he blocked out his face. Why did he do that?! Why didn’t he say anything about it!?

“It’s not your fault that you didn’t remember. When something traumatic happens, that’s something people do to help cope.”

“You did have nightmares about it for weeks afterwards, too,” added Kotone, not looking up from the green-pink glow that was flowing from her hands and encircling Ken’s wrists. “I’m not surprised you blocked it out to get them to stop.” Minato hummed. It was surprising, but still… he should’ve said something about how he felt around Ikutsuki. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened.

Junpei glanced around the room. “Hey, where’s Mitsuru-senpai?” he asked, tail wrapping around his leg. “Shouldn’t she be here, too?”

“Mitsuru’s an only child, and her mother’s not exactly around anymore,” Akihiko explained. “There’s a lot of matters to be taken care of, like the funeral and family business. I’m sure that she’ll be busy for at least a week.” Right… With how much time they had spent together, it was starting to slip Minato’s mind just who exactly Mitsuru really was to the rest of the outside world: an elegant, intelligent heiress with a mountain of responsibilities.

“Sounds pretty rough…” mused Yukari. She was finally starting to unfurl herself. “I hope that she’ll be okay…”

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on April 23!

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 28: Bow

“So remind me why we’re doing this, if you’d be so kind”, Dia asked.

“You may be an all-powerful warrior with a spellbook in hand, but imagine the utility if you learned something new. Where better to learn than a training ground such as Camp Dragonhead?” Haurchefant reminded her kindly as requested.

“I guess. I don’t necessarily have anything better to do thanks to the Braves, now do I?”

“I hope this might prove sufficiently entertaining during your stay. Here is your weapon.” Haurchefant removed an oaken bow from the wall mount as well as a quiver filled with arrows.

“A bow?”

“Aye. Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant tilted his head at her comment.

“Well, no, I guess…I would have thought you’d recommend something a bit more, er, close combat than that.

“A knight cannot be content with simply one mode of combat. A quick marksman can have just the same impact as the mightiest of swords with the right timing.”

“Yeah, but the sword looks cooler.”

He sighed. “Aesthetics aside, I figured this would be an easier transition. Instead of slinging spells, you would sling arrows.”

“I guess. The bow is definitely a different medium though- easier to aim my hands than this.”

“Who knows? Mayhap you’ll find yourself enjoying it more than you think.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ll try anything once.”

“Attagirl! Now then, here is where you’ll stand.” Haurchefant lead her to a marker about twenty fulms away from a target. “Allow me to give you an example of proper bow handling.” He grabbed his own bow and quiver and prepared at a target next to hers.

“All right, first thing’s first, depending on your dominant hand- based off of what I’ve seen, you appear to be right-handed- you need to place one leg back and another to the front. As a right-handed woman, keep your right leg to the back for support…” Dia listened as he explained form for proper bow handling for about two minutes.

“….and last, but certainly not least, keep your eye on the target. If you’re aligned with your bow, you will hit your mark.” Finally, he demonstrated everything he said in one shot. Carefully, he drew back the bowstring, and fired at the blue and silver target in front of him. It flew skillfully towards the bullseye and landed perfectly, as if he told the arrow to simply go there. “Does this make sense, my friend?”

“I…think so. I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Indeed. Show me what you’ve learned.”

The answer was rather little. She fumbled with the quiver for a moment, failing to get an arrow since she failed to attach the quiver to her person properly. She spun in circles a few times as if she had a mi’qote tail she wanted to catch, but she did manage to get one.

“Got it! Now you said something about a nock”, she mumbled, looking for a slice of metal on the string as he pointed out. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed quietly as she located it and placed the feathers against it. Slowly, she pulled back the bowstring, but found she couldn’t get it very far back, not to mention her slipping grip on the arrow.

Out of nowhere, Dia felt her arms be lifted upward gently. “Don’t let your elbows fall back into your sides or you’ll never get very far”, he spoke softly into her ear in a low tone. He slid his hands up her arm to her hand and corrected the positioning of the arrow, pulling it slightly backward so she didn’t grip the feathers. “Remember, slightly behind the feathers”, he instructed in the same tone.

Please don’t let go of me, she thought to herself, hoping to every god she could think of that he couldn’t tell how she drank up his warmth, that hot breath against her neck, the way he whispered to her just right, and how it made her heart race.

It only made things worse when he gently took her chin and tilted her head towards the front of her, pressing against his own cheek as he put his face parallel to hers.

“Eyes on the target”, he said just as low before turning his head to her ear, and whispering “Fire.”

She didn’t even register her own grip releasing. She just focused on her racing pulse and the shiver being sent down her spine at his whisper.

“Well done!” he exclaimed aloud, snapping Dia out of whatever the hells that was, and bringing her attention to the target. Her arrow pierced through the edge of the circle near the bottom.

“Uh…I-I didn’t even hit the bullseye.”

“‘Tis your first time, my friend. Many a fresh recruit have sent their arrows flying through our windows, so I consider this a rousing success for your first try!”

Now that he said it, it was rather nice to her that he could see a miss in such a way. To that end, she intended to try again. “Hey, so uh, you might want to help me try that again, Haurchefant. Maybe I’ll hit the bullseye this time with your help”, she suggested meekly.

“Nonsense! You’ll never learn with me hanging over your shoulder. Now then, use what you’ve learned, my friend.”

Dammit, she cursed in her head.

Dia picked up what he led her to do pretty quick, and went through the motions: straight arm, just past the feathers, eyes on the target. She waited a few moments as she felt herself practically fighting the bowstring, but the stage was set.

That is, until she took her eyes away from the target to look at Haurchefant, who seemed to stare her down as well, but why?

She would have thought about it more had she not just grazed his arm with an arrow.

“Oh, Twelve help me!” Dia exclaimed as she threw the bow to the ground to run to his side.

“I’m all right, I’m all right”, he tried to reassure her, but kept his arm conveniently covered. She pulled it away from the wound with great force as he attempted to keep the wound out of her sight. “Gah! I’m so sorry, Haurchefant!” she apologized as she began her ministrations on his arrow wound. “I’m an idiot; I got distracted by something at the last second and that arrow just flew in the exact direction I didn’t want it to go.”

He said nothing. He couldn’t; not when she was right there. The way the aether flowed from her into him electrified his senses. Her firm grip on his arms was exactly what he needed. The way she glistened with sweat in such a frozen wasteland; in this moment, she seemed rather…splendid.

“There. Are you all right?” she asked Haurchefant worriedly.

Halone help him, he needed out of there before he did something he’d regret.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m fine now, thank you”, he answered rapidly and nervously, “Keep, uh, keep practicing with that bow. I just remembered that I have some business-like…business to attend to in my-my office. Excellent work! Keep it up!” He shot out of the shooting range as fast as he could and entered his office with all haste.

Dia, you fucking idiot, you scared him away. Focus! she berated herself in her head. She picked up the bow one last time, doing exactly as she was instructed, and fired the arrow. It hit the wood that held up the target. “Fuck!” she whispered loudly.

********

The evening sun hanged in the horizon of Ishgard. The golden glow of twilight still shone enough light that the garden she managed to keep alive in the courtyard behind Borel Manor could remain visible. She tended to her peppers and kidragora quietly in spite of the cold. None could make a master botanist stop doing botany, climate be damned.

