#Commission Agreement Forms

[bitchfitch]

quick q because a conversation I had with a friend yesterday made me realize a hang up I have might be an OCD thing that's not an actual problem in the real world.

[jpitha]

Stamina

Downtime on the K’laxi Starbase, and Kelly and Evan wheel their stationary exercise bikes out into the common area and start a ride. If they're not going to be moving anyway, they might as well have a more interesting view than the wall of the exercise room. Before their commission, they both loved the outdoors, and found friendship in trying to keep their two wheeled skills.

The bikes large wheels that hum and whirr as they pedal. After a short warm up, they both get into the rhythm of motion, enjoying the feeling of their muscles being used. To help with overheating, Evan set up a fan to circulate air on them. Evan was used to short rides, but Kelly wanted him to build stamina. She was even working out how to connect a sensorium so they could ride "outside." For it to be worthwhile, she wanted a long ride, so she was trying to get him to be able to finish a century - a ride of one hundred miles (an obsolete form of measurement).

After a few moments, some K'laxi stop and watch them as they work out. Kelly and Evan, heads down as they pedal, don't seem to notice.

After half an hour or so of pedaling Evan lifted his head and looked at Kelly. “You know what I’m sick of?”

Kelly looked up from her bike. “The whole Deathworlder thing?”

Evan nodded emphatically. “Yes! I don’t think it’s fair that everyone says Earth is a Deathworld. It implies that we’re some kind of strange being. It’s othering!” Evan was gesturing with his water bottle as he spoke. The K'laxi watching were focused on the bottle being swung around, seemingly entranced by the droplets of water that Evan was flinging around.

Kelly leaned up off the handlebars, but kept pedaling. She started counting things on her fingers. “There’s plenty of other worlds that have storms, plenty of other sapient peoples that are strong, lots of places with large moons, plenty of other places like Earth.”

“Exactly! They are working so hard to fit us into a stereotype, and then they don’t have to learn about us as individuals.” Evan's water bottle was just leaking now, and droplets increased. Kelly blinked when drops hit her face. One of the K'laxi took a step back.

As they talked, the crowd grew. Deep in concentration on their ride, they didn't notice the attention that they have garnered. A Gren in the back gestured with his mouthparts, and two others joined him. A small group of Innari fluffed their feathers in agitation as they watched the humans continue to spin. Even a few humans stood on the sidelines of the crowd and grinned. They wanted to see what the others would do.

Evan and Kelly pedaled in silence for a while longer until Pen couldn't stand it any longer. His friends nudged him and whispered encouragement for him to finally speak up. “You realize you’re having this conversation, on a K’laxi Starbase, while pedaling your excise bicycles at-" He looked over at a readout on Kelly' bike "-180 watts for at least one standard hour now?”

Even looked surprised. “We’re doing a century!”

"That's when you ride continuously for 160 kilometers or so." Kelly sounded matter of fact as she reached down and took a sip from her own water bottle.

One of the Innari squawked, “You’re not even breathing heavy!” The others around them bobbed their heads in agreement.

Kelly looked over at the Innari who spoke up. When they locked eyes, the Innari looked down, their feathers flat, embarrassed. “You know what? They're right, Evan. Time to step it up.”

As Evan grinned and pedaled harder, he looked up and finally noticed the crowd that had gathered. There were maybe 10 or 12 people watching the two humans pedal without going anywhere. Some in the back were having quiet wagers about how long they could go on. A human was collecting the bets, not even trying to hide her smile.

The murmurs of the crowd finally got the better of Kelly. "Just what... are you all... doing here?" Kelly panted.

"Um.. just watching you pedal?" A young K'laxi in the front offered and took a nervous step back.

"I can see that, but why?"

"You're riding so much and you aren't even tired!" Another in the back added.

Nods and noises from assent from the crowd. They watched, fascinated as the human's active cooling started kicking in and they both developed a sheen of... liquid on their skin. They called it sweating. The K'laxi called it weird. The Innari called it disgusting.

A Gren on the side of the crowd joined in. "Yeah! How long can you go? I've got 30 stars with Mel'itar that says you can't go the full 160 kilometers without stopping."

A Sefigan near the front frowned and looked like he was having a conversation with his translator. “My translator says a century is 100, but you’re doing 160km?”

Evan sighed. “160 kilometers is 100 miles. That’s the century”

"What's a mile?" A K'laxi child from the crowd interrupted. Sounds of assent from the crowd.

"Old measurement. We don't use it anymore." Kelly finally started to sound like she was having difficultly speaking while she was exerting herself, a good while after Evan started breathing heavily.

The same Innari that spoke up earlier - Soft Autumn Breeze - stared at them out of one eye, and then the other. "You're pedaling the equivalent of one hundred sixty kilometers In one session?” It sounded like they were amazed in addition to being frustrated. Soft worked with Evan in the greenhouse, but had no idea he did... this in his spare time. It was perplexing. All this work and effort for no reason?

“Yeah” Kelly said between breaths “doesn’t count if you stop and take a break.”

Evan used his nearly empty water bottle to point at the Innari. "You're making it sound weird Soft, it's not weird."

"Evan, it is weird." Soft said, emphatically. "What you're doing is weird. You're... pretending to ride a two wheeled sapient powered conveyance on a starbase for an unreasonably long distance without stopping. If I tried that - even if you built one of those... things that fit my leg geometry, I'd collapse and die within two standard hours."

"Soft, I am riding it, it's not pretending." Evan countered.

"We're not going anywhere though, maybe that's what he means." Kelly said.

Evan shrugged. "Well, he should have said that."

By now, the crowd had started to argue about how long each species could last riding a bike. Most agreed that the humans would out-ride them full stop, but both the Gren and the Sefigans felt they could give a real challenge... for the first few hours at least. One of the humans in the crowd started taking measurements, and was designing a bike that could be printed for other species to ride. After a while a whole spin class was being set up.

Soft opened his mouth and clacked shut it again. His feathers fluttered in frustration, and he sighed dramatically. He turned around and walked away from the crowd. “Deathworlders” he muttered.

"Hey Soft, don't use that word, remember the training? The humans find it hurtful." Another Innari said as he walked by.

"Argh!" Soft stomped away as the noise of the crowd dissipated.

[captainmalewriter]

Superstar

Commission Story

“Dude check out my sweet pump! I swear to God I’m getting bigger!” 

Xavier was checking himself out in the mirror while his best friend Carlos sketched something on a legal pad on the nearby living room couch. Carlos stopped drawing for a brief second and looked over at Xavier with lazy eyes.

“Yeah man, you’re getting real massive now,” Carlos lied. Xavier’s bicep looked exactly the same as the last time he checked. “Maybe I’ll ask you to spot me the next time I go for a PR.”

“Alright alright, cut the crap,” Xavier rolled his sleeves back down. “I can do without the teasing, thanks.”

“No I’m serious, X! You’re starting to look like me! C’mon, let’s compare sizes real quick.”

Carlos hopped off the couch and joined Xavier before the full-body mirror. He then took off his shirt in one smooth motion and flexed his muscular torso. 

Having been in various sports throughout his life, Carlos boasted an impressive physique. He had strong, broad shoulders and absolute cannons for arms. Carlos took up most of the mirror space when he posed, which forced Xavier to step to the side. Having seen the same body repeatedly throughout the years, Xavier was no longer impressed by his friend’s athletic build.

“Nah, you’re still pretty small.”

Xavier poked Carlos at his side, where he knew he was most ticklish. Carlos jabbed Xavier in retaliation. Xavier returned the hit in kind. They would then continue exchanging blow for blow, hitting each other’s ticklish spots until one of them eventually called uncle. This was a game they frequently played ever since they first became friends.

Carlos and Xavier had first met in middle school when they sat next to each other in art class. They formed a homework pact soon after first meeting each other. Xavier helped Carlos with his science homework, while Carlos helped Xavier with his drawing assignments. Their mutual agreement led to them becoming best friends. On the outside, they looked like a stereotypical duo that would typically be at odds— Xavier being the scrawny, gay nerd while Carlos was the conventionally handsome, popular athlete, but anyone who knew either of them knew they had a lot of love for each other. Nowadays, even though they attended different colleges, they would still make time to hang out with each other often. Theirs was a friendship that survived the test of time.

“Alright alright, enough!! You win!” Xavier called out. They were both out of breath and red in the face after roughhousing, but that didn’t stop them from sharing a laugh and a bro hug. 

Their loud, combined laughter stopped them from noticing when Carlos’ father, Enrique, arrived home from work. Enrique looked at them with a scowl plastered on his face. Xavier and Carlos both immediately stopped laughing when they noticed him. Carlos felt a cool breeze on his exposed skin, then hurried to put on his shirt, remembering he was shirtless.

“Dad!” Carlos said while slipping his shirt back on. “You’re home early—”

“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at summer practice already?” 

“Not yet I don’t, practice doesn’t even start for another two hours!”

“What kind of loser talk is that?” Enrique crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. “How do you expect to stay ahead of everyone else if you’re not out on the field putting in the extra hours?”

“I’m fine, Dad, I don’t need extra practice hours.”

“Psh, that’s how it always starts. First, you stop going to practice early. Next, you stop going at all. Then, you start getting less and less playing time because you’re not playing as good as you once were. You’re going to lose your scholarship, Carlitos, is that what you want!?”

Xavier noticed Carlos’ eyebrows beginning to furrow and stepped in before he could respond. 

“Hey, let’s just get going. Don’t wanna catch the midday traffic after all.”

Xavier helped himself out while Carlos lagged behind. Carlos gave his father one last cold stare, then began walking out. Enrique stepped towards him as he did so.

“And I want you to stop hanging out around that queer. He’s going to make you weak.”

Carlos stopped once he heard what his father whispered into his ear. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. He wanted to retaliate but couldn’t find the words to do so. All he could do was listen to his father’s dress shoes echoing down the hallway as he left. Carlos cleared his throat and went for his car, where Xavier was already waiting in the passenger seat.

The car ride to Carlos’ college, where summer practice was being held, started off silent and tense. Xavier looked over to his buddy as he drove them down the freeway. He knew Carlos wasn’t the type to show his emotions often, but he knew the dilemma over rugby and his father was eating him alive inside. 

“Hey… Sorry about your Dad. He sucks.”

“Hmph, don’t be. You know he’s always been like that, I’m used to it,” Carlos responded. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep putting up with it. You need to tell him that you wanna pursue art.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Why not?”

“Dude, c’mon, you know my Dad doesn’t give a fuck about my art. He just wants me to focus on rugby so I can keep my scholarship.”

“Well, can’t you just switch your program of study? He doesn’t have to know!” Xavier teased. Carlos didn’t laugh.

“Can’t. The school won’t allow it. Student athletes can only be in certain programs and art isn’t one of them.”

Xavier wanted to offer a rebuttal but couldn’t think of anything they hadn’t already considered. He stayed quiet and shrunk into the leather cushion of the passenger seat.

“You know, maybe my Dad’s right,” Carlos started. “There are worse things in life than being forced to play rugby. Besides, imagine all the money I’ll earn once I go pro. Maybe sticking with sports is the right call.”

“Dude, what about your art? Art can make you money too! I’ve seen your drawings and paintings, you’ve got talent! You can make it big, even bigger than with rugby!”

