#i will eat those lines to gain their power

[snapjock]

JSJJDKDKDF MY BOYS REF IS FINISHED,,, ITS ME

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[mccoyquialisms]

Incredible things from the london D20 live show in no particular order (straight from memory so may not be totally accurate or have much context at all):

First of all the line up was incredible. Kugrash, Pete, Sundry Sydney, Skip, Fabian and Adaine. What a terrible combination of personalities, it was so funny

Btw everyone looked so good. They looked really good, those fits <3. Murph striped button up/polo? shirt and Lou grandpa sweater you will always be famous

When Siobhan rolled Adaine everyone was so excited. Lou (who had already rolled for Fabian) hugged her, picked her up and spun her around on stage ❤️

Everyone was so excited to have a buddy ❤️

The setting was rolled as a crown of candy, after Brennan literally said “wow we happened to have a few people from the same place, wouldn’t it be hilarious if we got a crown of candy or neverafter or something?”

Everyone arrives and are doing introductions and the first thing Fabian says is “[tearfully] Adaine is that a giant rat?” Cue the whole atrium losing it.

Sydney then proceeds to minor illusion Kugrash as “sexy.” After some deliberation and when prompted by Brennan, Murph decided this means he looks exactly the same except for giant veneers

Beardsley: Can I distract the guard?

Brennan [flabbergasted, as the rest of the party was doing INSANE shit around this]: Sure, the DC is 500.

Beardsley: If I crit will you let it happen

Brennan [indulgently]: sure

Beardsley: [rolls a nat 20]

Brennan: [despair], cast: [running around in circles on stage and jumping], fans: [losing it]

And that’s how they accidentally start a revolt in Candia within minutes of arrival by Pete the Chosen Outsider with the peppermint tooth and prophesied king of candia. But it’s cool because in the next few minutes Kugrash teaches them about democracy.

So many little references to past campaigns and character one liners. Way too many for me to list but the cast was clearly enjoying dropping them

Sundry Sydney hitting King Calroy with 3 grenades ON SIGHT

A Hasted Kugrash doing an opposed athletics against Calroy and Brennan rolls a Nat 1. The dice wanted that motherfucker DEAD.

Kugrash to Calroy: “I eat from the trash, and I’ve never seen a cake as shitty as you!’ And then proceeds to 300-style kick him off the castle wall (as acted out by human man Murph)

Sooo much PVP though really most of that was between Pete and Fabian as they fought over the crown of candia

Sundry Sydney successfully seduced and awakens personhood in Adaine’s identify spell. His name is ANUS now. (Another use…)

Skip is quangled out and replaced by Lapin (played by Zac) and tries to keep the party on track. He fails many times. He takes up smoking from the stress. Adaine does as well.

At some point Pete’s wild magic turns his hands into rock candy, which he uses to deal 2d20 damage to Fabian during a fight

Emily as Sydney, whenever crazy shit happens: this is canon! [raises cannon arm]

All of them (except Pete) have some bad baby milk and do kublacaine. Cue a small detour for more pvp between Pete and Fabian

Arthur Aguefort is released from captivity in a castle full of/made from eggs. He and Lapin may or may not know each other biblically. They met on an app for old magical men, don’t worry about it.

Bill Seacaster is the pirate prince of the dairy lands and has the quangle. They get into his castle with Operation Fancy Perfume Part 2 except Emily rolled a nat 1 for her assist, so first poisonous perfume takes out most of the party and everyone inside the castle. I think Emily may have been crying she was laughing so hard.

They sort of defeat Bill by giving him pleasure putty (which he USES behind a curtain in front of EVERYONE) and then has to go take a nap, so they sneak into the rest of the castle to find the quangle. I am never going to forgive Brennan for making it canon that he goes “yar har har YO HO HO” when he gets off. I WILL NEVER UNHEAR THIS.

Pete Conlan somehow gains the power of flight from Bambi LeRoux (Sydney brought her) singing the Reading Rainbow theme song. He does a flying ribbon dance out the window, where she stops singing and he falls and takes max fall damage. He’s still up, so Fabian jumps out the window with Feather Fall and shoots him with a laser gun until he actually dies lmao. He gets injured too somehow but I forgot how. They both get healed and everyone continues on like nothing happened.

Emily took her dice that rolled a Nat 1, kissed it, and threw it into audience with a cheeky expression. I’m in love with her I fear

The time quangle is an entire pool of lemon yogurt. At the bottom of the pool is a completely naked Gilear Faeth

Kugrash eats all the yogurt despite knowing it will kill him in order to end the quangle. His farewell speech has as a backdrop Gilear’s giant hog (played by Brennan’s arm, as he got out of his chair to stand behind Murph the ENTIRE time he was talking). Kugrash then ascends to the big bodega in the sky.

Sydney also seduces Annabelle Cheddar (EDIT: fuck it was like 12 AM forgive me) Primsy Coldbottle, who is explicitly 29 in this version of time. Both her and Anus join Sydney in returning to AnarchEra. I cannot emphasize enough how horny this live show was

Everyone gets sent back to their respective universes, except Arthur. He’s going to hang out in Candia for a bit to be Lapin’s “roommate.”

Fabian’s last line is that he has to call his banker because he has a new nemesis

Lapin: “That was the worst group of people I have ever met.”

God that was so funny, I really hope these live shows are getting recorded and will be released somewhere later. I need everyone to experience the epic highs and lows of this d20 session.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 19

Din Djarin + Marking (hickeys, bruises, tattoos, etc)

Readers Mirialan, cuz I like the many different species in Star Wars and ill find a way to work them into all my work.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Dating Din Djarin was an experience, though not many knew either of you were even together. You were a banished member of the Mirialan people, banished for different levels of theft and smuggling you had done in your younger years, your list of crimes going far as you had done what you needed to do to survive. You had ended up robbing the wrong person, and had been banished as they pitied how someone so young had to resort to stealing.

That didn’t stop you from gaining the tattoos that your people were known for. You were not the only Mirialan that had been banished, and a couple of them possessed the knowledge to gift the tattoos of your people to others as they knew their meaning.

As you grew older, your number of tattoos grew, your face gaining multiple geometrical shapes that any Mirilian with knowledge could tell meant you were a very powerful fighter and a foe they should not dare cross. The tattoos spread to the rest of your body as well, one of said tattoos starting from the top of your spine and going all the way down, the sides curling around your ribcage in more geometrical shapes.

You had met Din on one of your many smuggling runs, back when he had just started out as a bounty hunter for his clan, and he had run around in only a helmet. He had been ordered to bring in one of your allies, they weren’t friends, simply someone paid by the same person, but you weren’t gonna let some greenie barely wet behind the ears newbie think they were better than you.

You had wiped the floor with him that day, the agility and flexibility that came with your species allowing you many ways to overpower him. Din would tell you years later, that was when he had fallen in love with you, because to a Mandalorian, there was nothing more attractive than a partner that could kick your ass.

It took a long time for you to see Dins face, even after you went from allies, to friends, and then lovers. It had something to do with his culture, you never fully understood his clans’ ways, but it was how things were for him, and so you would respect it. Hearing how he sputtered the first time you undressed in front of him still brought a smile to your green lips, as his clan or covert didn’t seem to partake in that act either.

Din always seemed so fascinated by your tattoos, his fingers always stroking across them when you stood near him or when you cuddled in bed, his helmet always on even in his sleep. Even when you had dropped to your knees when he was sitting in his pilot seat after an extra adrenaline bringing mission, where you had quickly asked for permission before throwing off his cod-piece, undoing his undersuit, and swallowed down his quickly hardening length.

The lack of skin-on-skin contact had left Din very sensitive, his helmet picking up his gasps and groans as he fumbled off his gloves so he could caress your tattooed face, his thumb rubbing against a line of tattoos under your left eye. Even through his helmet you could feel his sight stuck on those geometrical shapes, and after that day you had gone down on him, his obsession only seemed to grow.

His hands would always wander, rubbing your tattooed skin, and he seemed to have a great obsession with the ink on your back. You could regularly find yourself laid out on your stomach as he sat on your hips, rubbing his hands up and down your back. After a while Din seemed to come out of his shell good enough, as one night when he was rubbing your back you could feel him grinding his cock into your ass.

Din didn’t leave many hickeys for obvious reasons, the helmet always staying on his head, but there were a few times where he would crawl under your shared blanket, his helmet lifting enough to bite and lick as your skin, leaving hickeys near the ink on your skin after eating you out or sucking you off.

When everything happened with the child, or Grogu you learned his name was, you hadn’t been around for most of it. You had wanted to propose to Din, and had gone to your fellow banished elders to learn about your cultures way of marriage. Your elders ended up teaching you quite a bit about the meaning of your cultures tattoos, even adding a new one on your dominant hand to commiserate you taking down a krayt dragon on tattooine.

You and Din settled down on Tattooine for a while after everything, as Din needed time to heal from the experience and the whole, gaining the darksaber and becoming mandalor, not that he wanted it, but he seemed to be the best option in your eyes.

You had worn a thin layer of bacta patch on your hand ever since gaining your tattoo, wanting to keep it a secret from your lover until the time was right. That time was one evening, the two of you sparring in the area Boba had specifically set up for such things, and like the first time you met, you wiped the floor with Din. Though you could only blame it on him not being in the mood, as he was still healing from everything.

You had him pinned on the floor, the words tumbling from your mouth before you brain could keep up. “Marry me” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks turning a darker shade of green as you realized what you had said. Din had been silent for a while, maybe a while too long as you start to regret having asked, but when he said yes you knew it was all worth it.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to stumble into your shared bedroom at the palace, armor thrown to the ground soon followed by undersuits and whatever else you were wearing. For mandalorians marriage was easy, it was just a vow spoken between two people and it was official, but for your people a tattoo needed to be drawn.

Din seemed to almost be shaking with excitement as you pulled out the tools the elders had given you, immediately laying down on his back and pointing at his chest, right above his heart, when you asked where he wanted it. You had laughed softly at him, but the tattoo gun in your hand buzzed to life, and the symbol of your unification was drawn on his chest.

As you drew the geometrical shapes above his head, Dins hands found your waist as he couldn’t seem to stop himself from grinding his hardening cock up into you, tiny soft moans leaving him from the slight sting of the tattoo being marked on his skin.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you started making the own mark on your own skin, though you weren’t able to put it the same place as Din as that area was already covered. But as you started drawing it on the inside of your thigh, Dins louder moans and harder grinds against you made it clear he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bacta was rubbed on both tattoos to said with healing, which was where you removed the layer of patch on your hand as well, finally allowing Din to see the mark of a hunter the elders had drawn on you. His breath had stuttered as well as his hips as you felt him jolt and gasp, painting your bottom half in white.

Din had shivered slightly as you grinned down at him, though you froze as you saw him reach for his helmet, finally taking it off and letting it fall to the floor with a metallic clank. He was even more beautiful than you had imagined him, and kissing him felt like everything you had dreamed of. When you started kissing him, you almost didn’t wanna stop, biting and sucking and licking until you were both breathless.