Once weeds were pruned enough, fertilizer was laid down properly, and covers were applied to keep her labor of love warm through the night, she stepped away. Her garden was located in a different spot of the courtyard, separated by a wall, most likely at the former countess’s request. On that other side of the wall was a small area used to practice combat. Neither her nor Aymeric used the other side all that often; Dia had a proper setup for practicing gunbreaker maneuvers with Thancred back in Mor Dhona, while Aymeric preferred to use the mostly defunct Whitebrim front for his training. With that in mind, she was slightly curious about it, and decided to pay it a visit.

Upon reaching the other side, she took a quick look around. It was painfully obvious how unused everything was considering the frozen state of all the equipment. That said, there was one particular item that didn’t seem to share the same level of disrepair: a dark oak bow, complete with metal arrows in a quiver next to it.

It still hurt. After everything she’d seen and done, after everyone she ever met, after all the sacrifices she’d seen, it still hurt. But still, she always remembered how a smile better suited a hero. Dia picked it up off the wall, alongside a quiver that hung next to it, and stood at the line about 30 fulms behind the target.

The quiver was on correctly this time, making it much easier to pick one out of the collection. She found the nock easily, seeming to have been prepared already, and placed the arrow just above the feather. She placed her right leg back, and lifted the bow, ready to aim. “Arms up”, she whispered as she lifted her arms. “Eyes on the target”, she whispered as she focused on the target.

She could still hear him whisper, “Fire”.

In a moment, she let go of the arrow, and felt a small sting of disappointment as she just missed her mark. It landed on the right between the edge of the target and the bullseye. “Dammit”, she whispered.

“Fine form.”

She turned her head to see Aymeric at the doorway, clearly amused by her attempt. “Come to laugh at your girlfriend and her piss-poor aim?” she snarked, still disappointed in her efforts.

“I would never. Your aim is fine, my dear. That in mind, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lack confidence in something before.”

“You should have met me when I first started adventuring. You’d be floored by how little confidence I’m capable of having.”

He smiled and laughed lightly. Aymeric walked towards her and said, “You look rather dashing with my old bow.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

“Naught to apologize for, my love. Consider it our bow.” He led her to lift up the bow again. “Your form is quite good, but don’t waver.” He held onto her bow arm to still her arm, and tilted her chin upward, keeping his hand in place. “Align yourself with the bow. Remember, it follows your lead, and you are a natural leader.” She kept her eye on the center of the target.

“Fire”, he ordered in a low tone.

Dia released her grip, and witnessed the glory of her arrow hitting the very center of the bullseye.

She squealed in excitement and hopped in place like a child, making Aymeric laugh in a mixture of pride and amusement. “Congratulations!”

She pounced him and kissed him in her jubilee, and he returned it happily. After a few seconds of enjoyment, she released and told him coyly, “Thank you for being such a great teacher.”

“Where would I be without my star pupil?”

She grinned and returned to kissing him with more passion behind her efforts than the first time, the both of them soaking in each other’s energy and warmth as the evening began to wane.

Thank you too, Haurchefant. I’ll carry your guidance with me always.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Ten of ??)

Aha! Finally it is done!

Hey everyone! It’s been one Monday of a week, but I finally had today (Saturday) off so I finally got to work on this update. I also thought I’d give you guys an update on my scheduling. One of the supervisor’s at work is done with her semester at college, so I’m probably not going to have a set schedule for awhile. That means the only day I know I will have off is Sunday. I usually work on writing on my day off, so updates are probably going to vary wildly from week to week. If I don’t get one out the rest of the week, you should see an update from me on Sunday (though it might be at a late hour, like this week).

Anywho, I hope you’re all doing alright and that you’re staying safe. I know I have some readers who recently had Finals Week (or whatever the equivalent of that is for you). I want to congratulate you on finishing your semester (because it is a big accomplishment), and that I hope you got high marks on your respective tests/projects/ect.

So, as always, if you’re new here, here is the link to Part One. You can also find the links to all the parts on my Master List if you’ve missed any of the other updates :)

This update was brought to you by the support of the following: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling (Seriously, thanks so much for the support you guys! I love each and every one of you!) If you’d like to be on the tags list for any future updates, please just drop a comment below or send me a message!

Satan/Mc

Word Count: 4,144

Trigger warnings: There might be some language in this one, Satan gets PISSED

“Will you just sit down Satan? You’re making me nervous,” Asmo complained, watching his brother with concern.

“Yeah. You’re totally breaking my concentration here,” Levi chimed in, not looking up from his game.

“Well, you can take your complaints to Lucifer,” Satan stated, starting what had to be his 200th pass on the same stretch of the ballroom, “I don’t know why we had to be here so early.”

“We got here ten minutes ago,” Belphie sighed, leaning on Beel, “You’re just nervous.”

“And what if I am?” Satan asked, his anxiety adding bite to the question.

“We’re all nervous,” Beel gently reminded Satan, “We’ve all missed our favorite human.”

“Not human anymore,” Mammon muttered, glaring at some undefined point in front of him, leg shaking anxiously. He had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since the night of the art show, gone most of the day, and retreating to his room when he was home.

An awkward hush fell across the group at his words, everyone’s thoughts turning inward. Satan sighed and sat down, the feathers on his boa trying their hardest to enter his mouth. The lacing on his shirt threatened to strangle him along with the collar, and his tail kept flexing around his leg. He was a bundle of nerves, and he couldn’t seem to relax. He had wanted to wear a simple suit or tuxedo, but the invitation from Diavolo had explicitly said demon forms were to be used.

A strangled but disgusted gasp escaped Asmo’s mouth, “What the hell is he doing here?!”

“Another jilted lover Asmo?” Belphie asked, rolling his eyes.

“No! It’s Michael!” Everyone’s head whipped up at that, even Levi.

“OMG! WFT?” Levi exclaimed, eyes large and worried.

“Bro, why is he here?” Mammon nearly growled, glaring at the man in question.

“I don’t know, but I want him to leave!” Asmo’s voice was getting more shrill as time went on.

“Is tha’ Lord Diavolo with ‘im?” Mammon asked, still glaring, though he wasn’t growling anymore.

“OMG, you’re right. They're laughing together too!” Levi narrated.

Beel had joined Mammon in glaring at Michael, as his twin smiled smugly, “Oh, you guys didn’t know?” Everyone looked over at that and you could tell Belphie was relishing in the shock, “Mc came with some angels. I hear Luke’s here too.”

“How can you possibly be happy about this?”

“What are you all gawking at? You all look like you’ve-” Lucifer cut off, finally seeing what his brothers were looking at. If he hadn’t already been in his demon form, Satan was fairly sure he would’ve burst into it immediately, though he didn’t look as surprised as Satan would expect him to.

“Oh.” 

The absolute contempt and disgust that dripped from that single word had all the brothers sharing looks, most very concerned. Belphie caught Satan’s eye, shooting him a sly, wicked grin. Satan wanted to share in Belphie’s enjoyment, but his mind was taking this new roadblock into account, trying to figure out how this was going to factor into his plan.

Satan didn’t really have an opinion on Michael. He had never really met the angel, his only knowledge of him coming from his shared memories with Lucifer, the little he’d heard from his brothers, and what he’d gleaned from Luke and Simeon’s conversations, not that he really cared. He simply wasn’t someone who mattered. That is, until now.