“You don’t know that,” Carlos sighed heavily as he stopped at a red light coming off the freeway. “I’m not saying I’ll stop drawing completely, but maybe that shouldn’t be the focus of my life right now. I need to stay in perfect shape if I wanna go pro with rugby.” Carlos turned his head to Xavier and held eye contact with him. His gaze softened. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me, X, but I really don’t think art is in the cards for me. It’s gonna take a miracle to change my Dad’s mind, and I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.” 

Xavier stayed quiet but gave an affirming nod, then looked away. As they pulled into campus, he pointed to the library.

“Drop me off there, I wanna check out some books,” Xavier said. Carlos did as requested.

“You’ve been hanging out at the library a lot lately. You’re not even a student here, what are you doing there?”

“Your school’s got an interesting collection on the history of alchemy, so I’ve been reading it. Nothing special, really.”

Xavier lied. For the past few months, Xavier hadn’t been studying the history of alchemy but rather how to practice alchemy. While he had started his research with a rudimentary understanding of medieval chemistry, Xavier soon discovered that alchemy could be used for way more things besides the old and tired turn-metal-into-gold gimmick. A sly smile formed on Xavier’s face as he finished reading the last alchemy book in the library collection. With a careful hand and enough determination, he could transform anything into anything! Including the human body.

Xavier was ready to put his knowledge into practice that very same night. Against Enrique’s wishes, Carlos let his best friend sleep in their spare room for the night. While they were sound asleep, Xavier’s mind was racing with all the possibilities the world of alchemy had opened up for him. 

Once he finally settled on a plan, he went into action. Xavier crept into Carlos’ room while he was snoring peacefully. He tiptoed slowly, careful not to wake him up, and kneeled beside his bed.

“Alright… Just five minutes then I get out… For the sake of science, nothing more…”

Xavier reached out to Carlos and pulled down his white undershirt. Then, with the tip of his pointer finger, he drew a heart right over his actual heart. He whispered an incantation as he did so. Once he finished tracing the outline of a heart, Xavier lifted his finger and then firmly pressed the center of Carlos’ heart. As soon as he had done so, Carlos’ snoring immediately ceased. It worked. Xavier successfully transformed him into a bodysuit.

While Xavier was overjoyed that his little alchemy experiment had worked, he knew he had no time to celebrate. Xavier had no idea how long the transformation would hold so he hurried to put the Carlos bodysuit on. 

He pried the bodysuit’s mouth wide open then stuck his face inside. Xavier pushed his way down Carlos’ throat. The bodysuit’s internal fluids acted as lubrication for Xavier’s body as he slithered his way inside. He could hear all the slippery, wet noises Carlos’ body was making as it expanded to take in another human body. It was a tight squeeze but with enough force, Xavier was able to force himself into Carlos’ body with one final push. He was in.

Nrrghh…

Xavier heard a moan as he laid inside the bodysuit. He wasn’t sure if it was him or the bodysuit, though that was the least of his worries. Xavier began to stretch his limbs out from inside of Carlos. As his limbs slipped into Carlos’ limbs like sleeves, the once limp bodysuit sprang to life. Slowly but surely, Xavier was able to move and feel through Carlos’ body.

Urghhhh fuckk!!

Xavier let out a loud moan from within Carlos as his senses adjusted to their new body. All at once, he felt the sudden shift in body weight thanks to all the muscle mass Carlos had. Xavier smirked as he ran his hands down his newly obtained firm pecs and chiseled abs. The light body hair brushed against his fingertips, sending electric, sensual sensations as he explored his borrowed muscular body.

Mmmm fuck yeah…

Xavier purred with Carlos’ voice as he continued checking out his new body. He kept a wide grin as he did so. Xavier could hardly believe how much of a success his little alchemy experiment was. Movement… speech… feeling, Xavier controlled it all! 

Even though Xavier was already very familiar with Carlos’ well-toned body, being able to see it from an up close perspective spurred great excitement and pleasure. The tent forming in his sweatpants was a testament to that. Xavier looked at his growing boner with a devilish smirk. He wanted nothing more than to grab and massage his cock, but decided against it. After all, 15 minutes had already passed and he swore he’d only allow himself five minutes. 

Xavier laid back down in bed and let himself out of his borrowed body. He was ejected from Carlos’ body with a loud slurp, leaving an empty bodysuit behind in the bed. Xavier looked down at the limp bodysuit as his senses readjusted. He was worried about possible side effects, but was relieved when Carlos began snoring again after a few minutes had passed. Thankfully, the bodysuit technique he had performed on him seemed to be temporary. Xavier went back to the guest room and practically collapsed on the bed due to fatigue. Performing alchemy and taking on a new body left him physically and mentally exhausted.

Xavier woke up late the next day. Despite having slept in, he was sore and with body aches, most likely due to the bodysuit experiment he had pulled during the night. Xavier stretched and rolled out of bed, wondering who he would use alchemy on next. He had woken up so late that Carlos was already gone for rugby practice, leaving him alone with Enrique.

Enrique was busy working out in the back. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, sunglasses, and a hat. Even from inside the house, Xavier saw how sweaty Enrique was from doing yard work in the hot sun. He watched Enrique toiling away with a hoe for a few minutes. 

“Hm… He’s not a bad option for a bodysuit. Thicker body type, some muscle, lots of body hair, full beard… Yeah, he could definitely be some fun to take over for a spin…”

Then quickly retreated into the hallway when he saw him coming inside. He refused to interact with a man he knew hated him. From the safety of the hallway, Xavier watched Enrique as he took a break on the couch. Enrique noticed Carlos’ notebook sitting on the coffee table and audibly groaned in disapproval.

“I told him he needs to stop drawing… All this art bullshit is gonna get in the way of his focus! I need to hide this before he gets back home.” Enrique leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. All while not even noticing that Xavier was glaring at him with a growing vengeful lust.

Any hesitation Xavier had had disappeared when he heard Enrique’s plan. It was a simple plan with amazing benefits: Xavier would get to try out a dad bod, and because it was Enrique he’d be wearing, he could become his best friend’s dad and help him follow his dream of becoming an artist. It was a win-win situation!

Xavier waited a couple of minutes to make sure Enrique’s guard was down, then proceeded to take action. He crawled up to the couch and quietly positioned himself over Enrique. He then gently placed his finger on Enrique’s exposed chest and began outlining a heart, just like he had done with Carlos. Xavier’s finger practically glided along his chest because of how sweaty he was.

Hrmph… Hrm? What the—

Shit!!

Xavier was hoping Enrique had fallen asleep, but he was wrong. He was wide awake. Xavier finished performing the bodysuit ritual as quickly as he could. He managed to complete the ritual before Enrique could fight back. Enrique began transforming into a bodysuit. In a state of panic, Xavier hurried to put him on. He pushed his head into the mouth of the bodysuit and began forcing his way into Enrique’s body. He thought he was in the clear, but then he felt a rubbery hand holding him by the neck.

What are you doing!? Get out of me!!

Xavier heard Enrique’s voice rejecting his presence. He was shocked. He didn’t think someone could resist body invasion once they started turning into a bodysuit. It seemed like Enrique was a fighter! But so was Xavier. Xavier caught a whiff of Enrique’s sweaty musk as he fought his way in. The strong, masculine smell ignited a powerful lust inside of Xavier. He craved more and he was going to make sure he got it no matter what.

Xavier used his full strength to push himself in. Thankfully, although Enrique resisted against him, he was still turning into a bodysuit. The longer it went on, the less of a fight Enrique was able to put up. Xavier crawled his way inside of the dad bodysuit. Enrique’s body expanded and distorted as Xavier’s presence filled up the inside space. With one last burst of energy, Xavier was swallowed up by the bodysuit. The bodysuit began thrashing around on the couch as Xavier began stretching his limbs out into Enrique’s limbs.

Umphh… Stop…! Ughhnnn…

Enrique felt himself getting taken over by the young gay man as it happened. He absolutely hated the thought of it. He felt Xavier’s hands fill in his own hands like a well-fitting glove. He felt the same full sensation with his legs and feet. One finger at a time, one toe at a time, Enrique was completely powerless to fight against Xavier’s growing control over his body. And the worst part of it all was how good Enrique felt having someone wear him like a suit. As Xavier filled in the bodysuit from the inside, was hitting nerve endings Enrique didn’t even know he had. It sent shocks of pleasure that left Enrique jolting and moaning obscenely. His manhood was hardening and leaking precum from all the stimulation. 

Aarrghhh fuckkkk!!

Xavier growled out with Enrique’s voice. He slipped his own cock into Enrique’s growing member like a personal dick sleeve, sending another wave of ecstasy throughout their shared body. An unwanted smirk formed on Enrique’s face once Xavier gained full control over his body. It was over.

Hey! Stop that!! Get your hands off my dick!!

“No way man! This cock’s mine now!!” Xavier teased. He made Enrique’s hands paw at their protruding package. 

He then grabbed and lowered Enrique’s shorts with lightning speed. Enrique’s cock was at full mast and sprung out once it was released. Xavier whistled with delight as he admired his new cock. Enrique had a cock that was as thick as a beer can with a big tip and an unkempt bush of pubic hair too. After thrashing around from getting taken over, Enrique’s body was drenched and glistening with sweat. With a horny grin, Xavier lifted his arm and aired out his sweaty pit hair. The potent smell immediately filled his nostril. He leaned into his pit and took a deep sniff of his musk. The manly aroma fed his arousal, and made his already erect cock to grow even harder and longer.

Stop it! That’s gross!!

Xavier groaned when he heard Enrique complaining from inside his head. 

“Are you sure, big guy? Seems like you’re into it too!” Xavier waved his erect member around, causing precum to drip around his hairy thighs. 

Once Enrique quieted down again, Xavier decided to indulge. He leaned his face back into his ripe armpit and used his tongue to sip a few droplets of salty sweat hanging off his pit hair. He then took another few whiffs of his sweaty scent, groaning as he did so, then ran his fingers down his hairy torso. He stopped momentarily at his nipples to pinch them. Xavier loved the pain sensation jolting through his chest as he pinched his sensitive nipples. His hands continued slithering down until they finally reached his leaking manhood. Xavier ran his fingers through his new bush. His fingers got caught in the forest of thick, black hair. Xavier smirked as he tugged on his bush while his other hand began pumping his throbbing member— all while Enrique was conscious of him moving around with his body.

“Nrghh… fuck man!! Nghhh this feels so good…”

Xavier moaned loudly as he jerked off, much to Enrique’s dismay. Enrique couldn’t do anything but complain as Xavier had free reign over his body. Everytime he protested, Xavier moaned louder and louder until he stopped again. 

This continued for about another five minutes until Xavier felt himself getting close. Once Xavier felt it, he grabbed his throbbing member with both hands and stroked ferociously. His pecs were bouncing up and down with every pump. He was dripping sweat everywhere from how intensely he was jerking off. Then, at the moment of climax, Xavier threw his head back and let out a sensual gasp as load after load of warm cum came shooting out of him like a fire hydrant. His cock was twitching and throbbing until every last load was pumped out of his heavy balls. 

Xavier was breathing heavily. All of the body hair on his upper body became drenched and sticky with all the sweat and cum. He laid on the couch satisfied and completely relaxed, until he heard the garage door opening. Carlos was home.