Din flipped you onto your back, an almost teasing grin overtaking his face as he started pressing small feather light kisses against your tattooed chest. “I finally get to show you just how much I love these” he purred, starting to follow the pattern of your tattoos with his tongue and teeth, sucking hickeys into your skin along the way.

After what felt like hours of being praised and loved by your now husband, Din finally opened you up with his fingers as he bit and sucked on your inked chest. Gripping his curly hair, you pulled him into a wet tongue filled kiss as he lifted your legs around his chest, pushing inside you with a groan leaving the both of you as you both felt completed in a way you hadn’t been able to achieve before.

Din was still sensitive, he had always been, and now that you were both completely naked you could grip and kiss him anywhere you wanted, even as the movement of his hips grew uneven and erratic, or as he gasped and whimpered into the hollow of your neck as he grew closer and closer to the edge.

Feeling how close he was getting, you could help but reaching down and pull yourself to completion, twisting and jerking your hand in ways that had you tightening up and your eyes fluttering. That seemed to be the last push Din needed, as he watched your tattooed hand curl around yourself and causing you to pulse white spurts across your chest.

Din groaned loudly as he spilled inside you, both of you gasping at the warmth that filled you up, Din almost collapsing down on top of you. You ended up simply holding one another for a while, bathing in the others warmth and love as kisses were shared between each other until you both caught your breath.

Din mumbled into your neck words in Mandalorian you knew meant that he loved you, but a word was added at the end you didn’t understand. When you asked him what that meant, he had almost looked smug as he told you “It means spouse, I love you, my spouse”, though his cheeks had gained a pinker color. You had laughed softly and pulled him close to you again, repeating the words back to him even if your pronunciation could use more work.

[neoarchipelago]

Just wanted to say that i Just binge read your red panda! Reader au, and i love it <3

And i feel like in some point if someone is annoying us we will literally jump on one of the boys

(Can i be 💛?)

I had a similar ask from 🫧! (You can totally be 💛!!!)

Red panda!reader is usually non violent. Expect for the bapping, the getting to a higher place to yell and scold. Obviously she's still had the usual physical and combat training so, reader knows how to defend themselves!

Reader is often surrounded by at least one of the boys but when she escapes their line of sight, trying to find a napping place she sometimes has to face the situation on her own.

There will always be the hybrids who are flirtatious. The little shoulder bumps to scent you or the plain eye fuck sometimes. You try to ignore it but some hybrids tend to forget the four hulking boys that usually surround you as soon as they see you all alone. You hate the audacity of some of them.

So, it was obvious that at some point, you'd snap.

You were walking around the gym, the boys on a training drill. You were on your own, doing your little routine until you felt a hand grab your headphones from behind and yank them off your head. You immediately spun around, furr standing on end.

"What are you doing?!" You yelled.

The shit eating grin of the hybrid was disgusting. It smelled of a hyena hybrid, nauseating.

"What you doing here alone fluffy thing?" He flirted.

You didn't recall seeing this man on base before. The tension in the gym had risen, the rest of the recruits eyeing the situation. Some were shaking their heads, knowing all too well that you were the no touching plushie of task force 141.

"Don't call me fluffy. And give me back my headphones." You snarled slightly, a little growl at the back of your throat.

"Oh, she's feisty." He grinned.

You noticed another recruit approaching from the corner of your eye.

"Dude. Leave her alone. You shouldn't do that." The recruit tried.

But the man in front of you just growled in threat.

"You're going to get fucked up by 141." The recruit warned a last time.

"I don't give a shit about those pussies, I'll sink my teeth in their necks if-"

You had seen red. You didn't exactly know how you just leaped forward, body smashing the man to the ground, biting, scratching and punching. He was insulting the boys! Your boys!! How dare he?!

The recruits were too scared to actually touch you, letting the attack almost last a long minute.

But when the man gained his senses and tried to overpower you, the recruit who tried to put some sense into the man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back.

The growls and yaps coming from you made you look slightly feral. You didn't even notice the boys had been called until you smelt their scent as they rushed to you. The recruit let go of you as soon as Soap tried to reach for you. You were surrounded by his smell, fresh and soft, powerful but smooth. You were still slowly growling in his arms as he brushed a hand over your head, scratching behind your fluffy ears.

Later you were sat in the rec room, the boys surrounding you. You were ready to be scolded, only to be put in front of a large fluffy and creamy bamboo cake. Your eyes were wide in shock, slightly hungry but emotional over the situation.

"You did very good darlin' " Price complimented.

"Ferocious thang ya are!" Soap cooed.

"We're proud of you sweetheart." Gaz added with the softest look.

"Good girl. Next time go for the neck-"

"Ghost..." Price warned.

You giggled at that, slightly blushing, happy that the boys were proud. Did they know the reason of why you snapped? Didn't matter. They were proud of you, and you were happy about that!

Of course it's not always like that. Since the boys are usually overprotective and don't like leaving you alone too long, they're usually the ones to interfere if they feel like things get out of hand. You sometimes take advantage of it, running to hide behind Ghost, only unlocking another level of protectiveness of the man that's almost terrifying to you.

He's not even big on PDA, but after either yelling or punching the threat, he'll hold you to his chest, making you feel the safest ever.

Price would only threaten, his voice alone and glance are enough to scare anyone away. Even his smile could be terrifying with a certain tone of voice.

Gaz will humiliate the threat. He won't hesitate to be physical but mentally putting it down, making them run away in shame was much more funnier to him.

Soap is hot blooded. If he even sees you run to him, he's not thinking. He's only putting two and two together and he's gone.

[exhausted-archivist]

Taash (and by extention Vashoth/the Qunari in general) theory I've been yelling about since 9am when the lore dropped and I'm just now moving all my yelling here...

So Taash breathes fire.

Bull talks about how it is a theory within the Ben'Hassrath that the Tamassrans mixed in dragon blood.

Corypheus tells Adaar that their race isn't even a race but a failed experiment.

Old God Baby Keiran mentions that the blood in Adaar isn't their own.

In the comic Until We Sleep, Magister Titus says that dragonfire might be the Vashoth/Qunari's birthright. He is able to use it due to being powered by the blood of Maric Theirin, which the Theirin bloodline has Great Dragon blood in their veins.

Taash isn't a mage, but just an individual who got access to a lost ability that was previously the birthright of her people. Something that was standard.

My big question is how Taash gained this ability?

Is it a rune?

Is she born from a line that was created using specifically great dragon blood?

Is she a reaver and drinking the dragon blood had the side effect of unlocking the ability?

Or did she just eat enough dragon meat?

As far as the Vashoth/Qunari in general, this implies they are a manufactured race, likely one from Tevinter as they captured the Kossith that landed in Thedas and then proceeded to change them. We see in the murals we find in Inquisition that the horned race was in Thedas long before the Storm Age when the Qunari (those of the Qun) landed in Par Vollen.

Koslun speaks of leaving his homeland, and it is a generic description that easily fits Tevinter in its prime, and would explain why the Qunari came from the north when they sailed into Thedas. And why they continued until recently to keep sending ships back there.

A quick aside I have very nervous feelings on this last part, and it will depend on how they write this reveal. Considering the coding and just the general implications of this. Context and execution are definitely going to impact the landing of this.

[sleepyric]

Bnha Headcanons ⟢

໑Synopsis໑ How a platonic relationship would develop with them and what’s included (also somewhat of an analysis of character).

໑Characters included໑ Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Shoto Todoroki

໑A/N໑ This is my first write since my Wattpad days 8 years ago. Some characters could be a little ooc and there may be grammatical errors. Enjoy ! <3

Word count: 572

Bakugo Katsuki is a complicated and complex man. It’s not new to hear of the many layers this guy has, making it incredibly difficult to break down his barriers. If you’re a new student the probability that he would even regard you as anything but an insignificant extra is slim. It would take a lot for him to even acknowledge you let alone get close to you.

Bakugo Katsuki is the type of guy that would take ages to warm up to you, if ever. If you’re lucky enough to gain his respect, which would only happen because of your powerful quirk or strong willed mindset, it could take a few months. Becoming friends with him would be an even harder feat. Halfway into the year if you managed to gain his respect, maybe just maybe you’d be able to become an acquaintance of his but nothing more.

Being Bakugo Katsuki’s acquaintance would mean you probably are friends with Kirishima as well. Maybe you are in a group chat with Bakusquad, which is how you would’ve gotten Bakugo’s number. If you decided to text him privately, he would give dry one word responses or leave you on read. I could imagine y/n asking for homework help only to receive a simple thumbs down react and a “no”. Of course, if you really wanted help from him specifically it would take a week of constant pestering to get him to crack. He would probably say something like, “if I say yes will you shut the fuck up and stop bothering me?!” Or something along those lines.

As Bakugo Katsuki’s friend, you’re not going to get a lot more. He might be more willing to help you study for upcoming exams, and definitely would want to train with you (it’s more of a competitive thing to him than anything else). I could see him maybe just maybe cooking for his friends but only because you’re “eating unhealthy” and he thinks it’ll make you preform poorly while sparring with him… which would impact the ‘competition’. You might get lucky and drag him to the mall with the Bakusquad once in a blue moon, if it fit his schedule and he felt like it.

Overall, Bakugo Katsuki isn’t an easy person to know on a deeper level, but I don’t think it’s impossible. I’m sure with enough time and patience, along with his personal development/growth over the years would allow you to get closer. It would never be the same as what you expect from other people, so if you want a “normal” friendship he won’t give you that. I think in a way he would end up pushing you to be a better person yourself, fixing any bad routines or habits you might have. Regardless, if you did stick around and managed to gain his respect and companionship he would be there for you when it mattered (in his own way of course).

Kirishima Eijiro is a kind soul, with his own set of flaws. As much of a well loved person as he is, he is also insecure. I imagine his desire to be “manly” stems from feeling like he wasn’t good enough, or a result of being bullied. It’s not unfamiliar to hear him being a sweetheart to everyone, I mean this guy would love to get to know you as a new student. He would offer to show you around because how could he not help someone in an unfamiliar environment?

Kirishima Eijiro loves to help. I think in a way, being well liked by his peers is something he’s always craved yet never received, hence why he tries to be the manliest for everyone. He would hate for anyone to feel the way he did, and maybe still does? With you he’d invite you to sit and eat lunch with him and his friends, or go out to see a movie with them. Always seeking to invite you, and would offer some solid advice if you felt down about anything. It wouldn’t take much to become friends with him.