“Did you know Lucifer?” Asmo asked.

“Diavolo had told me Mc had come with two angels, though he didn’t mention names. I just assumed it was Simeon and Luke,” Lucifer was still watching Diavolo and Michael talking, though he had taken on a frigid demeanor, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. You didn’t have to be the Avatar of Wrath to sense the boiling anger underneath the frosty exterior.

Barbatos walked over to Diavolo and whispered something. The Demon Prince nodded and stood up, the congregation quieting, “Hello and welcome, each and every one of you! I’m so glad you could make it!” he voice boomed out into the 

Levi scoffed, “As if we had a choice.”

“Shaddup. Ya wanted to come jus’as much as the rest of us,” Mammon hissed.

“As most of you know, this ball is in honor of Jane Doe,”

“Wait.. Who’s that?” Beel asked, confused.

“That’s her pseudonym,” Belphie explained softly, Beel nodding his understanding.

“We have other guest’s as well, who came with Jane. Michael, the archangel,” Diavolo gestured to Michael who raised his hand in greeting with a smile, “And Luke, Jane’s older brother. You may all remember him when he was here as one of our first exchange students,” A blonde male who had been sitting by Michael inclined his head.

“Oh my gosh, that’s Luke?!” Asmo said loudly enough some nearby demons looked over.

“I didn’t even recognize him,” Levi murmured.

“Did he say brother?” Mammon asked.

“Shhhh!” Lucifer hissed as Diavolo continued.

“Now for the person you’ve all been waiting for, Jane Doe,” all the brothers held their breath as Mc walked over to Diavolo, an absolute vision. All of the brothers were transfixed, their own personal feelings overcoming everything else. Lucifer, having already seen Mc at the palace was the first to recover, looked over to Satan to see how he was doing. He was encouraged by what he saw. Satan was subconsciously touching his pocket where he knew he letter was at. Though he seemed a bit nervous, the fierce resolve in his eyes made him smile proudly, before looking back to Diavolo.

“I hope you all treat our guests with the same respect and kindness they’ll give to you. With the introductions done, let the party commence!”

“So, what’s the plan Satan?” Asmo asked, bringing the fourth born out of his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you need to talk with Mc right?” at the nod he continued, “Well, how about we help you?”

“We?” Belphie sighed, grabbing a lock of his hair.

“Yes we,” Asmo sighed, rolling his eyes.

Belphie sighed, but turned to look at Satan anyways, “Well, if I have to help, what do you need?”

“I just need to give her a letter,” Satan explained, about to tell everyone they didn’t need to bother, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Don’t you want to talk to her though?” Levi asked.

“Well, I need her to read this first. I didn’t make the best impression last time, and I don’t think I’ll be much better this time around,” Satan admitted, looking chagrined. He hadn’t told any of the brothers the entirety of what happened.

“Easy enough,” Mammon announced, getting up, “We just need to walk over and give it to her then.”

“Not so fast Mammon,” Lucifer said, motioning for him to sit, “She’s probably going to be flanked by those two angels all evening. I don’t know if they’d take well to one of us handing Lillith’s descendant a letter. Luke at least, is aware of Satan’s attachment to Mc, and last time I checked, he’s not a fan of ours. As for the other…” Lucifer trailed off, irritation twisting his features, “Who knows how that may go.”

“So we need to make sure to separate them all,” Levi mused.

“Do you have any ideas on how to do that? Like, anything from one of your anime’s?” Asmo asked.

“I mean, there’s the ‘trying to get the main character and love interest alone’, but it doesn’t always work, though it’s entertaining to watch.”

“Well, we want this to go well,” Asmo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“What about you then? Where’s your grand idea?” Levi scoffed.

“Actually, I do have an idea,” Asmo giggled.

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

“I really should’ve just done this myself,” Satan sighed, Asmo standing next to him.

“Oh, shush! This will turn out great, just wait.”

“When’s it supposed to work then? I mean, we’ve been standing here for an hour and we haven't caught a glimpse of Mc.”

“Patience, patience. Beel and Belphie… Well, Beel already has Luke distracted with food talk, and Lucifer’s doing a good job of keeping Michael… On his toes, I guess?”

“I do have to admit watching him run away from Michael is amusing,” Satan chuckled, his eyes darting to Lucifer from their perch on the balcony above the dancefloor. He was obviously fighting his pride, knowing he was running away from Michael, but unable to stay and deal with the angel who wouldn’t stop trying to find him, partially due to his pride as well. Looking back to Michael, Satan grinned, “Gotcha!”

“Wha… Oh! There she is! Told you!” Asmo nearly shouted.

“That was my ear.”

“Oop. Sorry.”

Satan watched Mc speak with Michael, noting all the small changes in her behavior. There was a level of refinement that hadn’t been there before, which made perfect sense seeing as how she had been raised in the Celestial Realm by Simeon. She was more graceful for one thing, and seemed more calm and at ease than he remembered her. She did seem more reserved and closed off than before, though that could just because she was talking with a superior. She was fairly open with me until I screwed it up, so hopefully she retained that part of herself, and hopefully I didn’t screw it up.

Asmo sighed, “Lucifer isn’t doing his job.”

“Did you really expect him to? He did say he didn’t want to be part of whatever you were planning.”

“Well, Michael chose to follow him. He was chosen. It’s fate.”

“Still doesn’t mean he’s going to actively participate.”

“Fine. Looks like I’m going to have to have Mammon and Levi do some work for us.”

“You really don’t have to do this. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, but that’s no fun. I also want to mess with Michael as much as possible.”

“Fine. What do we do next?”

“We have to get down onto the dance floor. I’m calling Mammon right now.”

They found the staircase closest to Mc and Michael and made their way down, Asmo on his DDD the whole time, “Yes… Do you see us? Oh, there you are. Do you see them? No, left… Left! Your other left! Mammon, how are you this stupid?... I’m not the one who can’t see-... No, you listen! I can’t stand that you-... How dare you! I- Ugh, fine… Yup, just distract him…” Asmo laughed, “No, though I would pay to see that. Maybe, walk past and see if he takes the bait?... Well, you’re just going to have to deal with it Levi… Look, the sooner we get this done, the sooner you can get back to your game… Wow, I thought you wanted Mc back, but I guess not. I’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t spend anytime with you… Then get your act together! Okay, Mammon, we’re close enough now. Alright, take it away.”

Satan watched as Mammon and Levi stepped out of the crowd, Mammon talking loudly enough to turn a lot of heads. Unfortunately, Michael was not one of these, though Mc seemed interested in what was going on. She seemed to ask Michael about it, but he just brushed it off, continuing to talk.

“Why does Mammon think he’s such hot stuff?” Asmo asked, rubbing his forehead.

“Don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles,” Satan gently chided.

“You’re right,” Asmo sighed, “I just don’t know how to… Whoa. Look at that.”

Satan looked to find Diavolo talking with Mc and Michael. He also spied Lucifer keeping his distance, but frowning so intensely he was surprised Diavolo couldn't feel it. Michael said something and Diavolo laughed delightedly, motioning for Mc and Michael to join him.

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

“She’s alone now. I’ll cover you!” Asmo hissed, pushing Satan forward.