“Oh fuck, not now!”

Xavier sprang to his feet and hurried to clean up after himself. He threw on his shorts and used nearby napkins to dry off his bodily fluids. No matter how hard Xavier tried, it made no difference. The couch was still soaking wet and he was still red in the face after his little tugging session, but it would have to do for now.

Carlos walked into the living room as soon as Xavier finished throwing away the evidence of what had happened.

“Hey Dad,” Carlos said.

“Hey… Son. How was practice?” Xavier said with a nervous stutter. 

“It was fine, I guess.”

“Hey man, that’s really good to hear! I’m proud of you!” 

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos looked at him with a confused expression. He couldn’t access his mind even though he had perfect control over Enrique’s body. Without access to his memories, Xavier had to guess what Enrique would say. He was in uncharted territory, and he was terrified.

Carlos!! Hijo! Help me!! Your weird friend is controlling my body!!

Enrique was still shouting in Xavier’s head. Irritated, Xavier accidentally responded out loud.

“I swear to God will you just shut up already!?”

“I didn’t even say anything!!”

“Not you!!” Xavier looked over at Carlos. He shook his head to himself. “I’ve been feeling kind of weird today, I’m sorry.”

Carlos stood apprehensively for a brief moment, then lowered his guard again. “It’s alright, I understand. I had a really weird dream last night. I don’t feel like myself today either.” He took out a car key and offered it to Xavier. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow the truck.”

Not suspecting anything of it, Xavier tried reaching out for it. As soon as he did so, Carlos pinned against the couch.

“Fucking liar! I know it’s you in there Xavier!”

“Huh? No it’s not—”

“Save it. I know my Dad, and he would never say shit like ‘man’ or ‘I swear to God!’ What the fuck is going on!?”

“Okay okay I’ll tell you! Just let me get up first!”

Carlos did as asked. Xavier then explained everything to him. He explained how he used alchemy to turn Enrique into a bodysuit and took over his body and identity. Xavier explained that he wanted to help him pursue his dream of becoming an artist by taking over his dad’s identity. After he was done, Carlos stood up and paced around the room quietly.

“This is insane…” Carlos murmured. Xavier stayed quiet. “This is so fucking insane… And honestly? This might be the miracle I was praying for…”

Xavier was overjoyed that Carlos was on board with his plan. He pulled Carlos in for a bro hug, and after they hugged, Carlos told him to never do that again if he was going to act like his father from now on. Xavier chuckled and nodded.

“You got it, Carlitos, I’ll become an even better father than your dad ever was!” Carlos grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dad.”

From then on, Xavier continued pretending to be Carlos’ father Enrique. Carlos had to teach him what to say and what not to say, but Xavier was a quick learner. Although Carlos still had to play rugby to keep his scholarship, he could finally devote more time to his artwork thanks to his father’s new attitude. Carlos was able to find success as a painter after he graduated. In fact, he had been invited to a gallery opening for rising new artists such as himself. His future as an artist was bright.

And while Carlos was busy making a name for himself, his best friend/new father lived happily too. Xavier loved his new dad bod, and so did the gay hunks at the local gym. They would never give him the time of the day back in his old body, but with his new DILF body? They were all over him. Although Enrique still occasionally complained in his head, Xavier learned how to ignore him. The old Enrique had become a distant memory over the years as Xavier and Carlos lived their best lives as a happy father and son duo.

Thank you for supporting!!

[heritagebrowser]

The pulpit at the Saint- Bavon's Cathedral (Sint-Baafskathedraal) in Ghent, Belgium.

Rococo pulpit made by Laurent Delvaux in 1741. The statues represent the blessing of the truth over error. Made of (white and black) Carrara marble and Danish oak, with gilded wood and wrought iron fence, made by J. Arens. The pulpit could be realized with money from Bishop Triest's fund. Laurent was commissioned by the Chapter of Sint-Baafs. The contract between both parties was signed on March 6, 1741.

As early as 1719-1720, the cathedral's clergy had a plan to replace the old pulpit, previously donated by Viglius Aytta, with a new work of art. In 1738-1739 and later, Van der Brugghen from Antwerp, Theodoor Verhaeghen from Mechelen and Laurent Delvaux from Nivelles made a design for a new pulpit. The latter's model was accepted for execution by the Ghent chapter, which concluded a written agreement with the sculptor on March 6, 1741. It precisely described which materials should be used, namely Danish oak and white Italian marble, and what the artwork should look like. In 1745 Delvaux had completed his work.

That pulpit, rightly regarded as a very representative piece of rococo church furniture in Flanders, has been elaborated on a rather large scale. The viewer's gaze is immediately drawn to the allegorical marble sculpture group under the tub, depicting Truth and Time. The Truth, in the form of a beautiful young woman in a graceful pose, holds a bulky, open book in her hands. Her beautifully arranged robe, which the artist managed to portray in a striking way, captures the movement of her long flowing hair. The globe under her right foot means that truth is higher and worthier than all other goods. The sun, shining on her breast, wants to show that Truth is a friend of light and that she looks up to God, without whose light there is no truth. The woman is crowned with a laurel wreath, the sign of victory. The book in her hands contains the following sentence from a speech by Paul to the inhabitants of Ephesus: 'Awake, you sleeper; rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light” (V, 14).

With her graceful body, slightly turned towards him, Truth turns towards a winged man, who foretells Time. He is winged because the proverb says: time flies. The old man sits on some blocks of stone and leans against a tree that supports the pulpit. He is awakened from his sleep by a putto blowing a trumpet, and lifts the veil that hid the Truth from him. People noticed his expressive head with striking play of light and shadow in the spirit of the late Baroque. For centuries, humanity was ignorant of Christ's message of salvation. She didn't see the Truth. Now Time throws off the veil that hindered his 'insight'. Instructed by the Truth, he is inspired by the divine Word, which is symbolized by the putto with the trumpet.

The entire group, inspired by an unfinished work by the Italian sculptor Bernini, is very balanced. The successful contrast between the youthful and lovely woman and the muscular old man, their posture and their draping testify to the artist's talent.

The branches of the tree swing smoothly around the pulpit, which is decorated with numerous rococo motifs and four medallions in relief. Three of these are explicative representations of the victory of Truth over Time and are therefore closely related to the group of images at the bottom. At the front we get the birth of Christ surrounded by angels and cherubim. This represents the Light among people. On the right the conversion of Paul is depicted, who was struck blind on the way to Damascus.

On the left is the conversion of St. Bavo. His eyes opened and he saw. After all, he was moved by the preaching of Saint Amandus and withdrew into a hollow tree in prayer. The last medallion on the back features the bust of Bishop Antoon Triest. The draped sounding board with a dove in a halo at the bottom is supported by two apple trees. On the sounding board, two angels hold a large cross, whose sleek surfaces contrast sharply with the playful branches of the tree. A third angel takes the apple from the mouth of a serpent that is writhing in the tree. At the entrance to each staircase there is a life-size angel on the inside with the coat of arms of Bishop Triest, thanks to whose fund it was possible to have this sculpture executed. The banister with its graceful curves and its lush and playful shells on the parapet is a beautiful piece of rococo in itself. The entire pulpit should not necessarily be viewed from any one point. It is conceived as an image that can be admired from all sides, without the composition losing value. (Source: Erik Duverger)

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲

↳ summary: the day that landed your coworker in the hospital, and a car in the side of a building

↳ warnings: some blood, mentions of alcohol, some hurt but everyone turns out okay, and murdoc being murdoc

↳ notes: had a close friend that knows nothing about gorillaz beta read this, and they convinced me to post it. enjoy. reblogs and comments are more than appreciated

↳ song: da funk—daft punk

masterlist | commissions | carrd

Business at Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium had been steady that day.

You remember it being around three in the afternoon when your shift rounded its end. The busted heater of the store rattled with a wheeze as it desperately tried to stay on, and you reveled in the momentary relief it brought you from the cold weather. Customers shuffled amongst isles lined with various vinyl’s and cd’s, occasionally approaching you at the front desk to ask a question or secure their purchase. Only one or two complained about the mold in the corners of the room this time—an overall win for the day, you mused. 

“‘Ello.”

The small shop filled with a tinkling noise as the glass door to the outside swung open. A burst of cold air came with it, and the customers nearest the entrance bundled up tighter for the moment. You just exchanged a polite look with the newest addition to the store, eager to get off your feet and go home.

Stuart Pot’s green eyes flitted to you for a moment as he offered a small smile to accompany his hello. He took a moment to breathe in the warm air of the shop, no longer disrupted by the draft he had let in, before shedding his coat and starting forward. No doubt preparing himself for the beginning of his shift.

Stuart was a man that seemed to be all legs and no brain. Most people upon meeting him assumed he was stupid, walking all over him until he said something to make them think otherwise about their actions. You yourself wouldn’t have made much of him if he hadn’t struck up a conversation one day. Now, he was one of the only people you talked to on a regular basis. Pretty sad, considering he was just your coworker, but not at all unexpected for having just moved here.

You knew he liked roller skating and wanted to be a storm chaser as a kid. You knew he had a girlfriend that played guitar, and spent his spare time painting. And after one unforgettable day when you decided to bring your lunch in, you now knew his lips ballooned up when he ate pickles.

Stuart really wasn’t a difficult guy to get along with. And while your job wasn’t bad, it was always nice to have something of a friend to complain about it with.

“Afternoon.” You settled for nodding at him as he rounded the corner of the desk, pushing yourself out of the leaning position you had been in to allow him space behind the register. “It’s a real nasty one out there, yeah?”

“Only if yew don’t have a car.” Stuart, who had insisted you call him Stu for the past year now, shrugged. In truth, it wasn’t that he didn’t have a car, just that he didn’t know how to drive it. But that wasn’t anything important you needed to know.

You nodded in agreement as he panned away from you to clock in. At that moment across the store, a customer opened the door Stuart had just come from only to have the wind outside blow it closed right in their face. They took a moment to struggle with it before stumbling outside, looking displeased as they did so.

You made a face.

On a nearby chair hung your own scarf and jacket that you’d brought for the walk home. And while your feet hurt something awful, the thin layers you had brought in preparation of the temperature made you hesitate. Clearly you hadn’t thought long enough about how cold it would get. You sighed in defeat before turning back to Stuart.

“So, how have you been?”

The blue haired man blinked at your form leaning on the counter, no doubt wondering why you weren’t heading out. With a huff of air, you tossed the formalities in favor of a more straightforward conversation.

“It’s freezing out there.” You scrunched up your nose. “I don’t want to walk all the way through town in that just to get to my flat and find out my landlord forgot to fix the heat again. At least here has some warmth.”

“True.” Stuart’s voice cracked in its familiar fashion. Ever a man of few words, he just stood awkwardly, biting at a stray fingernail or two as a nasty habit. Thankfully the silence didn’t linger long before someone shuffled up to purchase a new set of guitar picks.

“Have you heard the new album that we got last week yet?” You mused after he was done ringing the fellow up, pushing yourself off and jumping over the front desk to point at a collection of records. “I thought it was pretty good, and it sounded like one of those underground bands you like to talk about.”

Stuart immediately perked up when you started talking about music; as he always did. It shouldn’t have surprised you, really, to work at a music shop with someone that was passionate about the art form. But with the way Stuart rambled on every now and then you’d think that that’s all he ever thought about.