Once you’re Kirishima Eijiro’s acquaintance, you’re also his friend. I think he kinda skips that part when forming platonic relationships with others. Why not if you like who the other person is, right? Being his friend would be fun. You would be able to go to him for help with anything, really. Need help doing your hair? Awesome, you can even help dye his hair. Don’t want to go to the store alone? Perfect! He’s been dying to grab these new protein bars anyways. Movie nights are a must, you both would have weekly marathons with all your favourite movies. He would also love to train with you, totally not to show off how manly he is or whatever…

Overall, Kirishima Eijiro is the epitome of a green flag. Just don’t forget he has his insecurities. This guy has been through it, feeling like he’s not enough or unlikeable to the rest of society. He probably doubts himself and how others see him as much as he trusts that they are honest and true. It’s always an inner conflict with him, regardless of how he perceives to others on the outside. That’s why, he would do anything for the people he cares about the most. A ride or die type of guy.

Todoroki Shoto is an enigma, honestly. Not so much in a bad way, but with how complicated it is to get a read on the guy. His family troubles clearly contributed to his distance and lack of emotion comprehension. He seems even more challenging than Bakugo. This man is more detached than anyone, and his lack of ability to form proper human connection will make it hard to get acknowledgment from him. If you’re new and interested in him, you’ll have to approach him first.

Todoroki Shoto is icey cold, literally and figuratively. Not that he can’t warm up to you, or doesn’t have the ability to get to know other people it’s just so incredibly difficult for him. He doesn’t want to be a failure, having dealt with feelings like that all throughout his childhood. Never having proper support from anyone, including barely having any friends. He was a loner, so much so that it’s just how he behaves in social settings even now. It’s routine, and his normal. That’s why you would have to show him or give him a reason to want to learn about others.

As Todoroki Shoto’s acquaintance I don’t imagine he would initiate anything. He would probably be a dry texter, but unlike Bakugo it’s not because he doesn’t care, it’s because he’s just like that. Would also find it hard to understand any jokes you might make, taking them quite literally instead. He wouldn’t be unfriendly as an acquaintance per say, but you will often not know how he’s feeling or if he even likes you. That’s why it’s up to you to get to know him, and approach him because if you don’t good luck being friends with him

Once you’re friends with Todoroki Shoto, he’ll comply with any activities you want to do, nonchalantly going along with it. Most hangouts will be going out to grab soba or walks in the park. Simple things that don’t require a lot of socializing or other people. A private guy, prefers to keep to himself. You’ll end up dragging him anywhere social. Since Todoroki is sort of friends with Midoriya, by default y/n would be too. Almost like a trio. Almost.

Overall, Todoroki Shoto is an emotionally distant guy. He doesn’t socialize much, nor does he find platonic connections easy or simple. Despite all of that if you two did manage to become friends you’d be doing most of the work. He might not know how to deal with others emotions, but he would make for an excellent listener. Willingly listening to you rant about everything an anything, just being there and nodding along to what you have to say. He would appreciate that you try so hard to be his friend, knowing that he’s not an easy person to let others in.

[ronearoundblindly]

Steve Rogers, number 4, a kiss where it hurts (imagine him making it stop hurting) xxx

*no pairing listed but could work in Fools Rush In, It Had To Be You, Autumn Is Healing, Threadbare, or as a stand alone. While those series do specify female readers, this is written gender neutral. He calls you 'sweetheart' one time.

A Dark Day and A Bright Night, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

Warning only for description of a bad mental health time. (I know not everyone experiences this in the same way, but I tried to cover the gist and focus on Steve's comfort of you.) Otherwise, just sweet, caring fluff! WC 1781

There are invisible barriers everywhere, and they stop no one but you.

No one else can hear the muddled whispers of what else you could have done, what more you should have accomplished, how disappointing it is that anything took so long.

You can’t do any better. You can’t go any farther. There’s a line in the sand no one can see. Sometimes, no one can see you.

Nothing matches up. Work fast-forwards around you in chaos while you slog through, treading water with all the energy of someone who has been out at sea alone for days and days. You grow so tired.

There are moments you power through, mind racing to gain lost ground on an endless, looped track. You grow so tired, and it’s never just one thing. It’s water and sand and nothing all at once, vast forces beyond your control.

What else? What more? Why so long?

There are barriers no one else can see, and it’s not their fault because it doesn’t match up. We move through life at different paces. We experience different struggles. We are stopped by different forces.

“How was work?” Steve asks, a chipper smile on his face as he places dinner in front of you.

“Fine.” There are no other words.

“Really? Seems the project is right on schedule, thanks to you.”

You see him pause before he takes his first bite, and rush to pick up your fork, knowing it’s best to participate, knowing the barriers may be invisible but effort is not.

He eats his mouthful, and you stare.

Dinner isn’t a line in the sand, but it feels like one, another interaction you’ll be disappointing in, another fear you can’t explain.

“Not my best work, but it got done,” you manage, mechanically feeding yourself, showing the effort, making a show of the effort. “How was your day?”

It’s a flat question. The response is muddled by water and wind and doubt.

Why can’t you focus? Why can’t you do better for him? Why does he stay?

Steve can’t see any of it. He can’t get to you because there’s no one place you’re trapped in.

You do the dishes. You watch TV. You start your bedtime ritual, and you’ve participated as little—and as much—as possible because treading water is lonely. You grow so tired.

Tomorrow could be better. You can do better tomorrow. It’ll take effort.

Tomorrow you’ll work harder and you’ll be less afraid. But that’s what you thought the last time you were stuck. That’s what you think each time you find a line in the sand.

You stare at your reflection, still treading, still scared, still misaligned.

“Did you hear me?” Steve loosely holds you with his palm on your hip. Standing behind you, face sullen in the mirror, he asks where you’re hurting.

To Steve, there has to be a solution. Each mission must have a goal.

You spit, rinse, and put your toothbrush in the holder.

“Just tired.” That’s the sand he cannot see.

“Seems like more than ‘just tired,’” he huffs, unsatisfied, and turns you toward him. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” That’s the water he cannot navigate.

You’re on your own.

He smirks humorlessly. “That’s never stopped me before.”

But you don’t have the words. All that comes out is “my head.”

“Headache?” He reaches for the medicine cabinet. “You need some—“

You shake your physically fine skull. “No. It’s not a headache.”

Steve’s face…changes in a way you’ve never seen before. You expected confusion, perhaps pity, but this is something all-together reminiscent. His eyes dart around the bathroom like he’s taking inventory, and for the first time today you aren’t the most distracted person in the room.

Then he returns to you.

“I think I’d like a nice bath. Will you join me?”

He sets it all up, using the best smelling bubbles, setting out the softest towels, and inviting you back into the little spa he created by handing you a lovely chocolate.

When you try to refuse because you’ve already brushed your teeth, he replies, “live dangerously,” and pops a bonbon for himself.

Hopefully, it is dark enough for Steve to miss the tears in your eyes.

He lets you settle in the water against him, playing by splashing warmth over the parts not submerged. He kisses your shoulders and neck, the back of your head. Steve keeps himself attached by the lips, breathing you in but feeling so far away. Your mind wanders to nowhere, thinking nothing.

“Feels good—I mean, bett—feels okay, yeah?”

He suds up his hands and washes a bit of you, but your muscles are tight and curled.

You’re tucked into yourself, small as can be.

“Can you try to relax for me, sweetheart? Can you let yourself float?”

The tub works for a guy Steve’s size. There’s a little space but not enough to stretch out completely.

The tension in your body is slow to release. You manage to let your arms, knees, and feet peak through the bubble clouds.

Steve nudges, “and your neck?”

You didn’t realize you were holding it up.

There is infinite space to lay flat in your endless sea. Floating offers a respite, a view of the sky, the same sky blanketing your beach.

Invisible barriers at least spare the scenery.

You and Steve watch the fragrant foam burst for a while. It takes you much longer to truly relax back into Steve. The quiet of the bath drowns you with the noise in your head.

What else? What more? Why so slow?

It’s never just one thing. It is all things, all at once, and nothing at all. All of the elements to survival and understanding are there if you just focus your attention, if you just put in the effort, but you are so tired.

Steve wraps you in his arms to press you deeper into his chest.

“Sometimes my ma would burn dinner,” he starts quietly, voice rough from holding back all his questions you can’t answer, “and we would scramble around, combing the cupboards. We’d make the oddest meals out of bits and bobs. Maybe half of it, we should’a never touched, but we did what we had to. Ya know what? Those were some of the best times. We did the best we could with what we had—sometimes less—and that’s what made her so amazing. On what she probably considered her worst days,” Steve kisses behind your ear, “I admired her the most. Formed some of the best memories.”

“Let me guess. Because she smiled the whole way through?”

“Nah,” he muses, chuckling enough to shake you in the water, “she threw a pan once. Loosened the door of the stove she slammed it shut so hard. She cried usually until we were sat down eating. Always tried to give me the most food because I was so small… 

“I made it a game. I only took a bite if she did. Win-win.” 

He stays quiet for a beat, assured you’re hearing him.

“You’re not ruining anything by crying,” he says solidly, almost loud in the confines of the bathroom. “Good things can still happen. You still did good today.”

He continues. He details little things he admires about you; how hard you work for yourself, for him, he notices all that. He wants you to see what he sees.

There’s no barrier stopping him.

The water turns tepid, and Steve gets out first to ready a towel for you. There’s a difference between him treating you like a china doll and his doll. His doll is not breakable. He isn’t gentle because you are fragile; he does it to preserve you for the next day, and the next. Steve refuses to place any more burden on you than already falls.

He’s right there, strong, noble, and determined with forces working against him.

He’s scared and he doesn’t understand. He can’t fight. He has to scramble to catch up, to change plans, to make a meal out of nothing, to turn nothing into something. He doesn’t understand why he’s in a different sea, or why he can’t get to you standing on the same damn beach. His hand is right there on the barrier, but his shouts are muddled.

It’s not fair, and it never will be.

He physically lifts you up, wrapped in a plush bath sheet, his hug strong enough to thump against that clear wall that springs from your line in the sand.

That’s when you realize the barrier isn’t impenetrable. You can still see the scenery. You can still hear muddled sounds.

Some of his voice gets through. Sunlight and warmth get through. The water still buoys you up.

If there are directions to go, there are paths to take.

If there are ways in, there are ways out. 

There are invisible barriers everywhere, but they don’t stop Steve from being there for you.

One more chocolate. One more brush of your teeth. You trade the fluffy wrap of a towel with the cozy wrap of a t-shirt, and he makes sure you’re comfortable.

A simple goodnight kiss alone might tip you over into exhausted euphoria, but Steve is not that kind of simple.

He props himself up on an elbow and rolls you onto your back.

Kissing your right temple, he whispers, “I love you.” Kissing your left temple, he confesses, “I love your voice,” the peak of your forehead, “I love your spirit,” between your eyebrows, just above one ear, and the other.

“Miss you when I’m not here. Miss you when you’re not here. I miss you even in my dreams.”

Then, and only then, do you get that simple kiss goodnight. His soft lips melding to yours for a long, soothing moment before you two drift off to sleep.

When you dream of a beach and an ocean and nothing at all, you miss him, too. You remember his presence, and the truth becomes as clear as the sky above.