Mc was sitting on a bench, on the outskirts of the room. She was watching the crowd with interest, eyes bright and curious. Satan hesitated, before steeling himself and walking forward, letter in hand. He was almost close enough to her to call out, when some demon approached her. Satan turned on his heel, and concealed himself in the crowd. He watched the demon extend their hand, heart sinking as he realized what that meant. She smiled and nodded her head, taking their hand as she was escorted out onto the dancefloor.

“What happened? Where’d she go?” Asmo asked, joining his brother.

“Someone asked her to dance before I got there,” Satan muttered irritably.

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

Satan looked at the time on his DDD. There was only two hours left of the ball, and he still had the letter. The past hour had been spent trying to figure out how to get Luke to leave Mc’s side without much luck. Beel had apparently gone to raid the food table and then the palace kitchen, and Belphie had fallen asleep, so Luke had found his way back to his sister and hadn’t left her side since. Worse yet, it seemed his opinion on demons was unchanged, keeping most of those that came over to talk to the artist at bay with a single look.

“He needs to leave so we can get on with this.” Asmo huffed, upset his plan was failing.

“Well, he is a chihuahua,” Levi said distractedly, “I can’t… say for certain, but he’s probably… Trying to keep her out of trouble… Woot! Got it!”

“Levi, could you stop gaming for five seconds?” Asmo sighed.

“Well, I have bad ideas, so no. You’re lucky I decided to stick around at all,” Levi huffed, eyebrows furrowed, though from the game or Asmo, Satan didn’t know.

“Oh come on! Are you really that upset by my comment?” When Levi didn’t answer, Asmo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Do you have any ideas then Levi?” Satan asked

“Not really.”

“Yo, yo, yo! Luke! What’s happenin’ my man?”

Both Mc, Luke and all three brother’s  looked over at Mammon strolling toward the duo through the crowd.

“Is he seriously…?” Levi asked.

“I think so…” Satan answered, shocked.

“How’ve ya’ been?” Mammon asked, grinning at the blonde angel.

“Fine I suppose,” Luke answered, suspicion lacing his words.

“Nice, nice. So, this is your sister?” The emphasis on the word left no interpretation of what he thought of the title.

“Yup. Of course, you can understand an angel’s definition of sibling though, don’t you Mammon?” Luke shot back.

“Oh! You’re Mammon!” Mc said suddenly, turning her full attention to Mammon “I’ve heard a lot about you!”

Mammon turned bright red, “Oh, you’ve heard of the Great Mammon?”

“Of course!” Mc beamed at him.

Mammon started stuttering, “W-W-Well, o-of course ya’ have.”

Mc giggled a bit at that, smiling at the second born, “I was actually hoping you might have some time you could spare to answer some of my questions.”

Satan was sure Mammon was going to combust, but Mc wrapped her arm around his anyways, “We’ll be back Luke.”

The blonde angel seemed like he wanted to argue, but something was holding him back, “I’ll be waiting then.” Mc nodded at him, and then walked off with Mammon.

“Wh… What just happened?” Levi nearly squealed.

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

“I hear Mammon got to talk to Mc before you did.”

“Shut up Lucifer,” Satan muttered.

“Where are they?” Lucifer asked, and Satan pointed to a bench where Mc and Mammon were sitting. They seemed deep in a conversation.

“Interesting. I had to see it to believe it.”

“What’ve you been doing this whole time?”

“I’ve been… walking around…”

“Hiding from Michael.”

“That would imply I’m scared of him.”

“MmmmHmmm.”

“I do not fear Michael.”

“Good to hear, since he’s coming this way.”

Lucifer instantly started walking forward, stopping by some random succubus, “Hello, Jezebel. Would you like to dance?” Lucifer asked, barely waiting for a response before dragging her out onto the dance floor.

Satan was still chuckling, Lucifer’s discomfort making his misfortune seem better, when a male voice he remembered from memory but had never actually heard addressed him, “Are you Satan, Lucifer’s… son?”

Satan blinked a couple times, “Excuse me?”

“That is you right? Or do you prefer something different? Spawn of Lucifer?” Michael cocked his head a bit, seeming a little confused.

Some rational part of Satan’s brain was the only thing keeping him from jumping on the angel and ripping him to shreds. He couldn’t keep the growl from his voice as he responded, “I am Satan, THE Avatar of WRATH.”

“Oh, I seem to have hit a nerve. My apologies,” Michael said, actually bowing. Satan narrowed his eyes, tail flexing around his leg. Has he always been this stupid? Or is he mocking me?

“I was wondering if we could speak. Privately,” Michael said, his smile showing he knew he’d said something wrong.

“Anything you want to say you can say here, Michael.”

“I do think it would be better for us to speak privately,” Satan could feel Michael’s irritation building a bit.

“Why? So you can try to hurt my brother’s again by killing another of their siblings?”

The shock on Michael’s face satiated Satan’s anger enough that he almost laughed at it. Michael quickly put on a blank look, but Satan could hear the sorrow in his voice, “Though it is always unfortunate when an angel dies, I do not regret any of my actions. When someone goes against what they know to be right, there will always be consequences.”

“Of course. Always the errand boy, blindly doing whatever it is you’re told to do.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even around to know her. I’m not sure what lies you’ve been fed-”

“I was there, you imbecile,” Satan seethed, “I saw how your actions helped push Lucifer towards rebellion, knowingly or not, and how you stabbed him in the back once he was finally there. I remember them, and I find your actions to be deplorable.”

“Now listen here, you demon-”

“Oh, I’m the demon here?! Shall I describe, in detail, how you-”

“Everythin’ cool here?” Mammon came up next to Satan, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

Satan whipped his head to look at Mammon, confirming that, yes, Mammon had heard what Michael had said.

“Ah, Mammon. It’s been awhile.”

Mammon looked over at Michael, his disgust thinly veiled, “Yeah, sure.”

“I would like to talk with your… brother, but he doesn’t seem to want to.”

“Good fer him. Tah be honest with ya’, I don’ trust ya’ Michael. I didn’ up in the Celestial Realm, and I don’ now. If ya’ wanna’ talk with Satan, I suggest ya’ do it where we can all see ya’.”

Satan felt two hands on his shoulders, and looked back to see both Beel and Belphie standing behind him. Neither one of them looked very happy, but Beel’s look was a lot more intense than Belphie’s.

Michael sighed, especially after seeing the twins, “If you’re not going to allow me to explain, I can only tell you this: It is imperative she not remember her past. It will hurt both of you more than you could ever know. Now, I have things to do, if you’ll excuse me,” and with that, he left.

“I really don’ like that guy,” Mammon shook his head, “Oh, Satan, hol’ on a sec. Imma be right back,” and with that, he took off.

“You okay Satan?” Beel asked, still frowning after Michael.

“Yeah, things just got a bit intense there for a second. Thanks.”

“I don’t think your thanks is going to stop here. We’re going to leave you now. Have fun,” Belphie smirked before wandering off with Beel.

Satan shook his head at all the weirdness happening around him, before resuming his place along the wall. He didn’t know how things had escalated that quickly with Michael, especially considering the guy had never done anything to him personally. Yeah, he had all the memories of Lucifer being angry at him, and he had hurt his brother’s, but he had never had any personal problems with him. Well, a lot of Lucifer’s anger started because of Michael, and that’s what I was born from… The small voice in the back of his head started acting up, though he often tried to keep it quiet, You’re more like Lucifer then you want to admit.