Nimble fingers picked up the artists cover as Stuart turned it over to the description on the back. When you hadn’t been looking, he’d abandoned his post in favor of the possibility of a new song track, moving surprisingly quiet for someone of his height.

“Homework?” Stuart parroted the title back at you as he read through the track names. “Sounds funny.”

“Lot’s of people think the same thing about you.” You grinned with teeth, unaffected by his suspicion. Stuart just looked at you owlishly, letting a small gap toothed smile show as he caught onto the joke.

“‘S nawt my fault I got an accent.” He placed the album under his arm for later, no doubt going to utilize the employee discount you and him were so generously offered. “If anyfing you’re the weird one.”

You would have responded. In fact, your lips had already opened— ready to rebuke his claim —when a horrible screeching noise stopped you.

The front of the store exploded into a brilliant shower of glass mere seconds later. Shards glittering in the grey light from outside threw themselves at you, covering the skin along your arms and face with a tingly feeling. You barely had time to process a slow trickle of something warm making its way down your face before your body reacted for you. 

A poorly carpeted floor felt the weight of your backside as you fell back, bumping your head on a nearby table in the process. Somewhere a few feet away from you, you heard high pitched groaning that sounded faintly like Stuart’s voice, and a gleeful cackle that incited a splitting headache.

Faint sirens wailed in the background as you wobbly stood to your feet. The sight before you was much different than it had been a few moments ago. Pianos and cases of speakers that you had spent the better part of last week propping up were now in pieces. Some made sparking noises as they lay in disarray. You stared at them as your vision swam, not yet aware of the yelling figures around you or of the  small pool of blood collecting at your feet.

But the biggest change by far you noticed, was the giant car sticking through the front of the shop.

At the wheel was the source of the maniacal laughing. In the three seconds it took to give him a once over, you observed more details about the driver than you could ever want in your life.

He had olive toned skin that was lined with sparse scars. His teeth were yellowed and pointed in an unnatural manner, and his hair fell just about halfway over his eyes; which when he opened them you saw were two different colors. One black, and the other a faded pink. It didn’t take long for his gaze to land on you.

“Oi! Did you bloody see that!” He shouted with glee, apparently ignorant to the chaos he had caused. “Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! Can’t even say I’m sorry about the cuts, love.”

His gravelly tone did nothing to snap your brain out of the haze it was floating in. With a far away look, you stared straight through the driver.

Later you wouldn’t remember the way his eyes widened as you mumbled something with a frown before collapsing forward on the hood of his car, fading into a restless realm of black.

You were fine.

Stuart Pot was fine. 

At least that’s what the tests said. 

Doctor after doctor had come in and out of your room with clipboards before they allowed you to even so much as get up. They’d given up on keeping you off your feet after you rolled out of bed as an act of defiance.

Everything was too white. Hospitals had always felt so artificial to you, so being stuck in one was nothing short of a nuisance. Beeping machines in your ear only proved to aggravate you further, testing your nerves. Thankfully, a nurse was sent in to discharge you, bringing news of only a few cuts they had disinfected, and some minor head trauma that should be okay as long as you kept an eye on it.

Now here you sat, just a few rooms over from the one you had just woken up in, sitting in a visitors chair next to your only friend.

Your only, catatonic, unresponsive friend.

Stuart’s hospital room was busier than yours. There were more machines, more i.v drips, and more nurse visits than yours had. It was to be expected, though. He had gotten hit with the car head on instead of just being near it, unlike you and the other spectators. The only thing keeping your stresses at bay was that his vitals were steady. 

Blue hair splayed itself all around his pillow like a halo as he lay almost peacefully. His chest was moving up and down at an even pace, the gap in his teeth making a whistling noise as he breathed. You would have felt more relieved about it all, if it wasn’t for his eye.

It was fucked. That was the simple way to put it. Completely and utterly fucked. Where a gaze of mossy green had been prior, there was now brilliant bloody red. The entirety of it had been consumed by an inky darkness, making it look like the appendage had just popped right on out of his face. You were unaware if Stuart could see you staring at him from time to time, but you figured if he could, all he would see was pain on your face. Pain, not at his appearance, but at the trauma that was sure to come from it when he woke up.

There had been a third party to visit Stuarts bed not too long ago, sporting sunglasses indoors and black lipstick, and proving to be a very useful distraction for you. You hadn’t recognized her at first until she rushed to Stuart’s bedside, clutching at his hand like it would somehow shock him back awake.

Paula Cracker was just as you remembered her; loud and unabashed. The one time she had come by the shop to pick up Stu on her way home hadn’t been particularly interesting, if the way she barely looked at you before screaming along to her radio said anything. Stuart had to assure you the next day that she didn’t mean any harm. She just wasn’t all for meeting new people. 

You had shaken your head at him and said nothing at the time.

But now, in the hospital, sitting by her boyfriend’s bed, Paula couldn’t seem to stop talking to you. She ran right into conversations like they were open doors, barely leaving any room for you to respond before barreling on. By the time she declared that she had to leave, no matter how much she apparently wished to stay, you had counted a total of ten words that you’d managed to get in. You offered her a short goodbye to match. She didn’t seem to notice.

You settled into a morose silence after that. Nurses stopped coming in, and you stopped waiting for something, anything at all, to happen. It was beginning to set in that Stu had been, to out it bluntly, run over, and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

You had just begun to wonder if you should head home when the door knob to the room rattled, and opened harshly.

“Well this is bloody brilliant.”

The door to the hospital room, which you could have sworn Paula had just walked out of, swung open in a wide berth to reveal the very person that landed you in the hospital.

A quick glance at the clock let you know that Paula had been gone for almost two hours, leaving you to sit by yourself as Stu stayed put. 

“What are you doing here.” Your mouth moved before you could stop it, sentence slipping past your lips in a weak attempt to make sense of this unsettlingly human being.

He looked the very same as he had the last time the two of you met. Just this time with an upside down cross for a necklace, and less blood on his hands. Literally.

The stranger made his way over to you, flopping down in a visitor chair and lighting a cigarette with one very dented lighter. He smiled cruelly at you, showing off a familiar row of teeth. They were as pointed as you remembered.

“Charity.” He tacked on a weird laugh at the end through the stick in his mouth. Two fingers lifted to his lips to remove the cigarette, a thick plume of smoke coming with it. He blew it in your face, and if you hadn’t been so lost in thought, you might have hit him for it.

“You don’t seem the charitable type.” Once again, your words were getting ahead of you. But he didn’t seem to be offended at all. Rather, the man gave a bone chilling laugh that was ended with another drag of his fag.

“Court mandated.” He continued with a smirk.

“They already had you tried?”

“What can I say? The law works fast when it comes to Murdoc Niccals.” He shrugged, once again with that strange laugh of his that accompanied nearly everything he said.

You simply eyed him with a tired sort of caution, drinking in the new information like it could kill you at any second.

“What? Not going to share your name with me?” Murdoc sneered. “It’s only polite.”

“When it comes to you, I have a feeling manners don’t really apply.” You grumbled, but ended up sharing your name all the same. Murdoc nodded slowly in response. You saw his eyes flick you up and down a couple times— something that made you clench a fist —before they found their way over to Stu’s bed.

“Hafta take care of him for ten hours.” He continued to explain without a hint of regret for the individual. “Apparently knocking some scrub in the noggin’ is a crime.”

“I wonder why.” You responded dryly, scratching at the bottom of your right eye without thinking about it.

“Wish I’d hit someone better looking with my car.” Murdoc laughed with a not so subtle look to you. “Wouldn’t mind taking care of ‘em for a few hours.”

“You just crashed a car into the front of a building and nearly killed someone. I don’t think I’d trust you with as much as a dead fish, much less Stuart.” You crinkled your nose. ‘Or me,’ your brain silently added.

“Not much you or I can do ‘bout it now, love.” He took another smoke to punctuate his sentence. It left you with furrowed brows and downturned lips. Murdoc snickered at your expression.

“I mean, it wouldn’t that be hard to watch you.” 

“Didn’t know you were into that.” The man sported a shark’s grin, only dropping it when you made a fake vomiting noise.

“God no. I meant watch you while you take care of Stu. Make sure you don’t do anything to him.” 

“I’m hurt you think I’d do anything unethical to Steve.” He scoffed.

“Stuart.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged. You didn’t bother to correct him.

The two of you delved into an awkward pause that was timed by the ticking of the nearby wall clock. While you were busy thinking about what exactly you had just offered yourself up for, you could tell Murdoc was growing bored. You fell back on bouncing your leg as you analyzed him, the bottom half of your body attempting to get out all of the nervous energy you had been bottling up.

“Well—" Murdoc flicked a bit of ash off the butt of his cigarette, putting it out against the armrest of his chair. “—this was a joy, yeah? Let’s never do it again.”

You couldn’t help but mumble an agreement in his direction. He stood up with a twist of his back, letting out a satisfied sigh as it cracked.

“Guess I’ll see you soon, love.” Murdoc chuckled darkly while heading for the door. One leather clad boot was out the exit before he paused, necklace bouncing against his chest as he turned to look at you.

“Say. You don’t play any instruments, do you?” His eyes held an unreadable emotion.

“Uh, I dabble. Stu is more of the music guy than me.” You responded. “Why?”

But he was already gone, leaving you to wonder if he had never been there. But the ash on the chair next to you and the faint smell of booze in the air told you otherwise.

You let your head fall into the embrace of your hands as you groaned, massaging at your temples in an attempt to quell the pounding in your head.

“What have I gotten myself into.”

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 2

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

Just over 3.5k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, 18+, mature themes

Part 1, 3

You enter the building, it’s noisy and busy in the lobby. Coming up to the kiosk you sign in and a new bracelet is spit out at you. You put it around your wrist and step past the lobby and further into the building. Sitting alone at a table in the smoothie alcove is Johnny and when he sees you his face lights up. You told yourself the night before, somewhere between coming down from your Johnny fueled orgasm and the drifts of your dreams that the first day was a fluke.

They’re all trained like this, to seem super bubbly and interested in you. It’s a ploy, a sales tactic, it’s to get you back in the door, have you pay that membership fee so you’ll be the center of attention of this super attractive, highly magnetizing flytrap. If you were a man there’d be an extremely fit, ultra flirty woman counterpart to come over and hyperfixate on you until you caved and bought a membership for the hopes of getting your hands in that tight little sports bra and the gym raked in another sucker.

They probably pay them extra too, some kind of bonus or sales commission for the trainer who racked up the most membership fees that month. Johnny was just trying to meet his quota and you were fresh meat. You ignored the empty pit that had formed at the center of your chest with this epiphany and told yourself you weren’t even mad about it. It was a ruse, clear and simple but what they didn’t know was that they weren’t gonna make a sucker out of you, that was for sure.

If Johnny was gonna use you, so be it. The joke was on him, he’s gonna put all this time into you and when your two weeks were up you’d be gone. The first thing he said to you was “Homework?” With his hand out, like there was some physical object you were meant to place in his hand. You were pretty sure he had given you a few sets of exercises to do, physical activities. Not paperwork. “Yeah, I did it.”