There are pieces of you to love. You are a loved thing. You are light and heat and sound that can get through, even when misaligned, even when you don’t match up, even when not in the same sea.

Steve’s love is invisible, but you know it’s there. It’s not a limit to fear. It’s not a barrier to turn away from. His love is not an obstacle you want to get past.

Not every invisible force is bad.

Sometimes, barriers slow you down, let you listen, make you rest, and help you float.

There are barriers everywhere, but nothing between you and Steve.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite ⬅️ ➡️ Ari Levinson and a kiss out of envy

A/N: oof. *walks away crying* I'm fine. It's fine.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @rogersbarber

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 781: Three wheels!!

Pag 1

1: Ohhh... this fence?

2: He jumped over it!?

With a bicycle!?

As he was riding it!?

3: Ahaha you're lying

That can't be, Taa-kun

4: It's true... I saw it!

There's no way he jumped over it

He showed me a jumping technique called bunny something!

You said that guy is running in the race now?

Ye!Yeah!!

Pag 2

1: Then if it's true, should we go see him?

The television there is showing the race, right?

If he's such an amazing cyclist then he'll play a big role in the race, right?

3: Onii-chan....

4: It's exciting, they're arriving here at the sprint line

The race is at its climax

How does this guy looks like

Uhm, huh

5: He- he wears sunglasses and they're huge

But he might have takes them off.... he's very tall and his hair are chestnut color....

There's an “R” written on his pants

Ehh, he's realistic (haha)

Pag 3

1: Taa-kun, you're practicing with your bike yet you haven't improved at all

Hahaha

2: So... if I practice I'll be able to do it too one day?

Of course

If you fall a lot, and skin your knees a lot, and eat a lot

3: And he had really beautiful eyes!!

4: It would be so cool if someone like that actually existed

Let's find an “R”, an “R” (haha)

Huh... it's true!

5: Hahaha

6: Three people are neck and neck before the sprint line

Please look!

Pag 4

1: Because there's a small kid

Pag 5

1: cheering for me

Pag 6

1: 30m left!!

2: They're still neck and neck and the sprint line is getting closer!!

Pag 7

1: The sprint line!!

2: This year for sure I'll take it!!

3: Impulse!!

Pag 8

1: It's an “R”

A person with beautiful eyes

Chestnut color hair

3: Amaziing...!!

Do your best, Onii-chan!!

Pag 9

1: Doubashi-san!!

2: Kaburagii!!

Pag 10

1: I'll take it!!

2: Pedal!!

3: I won't yield!!

Pag 11

1: I'm right

I'm Hakogaku

The right person wins

2: I'll be the one to prove it!!

3: This is why I gained experience

4: To win the spot of number one in Japan!!

5: MTB and road racing are different

In MTB you're always....

6: you always fight alone!!

Pag 12

1: Three people are jumping towards to sprint line!!

Pag 18

1: It's decided!!

Did you see? Just now

The one who controlled the sprint line is Gunma!!

Amazing

The last speed was terrific

2: From Gunma Ryosei, who's participating for the first time this year, number 181, the two times champion of the mountain bike Inter High....

Pag 19

1: Kiji Kyuui!!

Ah.....!!

2: It was hard

Yon

4: Well, I'll play a big role in the race, so watch it!

Cheer for me!

5: He really did play a big role....!!

Pag 20

1: Wait, who's that – Kiji, they said

Gunma!?

That guy caught up all on his own, and at the end he also lined up on his own....

2: And passed Hakogaku and Sohoku!!

3: Isn't this the first time in history? That an unknown cyclist takes the first result!?

He must have held those two down with his power!!

He rode in mountain bike until last year?

This year's Inter High is incredible

4: The flow is changing!!

[tobyislame]

general eyeless jack headcanons

ik i literally just said this will be an exclusively ticci toby blog but u guys get one (1) ej post as a treat bc i have a biiiiig phat crush on him

- he has a strong distaste for his given name. constantly being referred to as "eyeless" just feels like twisting the knife. so, he really appreciates it when people shorten it to ej. he prefers to just be called jack, though.

- he has black blood. does that subsequently mean his blush would be black?? idk i’m thinking maybe it shows up on his skin as like a dark bluish-purple, kinda like a bruise but… he’s blushing.

- he's got a nice set of large, pointed teeth. when he speaks those chompers are on FULL display, so if he happens to have his mask off, he’ll mumble to try to keep them as concealed as he can.

- what used to be fingernails are now blackened, talon-like claws, which will rip through everything if he isn’t careful. with enough concentration, he can keep them folded down to make them less obtrusive, at least enough to get dressed without making his clothes all… holey.

- that being said… he has no control over his claws when he’s asleep. his sheets are absolutely shredded, pillowcases torn through. they’re also perpetually stained with his eye goop. he's learned to just not bother with patching up his sheets anymore.

- he is LARGE. he is a LARGE MANTHING. he's 8'2 and well aware that he towers over most because people won't shut the fuck up about it. he's also just stocky, with big burly shoulders and enormous hands and man he is just BIG.

- despite his size, he moves quietly and swiftly. he carries himself like he's much smaller than he actually is.

- he isn't really aware of his own strength — he still surprises himself with the damage that he can unintentionally administer. he finds himself having to make a conscious effort to hold back.

- he's completely blind. the way that he “sees” is similar to snakes — utilizing infrared sensors which lie somewhere in those eye sockets of his (eldritch being rules it doesn’t have to make sense), he can sense the heat given off by objects in his environment. this becomes especially useful when tracking down potential victims. somewhere along the line, he learned or “evolved” to use echolocation as well, gaining the ability to make the same sonar clicks that bats do to make their way through the world. these can’t be heard by human ears, but if you’re close enough, they can be felt in your teeth.

- also similar to snakes, he’s cold-blooded. just absolutely cold to the touch. he wears warm clothes all year round, even in summer. he should be sweltering in multiple layers in the middle of june, but really, he’s just fine.

- his senses have all evolved to compensate for his lack of sight. most sensitive of all, though, are his ears. he can identify individual footsteps from miles away. this makes it near impossible to get away with muttering something under your breath. even from across the entire house, he’d be able to hear what you said. (i am aware actual blind people don't have superhuman abilities i just think this is the way it'd present in an enigmatic being)

- his skin is thick, sort of like a rhino's. bullets essentially ricochet off of him, blades snap... this, however, doesn't make him invincible. high frequencies are a surefire way of disabling him.

- he feels hunger much more intensely than any normal person does. when he goes too long without eating he'll become rabid, driven by instinct alone. at that point, he isn’t himself anymore. his body isn’t his.

- in this condition, he'll take on more bestial qualities, sprouting (larger) claws, a second row of teeth, additional tongues... he also exhibits heightened strength, speed, and agility. he'll behave more like an animal than anything else, tunnel vision pointing to only one thing: eat. he does everything in his power to keep this at bay, because in the past… incidents have occurred. let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be caught in the same forest with that thing prowling around. he hates to hurt others when he doesn’t mean/need to, especially since all he can do in those moments is helplessly watch behind the eyes of something that isn’t him.

- he really isn't a killer. although he's lacking in the sympathy department, he has the ability to put himself in the shoes of others and feel what they feel, which is his biggest weakness — as you can probably imagine, being an empath isn't so convenient when you have to kill to survive. often, he feels the pain of those who have the misfortune of ending up beneath his scalpel. beneath his hands. he’s aware that he’s taking that person away from someone, and it hurts him. he just powers through.

- he couldn't eat human food even if he wanted to, and believe me, he wants to. it's just that, if he even makes an attempt, his body flat-out rejects and regurgitates it. think that one tokyo ghoul scene... basically like that. he seems to be able to ingest coffee and tea just fine, though. earl grey is his favorite. on rainy days, his favorite thing to do is brew a cup and sit on the steps to the front porch, listening to the drops plinking off puddles.

- he doesn't particularly like for anybody to see his face. would rather keep it to himself. he's not exactly sure what he looks like, but he can take an educated guess that it isn't pretty. he'll usually just keep his mask on when he's around others, only taking it off if it ever happens to be absolutely necessary. if someone were to take his mask from him, that’d probably be the closest he could get to his rabid state without fully submitting to it.

- when he’s angry (which seldom happens) the tar in his eyes seems to boil and pop, kind of like hot oil in a pan. if it happened to get on you, it’d fucking burn and begin to dissolve right through your skin in the same way acid would. stay out of the splash zone ig.

- he can cry, but the way it presents is similar to ghibli tears — thick, messy glops of black that stain his skin, clothes, and whatever else they happen to spill onto.

- he doesn't just eat kidneys, he tries to make use of the entire body. it’s the least he can do. he doesn’t want to just throw the rest out like it’s trash. even when they’re dead, dissected, splayed out, closer to meat than human, he tries to respect his victims. they were people once, too. just like him.

- he also tries to make harvesting from his victims as easy of a process as possible, for the both of them. he injects them with anesthesia, enough to kill, then uses surgical tools to make the job as quick and clean as possible. no screams. no thrashing. easy.

- he can't remember much of his past life. most of what he can recall are just bits and pieces of out-of-place memories, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together no matter how hard he tries to make them. however, the one thing he was able to definitively grasp was his affinity for physiology, human anatomy, and surgery. because of this, he held onto it fucking tightly and devoted himself to it — just so he wouldn’t forget it, too.

- before, he was going to college to become a general surgeon. in fact, he was just about to move on to med school. now he's essentially the mansion's resident surgeon/doctor, and he does his job quite well given that he doesn’t have the resources most other medical professionals have at their disposal.

- he's especially interested in the medicinal qualities of plants. often, he'll go on nature walks in search of herbs that he can put to good use. he uses what he finds to make ointments and medicines and such, often utilizing his own resources in his procedures. in his room is a little garden of his own in the form of pots hanging from the ceiling, holding plants that he meticulously tends to with GREAT precision and care. he'd never trust anyone else to take care of them for him, not even for a day.

- he cannot stand disorganization, it drives him fucking insane. everything has to have a place, and everything has to stay in its place; it becomes difficult for him to find things, otherwise.

- if he can't rely on his sight, then he figures he can at least rely on his memory — it’s why he marks the position of his furniture and such with tape so that if anyone does happen to move something, they can at least put it back exactly where it was.

- messy people get on his nerves. leaving stuff in random places and on the floor is just incredibly inconvenient for him. he's tripped because of people's misplaced laundry and stuff.

- he's a man of few words and lacking in expression. often, a tilt of the head is the most he will react with. when he does speak, his voice is deep, so deep that it seems to vibrate. he keeps his voice soft and quiet, though, as if he's afraid of being too loud. and he is.

- since he doesn't speak much, he empties his thoughts into a journal. he'll write about anything: how his day was, what he did, how he feels, what all had happened in his surgery that day, the things he'd observed... although, if you look through it, ramshackle scraggles that almost resemble words litter the pages. he thinks he's writing words, and will continue to do so until it gets pointed out to him.