He growled a bit at the voice, before starting to wander around. People watching always helped calm him down. It was one of the things he had done in his early life to help him learn how to interact with others, at Asmo’s suggestion. He always found something new to store away in his brain, and the problem solving helped calm his brain.

“There ya’ are! We’ve been lookin’ for ya’.”

We? Satan turned to Mammon to see Mc standing next to him. Satan froze, having not prepared himself to talk to her.

“She asked me ta dance, but cha know I’m more of a solo dancer myself, so I was wondering if you would for me?”

“I… Uhhh… Yes, if she would like,” Satan finally managed to get out, watching Mc for any negative reactions.

“I have no problems with it,” Mc answered cryptically, nothing in her tone or mannerisms betraying how she actually felt about the suggested change.

“Uh… Perfect, I guess. Have fun you two,” Mammon announced before walking off.

I could both hug him and punch him, Satan thought, though what came out of his mouth was, “Well, may I have this dance?” while extending his hand to her.

A smile graced her lips, “You certain may.”

He led her out onto the dance floor, still lightly holding her hand. He was still nervous, but not like he was the last time they’d met. He let his mask start to slip when he faced her, “I’m very glad you accepted my invitation to dance,” he slipped his hand to its proper place for the waltz as the music started.

“It’s my pleasure,” She smiled, though not as warmly as he would’ve hoped. They started dancing effortlessly, Satan extremely happy they were still in sync. If only the conversation flowed as easily. Satan spent the first full minute of the dance just trying to figure out what to say to her, also trying not to think about how beautiful she looked.

Finally, he figured out something neutral to say, “Have you been enjoying the Devildom?”

“Yes, I have, thank you for asking.”

“What’s been your favorite part?”

Mc took a minute to think, “I would have to say… Sightseeing. There’s a lot here I could have never imagined existing in the Celestial Realm.”

“Ah. Have you visited the Royal Library yet?”

“I have actually. I’ve been researching for my next art project.”

“You’re working on a new art project?”

“Yes. I feel rather inspired here.”

“I look forward to seeing it. Are you planning on showing it in the Devildom?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Good. We need new art down here,” Satan said before the conversation lapsed back into silence. It was towards the end of the song that Satan decided to bring up the elephant in the room, “I’ve ummm… Been hoping I would see you again.”

“As have I.”

“You have?” he asked, extremely surprised.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to figure out why you acted the way you did.”

Oh.

“I apologize for that. I… Well, I actually wrote you a letter to explain it. I know my behavior was… off to say the least. I’ve been going through a lot lately, and I apologize that it negatively affected my behavior towards you.”

“You wrote me a letter?”

“Yes. I find I can express myself far better and with far more accuracy by writing than by talking.”

“Ah. Do… Do you have that letter with you?” Her voice was small when she asked.

“I do. I was planning to give it to you tonight anyways.”

“You were?”

“Oh, I said that out loud didn’t I?” Mc giggled at that and Satan felt better, the mask slipping even more, “I’ve been trying to find a good time to give it to you all night actually.”

“Really?” Her smile was curious and a bit teasing.

“Er, yeah. I hope you’re okay with that.”

“I think that’s alright,” Mc smiled, finally seeming at ease around him.

The song ended then, and Satan reached into his back pocket to produce the letter, “Here it is.”

“I’ll make sure to read it,” Mc promised, reaching for the letter. Their fingers brushed when she went to grab it, and they both blushed at the contact, “Well, I’m going to go find Luke. Thank you for the dance.”

“No, thank you,” Satan said sincerely, smiling softly.

She smiled back, and with that she was gone.

“Heh. You owe me don’ cha’,” Mammon’s voice came from behind him, sounding pretty smug.

“I’d say you’ve made up for not telling me she was in town.”

“I’ll take it.”

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

Hey you guys, a couple more things:

First off, I have passed the 100 follower mark, and I was wondering if you guys wanted me to do anything for it.

Second: I was wondering how you guys ran across this fic. If you wanna comment down below and just let me know. I’m really wondering how my work’s being spread, so if you could do that, I’d appreciate it!

~As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated (I always read everything you guys write in the comments and reblogs)

Part Eleven

[be-dazzled]

Rules Are Meant to be Broken 1 of 2

Prompt: No. 6 “No touching, no kissing, nothing. I will do with you as I please.” Requested by: Anon Rating: M for theme and language Series: Gruvia Smut 1/2; 2/2

Note: This is part of a two-parter prompt request made by an Anon. Lol. Since Anon requested smut scenes and this is my first time to write Gruvia smut, I will post the more “detailed”, R18 part answering the ask. I will update this for the link to part 2. And since we are not getting any Gruvia content yet... I hope this will do. AND MAN! I am so obsessed with the Juvia strip dance, aren’t I?

Part 2 uploaded

---

Part 1: Juvia’s Dance Moves

“Does Gray-sama remember the rules?”

Juvia’s distracted voice travelled through the doorway into Gray’s bedroom. She was probably not done preparing. He could still hear rattle noises behind the wall that separated his small bedroom from the rest of his apartment. He heard her too, but Gray didn’t answer. He was busy feeling weird and awkward sitting on a lone chair in the middle of his bedroom. Apparently, Juvia was going to give him a little peek of what the girls have been up to. He heard from the vineyard that the Fairy Tail girls enrolled in some dancing school. What type of dance school? Gray had no clue. He asked Juvia about it but she said it was supposed to be a surprise.

Tonight, when she barged into his apartment, she was carrying paper bags on both arms. Juvia said she won’t be taking too much of his time. That what she was about to show him was some sort of culminating event to put those dance moves she learned to test. Gray wasn’t totally on board on the idea but since Juvia went out her way to prepare something for him, then he’ll sit through whatever she wanted him to sit through. So, despite his loud protests, Gray still agreed to sit back on that wooden chair and wait for the show to begin.

“Gray-sama, did you hear Juvia?”

A shock of blue hair popped out the door frame, hiding the rest of her body behind the wall.

“Yes, Juvia, I heard you.” His thick brows met in the middle. “Now, come out and be done with it already.”

Patience wasn’t really one of Gray’s virtues.

Juvia tentatively stepped out of hiding and revealed a fancy-looking, dark blue satin robe with feather trimmings on the ends of the sleeves and the hem. To Gray’s disappointment, the length of the dress hid those creamy-white legs he never really looked at. Swear! He never stared at those creamy, white thighs where Juvia’s guild mark was stamped permanently. That made him wonder what this dance was all about. And if he was being honest, that tie around the waist of that stupid long robe irritated him.

“No touching. No kissing. Nothing.”

Gray scowled at her reminder. He really wasn’t planning on doing any of those. Huh. In her dreams.

The feathers on the hem of Juvia’s robe hummed silently against his wooden floor and he can’t help but stare at the hypnotic swaying of Juvia’s hips. She didn’t walk like that before, did she? It felt like Juvia was deliberately calling his attention to that perfect curve between the back and those nice, round ass-tushie! Gray remembered Juvia calling it tushie. Whatever. It’s all covered anyway. By that long-ass robe. His thick brows furrowed and his usual scowl wrinkled his face.

“Can you even dance in that…”

Surprised wasn’t even the best word to describe Gray’s reaction when Juvia sat on the edge of his bed, crossed one leg over the other, and that fancy robe parting to reveal those thighs he swore never to have looked at.