He looked up at you, head tilted like a dog. “Proof.” You laughed, a trill little nervous sound. What could you possibly have to be nervous about? Pleasing him? Being in some sort of trouble with this man you just met yesterday? But you couldn’t exactly shake the feeling. “I… I don’t.. have proof. But I did it.”

He sighs and gestures for you to sit down. You pull the chair out and sit across from him and he leans forward muscular arms on display as they rest across the tabletop. “I’ll let it go this time, since ye didn’t know but when I assign ye homework I expect proof.” You take your gym bag strap off your shoulder and set it down beside you. “Proof like a log book? Or something?”

The grin that grows on his face is gorgeous but condescending. “Can cheat a log book can’t ya hen? No. I need video evidence.” Your jaw drops a little. “You want me to videotape it?” He nods and smiles. You consider this, it’s a little strange, but you guess you can do that, prop your phone up and videotape your evening workout assignments. “Ok.”

He sits back in his chair and you relax. You go to get up and he adds. “One more thing, hen.” You stop and sit back down in the chair. “Got a few questions before we start today and I want ye tae be as honest as ye can. Can ye do that fer me?” This sets you a bit on edge but you nod in agreement.

The questions start out basic and non intrusive. Have you ever worked out before? Ever worked with a personal trainer before? Then they grow a bit more personal. What kind of home do you live in? Do you have any family living with you? A boyfriend or husband? Roommates? You answer them slowly but honestly.

Then the questions take on a more medical standpoint. Do you have any allergies? Any health problems he should know about? Are you on birth control or IUD? Are you sexually active? You look around to see if anyone is paying attention to your conversation but it seems not to be the case. Your mind is trying to process an answer to that last question but before you even can he looks up from where he’s been recording your answers in his phone and asks “When’s the last time you orgasmed?”

You're dead quiet. Did he just ask you that? Your ears must be deceiving you. “I’m sorry?” He doesn’t even smile, just asks you again. “Orgasm. When was your last orgasm.” You cough at the utter vulgarity of it. “None of your business.” He chides you, like you’re a child. “Nothing to be ashamed of, lass. I’m yer personal trainer.” He says it like it holds the same weight as being your physician.

When you still don't answer he begins to explain. “Yer body lass, is a very particular beast. It needs balance. A very carefully curated balance of nutrition, regular exercise, mental and emotional inputs, creative and productive outlets, and a series of stress and tension releases, among other things. As yer personal trainer it is my job tae make sure yer body is in balance and yer living as healthy and fit as I possibly can. Yer sexual health is as important as yer mental and physical health, and I’d even go as far as to argue it’s an integral part of an adult’s mental well-being and stability. We’re both adults here lass, so I’ll ask ye again. When’s the last time you had some real resease?”

Your mouth is dry, and as you sat there and listened to him you felt a little ashamed of yourself, thinking he was being lewd by asking you these, on the surface, seemingly crass questions when in reality he was just doing his job. Trying to be to the best of his ability as attentive to your needs and as thorough at his job as he could. You felt suddenly compelled to apologize for being perhaps rash and accusatory, jumping too quickly to conclusions.

Your next instinctual thought is the one you jump on, pure honesty and your cheeks flare with heat as you say it. “Last night.” And while you had been honest to try and save some sort of face you come to immediately regret your decision as the professional, serious demeanor he’d donned to pry the answer from your lips drops. His eyes are shiny devious lights, lips turning upwards at the very corners, bright white predatory teeth flashing at you from the parted lips, wolfish in their grin. He leans forward and you feel your heart beating louder in your chest as his eyes hold yours, locked and daring, his hands disappear from the tabletop.

When he speaks next his voice is fundamentally different, almost like you’re speaking to a different man. His voice is gruff, tone a whole octave lower as he growls out from his chest in a voice just loud enough to float to your ears. “Dirty girl. What were ye thinking about hmm? Did ye think about me while ye touched that pretty little pussy?” He must see the way you feel reflected across your features because his eyes darken and he continues on.

“Aye. It was me wasn’t it. What’d ye think about me doin’ tae ye. Did ye think about mah fat cock in that tight little cunt? Bendin’ ye over and sliding in til’ I’m buried to the hilt?” You felt the palm of his hand glide up over the curve of your knee, his fingers wrapping around the width of your lower thighs as they snaked up your leg while he poured filth into your ears.

“Or did I have ye on yer back, legs spread nice and wide while I feasted in the valley of yer thighs til’ yer eyes rolled back and ye were scremin’ mah name tae the heavens?” Your jaw dropped of its own accord and he smirked, fingers squeezing the meat of your leg as he held you captive with his eyes.

“Aye that’s it then.” Your mouth closes and opens like a gaping fish as you try to get a grip of the situation and stutter some kind of refusal. Some kind of response that will make you regain control of the conversation but the sudden change of direction, the pure whiplash of it puts you at a loss for words. All you seem capable of doing is yammering out meaningless syllables and the starts of words. “You- I didn’t- Wait-“

But he’s not done and he silences you as his fingers brush the hem of your sweats. The shudder that runs up your spine is violent and makes you twist in your seat, unintentionally bucking into his touch.

“Nothin’ tae be ashamed of hen, I thought of ye too last night. Fist wrapped around mah cock as I thought of that sweet wet little gob of yers. How pretty ye’d look on all fours fer me. We’re gonna have a lot of fun, me n’ you.”

With that he stands, hand removed from your leg and you didn’t miss him quickly adjusting the growing tent in his gym shorts as he rose. He leans over the table and your head cranes back as he leans in close. “Go get changed. I’ll see ye in the gym, it’s time for our first session.”

You finally manage to collect yourself in the girls locker room. Luckily it’s mostly empty as you slide your sweats off to find your panties ruined. How had it gone so sideways? You came in determined to outplay him and instead you find yourself wet and hanging onto every single one of his words like some kind of filthy slut. That’s the only word for it, you feel like a filthy little slut. Just the pure audacity of him, to speak to you in the most vile and shameless way, had you soaked.

It was the thought of him, thick cock in hand, stroking it with slow languid strokes as he dreams of you on his knees in front him, your hand replacing his, the look of pure ecstasy in his eyes as he watches you take him down your throat for the first time, bobbing your head up and down his- STOP. This is not helping. This is exactly what he wants. But it doesn’t make it easy to push the fantasy from the forefront of your mind (because actually getting yourself to stop imagining it is impossible).

You finish dressing, zip up your gym bag, place it in the locker and leave as you watch the red light replace the green. He’s waiting for you in the open gym by the free weights and when he sees you there’s a content little smile on his face, like he wasn’t just wrecking your entire train of thought with nothing more than dirty words and a hand trialing up your thigh minutes ago.

You get the first word in, you know it’s the only way you’ll be able to control the conversation, if he speaks your whole argument may crumble to dust before you’ve gotten your point across. “We need to set some boundaries. You can’t just speak to me that way. It’s inappropriate and unprofessional and I won’t stand for it.”

To your surprise he just smiles and agrees, which deflates your sails completely. But you showing up after yesterday and staying for the session even after the “inappropriate and unprofessional” talk when you arrived was all he really needed to know. He’ll let you tire yourself out like a horse with bit in its mouth for the first time. Wild horses must be broken.

“If we’re going to do this then I want you to treat me with respect and decency. Do we have an agreement?” He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and a neutral expression on his face, and the pause he leaves between your demands and his answer makes you feel a little like a child throwing a tantrum. “Aye, lass. I’ll treat ye with all the decency and respect ye deserve. Are ye ready to get started now?”

You nod and he motions you over to a matted area of the room, free of weights and other objects so you can stretch. Something you think would go like him demonstrating and then you imitating while giving you verbal pointers, but no. It actually means he shows you once and then makes you imitate it and if it’s not exactly how he did it he comes over to you and rearranges you.

Hands all over your body pushing down on your lower back for proper push-ups, hands gliding up your legs all the way to the undersides of your ass cheeks to straighten your legs for proper toe touches, he’s sitting on your feet for your sits ups, claiming your feet are wobbling too much, leans in way too far while you’re coming up so you’re face to face when you do and you catch him several times staring at your lips, his own slightly parted, even having to tell him you’ve done your last set of ten when he was supposed to be keeping count.

When you’ve finished what he calls your warm up he explains the next steps in a proper session. “I wanna work on yer flexibility. We’re gonna have ye doin’ full on splits by the time done with ye.” And he’s smiling and laughing like it’s some sort of secret joke between the two of you.

You sit on the mat, legs spread out before you in a comfortable V. Slowly he begins to spread your legs wider and wider. They come to a natural stop and he gets between them, using those toned strong arms to push past their limitations. Your brow furrows as the burn in your hips intensifies. “Johnny, s’too much.” But he keeps going, pushing on your inner calves, stretching them wider. You roll onto your back and think that he’ll stop but he doesn’t, just climbs over top of you and continues to push. His crotch presses up against yours as he continues to split you. “Johnny!”

“Just a wee bit more, lass. You can do it. Doin’ so good fer me.” And you hate the way the praise sinks into your skin and soothes you. He’s stopped pushing, just holds your legs at this shockingly obtuse angle you never knew you were capable of achieving. You’re whining and whimpering, the ache and burn of your legs fills your mind, all encompassing and excruciating, you can feel tears forming at your waterline, threatening to spill. “Johnny, please!” And he finally relents, slowly releasing the tension on your thighs until you’re breathing heavily and lying limp.

You have time later, at home in bed recounting the events of the day, to imagine the absolutely scandalous sight the pair of you must have made. Your back on the mat, Johnny practically mounting you on the floor of the open gym as he spreads your legs wider and wider while you whimper and whine as cries of his name and “it’s too much” fall from your lips. It’s enough to make your face heat with embarrassment but also make you extremely wet.

He doesn’t move, still slotted obscenely in the space between your thighs, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist as he rubs soothing circles into your hips. The burn in your legs is slowly ebbing to a dull throb and as you lie there you wonder just what you’ve gotten yourself into but he doesn’t let you marinate in your thoughts for long as he rises and extends a hand to help you up.

What follows is him shuffling you around to numerous machines you’d have been too shy and un-knowledgeable about to try on your own, instructing you how to properly use them, the muscle groups they worked on, and setting your weights and reps for. He was very adamant about the rule of three. For the first session it was important to establish a baseline to follow, a minimum amount of each exercise that you were fully capable of carrying out. You could push your limits later but for now he wanted at least three sets of each activity.

And through it all you found that you were actually learning a fair amount about exercising that before seemed daunting and out of reach. You thought that maybe, with his help, you’d actually be able to accomplish some real tangible goals, results you could see. He finished off where the whole journey began, you on the treadmill, he set you off on a jog and spoke to you as you began to move.

“I’ve got some things tae handle, hen. I want ye tae try and keep jogging the whole time I’m gone. Do ye think ye can do that fer me?” You nod, and he walks up to the side of the machine, standing there until you look over and catch his piercing blue eyes. “Yer not just cheating yerself when you slack off, yer cheating me as well and trust me I’ll ken if ye do. I always get what I’m owed, bonnie.”

The threat in his tone chills you but he smiles as he says it and you wonder just what sort of consequences might come with a thing like that. You decide then that you’re not quite ready to find out and with that he leaves you to it.