- a gentle giant. he's incredibly composed and docile, qualities that betray his physical attributes. he isn't "friendly", per se, but he tries to stay far away from hostility when it isn't needed.

- he has an overbearing need for control. he hates the thought that fate could rip everything out from underneath him whenever it pleases. it happened to him once before. he won’t let it happen again.

- he displays an... almost catlike vigilance. the slightest noise is enough to make his head snap towards the source. it's incredibly difficult to sneak up on him, especially since he hardly ever allows himself to drop his guard. he doesn’t like to be at the mercy of anyone or anything. a lot of his mental energy is put towards preventing bad things from happening to him.

- he can purr .

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

If you want another request, how about something with Four? I feel like he is an undertapped Link in the LU x reader fic verse. I also think he fits in well with a bunch of different story types. He has the skills to live a peaceful life at home with a partner, he has the Colors, he also can be small (or a Minish depending on whether you believe his is small or transforms into a Minish), & shadow…. I am not picky whatsoever , but if you are willing, could you do some Four x reader?

Order up!

*ahem* I AM MOST DEFINITELY WILLING. GIVEGIVEGIVEGIVE- I agree with you. This man needs more love. Formatting a little differently this time, let me know what y’all think!

(thanks again to @litrllyvoid for proofreadin’)

Hope you enjoy~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Long he had lived a simple life. Even with the dramatic disruptions of the world, he could tell it wasn’t a life cut out for him. That grandeur had called to him, and when he responded, there was only judgement in turn. Since he was little, Link had found peace with the small world within his village. Running through uneven grassy hills and causing havoc, hand in hand with you. His arms and legs bruised, but with a full heart and genuine grin. Though, the older he gets, and the more the edges of his memory begin to fray, he wonders if that were truly the case. Perhaps it wasn’t that he was content with the world he was born into. It is on cold mornings such as this where the question burdened him most. Was it life that made him happy, or was it just you?

He burned the thought away, tugging at the fragile nerves that caressed his heart. He shrugged on some clothes with little regard for what he adorned himself with. It wasn’t as if there was anyone to impress— especially when he’d be working for the most of the day.

Each stair step creaked and groaned. His grandfather sat at the table, already eating breakfast. He plucked an apple on his way to sit, its waxy skin once a luxury that would’ve been shared. He no longer needed a knife to split the core in half. The juice tasted less sweet when there wasn’t sweet laughter accompanying it.

“Yikes, bad apple?” His grandfather laughed huskily in reaction to his dismay, crows feet and smile lines etched into his face. How was it that he could find happiness here where Link could not?

“Rough morning.”

“Ah. I see. Please… take a break if you need to” The old man clasped his hands, bony elbows rested on the table. It wasn’t hard to spot the concern in the deepset wrinkles of his grandfather’s face. Link found the strength to nod and move on for the moment.

The dull ache of his arms never faded as he worked. It was to be expected, forging something from an abstract nothing was not a task even the gods found simplistic. Monotonous, sure. There was a rhythm in each strike against the metal, a pattern to be found within the firings.

There was a finality like death in the quench of the blade.

The weight of his work and a life brought to an abrupt end.

And like a body, he decorated the corpse with wood, wrapping it in delicate cloth— a casket of its own.

Creation was not a task meant for mortals, he thinks. Though people often try to make it so, the hollow pain in his joints and sear of his muscles make it apparent. It strains him, though it is what fuels him. There is a sense of grief whenever he hands over a blade he slaved over— a mourning so powerful that no amount of rupees wish away.

It was in such a similar manner that he loved you. With such a sense of fullness and unconditionality, he did not stop to think of a world for which you were not in it. It is foolish of him to long for his childhood just because it was spent hand in hand with you. But he’d give anything to have colors be so bright again and for his smile to be so wide and genuine. It didn’t matter how bruised he’d be, so long as he gained those bruises running down riverbeds with you.

Now, he dressed up the body of those memories. Decorating you in his mind's eye with blue thistles, sprigs of rosemary, wild poppies and violets. Each aspect of him paying homage to their love of you. Of who he can only hope you continued to be.

The blade he held cracked when it was dipped into the water, split in twain. He looked at the jagged edge where the hilt was severed.

He could not find it within himself to remeld the pieces.

It would not be the same again.

He needed to move on.

He was close enough when adventuring with his brethren. There was enough fighting and adrenaline to keep his mind off his wounds. He let himself attach —maybe not in such a similar fashion as he did you— but in a way equally fulfilling.

What a fool he was.

How could he not notice the darkness creeping its way in? The abyss called for his return, sentencing him back to a cage he built. And so, he returned. Back to a life wherein he could reap no joy but couldn’t muster the strength to leave.

He wished he had his brothers. Time to help him forge a plan of escape from the mundane. Twilight to offer assistance in the smaller tasks— so he could manage life just a little bit easier. Sky to boss him into taking a break, even if it were just stretching. Legend to banter with as he worked, taking the weight off of the task. Wild to make use of the end product, to give the life of the blade meaning. Even just the careful eyes of Wind studying what he did. He missed how individual he felt, yet still holding his place among the set. He’d always have a home there, even if he was fundamentally different from his brethren.

He wished he still had a home with you.

You still had a home with him.

If only you’d return to him…

But life is not such a simple endeavour, and he doubts your parents would be content with you marrying some blacksmith, even if he held the title of hero. That was if you weren’t already forced to marry. That was if you still loved him.

He hopes whatever life you’ve been condemned to is happy.

Because if he is not there to protect you from the worst that fate has to offer, he can at least hope that there’s someone there who can.

Even though it isn’t him.

[gaysindistress]

A Fool’s Devotion

disclaimer: shoutout to @malsorie for letting me use her stunning art. The center picture as well as the bottom one are her master pieces. All others were found on Pinterest or Google.

pairings: Minthara x f!reader (could be read as gn since I didn’t use pronouns for reader)

Summary: Only a fool would remain faithful to a coward god.

Warnings: bg3 cannon violence

Word count: 2.7k

Bg3 masterlist

A Fool’s Devotion teaser

Drifting through the stale winds of the Underdark on mushroom spores, I have finally found her.

Sitting in a cold and silent room with her chin resting on her closed fist as she watches the city from the window, I have finally found her.

Singing the songs of both her victims and allies, a reckoning begins in the hallows of slit throats and caverns of forgotten hope but I finally found her.

A paladin who’s lost their oath, willfully broken under the pretenses of another’s twisted lies, she sits with the blood of her mother caked into the creases of her hands. A daughter, once sworn to her house and to her goddess, she no longer is but in her place is a creature of darkness.

A wickedly evil thing lives in the mess that Orin made of her mind.

Darkness from the depths of Mykrul’s personal hell has crept into her heart and warped whatever demented love that Drow society left behind.

A soldier for her people, her house, and her goddess has been lost to the wild of Faerun and now only remains a soldier for herself in the haunting study of House Baenre.

Floating through the open window, I watch her stare at a distant fixated point in the city. Alone she has let her guard fall and with it, the look of desired anguish is pulled taunt on her face. The thought of not remembering her time with the Absolute must eat away at her every moment she is awake and those from her childhood must find her at night given the way her brows are pinched together. Within the red of her eyes, dry tears gather but don’t fall down on her lavender cheeks. Her lips are pulled into a tight line and her jaw is set in a similar fashion.

The veil that hides me from her view falls as my boots make contact with the floor. Like the smoke that dances above a dying campfire, I flicker into existence and come to stand beside the window facing her. Her melancholy comes off of her in waves that lap at my feet but from my spot, I’m a safe distance from her sea of emotions.

“You’re here,” her voice cracks for a moment as she speaks to me but continues to stare past me, “I was beginning to wonder when you would make your appearance.”

“There are rules, Minthara.” She interrupts me by waving me off with the hand her chin had been resting on.

“Rules that even you have to follow,” I continue, “and I tried to warn you about what would happen if you broke them. I told you what the consequences would be if you continued down this path of murder and chased a power you would never hold. I sent you all kinds of signs, omens of what your future would hold should you continue to ignore me.”

I feel those exhausted red eyes cut to me, slicing through the leather of my armor and hoping to find a weak spot beneath. When no vein is ripe for her blade, she chooses a different route to maim me.

“A power I would never hold? You are a fool if you think that I haven’t been successful in my efforts to gain whatever it is that I seek.”

A sigh of defeat escapes my lips. I’d hoped that time would ease her determined mind but from what little she’s said, I can tell that it has only made it more rigid.

“Do the consequences of your actions not matter to you? Have you no sense of self preservation?”

Her hand falls to grip the edge of her chair. White strands of hair are disturbed from her movement but flutter back around her shoulders in moments as angry water laps at my feet. I fear that if I look down I would find a stormy wave ready to overtake me so that I may feel her anguish fully.

“Without it, I would have been dead by my mother’s own hand long ago. Self preservation is what has led me to where I am now. It’s been the only thing that has motivated me when all should be lost, when even YOU deserted me.”

The hole where my heart must have once sat clenches at her words; she believes that I deserted her. When all others have left her and deemed her too maniacal for their liking, she doesn’t care because there has always been one person who remained. When everything was stripped from her and she became a plaything for the Absolute and Orin, it didn’t matter what she suffered because her heart still knew there was one person who cared for her. As Tav decided to save her from that prison and make her a part of their camp, she didn’t seek out the companion of the others because she yearned for one person alone. While standing over Orin’s eviscerated corpse, she felt relief at the reality that this monster was gone but grief that she couldn’t share this feeling with one person in particular. When the Nether brain fell and she returned to her city, she searched for this person in every alleyway and noble house alike. Laying awake at night as she tried to ease the tension that unknown horrors had inflicted on her, she prayed to me and asked me to come back to her.

Can you hear my prayers? She cried one night. Can you hear me? Or are you ignoring me, ust-nor?

My answer feels thick on my tongue but there’s nothing else I can tell her, “I didn’t intend to desert you. I had no choice. I’d been called upon and you know that I cannot leave sooner than necessary.”

She lets out a sinister, mocking chuckle as she adjusts in her chair. She’s taken on a more relaxed pose, slouching with her hands folded on her lap although it’s merely a mask. “You reprimand me for making the wrong choices when you have done the same.”

My whole body bristles at her tone, “Minthara.”

She glowers at me with a menacing stare for a moment before sweeping over my appearance. “I suppose that you’re not here for old time’s sake if you’re wearing your armor. You’ve been called here, haven’t you?”

The armor in question is a complex web of leather and spider silk woven by Lolth herself. The chest plate boasts of Her favoritism from small pieces of Her candles that decorate the neckline and to the intricate spider designs carved into the blessed leather. Trousers and boots crafted in the same fashion fit closely to my legs, both blessed by the Spider Queen to grant me advantages in my line of work. However my gloves are the true testament of Lolth’s favor; a rather unassuming set of black leather gloves that grant me the ability to paralyze any creature that I desire. A soft touch to one’s arm in passing is all it would take for the paralytic to take effect in seconds and remain in effect until I release them. They’ve been the envy of many people but Minthara, in particular, has attempted to persuade me into giving them to her numerous times.