“dress…”

Okay, maybe once. That’s why he knew, okay fine he saw, Juvia had her Fairy Tail guild mark printed there. Or twice, when he accidentally, and he wanted to reiterate that it was accidental, when he caught a glimpse of those legs… at the… ahmmm… guild? Fine! Thrice. When she tore her clothes while fighting. You know what? Who even was counting? And the most interesting question of all, why was Juvia now lying down on her side with one hand supporting her head?

“Juvia thinks it’s this way?” She adjusted her position, not quite sure she got the pose right. “or this one? Oh! Right.”

And the other hand resting so seductively on her hip? Why was she replicating her ‘eat me’ pose she did once at the restaurant? And damn his heart was beating crazy.

It’s just legs you ice-brain. Everyone’s got one!

Gray’s self-reprimand did help a little with that throbbing he wasn’t sure if was coming from his chest or somewhere else he’d rather not think about. Probably, both.

Yes, both. He finally realized when Juvia’s serious stare – bordering sultry – landed on him.

“Ah!” Juvia squealed. “Juvia can’t do it.” She rained fists on Gray’s poor mattress out of her frustration. “Gray-sama is making Juvia nervous.”

Well, you’re not alone, he thought.

“Juvia,” he called out. “Don’t you think if you really want to do this, at least do it properly?”

Juvia stared at him for a few breaths then apologized.

“Gray-sama is right.” She conceded and returned to her original, provocative position.

Gray smiled when grit and determination returned in her blue eyes. Well, of course, he was right. Juvia should at least stick to her character while he was being the nice, obedient boyfriend – no! – boy who is a friend, sitting on the chair like she asked him to. Everybody gotta do their part. And it’s not because he wanted to watch Juvia do some really interesting, some sort of sexy dance. It was just, people should make good on their promises. So, that’s why… Juvia should be responsible in finishing what she said she was going to do. Gray was just helping her out.

“Can Gray-sama please play the music?”

“What?”

“It’s on the table on Gray-sama’s left.”

“Oh.”

Oh, great. Now, she was asking him to move from this really uncomfortable position. The table wasn’t too far but it’d require Gray to get up, which was really hard to do now and would be very embarrassing if Juvia saw. But he had no choice.

Suck it up, boy who is a friend.

But he wasn’t going to stand up and embarrass himself. So, the smart ice-make mage moved his chair a little to the side and stretched his arm to reach the rectangular lacrima that produced sounds. He missed at first and earned a weird look from Juvia. He shrugged her off and continued reaching out to start that stupid sound lacrima.

“Gray-sama could just–”

“–I got it, okay!”

He rested an arm across his pelvis, making sure Juvia wasn’t suspecting anything. Then, stood up from his seat, walked over the stupid table and hit a fist on the sound lacrima with a loud thud, surprising the water-mage.

“There!”

Then, the first beat of Juvia’s music poured through. Gray returned to his chair throwing an irritated look towards the water-mage lying down on his bed. As the instrumental played on, Gray became skeptical. The music wasn’t sexy at all! So, maybe, this was some kind of a weird dance routine. Gray sighed in relief. He was safe. If Juvia was going to dance with that awfully, non-sexy song then no problem. Geez. What was he so worried about?

Well… this: Juvia lifting one leg slowly while she maintained her position then putting it back down. Were the girls tricked into learning aerobics? The move was oddly following the beat perfectly. Oh. My. Gods. Gray’s heart skipped a beat when he saw a black high heel strapped on her foot.

It was only the beginning of the most uncomfortable night of Gray’s life.

Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree? I traveled the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something

Juvia rolled her head in a circular motion. Slowly. Seductively. Forearms rested on the mattress as Juvia lied on her stomach. Now both legs on the air, the water-mage moved them in opposite directions: one inward and the other outward then vice versa. For some wicked maneuver, Juvia was able to lift her body off the mattress and got on her knees, kneeling on top of Gray’s bed.

Damn. That was definitely hot. No! He was just there to watch, as a support to whatever Juvia was doing… to him.

Gray could feel the strange feeling brewing just below his belly. It was new. It was strange. But he heard about it before from the old perverts at the guild, Macao and Wakaba, and the adults like Laxus and Bickslow. They said it was going to be an angry storm that just crashes everything in its way.

Once, when Laxus and Bickslow heard some baseless rumor about him and Juvia dating, they pulled him to a corner and offered to teach him on how the female body works, mostly Bickslow though. Laxus just rubbed it in his face that he was still a cherry boy, whatever that meant. He didn’t understand what the two were yapping about until his innocent, clueless brain caught up on the topic of breasts, thighs and that sweet spot in between. Not so innocent, after all. He remembered how the two disgusting perverts laughed at him when he refused their help and denied the relationship rumor. For some reason, he earned the nickname of cherry boy and it stuck.

But he should stop thinking about those stupid conversations with his pervert comrades and just focus on Juvia who was now tracing her fingers over the side of her neck to the V of her robe down to the belt tying her dress together. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, chest heaving up and down. No, her body was moving up and down.

Damn, that was definitely hot.

Gray shifted in his sit again. But like he said, he was just there to support Juvia in whatever way he was able. So, if right now, watching and enjoying Juvia touch herself was the kind of support she needed, then that he will become. Juvia caught his eyes, held his stare, watching him watching her, as her fingers now rubbed on the edge of her belt. Juvia bit down a giggle when Gray’s jaw dropped at the sight of her fingers pulling the ends of the tie slowly, ever so slowly, until the front of her robe fell open.

Gray was sure his jaw was on the floor now as the satin fabric fell over her shoulders, brushing pass her arms and then landing on the mattress beneath her.

Oh, shit.

By male instinct, his body lurched forward, wanting to see closer. Well, Gray have seen Juvia naked. Oh, that was Juvina. Well, it was the same thing right? Of course, not. Juvia was different. But he maintained that he has seen Juvia half naked. She acquired his stripping habits. He wasn’t proud of that. And in the many months that they lived together, he accidentally, again with emphasis on ‘accidentally’, caught a glimpse or two of Juvia out of her clothes. They were living together, of course, it was bound to happen.

Those cases were different because as Gray said they were ahmm… what did people call it? Happy accidents?

This half-naked Juvia in front of him had a different appeal because she was half-naked on his bed, on purpose. And now her hands were wandering around her body, touching places Gray would rather do for her. Gray was so jealous.

Wait, what? No. No, he wasn’t jealous. Why would he be?

Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused.

Then, Juvia climbed down the bed. His heart leaped to his throat, making it really hard to swallow. She strutted towards him, slowly, painfully slowly as Gray feasted on the sight before him. Gray sat at the edge of the chair and leaned his back to give extra room for that pain between his legs. Because Juvia in a thin, lace lingerie, which seemed to have failed their purpose of covering the skin, was giving him a hard time. No pun intended.

“J-juvia.” He stuttered but his voice couldn’t be heard over the music. Good. Because truthfully, Gray didn’t know how to follow that lame ‘J-juvia’ stutter. What was he gonna say? Stop? Because that’s definitely the opposite of what he wanted-er… what being a good supportive boy-who-is-a-friend was.