He’s not gone long. Ten minutes tops and while you’re tired and had slowed to a lighter jog at times you know you had done as he asked and was sort of glad with what you’d been able to manage. He gets you to stop and congratulates you on a fine first session. Even pulls you in for a hug, despite the sweat that’s collected on your skin. It's longer than you’d have liked but at least he’s not outwardly groping you.

He takes you down to the smoothie alcove, orders you a smoothie and has you sit down. You take his offer immediately, glad to be momentarily off your feet. He brings you your drink and lifts one of your legs, unlacing your sneaker and pulling your sock off. “Johnny what are you doing?” He placed your shoe and sock on the floor by your chair and begins rubbing your foot. “Dinnae want ye tae be too sore to workout tomorrow. The first session can be very taxing on the body. Build up of lactic acid in yer muscles and ye’ll be cryin’ tae me tomorrow about why ye cannae come in. Cannae have that now can we?”

You sit forward as much as you can with your foot in his hand. “Actually I need to talk to you about that, I can’t come in tomorrow, I’ve got a huge work thing and I’ll be staying late to help prep the presentation for it.” He hums and switches feet, getting your sock and shoe off before he answers. “Ye can still do yer homework and send it in, I’ll give ye my number. I wanna see the same thing ye did last night on video this time and I wanna see ye practice yer stretches, ye ken?”

You nod in understanding and he begins working up your leg towards your calves, you bite back a moan at the painful but magical sensation. “And I wanna know about these things ahead of time. I’m a flexible man bonnie but I need tae fit these kinds of changes in yer schedule in advance.” You say you understand and even thank him for being so understanding, which brings a huge cheeky grin to his face.

He gets behind you and massages your shoulders as you finish your drink and the feeling of his warm hands on your shoulders and back have you on an erotic edge that you feel uncomfortable with in such an open setting. You quickly finish the last of the smoothie and rise from your seat. After you’ve said your goodbyes and he’d given you a card with his number on it you head for the locker room and begin undressing. You unlock your locker to find your gym bag unzipped and open.

It gives you pause, you’re almost certain you did not leave it this way, you’ve always had the habit of rezipping your gym bag after changing. You quickly rummage through it but find nothing missing. Phone, keys, wallet. Everything was there. You shake it off and label it as a mistake. You must have left it unzipped when you were changing and still flustered from your first little chat. Swinging the bag over your shoulder you leave the locker room and head home, waving to Johnny on your way out the door.

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 6

A/N: Alright, here's the deal: I wrote the next 3 parts of Sonnet all together (including this one), but have decided to split them up for flow purposes. Which, hopefully means more frequent updates, because they're already written lmao. I apologize for this being a shorter chapter, but the next two will be from Tav's POV and then Astarion's. We're doing character building, ya'll. Happy reading!!

Rating: M/Soft E Word count: 2k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, body worship, post-breakup, unhealthy relationship Summary: In preparation for the upcoming gala, Astarion commissions a hand-tailored dress for Tav.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3 ♥ Playlist

A small gathering has commenced within Astarion's office.

Tav stands on an upturned wooden crate with her arms outstretched, facing a mirror. A tailor is at her side, wrapping measuring tape around her chest. He scratches something into his notepad, then slips the tape down to her waist. He cinches it tight, causing Tav to gasp.

“Ah, excuse me, may I request something?” she asks, putting up a finger in protest. The man looks up at her through the thick lenses of his glasses.

He's a meek older man; human, likely in his seventies. His glasses sit heavy across the bridge of his nose, and he speaks with a voice that begs for some type of nasal lavage. He nods at Tav.

 “Perhaps leave some extra fabric around the waist?” Tav suggests, sweetly.

She’s wearing an emerald green satin dress. Astarion picked the color – part of their agreement to have her attend tonight's event – as it matches her eyes. The dress is modest, overall. Off the shoulder sleeves with a horizontal ruffle across her chest. The neckline dips slightly into her cleavage, but it's mostly obscured by the bunched fabric. It cinches around her midsection, opening into a wide skirt down the legs. The same ruffle across her chest is present around the bottom hem of the dress.

It truly is a magnificent dress.

…If she enjoyed wearing them.

Astarion looks on from across the room, languidly sipping a glass of wine. He's sifting through various documents strewn across his desk as he chimes in, “You have such a darling figure, my dear. Why hide it?”

With a huff, Tav argues, “I've grown softer in these last few months.” She looks off to the side pensively, chewing the inside of her lip. She knows what he's going to say. It's never been about what she looks like, though hearing him call her a vision always does wonders for her self-esteem.

No, Astarion has always wanted her. Was drawn to her heart, as twisted and warped as it was. Despite that, he managed to find the small beacon of light still shining within. And slowly, ever so carefully, pulled it from the depths.

“And? I hardly see the issue,” Astarion challenges with a slight tilt of his head.

“Astarion!” she shouts, giving a quick stomp of her feet. Heat rises to her cheeks. “Please, Astarion – I would feel more comfortable about wearing this… thing,” Tav says while pulling at the dress, “if it weren't so form-fitting.”

Astarion takes another drink of wine, walking around the desk to lean against its edge. He and Tav exchange glances. When he finds her pouting, he sighs. “I guess it doesn't matter, really,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. His lips then curl into a devilish smile. “It's only going to end up on the floor, come nightfall.”

Tav shoots a bewildered glare toward Astarion, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. The bastard has the nerve to be smiling so smugly after a comment like that, because he knows. There's no way Astarion doesn't know the impact his words have on her. 

It's another game he plays, but truth be told, Tav likes this one. A lot. It’s rare for him to not make good on those honeyed words. And when he does, gods, does he do it well.

Preventing her mind from becoming awash with lust, Tav shakes her head. She stomps her feet again and huffs out an audible breath in Astarion’s direction. It's a warning for him to ease up on the flirtation, lest she blow a gasket.

His smile deepens.

Of course he'd want to see that.

The poor tailor, caught between their questionable spat, clears his throat. “I-If it's alright, my lord, I'm more than willing to comply with your Lady’s request.” 

Astarion brings the glass of wine again to his lips, looking at Tav from over the rim. She mouths a ‘please’ in his direction; he pushes himself away from the desk’s edge.

“Of course,” he agrees in a posh tone. “Whatever my Lady desires.” Astarion then abandons his glass on the desk, moving toward Tav. 

A shiver runs down her spine as Tav watches his reflection appear in the mirror behind her. She knows he’s handsome, but seeing his form within the glass leaves her speechless.

It grounds her in a way she doesn't expect. Makes this entire situation real. 

She may never get used to it.

“However,” Astarion continues, “I would ask that you please leave the room.” He turns his head to the tailor. “If only for a few minutes.”

“Of c-course, Lord Ancunín,” says the elderly man with a bow. He gathers a few materials scattered from around the room and quickly heads out into the foyer. The door to the office clicks shut behind him.

Astarion then offers Tav a hand in stepping down from the wooden crate. She accepts and stands before the mirror. She takes a quick moment to study her reflection. 

Her hair is being held up in a loose bun. As she tilts her head, Tav can see the scars on her neck through the fallen strands of hair. Yet, she's happy to find that the bruise Astarion sucked into her neck is starting to fade.

“Now tell me truthfully, darling– Why hide this beautiful body of yours?” Astarion asks from behind her. He slips his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with the sweetness of the alcohol on his breath, floods Tav’s senses. She finds herself quickly growing lax under him, slipping further into his embrace. 

“Unless… you're saving it all for me?” he asks, coyly. He slots his face into the nape of her neck and inhales, leading a trail of kisses up the side of her neck, stopping just behind her ear. “How very modest of you,” Astarion teases.

He sways her gently within his arms and Tav wraps her hands around his forearms, fighting to keep herself upright. “I think a better topic for discussion, Astarion,” she deflects, “is how you almost killed me the other night.” She gives a brief pause before adding, “Again.”

“Oh, but my darling, I didn't,” is his sultry reply. Astarion sucks another kiss into Tav’s neck. The sensation has her knees buckling, but she quickly recovers, squeezing his forearms tighter.

He worries over the scars on her neck and Tav whimpers softly, raising her hand to thread through silver locks. “That's hardly the point, Astarion,” she retorts. Her voice is barely audible, more air than sound.

Astarion slides his hands up from her waist to cup her breasts through the gown, eyes fixated on their reflection in the mirror. “I would say that's precisely the point, my dear,” he suggests, accentuating his argument with a gentle squeeze of her breasts. “You asked me not to turn you – I didn't. I respected your wishes.” He rests his cheek against hers, rocking them gently again as he stares into the mirror. “In my defense, I'm used to taking a bit more from you. It seems you've lost some of your resilience in our time apart.”

Tav scoffs, offended, though allows Astarion to continue swaying her within his arms. “Are you really trying to imply that it's somehow my fault for almost dying again?”

“On the contrary, actually.” Astarion moves his hands again to her waist, wrapping them tightly around her. His voice drops an octave as he says, “We've spent far too much time away from one another.” He kisses her cheek. “And we should perhaps fix that.”

Tav turns to face him. “What do you mean?” she asks, panicked. “We've been seeing one another for the last three months. This is certainly all… something.” She's suddenly on edge, but she's unsure why. Does she fear him rejecting her?

…Since when does she care about that, again?

“Exactly,” Astarion agrees with a husky growl. He drops his face, resting his forehead against hers. “It's something. But what if it were more? Would it truly be so terrible?”

They stand together within the quiet office. And as Tav looks into his eyes, she almost forgets the events of the night before. 

How she essentially aided him in ending the lives of two men. How he hid them within the depths of the manor. That he probably would have never told her, had she not found out. 

This man will keep secret after secret from her, if it means staying within her good graces. He will never risk tarnishing her opinion of him. Tav will have to fight, tooth and nail, to pull each and every truth from him.

Being with him will be work, and will likely end horribly.

But now, as she looks at his face, illuminated by the soft glow of the morning sun breaking through the windows, she feels that maybe…

Maybe…

She's been wrong about him.

Would spending eternity with Astarion be all that bad? He would put her in the very best of everything, never letting her go without. Tav knows he would protect her, always, until his dying breath. Hells, she would never have to lift a finger ever again. She would never be lonely; Astarion would make sure of that. She would never want for anything.

Tav plants a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, giving Astarion a genuine smile. “We should really let the tailor finish working, Astarion,” she scolds, playfully.

‘Maybe,’ she thinks…

‘It's worth trying again.’

With a groan, Astarion rolls his eyes. “That's terribly boring,” he replies with feigned annoyance. “I have a better idea in mind.” He kisses his way up the side of her neck again, and Tav becomes a puddle of girlish laughter in his arms. “We should throw the dress to the floor now, no?” he suggests. “Nightfall is just so very far away...”

As Astarion's hands wander down the length of her back, Tav lets a moan slip past her lips when he cups her arse. “Let the man finish his job, Astarion,” she insists, “or I won't have anything to wear at all.”

He draws back from her, studying her face. Confusion strikes her as she looks back at him, unable to read his expression. The corners of his mouth then curl into a sly smile, and suddenly, she understands. 

“Again,” he says in a velvet tone, “I hardly see the problem.” Astarion accentuates his point by pulling her to him. Tav gasps as their centers collide, and that's when she feels it. The length of him, stiff and proud, rubbing up against her. Heat rushes to her cheeks in embarrassment – he would take her here in the office, knowing damned well the tailor is just beyond the office doors. 