I glance down the gloves and flex my fingers to see the lights around us disappear into their black shade.

I allow my voice to fall into a deeper and authoritative one as I ask, “What is the name that people whisper when they speak of me?”

Her eyes narrow at the change before she answers, “Dobluth.”

The outcast.

I nod my head as I move away from the window at last. My boots make small, almost eerily silent sounds as I approach her and fully look at her. Ragged is not a kind word nor is it one she would ever allow someone to call her but it’s too simple of a word to describe the state that she is in. Now that I’m closer, I can see the true extent of her exhaustion and how it has wreaked havoc on her. No longer is she the vibrant and ever imposing Drow successor but in her place is the rotting corpse of a woman who’s witnessed and inflicted far too much evil. Fatigue has dulled her senses to the point that she barely reacts when I remove my cloak and place it on the small table beside her. Crouching before her, I study her face closely when I ghost my hands up her legs and brush them against her fold ones. I take note of the way her eyes almost flutter closed and she lets out a long sigh when I take them into mine.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

The simple command seems damn near impossible for me as she takes seconds too long to do so. She looks everywhere but my eyes at first and when I squeeze her hands, she finally meets my gaze.

“I’m the first Dobluth, Minthara. I was neither born nor created; I simply have existed since the dawn of time and will continue to exist when all else has perished. I will live in the hearts and minds of all living creatures and will putrefy with them as they take their last breaths. I will feed on the consequences of wrong doings and ease the pain of those who cry out for deaf gods as I do so. I am the devourer of all sin; I absolve souls of their weight and as a consequence, was named the first outcast, the First Dobluth. I am known by everyone yet no one knows who I am.” I keep eye contact with her as I press my lips to the top of her hands and murmur my sacred devotion to her, “No one knows me for who I am but you, Minthara. You may very well be the only person to have said my name in centuries, to know my face, to hear my voice, to have my interest. You’re the solo person who has known who and what I am but yet still chosen to be mine. My heart may no longer beat but it has found sanctuary within yours. My blood may be solidified within my veins but it flows within yours. My body may feel frigid but against yours, it feels alive once more. I may be fundamentally incapable of being anything other than a devourer but I’m sated with you and finally found fulfillment knowing that I am enough for you.”

I cup her face while keeping her hands firmly clasped in the other. Perhaps against her mind’s will, her heart allows her to lean into my hand and savor the feeling of a gentle touch. A lone tear smears against her skin as my thumb catches it and sweeps it across her cheekbone.

“I heard your prayers and I did everything I could to come back to you because without you, my existence would be a blur of fear and loneliness. There’s no reason other than to cause ourselves pain to dwell on what we wish we could change about the past but I need you to know that I never would’ve left had I known what that Bhaalspawn would do. I would’ve fought harder to stay had I known what horrors you would face by her hand. I would’ve slaughtered every cultist and their Chosen myself had I known what I do now.” Her angry waves crashed into me the moment we touched and began to form a hurricane of her emotions and mine within me as I spoke. As more determined tears fall, the hurricane crumbles into a beast of a different nature. Sorrow replaces that anger and tells her that I am here now and that is all that matters.

“You failed to answer my question; were you called here?” she murmurs.

It catches me off guard when it shouldn’t.

“I was called by you, ust-nor.”

Disgust twists her face at the pet name, causing her nose to wrinkle and brows to furrow. She pulls her face from my grasp, meanwhile against the leather of gloves, I feel the minuscule twitch of her fingers as she keeps herself from shoving me away entirely. Although I vowed to never bring her harm, she knows all too well what lethal consequences could come from irrational actions right now. A single misunderstood movement from her could result in endless paralysis with no way out.

A moment passes as Minthara presumably considers her next move. She leans down, close enough that her breath washes over my face.

“I will tell you what I told the first Oathbreaker bastard who offered me a chance at redemption; I will never be governed by another again. I will not vow my life to a thankless coward. I will not force myself to live by an oath that does not serve me nor prioritize my wellbeing. I’ve spent too long serving those who don’t care if it is me or some other mindless soldier who returns victorious. I’ve given everything I have and been forced to give even more for a cause that is not my own. I refuse to praise a god for simply allowing me to worship them.”

I wish disappointment had been the emotion that greeted me as she spoke. I wish I could say that I didn’t expect her to react this way or to say the words that she did. I wish I didn’t know her as well as I do so that this unfortunate reunion wouldn’t bring me as much misery as it does.

Sighing, I pull my hands back and rock back onto my knees. With my hands resting on my knees, I stare at her. It’s an act of submission, my stance but for her, I would strip my armor and present my weapons with a bare heart if she asked.

“If you do not wish to retake your oath, our Goddess has been generous enough to offer…”

“Fuck your goddess.”

The silence is astounding.

She gets to her feet and is at the window in one fluid motion it seems. Candle lights dance down the expanse of her back, across the pale strands of her hair and over her void like black dress. In her chair remained the forgotten over layer of her dress; a structured piece that was crafted to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies and allies alike. Pointed shoulders and gold edges give her a towering illusion that matches her confidence. The dress she still wears reminds me of what she lovingly called her at-ease clothes. It almost feels like a call back to a time simpler and much happier than now.

Almost.

“The so-called Spider Queen has no place in House Baenre.” Her voice is steady now, devoid of any previous emotion as she takes a pin from the window’s ledge and twists her hair back into place, “Soon she will find that she has no place in Menzoberranzan at all. Her effigies will be destroyed, her books burned, and her memory scrubbed from history. I had hoped that you would see reason one day and join me as I fight to reclaim the city but there is no place for a bleeding heart in war.”

Once more she has become Minthara, Matron of House Baenre.

Somewhere lost beneath the countless sins of others I have absolved lies a naive soul that yearns to take my place by her side as she becomes the Slayer of Lolth but it is that very same goddess that binds me to the floor now. Her envy and anger crackles with a ferocity I’ve seen only a few times through my body and into the marrow of my bones. Her power seethes and tightens around me when I try to push back, to stand, to move at all. It was one thing to allow me to come and speak to Minthara but Lolth is not the generous type.

“You are dismissed, Y/N.”

I catch a brief look of longing before Lolth retakes me, wrapping me in her spidery webs and dragging me back to her clutches.

“Goodbye alurlssrin.”

[hopefullyhusky]

not into weight gain (godspeed to those who are 🙏) but as a fat gay man, your art makes me feel so much sexier and more desireable than society maybe wants me to feel. keep up the good work and happy trails to your goal weight

Thank you so much for reaching out - I can't express how good it feels when people tell me how they resonate (in whatever way) with my art. Sorry that it took me so long to answer this one I did not see the notification, but I guess that’s what you get for using the mobile app. I wish that I could tell every fat gay man how beautiful and sexy they are. I wish I could tell every fat person that period. Fat is beautiful bottom line, and no one should be able to tell you how you should think about your own body and no one should tell you what to do with it for that matter either. We, unfortunately, live under the influence of a society where “pretty” is power and insecurity is profitable. I wish you nothing but happiness in your own journey to find some common ground between body and mind – I know for sure that it will be a long journey for me to find my own inner peace and self-acceptance for the body that I have. Eat, drink, get fat (if you're into that), and be merry is the only (unwarranted) advice that I can offer as the simple pleasures in life are the things that make it worth living. Hope you have a great end to summer and early fall, Anon! <3

[vxqyz]

"To the Night we Wed." TrueformSukuna x inexperienced!fem!reader Heian era AU, 4.1k words

A/N: I've never written a fic before and I've never written anything professionally on tumblr... please forgive me if it's not formatted as you're used too! I have no photos to add or how to correctly break the paragraphs/storyline up. Also, there's a part where it goes into depth abt the wedding..! Don't mind it, I added it to make it seem more legit if you get what i mean. @sukunamylovexoxo thank you for listening to me complain while I wrote this :)!

Warning: smut in detail!! minors plz dni! hateful father, and strange language, just in case you don't like either of those!

You are a girl in the Heian era who recently came of age from an honored clan of powerful sorcerers. Unfortunately for you, your cursed energy is extremely low, however not low enough for you to have gained a heavenly pact. You are extremely useless to your clan, being born a woman already ruined your chances at making it far in life. Your father and the head of the clan, your grandfather, were known for marrying off the women if they were anywhere near as useless as you. On your 19th birthday, your wedding night, a monstrous man was sitting on the bed waiting for you. 

It was a day like any other day, simply learning more calligraphy and practicing your handwriting. There wasn’t much more for you to do besides clean and look pretty. you knew everyone in your clan, besides your younger and older sisters, hated you. You were a disgrace to them. Your father came from a long line of powerful sorcerers with extremely high amounts of cursed energy, your mother was an average woman with an average amount of cursed energy from a neighboring clan. It was shocking how a single child could diminish a clan’s reputation. 

you heard a knock on your thin door. “Excuse me, y/n, your father wishes to speak with you…” It was one of the housemaids. Your father was coming to you? Every morning you’d greet him and receive nothing back. What could be so important? “Please, come in.” you timidly responded, putting away your calligraphy equipment. The door slid open, and your father slowly entered your room. He made a disgusted face- as if looking at you was bad for his health. It hurt. “Hello, y/n.” He coldly greeted you. You understand you’re useless to him, but he could at least pretend he loved you. “I was talking to your grandfather about you and what to do with you. He suggested that we marry you off.” He paused. “I accepted the offer,” He mentioned with indifference. “You’re getting married in two weeks.” Married? In two weeks? You could feel your heart shatter. “Ah…” you quietly let out. “Who will I be wed to?” You were trying to keep a smile on your face. You think he knew it was a front. “His name is Ryomen Sukuna. I’m surprised. Out of all your sisters, he picked you.” He scoffed as he turned around. “I expect you to start working on your appearance. I wouldn’t want to marry a pig like you.” He left your room. This was the way your conversations would usually go, however rare they were. He couldn’t help but insult you. You were left alone with your thoughts as soon as he left your room. You turned eighteen last year. In two weeks, it would be your birthday. Your father didn’t know that, of course. Out of your five sisters and two brothers, it was hard to keep track of birth dates. But you knew he never bothered to remember yours.

–

Your daily routine usually consisted of waking up at 5:00 in the morning and getting out of bed to eat the breakfast your maid had prepared for you. This week was different. You woke up at 4:50 and noticed your breakfast wasn’t at your side. You were a little bit shocked, even when you woke up as early as 4:15, there would still be breakfast ready for you. You got up and decided it would be best not to think about it, after all, you have more important things to do. Your father was so sure that no one would want you as their bride, that he refused to allow the maids to teach you how to be a proper wife. He recently ordered about five of our maids to teach you the correct way to address your soon to be husband, wifely duties, and activities such as washing clothes and cleaning. This was something you weren’t looking forward to. you were previously refused such education since your father treated you like the plague. He had no intention of allowing you to touch anything that didn’t belong to you, believing you would take away his or your siblings' cursed energy. It was a ridiculous and irrational fear that made you realize you would always be hated by him.