His distracted eyes returned to Juvia who was touching her body as she looked him up and down, gaze turning to something Gray couldn’t believe he’d ever see – so sensual. And she wasn’t even trying.

Gray involuntarily jerked back, almost stumbling back his seat when Juvia suddenly approached him, standing so dangerously close. But she didn’t do nor say anything. Instead, she walked around him, trailing a seductive finger around his shoulders.

Damn it!

“Ahmmm… J-juvia. I thought you said… n-n-no touching?”

Not that he was complaining or anything but if she kept doing that then Gray would really embarrass himself. Gray yelped when the woman suddenly leaned over him, shoving his shoulder, hitting his back against the hard chair. Gray’s surprised midnight eyes stared up at her, his gaze slid down the valley between her generous, generous breasts, then back up to her hot blue eyes.

“Juvia can touch but Gray-sama couldn’t.”

“That’s a little unfair, isn’t it?”

A sexy smile touched her lips.

“Juvia doesn’t make the rules.” She said and turned away from him.

And that’s when his eyes drifted to the sexy line of her back down to those nice, round bosso-tushie and his mouth ran dry. Drier than Ajeel’s sand.

“J-juvia,” he visibly swallowed, “can I get a break?”

Because he badly needed water – ice bucket full of freaking water.

---

Thank goodness Juvia allowed him a quick break because well, he was honestly thirsty, and he needed some time to breathe and to calm himself down. How he was so worked up about Juvia in that lingerie was baffling. He’d seen women in skimpy outfits before, care of Lucy and Erza and he looked too. Not that he was going to deny that. But Juvia in such a revealing lingerie – it didn’t even bother to cover anything – and deliberately seducing him?

Gray swallowed the glass full of water and poured himself some more. His body never even felt this hot before as if Natsu’s fire just kept following him around. There was that time too, in the public bath, where Juvia just came out of nowhere and was in the bath with him. Totally. Naked. She tried to kiss him then but he froze her in his ice before she started some commotion.

Juvia was such a trouble.

“Gray-samaaaa~” she sang from his room.

Gray grunted. He hasn’t even fully recovered from that public bath memory. Now, he was already calling him back into his room.

“Alright, alright!” He shouted back.

Then, the ice-make mage downed another glass of ice-cold water before he scurried to his room. When he entered his room, Juvia still sat on the edge of his bed, just waiting. She looked up at him, her gaze following Gray as the ice-make mage returned to his designated chair. Not at all any more comfortable.

“Shoot.”

Gray spat out a punchline and threw in a laugh too. But Juvia wasn’t laughing. And it became rather awkward.

Gray cleared his throat.

“G-g-go on...”

Juvia didn’t say another word after she asked the ice-make mage to turn the sound lacrima back on. Which he quickly obeyed so that Juvia could pick up where she left off.

Gray just hoped someone warned him about the next part of the show.

Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something

Juvia swayed her body to the tune. It was just the start. Gray wasn’t known to be a fidgety fellow but he lost count how many times he shifted in that wooden chair. Especially, when Juvia pressed an innocent finger on the bottom of her lip and pushed it in. Juvia twisted her head to catch his eyes and when she made sure he was looking, the water-mage pulled the finger out of her mouth and traced a sinful path down the valley.

Gray could hear his heart pounding in his ears and his breath started running ragged. He didn’t remember his room being this hot. If he wasn’t feeling so stuck in that chair and his eyes so glued on the girl before him, then Gray would have opened a window or two. But, well, he was stuck. Stuck as a sticky rice.

Because now Juvia continued the sinful trail down a very dangerous path and Gray couldn’t take his eyes off of that. Especially, that sinful finger is reaching down the edge of her…

Oh, shit.

That not-so-innocent finger stopped at the band of her lace panties. And it felt like he was about to swallow a rock.

And when the water-mage, his water-mage, swiftly lost her brassiere, Gray swallowed a freaking boulder.

Juvia threw the lace bra to him. The thin material fell limply on his lap. He then prepared himself to finally see the generous breasts that freaking lace ineptly covered. He looked up from the lace bra and his heart somersaulted when his expectant eyes landed on the water-mage who had her arm shielding the girls. Somehow, it was so much appealing and oddly, more exciting. Thrilling. Would she or wouldn’t she. Oh, the mystery was killing him.

And he liked it.

Gray backed up on his seat when Juvia started to move towards him. Strutting. Steps measured. Hips provocatively swaying. Gray forgot to breathe for a moment. His head fell back to meet her eyes. Slowly, Juvia lowered herself and finally expelled the breath he was holding when the bold water-mage straddled his lap.

Gray parted his lips to breathe some air as Juvia held his gaze captive, fanning his hot cheeks with her warm breath. The skin on her arm grazed his bare chest, hardening the muscles on it. For some reason, he just lost his top somewhere in the house. But who cared about that stupid shirt when the skimpy crotch of her panties were almost, almost brushing against the zipper of his pants.

Uncomfortable quickly graduated to painful.

He let out a laugh that meant to be awkward but turned deep and husky.

“J-j-juvia.” He breathed her name, planting his hands on her thighs, touching soft and warm skin under his palm. He wanted to ask for a break again.

Her blue eyes widened at the heat and Juvia repressed a surprised gasp. She swatted Gray’s hand away with her free one.

“No touching.” She firmly reminded. “It’s against the rules.”

Gray let his arms fall on his side. He wasn’t really sure what Juvia was going to do and the suspense was killing him – if he wasn’t dead yet from Juvia’s close proximity. So, he decided that the best course of action was to stare right to her eyes, those deep blue pools that were pulling him into their endlessness by the second. Even if his whole body became highly aware of her flesh against his. He wondered how she managed to get this close to him and not melt, literally. Usually, she would. This time, she held it together. And this time, she had that solid determination in her eyes that was honestly turning him on. Oops! He wasn’t supposed to feel that way. Gray tried to push what his body was telling him back and concentrate on something that wasn’t forcing his body to react. But that was simply impossible.

All thanks to that conflict he saw in her eyes, however, that Gray had a distraction, welcomed at that. She looked like she was pondering it over, what to do next. Something started to cloud her eyes.

“G-g-gray-s-sama…”

She started stuttering.

“It seems like Juvia mixed up the steps.”

She pulled away from his eyes, gazed drifting in between them as she looked left to right. Gray wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.

“If you could just let Juvia look for… look for her… ahmmm. Where was it?”

Well, if Juvia could get past her ‘melting thing’ then Gray could definitely get over his shyness.

“Juvia’s top… Juvia threw it towards Gray-sam-mnnn…”

Gray pressed Juvia against him as he locked his lips with hers, opening his mouth over Juvia’s. Juvia could hardly wrap her head around what was happening. She was now his captive not hers, kissing her with so much abandon, so much hunger and so much need that everything around her became fuzzy. Juvia lost the ability to think, to move. Her body instinctively morphed with Gray’s, both moaning at the contact when Juvia dropped her hand that was shielding her breasts. Gray’s kiss turned more aggressive.

Realizing they both needed air to breathe, Gray pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against Juvia’s, both forcing air into and outside their lungs.

“G-g-gray-sama… shouldn’t…” Juvia tried to force the words out between pants. “it’s… it’s… against the… rules”

But that mischievous grin played on Gray’s lips. He just couldn’t help it.

“Since when did I…” He tentatively brushed his lips against Juvia’s, playing on that fire that their much aggressive and possessive kiss created earlier. “ever followed the rules?”