The same doors that happen to be unlocked.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she states, tapping Astarion's chest while peeling herself free of his embrace. “Now, please; I would appreciate if you quit being so fresh and let the man finish.” Her breath comes in labored pants, her cheeks flushed. Her mind begins to clear.

With a playful scoff, Astarion throws up his hands in defeat. He steals a quick kiss to her cheek, snaking a hand down the front of his trousers. Astarion flips himself up into the waistband of his undergarments, pulling out his shirt to cover himself. Tav gives a quick giggle, Astarion shooting back with a smirk, and he finally heads to the office doors. He invites the tailor back into the office with a bow. “My apologies,” Astarion says with a well-practiced smile, “and thank you for your patience. Please, resume your work.”

The tailor lifts his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose as he walks back into the office, clutching his measurement tape to his chest. He gives a quick bow to Astarion, then helps Tav back up onto the wooden crate. Astarion resumes shifting through documents on his desk, though catches Tav staring at him through the reflection of the mirror.

When their eyes meet, they give one another a knowing smile.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Disaster - Chase The Mirage

pairing -> Cyno x Adventurer!Reader x Tighnari; poly

word count -> 2,490 words

themes -> injury, healing, angst with comfort, disliking scars

(masterlist) (next) Two Akademiya giants, infatuated and hooked to a simple adventurer from the Adventurer’s Guild. But their love is powerless in comparison to the danger you face daily.

It started off as any other normal day, and that was why Tighnari wasn't expecting anything.

There were no Withering emergencies he had to tend to, no adventurer dumb enough to bite another mushroom, no incidents in the patrol routes he'd assigned.

It was so peaceful and pleasant, so much so that when the rain suddenly poured as expected of the forest's unpredictable weather, it didn't bother him.

He embraced the petrichor, gazed at the droplets hitting his face like a soothing massage from nature. In the middle of Ghandarva Ville under the sky's shower, he had found peace with himself.

Which is why when his ears picked up the sound of familiar footsteps and saw the approach of his cloaked lover, he gave it no deeper thought, even throwing a smile.

It only fell when Cyno didn't smile back.

That was his first sign, and when the hairs on the back of his neck all stood, each warning became apparent from focus.

The persistent stench of something metallic despite no signs of injury on Cyno, the way his eyes were darkened even after he had pulled down his hood, and the last evidence he needed was the red stains under the general's nails.

He reads the singular word that moved his lips for the rain (and the ringing in his ears) blocked his ability to hear.

"Bismartan."

And he fled without waiting for him to follow.

It was only when he saw your unconscious form surrounded by doctors and healers did Cyno gave him the liberty of the truth.

There was a commission in the desert that you accepted, to accompany a Fontaine merchant group through the desert. At one point of the relatively safe journey, the caravan had to detour upon the sight of camping Eremites.

Past the ruin golem in the Valley of Dahri.

A child of a merchant couple strayed too far from the path in hopes of getting a closer view of the Khaenri'ah technology, and the moment he was in the vicinity, the golem identified its target and shot. In that moment, you pushed the kid out of golem's area of reach.

If not for the fact that he was stationed by Caravan Ribat by that time, he wouldn't have heard the full story.

He remembers seeing the caravan scrambling through the entryway, one merchant cradling a body covered in cloth, in a color that failed to hide the red seeping through. The commotion caused the Corps of Thirty and his entourage to check up on them.

"Please, where is the nearest hospital?! We're in an emergency!"

"What happened here? You don't look like you're from around here, and Bismartan is hours away."

The moment he lifted the cloth to see the damage, everything around him seized to exist.

He was shouting orders, taking you in his arms the next, and soon he found himself sprinting through the forest with the fastest merchant trying to catch up.

"I'm sorry." Tighnari's ears twitched, slowly raising his head from looking at the floor to Cyno.

"What are you saying sorry for?" But he knew why, he knew better than anyone.

You were in the desert, Cyno's territory. Long ago they've had an agreement to keep you safe whenever you crossed either of their territories, to look out for you when the other couldn't.

"For not being there." Looking ahead, the sound of the doctors and nurses scrambling inside became clearer, your breathing too if he would focus. Tighnari wanted to comfort Cyno, but right now all he wants is to close his eyes and forget everything.

Forget this reality.

Forget the world that dared to hurt you.

"It's not your fault."

But he desperately wants to blame someone.

A week had gone by before the doctors finally allowed Tighnari's insistence to discharge you for him to take care of in Ghandarva Ville. While you're not in critical condition anymore, you were still resting 24/7 due to the medicine sedating you.

The forest ranger felt more at ease having you near for him to tend to than to check up on you everyday, trekking through the forests just to reach Bismartan. In the comforts of his home, as he lays you on his bed where you'll be staying for the duration of your stay, he sighs a relief.

"Will they... be okay?"

Cyno turns away from the sight to look at the person peering through the entrance shyly, urging Collei to get inside after getting permission from the general. There they stood side by side, a respectable distance from where Tighnari was silently stroking your bandaged hand.

"They'll be okay." With a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes.

It isn't long before Ghandarva Ville fell into a new routine during your period of rest. Even tho Tighnari made himself as available as he could be, the forest rangers knew he would rather be in the headquarters than outside doing mindless patrols.

Rangers took more tasks, watchers started leading more, and Tighnari's workload easing up. Everyone can feel the unrest in the village but none dared speak up about it, not wanting to sour their chief's already stale mood. They can see it in the way his ears droop, his eyes twitch, his sighs ever so loud.

No matter how much he tries to deny it, he was teethering on the edge of sanity, irritable more than usual.

Cyno, the General Mahamatra, had also been sighted frequently. Unlike before when he'd only visit for important matters or for dinner, this time he was more present than ever before. Half of his time would be used to stay by the village with Collei, assisting in whatever way he could.

Rangers had the rare chance to witness Cyno clearing a Withering Zone by himself, and the many miracles after of him tending to forest ranger work. It wasn't long before they realized his intentions. He was taking up a part of his lover's work so he can focus on nursing you back to health.

Sometimes, if they don't see Cyno, it would be Tighnari out and about to keep the forest rangers together.

But after an incident where the Akademiya paid him visit on a day he was at his limit, the rangers started to appreciate Cyno's presence more when they watched their head forest watcher bare his teeth in warning.

Collei had also been pushing herself to her limits yet carefully maneuvering herself to not overwork to the point of bed rest. This wasn't her first time taking charge for Tighnari, but this was a time that she was needed the most.

Perhaps it was because she knew Master Tighnari and Lord Cyno best, knew that they needed the support more than anything, that she would go to great lengths to be there for them. Collei would be seen entering and exiting Tighnari's hut the most, either to fetch something or to send the reports the others may have.

Every time she leaves their head's dwelling, she would look a little nervous. But Collei would always shake her head and pat her cheeks, the determination quickly brightening her violet eyes as she walks away to her destination.

"This is the third time this week."

Cyno sighed after making sure you were sound asleep once again. Tighnari only sighed by his desk before his hand crumples up the letter he was writing.

The people of Sumeru do not dream, but despite hailing from a foreign land, nightmares won't stop plaguing your sleep. It was only recent that you've become more acquainted with the waking world due to the lowering of your dosage. And after a month, the trauma of the incident still follows you where they couldn't be of help.

Leaving a kiss to your forehead, Cyno made his way over to Tighnari who was starting a new letter.

"You've been here for too long." Leave it to the forest ranger to put things so bluntly. Even if Cyno knew he meant to talk about how he's needed by the Matra sooner than later, it still pained him.

"They can wait, (Y/N) needs us." His hand lands on his lover's shoulder, lightly squeezing it. "And so do you."

The quill in his hand fell from his grip, tainting the unfinished letter and the extra parchment underneath with dark splotches of ink. Tighnari can't even begin to describe what he's feeling right now but he knows he's been scared this whole time, something that Cyno had picked up long ago.

"I can't - I can't finish this letter." Cyno was quick to hold his trembling hand, squeezing it with reassurance before pulling him off the chair for a quick hug.

"I'll take care of it, go rest, I can see the bags under your eyes even in this lighting."

Only when he saw the forest watcher take his spot next to your resting form did he finally turn back towards the ruined table, cleaning up the mess, and picking up the quill. Hearing the soft snores of another did he finally sigh out heavily.

"I'm not sure if I could finish this either." But he starts the first stroke anyways, trying his best to steady his writing hand.

'Dear Uncle Cyrus,

may this letter find you well. There's something that you need to know...'

You can't help the shiver that wracks your entire body despite the fact that you've dealt with this everyday now. And every time, whoever it was between your lovers that spreads the cold aloe vera on your burns, would pause and ask if you were alright.

"I'm okay." You try your best to reassure them with a smile, but they would simply sigh and go back to spreading the balm.

It was like you woke up in a new world where your lovers were replaced. And while you'll never know what had transpired in the day of the accident and the period following up to your consciousness, it was undeniable that the damage wasn't just on you.

The critical injuries were tended to thanks to the vision wielder healers of Bismartan, yet the fact that almost every inch of your body was covered with bandages was testament that you didn't exactly escape scot-free.

Collei would look at the bandages with distant recognition, before assuring you with a bounced back smile that things will get better.

It will get better, it's just a matter of when.

Not just for your body, for yourself, for the itch of adventure - no. Slowly sitting up from your spot on the bed, your gaze wanders to the sleeping faces of your boyfriends. As gently as you could, you cup their cheeks to stroke at the darkening circles under their eyes.

They look so exhausted. Maybe more than you. Who knows what they've been through while you were gone?

"Don't worry about us, focus on your own recovery."

For every pain that shot through your body, there would always be a soothing presence by your side.

For every trip or stumble, a guiding hand immediately steadies you.

So you try your best to smile through it, anything to give back and reassure your lovers that things are going as well as they could. That the nightmares don't bother you, that the uneventful days doesn't eat away at your sanity.

But Cyno and Tighnari are your lovers for a reason.

As you stand in front of the full body mirror, bandages removed to be replaced soon, they do not miss the way your eyes linger on every glaring red patch of skin. Look so distant as your eyes roamed your form riddled with the scars of your sacrifice.

Do you regret your decisions?

As Cyno urges you away to shower, Tighnari picks up the mirror to tuck it away in a corner that you won't have to see.

And then one morning, as you were stretching by Ghandarva Ville with Collei to get rid of your bed cramps and for her to alleviate her Eleazar, familiar visitors passed by looking for you.

You willed yourself to breathe as you watched the Fontaine kid hesitantly take steps towards you, eyes unwilling to meet yours but still trying his best to brave the distance. Cyno and Tighnari weren't there at that time, weren't there when the parents of the kid you saved came all this way to thank you.

"We wanted to thank you for saving our child that day, but we weren't sure where to find you until recently."

How you didn't see this before when he was definitely smaller baffled you, but you were surprised when the kid pulled out a bouquet of pink tulips from behind him. "Thank you for saving me, and I'm also very sorry..."

Get well soon, taking the flowers in your arms, you knelt down to be at eye level with the child. He was pulling the beret down to hide his face which made you smile.

"Thank you, I'm glad you're not hurt." When you do catch a glimpse of his stare, you followed it to a scar on your arm formed by a cut from flying debris. "Those are my battle scars."

"Huh?" Thankfully it was fully healed and in the scarring phase. Pulling your sleeves to show the scar, you traced the discoloration almost lovingly.