As you were changing out of your sleeping attire, you heard your father’s footsteps walking towards your room. You hear a slight knock. “Please wait a moment!” You blurt out, and quickly return to changing into your daily dress, a simple kimono-esque outfit. “You may come in.” you reassure him. He slowly opens the door and stays about 15 feet away from you. “Ryomen Sukuna will be visiting you today.” He said in a professional way- an uncommon tone. “Be ready in three hours. I expect you to look the best you can.” He closed your door and walked away. Your future husband? Is he truly that eager to meet his wife-to-be? 

–

It was half past seven, twenty minutes before Sukuna was supposed to meet you. Your maids had dressed you in a somewhat formal kimono, more flashy than your daily clothes, but less fancy than a ceremonial outfit. Your silky hair had been done into a lovely bun with unique flowers tied into it. You looked beautiful. You patiently sat on your knees waiting in the main room of your family’s home. The open space terrified you. Large pillars holding up the roof on each side of you, beautiful paintings on each wall and tatami mats below you. You felt nauseous. It’s probably because I'm anxious about meeting Sukuna. You rationalize with yourself. You let your thoughts run wild- what type of man could he be? A stoic man with a large frame? A diligent sorcerer focused on the wellbeing of his clan? Or maybe an old man simply moving from wife to wife? Your head was starting to hurt. All of this thinking only stressed you out.

Minutes pass, and your anxiety is increasing. You could feel yourself growing tired, this waiting has made you quite bored. As you’re slowly drifting to sleep, you hear the sound of a door opening- is he here? You quickly open your eyes and sit up straight. Your father rushed to greet him- blocking Sukuna from your view. However, you could see short pink hair, sleeves, and a spear. This was confusing. Who walks around with a spear? You ask yourself, still unable to see all of Sukuna. After about thirty seconds of frantic voices, your father moves to the side of him. You’re greeted with a large man, at least seven feet tall. You quickly move your eyes around to investigate him more- and see a strange thing on his face. Is that wood..? With eyes on it? You pondered, unable to remove your gaze from him. The eyes blink. A wave of fear is shot throughout your whole body. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before you return to examine him. You see increasingly concerning things- he has four eyes. On the right side, his face consists of a strange wooden textured… second face? And on the left, a normal human face- ignoring the fourth eye. You move your eyes down to recognize he’s not wearing a shirt- that's when you notice his markings. Previously, you were too appalled by everything else to see the markings on his face. He had markings on his chest too. You noticed he was wearing baggy pants, tightened around his waist with a black ribbon. You couldn’t see his arms- they were covered by the large and loose top he was wearing. 

You finally stopped inspecting him and stood up. He walked over to you where a low table sat in between the both of you, with a beautiful tea set laying in the middle. You bow as a form of respect and sit back down. He doesn’t say anything and takes a seat. Upon closer scrutiny, you notice his arms are abnormally thick. This concerned you. The more you looked at him, the more terrified you became. As you were sitting there and waiting for anyone to speak, you ascertained that he has four arms. Four arms… four… arms..? You panicked. At this point, you couldn’t stop shaking. Your whole body was having a reaction of pure terror. This man is a monster. A simple glance at him could cause anyone to convulse and pass away. “H-Hello, Ryomen Sukuna… It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say with a shaky voice, your attempt at sounding smooth proved fruitless. He slowly looked up at you. The roles were reversed. Instead of your eyes on him, his eyes were scanning you- everywhere. “The painting your father showed me wasn’t accurate.” He finally growled, sounding a bit disappointed. You could feel your heart squeeze- even your future husband doesn’t like you.

You could feel his red eyes staring at you, your face flushed from the overwhelming emotions you’re experiencing. Your father, who was in the room with you and sitting on your side of the table, decided to speak up. “So, Ryomen Sukuna, I apologize for not asking you earlier, But is there a reason you chose y/n instead of my five other daughters?” He inquired, basically rubbing it in your face that you were the worst choice. You glanced upwards with a slight smile, and noticed Sukuna was shaking his head. “I chose y/n purely because I wanted to.” He said bluntly. He was so straight forward. Your father looked like he wanted to attack him. “Any particular reason?” He prodded Sukuna. You had a feeling that wasn’t the best idea, considering how fierce he looked. Sukuna let out a sigh and stared at your father as if he was planning out your father’s murder in his head. He adjusted himself and sat in a more comfortable position. “She looked pretty in the painting.” He once again bluntly responded with a dull expression. “So does this mean she doesn’t look as beautiful as you were expecting her to?” Your father questioned, basically on the edge of his seat. He couldn’t take this anticipation. He wanted Sukuna to admit that you’re hideous. “No. Although the painting isn’t accurate to her actual appearance, she’s still beautiful.” He says with a straight face, almost like what he said was scripted. You looked over to see your father’s face. He looked extremely angry. 

After your first meeting with Sukuna, the next week was extremely dull. You were constantly learning new things about being a wife, and the possibilities of copulation. Since you were always kept in the house, never being allowed to leave the courtyard, you didn’t know much about relationships. Besides familial connections, you haven’t been exposed to much else. You never got to see what marriage is like due to your mother’s death shortly after giving birth to you. Even then, none of your siblings got married off as quickly as you did, so you were too young to understand what marriage was anyway. Your maids were kind enough to share their experiences with their husbands, letting you know what each of them liked. You felt happy that they were teaching you all of this important information, but you didn’t think they knew you were getting married to an anomaly like Sukuna. One week away from your wedding day.

–

Each day was passing slower than the next. The sun rose at 4:00 in the morning and you awoke an hour later. You would space out during your lessons, only thinking about Sukuna. You hated to admit it but- he was attractive. Albeit his second set of everything, he still had qualities that made him extremely handsome. His eyes, on the left side of his face, were stunning. They were a lovely red, not too saturated that they looked like rubies, but not too dark that they looked dark brown. They were a perfect mix of light and dark- like the color of blood. Each time he stared at you at your first interaction was filled with a certain type of yearning. You couldn’t understand what he wanted, but you could tell he wanted something. His muscles were chiseled and firm, as if he had no body fat whatsoever, and his tall frame made you feel a certain emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You loved his beautiful hair, a lovely pink that could only be found on tulips. And his markings, his lovely markings. Those are what intrigued you the most- after his four arms, four eyes and two faces, you just couldn’t understand how they were on him. Were they ink? Was he born with them? He drove you crazy, there were so many things you didn’t know about him.

Days passed and your birthday finally arrived. You feel you’ve learned enough, and you’re prepared to be a dutiful wife. Maids are all around you, getting you dressed in an intricate and traditional gown. It was strikingly red- just like his eyes. You felt a strange sensation in your lower stomach, a fluttering phenomenon. This has been happening to you recently whenever you thought of Sukuna, and it confused you. But it made you feel warm inside, a comforting sensation, so you were fine with the occasional flutter-feeling. While in your room, you could hear the chaos outside. Your younger siblings were eagerly awaiting to see you in your gown, and your two older sisters were helping you. This was the one time your father allowed your siblings to be near you. You considered this to be the happiest and most eventful day of your life. Although your siblings were excited, your father wasn’t. He was making sure that your wedding wasn’t as extravagant as your other siblings’ weddings were. Despite the fact you were marrying Ryomen Sukuna, a rumored mass murderer, which you had no idea about, your father only cared about making your life a little bit worse each second.

After going through all of the formalities of a wedding, such as greeting guests, paintings, and feasting, it was time for the actual ceremony. You were sitting in a room with Sukuna in your extremely beautiful kimono, while he was wearing a black kimono- however, nothing was covering his chest. You were observing your family walk onto the isle on the left side, each of them taking a seat on the left side. At the same time, you noticed no one was walking on the left side- the side Sukuna’s family was supposed to walk on. You were confused, and wanted to ask him, but decided it’d be best if you didn’t question it. Once your family is finally sitting down, a lovely shinto maiden comes into the room. “Y/n, Sukuna, please follow me and allow me to lead you in.” She said with a polite smile and a bow. You get up and slowly follow her, with Sukuna to the right of you. Once you’ve reached the entrance, a priest calls upon the benevolent spirits to bless and purify you and Sukuna. Sukuna makes a faint scoff and ignores the priest's actions. After the priest purifies both of you, he starts a ritual prayer to announce to the deities that he seeks protection and blessing for the both of you. Your family stands and bows. After everyone is seated, you and Sukuna complete the sankon-no-gi, despite his reluctance. A shinto maiden enters the room and performs a dance as an offering to the gods. Once she’s completed the dance, you and Sukuna make your way to the altar where you will read your vows. His vows sound fake and heartless, but you add your name to the end to show that your vows are both ‘heartfelt’. After offering the Tamagushi to the gods, you and Sukuna exchange rings. Your ring is a lovely silver with diamonds encased in it, and a dazzling ruby right in the middle. Sukuna’s ring is a normal silver ring with streaks of ruby. It’s hard to imagine how these were made. Finally, you complete the last few steps of the ceremony. Your father and Sukuna both pushed for no after party, no sort of casual party, since the only attendees would be your family. At this point, the wedding is over, you and Sukuna are ushered to your room. You couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

–

Sukuna walks into your room first, his arms crossed. You slowly follow him and shut the door behind you. Once you turn around, you see Sukuna sitting on your bed. It’s that feeling again. After hearing all of your maids’ stories with their husbands, you couldn’t help but imagine such actions with Sukuna. You felt an unfamiliar throbbing in between your thighs. You couldn’t understand what was happening to you. Sukuna just stared at you for a while. “Come here.” He said with a bit of a commanding tone. You practically waddle over to him- not only is the Kimono difficult to walk in, this strange sensation makes you want to avoid rubbing your legs together. Sukuna easily slips off his kimono, revealing his four arms and his magnificent markings that make your heart race. He leans over and wraps you in his arms. It’s warm. He looks up at you. You recognize that look. He wants something, and you think you know what that something is. You slowly embrace his hug and sit there for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your mind is racing about what to say. You can’t properly convey what you’re feeling, and nor can you act on your desires. The most you can do is hug him at this very moment. Eventually, he lets go. You’re confused for a split second until he easily throws you onto the bed. You were still in your kimono, so movement was difficult for you. Sukuna didn’t care, he tore it off of you, thankfully without actually ripping it. You were exposed. Your makeshift bra that didn’t look too fancy, only functional, and your panties, average and nothing too extraordinary, were the only things left covering you. You hid your face with your hands out of pure embarrassment. You didn’t know how to react.