[ofdragonsdeep]

27: Benthos

It was not the most conventional venue for a picnic.

(named m!WoLxThancred)

A thin fog had rolled over the Ruby Sea with the cold light of the morning, shrouding the islands dotted about its breadth with a gentle blur. From where he was sat at the front of a draft chocobo’s saddle, Ar’telan squinted through into the morning, eyes narrowed to catch sight of a key landmark beneath the surface of the waves.

“Not exactly what you had in mind, I take it?” Thancred remarked from behind him, his hands looped into the saddle’s hand holds with the easy regard of someone who was confident that if he fell, he would either be caught or make the dive. Ar’telan huffed, unable to reply with his hands on the reins, and nudged the chocobo into a dive. It came to a halt just above the water, understandably not willing to dive all the way in, and Ar’telan guided it over to a flat-topped rock just beneath the water, where it settled down and ruffled its feathers.

“You can steer next time,” he said once Thancred had dismounted with a splash of boots in water. Thancred chuckled at the threat, casting an appraising eye over the horizon.

“Your displeasure has been noted,” he allowed. “As is your choice of venue. We are going swimming, I take it?” Ar’telan nodded.

“You did say you could hold your breath for ten minutes,” he said, and Thancred let out a hard-done-by sigh.

“This was not the test I had envisioned for that claim, but let us be about it.”

—

The dive down into the Ruby Sea was not a long one, but the experience of breaking the water and inhaling a lung full of salt water as though it was air was never one that Ar’telan would get used to. He had always been comfortable around water, though it was not a trait that many of Eorzea’s miqo’te seemed to share, so it was a simple matter to cut a path down through the water. Thancred could have outpaced him, he thought, if he had known where they were going, but instead swam alongside him. Unlike Ar’telan with his kojin’s blessing, Thancred had to be feeling the sting of the salty water, but Ar’telan had assumed that if he could make it through the Lochs without crying then a quick jaunt under the sea would be like a child’s game.

The cave itself was small and unassuming. Ar’telan had found it while harvesting pigments for Charlemend and Maelie’s planned art therapy at the clinic in the Firmament, and upon exploration had found that the natural magics of the area had trapped a little pocket of air in the rock formation. It was damp, with water dripping through the little bubble that marked the “entrance”, but perfectly breathable, and so Ar’telan had hatched a plan. Convincing Thancred to do mysterious things with little context was not the hard part, more so the actual finding of him when he had time to do something unexpected, but here they were.

“Well! A quaint little place you’ve found,” Thancred remarked once they’d both got their bearings, shaking his hair out like an itinerant dog. “I suspect Urianger and Y’shtola would have a field day with the unusual aetheric phenomena necessary to create such a thing.” He looked over at Ar’telan, wringing out the bottom of his coat onto the light coating of algae on the floor. “What do you intend to do with it?” Ar’telan felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness.

“I… I had thought we might have a picnic,” he said sheepishly, pulling the little waterproof box that Cid had been kind enough to make for him from his pack. He had snuck out of the Inn in Kugane and teleported back to Mor Dhona the previous night, working in a quiet frenzy in the Rising Stones kitchen. No-one had been awake but himself and F’lhaminn, who had respectfully said nothing as he determinedly made the most compact sandwiches he could manage and squeezed fresh juice into a stoppered bottle. It was not the most impressive meal he had ever made by a long way, but it was transportable, and at the time that had felt important. Thancred had probably noticed as he teleported back to Kugane and tiptoed into their inn room, but he had politely pretended to still be asleep.

“A picnic,” Thancred repeated, looking bemused. “In a tiny air pocket at the bottom of the sea?”

“Well, if you phrase it like that it sounds foolish,” Ar’telan said, fighting the urge to pout. Thancred laughed, an easy smile on his face, and took the box from where Ar’telan had awkwardly balanced it on his arms to reply.

“You’re right. A romantic hideaway, deep beneath the ocean, that none but the fish and the rather distressing number of water elementals know about… It could be a story about the merfolk spiriting a mortal lover deep beneath the sea to hide like a jewel, couldn’t it?” He tilted his head, regarding Ar’telan curiously. “I suppose you make a good fit for the merfolk, although we might need to get you a more fishy tail.” Ar’telan curled his own tail around his leg in embarrassment.

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me,” he confessed, and Thancred shook his head, squeezing Ar’telan’s shoulder with a damp glove.

“I’m not. I can’t say I was expecting this precise turn of events, but it is perhaps the most unique date I have ever been asked on.” He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “And the most involved one, given the length of the journey out, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” Ar’telan took a fire crystal from his pocket, striking it over the nearest piece of flat rock to dry the worst of the undersea damp, watching the water elementals endemic to the area shy away from the warmth. Then he laid out the picnic blanket - Tataru had insisted that it needed to be checkered, and Ar’telan had complied more out of fear than anything else, so it had a pleasing red and white pattern on it. Thancred sat on the edge of it, gingerly shrugging his sopping overcoat from his shoulders and setting it just out of the way.

“You have the advantage on me,” he said, and Ar’telan rubbed the back of his neck ruefully.

“I could probably have thought a little more about the specifics,” he allowed, putting the glass jug of juice next to the box that Thancred had set down. “It was more romantic in my head.” He grimaced, pulling his legs in to sit a little more neatly, ears drooping. “I have never been much good at this.” Thancred laughed, reaching over to break the seal on the top of the ironworks-branded picnic box. The sandwiches still smelled good despite their unorthodox journey, which was more of a relief than Ar’telan had expected it to be.

“You’ve never been on a picnic?” Thancred asked, surprised. Ar’telan stared at his knees.

“No. Not really. I’ve never - I haven’t really… been in many relationships before.” He closed his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Hey, now, none of that,” Thancred said, though there was no judgement in his voice. Ar’telan flinched at the first soft touch of fingers on his cheek, but opened his eyes as sense took hold again. “This is sweet of you. And I’m grateful for the break.” He withdrew his hand to pull a sandwich from the pile, biting into it with a look of appreciation. “And- mm - the food is as good as it always is.” Ar’telan laughed softly, letting himself relax into a less stiff sitting posture, nervously taking one of his own sandwiches as well.

“Thank you,” he said around the sandwich. The rhythmic drip of seawater was calming, at least, and he gently shooed away the knot of nerves in his stomach as he started to eat. He had no need to be anxious, and the rational part of his brain had told him this the entire time - Thancred was a hard man to disappoint, even if his imagination left Ar’telan feeling very second-rate in comparison. The food alone would have done the job even if Ar’telan had suggested taking a picnic on the side of the active Hell’s Lid volcano. But that little voice would always be there, he supposed, claiming that he was not quite enough, remembering what the ascian had said with Thancred’s voice.

“Did you bring any vodka for this juice?” Thancred asked, and Ar’telan sighed wearily.

“No, Thancred,” he said. Perhaps the only key to his heart that Ar’telan never had the heart to turn. “If you can catch one of the elementals it might have a similar kick.” Thancred eyed the water elementals dubiously, but it was a good half a minute before he definitively gave up on the idea and took a drink straight from the jug. The idea had been well-received, the journey there had been a few calming days together. When it was over, they would go back on the same ship, and all would be well.

Just for a few days, all would be well.