 Despite your relatively useless attempts at self defense against humiliation, Sukuna grabs your hands and puts them over your head. His hands were abnormally large, just like everything else about him. He was scanning you all over, your slim figure, your hips, your covered but obviously perfect breasts. He still had three arms he could use. This time, he actually tore off your bra and panties. You were laying on your bed, fully exposed to a man you just met two weeks ago and just got married to. You could see the sweat forming everywhere on Sukuna. Neither of you spoke any words. Not only were you too afraid, you just didn’t know what to say. Sukuna, on the other hand, was too focused on trying not to hurt your much smaller body. He kept biting his lower lip, most likely as a way to keep himself in check. Watching him like this made the throbbing return again. You could feel some sort of liquid seeping out of you ever so slowly. You noticed an unfamiliar bulge on the lower half of Sukuna. Out of pure curiosity you picked up your leg and poked it with your foot. His face changed with little delay. It looked a bit like he was in pain… You didn’t understand. You didn’t have much time to react before he dove his face onto yours, his mouth on your mouth. Is this kissing? One of the maids mentioned it. You didn’t know why, but… it filled you with a sort of satisfaction you’ve never felt before. You tried reciprocating the kiss, only for you to be an absolute amateur. Sukuna pulls away and takes a few deep breaths. “You’re horrible at this.” He whispered with a whine, regretting the fact that he pulled away from you. He instantly went back to kissing you, despite your lack of experience. Your hands were still above your head, so you had nothing you could do to defend yourself from any possible moves Sukuna might make. He started to softly grope your breasts, eventually evolving into him using two more hands to play with your nipples. You couldn’t think properly, this was too much stimulation for you. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, so to you, Sukuna was extremely skilled. He still had one free hand just resting on your hips. While he was greedily kissing you, as if you’d run away, his hand slithered closer between your thighs. He starts to rub where the throbbing originated. You practically started melting. You didn’t know how Sukuna was holding up, but you assumed he wasn’t feeling anywhere near as good as you were. And your assumption was correct. Along with the greedy face chewing, he was hard, and he could barely stand it anymore.

 He pulled away and quit rubbing you, using that hand to pull out- something you’ve never seen in your life. It was sort of scary, but before you could oppose anything, he shoved it inside of you, causing you to let out a loud moan of pain and.. Pleasure? Your ears start to ring ever so slightly, and Sukuna starts mumbling, intermittently interrupted with panting. You maneuver your head around to see what he was doing, and noticed- there were two? Two of those ungodly things? Your head was spinning, but for some ridiculous reason, it made you want him even more. All of the stories your maids told you were running through your head right now. But you were confused about one thing- why he wasn’t moving. You were concerned for him, this monster, but you needed to know if he was ok. “S-Sukuna..” You cautiously address. You could barely talk, you felt.. full. “Are you ok..?” you asked with a concerned look on your face. He doesn’t answer you. He just stares at you, heavily breathing with eyes he could barely keep open. He lets go of your wrists and puts two hands underneath your back, pulling you to his chest. He was still inside of you, this time slowly moving. You could feel it hit as deep as when he shoved it in. Each thrust of his made your mind go blank. You could hear him praising you, something along the lines of: “You’re holding up so well for being a virgin..” That was an unfamiliar word. He continued to thrust into you, each thrust getting more and more frantic as time went by. He let go of you and put your back on the bed once more, allowing him to move much more easily. He was going in a relatively rhythmic way, increasing his speed over time. “Fuck…” He moaned, pushing his dick deeper inside you with each movement. He was desperate for you. He’s acting like he’s been abstaining from doing such acts with a concubine for months, preparing for you. Could that be the case? Could he have wanted you for that long? You shake away the thought and focus only on the current events. His breathing was sporadic, you could tell he couldn’t handle these feelings for much longer. Though you could barely keep your eyes open, his powerful movements prevented you from properly looking at him, you got glances of his face. It was contorted in a way, but you could tell he was enjoying himself. Two of his hands were tightly gripping your hips as he thrusted into you. He continued to babble incoherent nonsense. You could tell he was close to this epitome of pleasure- something you could feel yourself. Every passing second you felt the build up, only for you to reach the climax when Sukuna allowed you to. Moments later Sukuna’s movements became less and less rhythmic. You could feel a warm sensation inside of you- your body slightly seizing up from the intense feeling you were receiving. Throughout that pure sensation of ecstasy, you felt a hot liquid shoot inside of you. You were slightly puzzled but had a more important thing to focus on. You slowly opened your eyes to Sukuna leaning over you, just staring at you… again. I suppose he doesn’t have a way with words… you thought to yourself. “...Good.” Sukuna muttered, still catching his breath from the rigorous activity you were both performing earlier. “R-Repeat that, please?” You calmly asked, tilting your head to the side to represent your confusion. “You did good.” verbatim, just this time audible. He pulled himself out of you and got up from the bed. He grabbed his ‘kimono’ and his pants, got dressed, and left. You laid there on the mattress, sweaty and uncomfortable. You felt dirty.

[listentoace]

you’re disgusting and only using this kink to justify being misogynistic

Disclaimer: This is just me setting things straight once & for all so I don't have to deal with in the future. If you're here for the kinks only and don't really care about a rather pointless discussion about this, feel free to skip this.

For reference, the Wikipedia definition on Misogyny. Highlighting is done by me:

Misogyny is hatred of, contempt for, or prejudice against women or girls. It is a form of sexism that can keep women at a lower social status than men, thus maintaining the social roles of patriarchy. Misogyny has been widely practised for thousands of years. It is reflected in art, literature, human societal structure, historical events, mythology, philosophy, and religion worldwide. An example of misogyny is violence against women, which includes domestic violence and, in its most extreme forms, misogynist terrorism and femicide. Misogyny also often operates through sexual harassment, coercion, and psychological techniques aimed at controlling women, and by legally or socially excluding women from full citizenship. In some cases, misogyny rewards women for accepting an inferior status.

Sure, label me like that just because I make fetish content. Sorry not sorry that "Be a good girl, serve me, eat, and grow fucking fat for me!" is hotter than "Hey, um, so we are equals and all and I appreciate you as a person but would like to ask you if you... um... well, would you like to gain weight? – Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, it's your body and your decision. I'll shut up". I honestly feel a bit stupid that I have to explain this, but apparently it isn't fully clear.

It seems as if you can't distinguish between me portraying a character here – Ace, the evil, male dom who likes to make good girls horny & fat – and me as an actual human being. Yes, I'm into feederism. Yes, it turns me on if a girl is obedient and submissive. Yes, I enjoy having power over a girl and controlling her in way that bring her pleasure. But no, I'm definitely not misogynistic.

From my personal, private viewpoint, I treat women with respect and think of them as equals. This actually goes beyond gender, as you're all just human to me. And like most humans, I have kinks. In my case, those kinks are about control, weight gain, acts of service, worshiping femininity, and more niche stuff like vampire & demon stuff. Yes, these kinks include acts that fit some criteria of misogyny at a first glance, such as me enjoying to spank and choke, being in control, and rewarding a good girl for her obedience. But that is only while participating in said kinks, with full consent!

The idea of actually showing violence against women, even in extreme forms such as femicide, is highly off-putting to me and I condemn people who'd even consider such actions. Even crossing a simple kink-related boundary, such as calling someone "piggy" without them liking that pet-name already makes me feel guilt, so that's already where I cross a line for myself. Whenever I talk to someone, I always ask for likes & dislikes, desires & limitations, and of course consent. To me, that is self-explanatory and just human decency. After all, we're all here to be horny, have a good time and enjoy our kinks without judgement.

I assume I don't have to do any in-depth reasoning on why I am not misogynistic, don't actually think of women as inferior beings, and most certainly wouldn't assault them. I worship women, not just for they beauty, but for the individual beings they are. So please, for the future: Try not to throw labels like that around just because you might not like some content. Just block me and be done with it and don't judge or shame people for their kinks, that's just not cool.

[rocksibblingsau]

Can I hear your Bergen thoughts and headcannons?

Absolutely! Keep in mind these will be poorly organized and jump around a bit.

So I know with the first movie there's a lot of 'trolls are drugs' jokes, but the thing is I like exploring this from a serious standpoint. In nature there are lots of plants that naturally have these effects or can gain these effects (think those videos of squirrels eating rotting jack o lanterns that have fermented into alcohol).

It's also not uncommon for some animals to have immunity to the effects of a plant, but consuming that animal would give you that effect. The possibilities of Trolls either just 1. naturally producing a chemical that produces the effects or 2. interacting with something that, while they have immunity to its effects, Bergens don't is VERY fascinating.

So we know Bergens falsely believe they can't be happy, which leads to a lot of questions. How had none of them ever noticed they were happy? Does love not fall under the 'happy emotion' umbrella? How can they tell likes from dislikes if they don't believe anything can make them happy? We know Bridget and Gristle misinterpreted that feeling (which I'll share more thoughts on in a bit), but I think we should consider the likelihood of misinformation.

Chef was doing whatever she could to ensure the continuation of Trollstice to cling to her power and title of minister of happiness. Let's consider what effects a Troll might give a Bergen that they would mistake it for 'true happiness'. Euphoria, lowering stress, mild and pleasant hallucinations, possibly dilating the pupils which might make the world seem 'brighter'. Those things wouldn't accompany REAL happiness, so they would seem like two different things. If you're a random Bergen and the royal chef and minister of happiness feeds you a troll and tells you THATS what happiness feels like, you wouldn't ever assume any other feeling is happiness.

A side note, I like to think that as a side effect, falls, stumbles and accidents go up 300% on Trollstice and it's not really looked into.

Believing Trollstice was the only chance to be happy would be very beneficial to royalty as well. You'd be risking a lot to go against the very people who could make you happy, and you'd likely agree to a lot of things you wouldn't normally as long as Trollstice was on the line.

I think things go further than 'trolls are drugs' and 'government conspiracy theory' though. Emotions are weird things. Happiness can feel like the urge to jump up and down, run around, flap your hands, the list goes on. I noticed that for Bergens to be called 'miserable', a lot of the time they just seem overly apathetic?

Consider this. You feel hungry. It's a feeling your body has that compels you to eat. You eat, and the feeling goes away. Same with thirst, tiredness, etc. These are feelings that give you an urge, you perform the urge and the feeling goes away. Every day you feel those things and do the things they tell you to do.

Then one day you get the urge to jump up and down. You do, but the feeling doesn't go away. It's annoying. It's like a buzzing sound in a previously quiet room. You want that feeling to go away.

What if Bergens 'default' is a sort of empty state? Any emotions they attempt to work through relatively quickly to make the unfamiliar feeling go away, but under the effects of Trolls, they likely wouldn't be bothered by the euphoric feeling. Gristle's first assumption about the happiness he felt was that it was his body trying to tell him about it's physical state.

Part of them 'learning' to be happy would be teaching them what emotions felt like, and not to lean away from them just because feeling them might be new and uncomfortable. Which considering the target audience is of the age where emotions ARE very big and scary and overwhelming could have been a very cool inclusion.

This was very messy, as I'm tired and so bad at organizing my thoughts sometimes, but this is my take on how Trolls exactly effect Bergens and a bit on why Bergens never figured happiness out on their own.