"Adventurers always take on dangers to help people, did you know that?" The way his hair bounced as he shook his head yes was endearing. "We get scars all the time, and this one right here, is my scar for successfully saving you. This is proof of me doing a good job and I'm proud of it."

Smiling at the kid, you ruffled his hair with the beret, his mood brightening at your words. More words were exchanged as you asked the boy to be more careful, and to stay safe now that they're leaving Sumeru for another region.

Cyno and Tighnari were surprised to see you outside and waving at someone in the distance, a fulfilled smile on your face as you hugged the bouquet tightly, the dark blue beret on your head almost slipping off.

"And where do you think you're going?"

You had just finished tying your boots up when Tighnari came in the hut, staring at your green and white uniform with obvious distaste. When you reached for the beret instead of the standard adventurer's hat however, it was swept away by Cyno and out of your reach.

"Hey, I need that!"

"Just because you're fully recovered doesn't mean you can go straight back to work." Confused, you heard the shutters of the hut close as Cyno pulls your tie loose. "What if you're not fit to work yet?"

"But you've been monitoring me for a week now, I'm in good condition! H-Hey, wait a minute-!"

The next day, Collei watched you exit Tighnari's hut with shaky legs, huffing and groaning about the soreness preventing you from doing commissions.

You're not fit to work yet, it seems. Especially when your boyfriends now have the liberty to be as clingy as possible.

I'll be honest with you, I had no idea where this was going. But also fun fact, this chapter was referenced in the first one!

@ireallylikehamsters

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Faust with a Star who's an artist and asks him to pose for drawings (HCs/Short Story, whichever works for you!!)

Draw me like one of your French girls!

Bc of how cute this idea was I made it both <33

Loves being your model, doing poses you need with ease as you sketch it quickly

Honestly if you called him your muse he's giggling while telling you to stop (continue doing it he loves it so much)

If you need a specific pose he let's you move his body as you want it

Also 100% down changing outfits if you need to use them as a reference as well, he's basically Barbie with how many outfits he'll change in to

Makes silly jokes about the titanic how he's the Rose to your Jack.

When you finish the work he asks if he could post and brag about his awesome artist partner!

If you posted it already he's sharing it to all his social media platforms. Giggling as everyone complements how amazing it is

During streams he always talks about how you drew him again saying how loved he is by a artist.

"Like this?" Asking as he posed in front of Star. Looking at them with a soft smile, relaxing into the couch he lounged on. Faust's partner turned their head and smiled at the pose.

"Perfect! Your such an amazing poser! My muse!" Praising him, Star grabbed their pencil and started to sketch the base of how his body in on the couch. Preening Faust giggles hearing the nickname he loved so much.

"Is this for another commission?" Questioning, Faust watched as his artist's hand flys across the canvas. Quickly capturing how the pose is, he always loved seeing them work. It was like magic how they formed a blank surface into art.

"Yep! Red, is what he said to call him wanted an exact picture to that of Rose from the titanic. But it would be his partner." Mumbling Star's eyes shifted back and forth. From to canvas at their side to Faust posing in front of them so perfectly.

"Oh? Even naked? How scandalous~" Giggling as he wiggled his eye brows. Causing Star to snort at him, but then nodded as they recall the commission agreement.

"I know right? He got consent from his partner to send me a nude picture. Hopefully I do it justice!" Sighing out, Star remembered the first commission they did with a naked model. "I swear if I butcher it I'll quit art."

Faust pouted at that, but then remembered how distraught Star was when the commission was turned down. They tried redoing it multiple times but the commissioner just didn't like it. Huffing out Faust turned his head to them and spoke.

"Well if that person wasn't sooo picky! You wouldn't have felt bad. You redid it like....a thousand times! Honestly I wonder if they were just trolling you...." Mumbling out the last part, Faust saw Star shaking their head. Causing him to roll his eyes, Faust wishes they could see how their art was perfect and amazing.

"But still, I only need the pose then I can work from there. You wanna watch me work again? Might take longer than expected." Whispering as they focused on the canvas. Letting Faust think it over then sighing at them, shaking his head slightly.

"Can't there's this new game out I got sponsored for to play and I gotta do that before it'd deadline. Maybe when your done with this commission we can play together?" Asking hopefully, Star was on a break from gaming. To focus on finishing the few commissions they landed. Once again his partner shook their head, giving him a sad smile.

"I'm sorry muse, but I'll make it up by playing with you on Friday. I wanna focus on this commission. Don't worry I won't push myself that far." Giggling out the last bit. However Faust gave them a look, to be serious about the breaks and not pushing too far.

"I swear if you accidently don't eat for a day like last time and get sick. I'm killing you. With love of course." Smiling innocently as he batted his lashes. Star nodded at their partner, better to agree or it'll be a long conversation.

"Of course my muse, my moon, love of my life-" Babbling nicknames for him, Faust gave them another look to stop talking or they'll focus on praising him.

"Oops! Well, I'll sing your praises another day. Now, let me fix your pose real quick I think you moved a bit too much." Mumbling out as Star got up and tweaked with the pose a bit.

[simping-overload]

sampos tango

commission for @pickingpixel

First time writing smut! I like how it turned out.

summary: sampo manages to drag you into a naked wrestling tournament.

tags: dom/sub understones, naked wrestling, gay, male reader, bottom reader, top sampo, reader is not trailblazer.

word count: 2,759 | ao3 link

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem alligened, please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You stare at the wrinkled flyer in your hand, rereading the headline for the 15th time. It an advertisement for a naked wrestling tournament? The contesents were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the opponent. Whoever wins gets a grand prize of 10,000 credits.

You look up at Sampo with a disgruntled look, "There is no way in hell I am doing this."

Sampo chuckles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, ignoring the way you sqirum under his touch. "Well, my dear, you don't have much of a choice. After all, you did lose the bet, and I have your agreement to it in writing." He says, wrapping himself further around you, pinning you to his chest. "We both know the things I can do to you if you try and back out."

He uses his other hand to tilt your head up towards him, the devious glint his eyes make the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You simply nodded your head to the forced agreement. His signature grin returns, and he realses you from his death grip of a hold.

Sampo clasps his hands together, "Wonderfull, my dear! Just make sure to be early. We wouldn't want you to be late after all." He turns on his heel, slipping back into the shadows, disappearing from view.

You stood there for a few more moments thinking things over. You didn't think that single simple piece of paper would have such a control over you. However, it would've been far worse if Sampo wanted it to be. You really need to stop associating yourself with him, even your colleagues, disprove of him.

They say you shouldn't trust him. He's a con artist, and he has so many enemies that probably will become yours one day. Although there's just something about him... probably just the charm of a con artist. He just seems like someone you want to keep close for whatever reason that may be.

You turn on your heel, heading into the direction of your home. Preparing for whatever shit shows you just got yourself into.

-

The place was swarming with over and underworlders alike, some you even recognized, but thankfully, none has recognized you yet. You make your way through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the blue hair con. For such a tall man, he is difficult to spot.

You approach the check-in desk, and there are two identical looking workers who seem to be nothing but tight boxer briefs and a name tag stuck to their muscled chest. They greet you in synch.

"Hi, I think I'm supposed to check in here? My names (Y/N) and I'm supposed to be one of the uh contestants." You managed to stammer out, trying not to get caught having your eyes anywhere but theirs.

The one on the left, Jax, begins scanning through the list while the other, Max, eyes you up and down.

"So, who dragged you into this? You don't look like you'd sign up for yourself willingly."

You sigh, shifting your weight, "I lost a bet, and I was wondering if a man named Sampo checked in? He's tall with blue hair."

Max nods and points behind you, "I think that's your guy."

Jax holds out a pen and paper out towards you, "Before you run off, we need you to sign this. It's just a consent form of what could happen during the matches."

You sign the papers quickly, thanking both of them before going to Sampo, who is leaning against a pillar scrollling in his phone. He seemed to notice your approach, making his way to you.

"Good to see you, my friend! Hope you're ready. " He grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him. He brings you to what looks like to be a dressing room that only has empty hanging racks and a few of body oils spread along the counter.

Sampo clasps hands together, sly grin etched onto his face, "Well, for the first order of business, Strip."

This makes you choke on your own spit in surprise, "Can we at least go over how these rounds are gonna go and general rules too before you see me naked?"

"It's simple. It's elimination based. You defeat your opponents and climb your way up to victory. The matches are timed, so whoever is on the ground at the end loses." Sampo starts to explain and gestures to you to start removing your clothing.

You start with your shirt, shivering when the cold hair hits your skin. You slip off your shoes and socks, shivering more as your feet touch the cold tiles. While you're undoing your pants, you ignore how Sampos gaze falls on your crotch.

"I won't be participating in these matches. I won't be able to stop anyone from doing certain... things to you. So you need to make sure you dont allow anyone to get the upper hand." He places your shirt and pants on the counter, sliding your shoes and socks under.

You stop on the waist band of your boxers, nervous. You've never been naked in front of someone you knew personally. The only people that'd seen you naked are random hook-ups.

Sampo notices your hesitation, "If you're worried about being judged. Don't be. I've seen my fare share of dicks. I highly doubt yours will disappoint."

The comment made the blush on your face grow brighter. With a shakey breath, you slip out of your boxers.

"Well, that wasn't so bad. Was it? You're pretty decant size, too...nothing to be ashamed about."

"It's more embarrassing than bad, honestly. This is the first time I'll be naked in front of such a large crowd."

Sampo turns for a moment, grabbing a random bottle of body oil. "You'll be fine~ Most of the contesents are new to this too. No ones gonna judge you."

"Now, we have to smother this all over you, aside from your hands and feet, of course. Do you want to do it or me?" Sampo asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes not so stubly trailing up your body.

"I'll do it, thanks, but you'll have to get my back. Also... I saw on the waver that people would try and have sex with their opponents? How would that even work. I thought these matches were timed." You ask, taking the bottle from his hand as you turn away from him. You put the oil on your hand, giving it a sniff. It was a subtle semll of coconut. At least you'll smell good.

"Yes, though, that matches are timed, 3 minutes each. If the pair starts to do the deed, they'll extend it to 5 so the audience can have a good show. You might even be able to see the audience getting off to it themselves. But if you're not going to do it, the matches stay the same, and as long as you have the person pinned down for a few seconds, you'll win."

You hummed, listening to him talk as you spread the oils on you. You start with the legs, making your way to your dick, quickly going over before pulling away and grabbing more oil.

You move to your torso and sides, lathering them up generously. You reach your shoulders when you feel bare hands lay themselves on your hips.

You freeze up for a moment, leaving your hands to rest on your tense shoulders. You don't even try to look up at Sampo as he begins to run his hands on your sides.

He rubs the oils into the skin even more, moving to drag the access on your lower back, dangerously close to your rear. He pulls his hand away for a meer second before pouring the oil on his hand and spreading it along your back.

The way his hands glide along your back, spreading the oils into every nook and cranny it can reach. You resist the urge to fall putty under his skilled hands.

It's a few more seconds before his hands leave your back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact.

A voice suddenly came over the rooms speakers, "All contestants, please make your way to the rink. You have 5 minutes."

You look at Sampo, who's just finished drying off his hand with an old rag. He makes his way to the door and beckons you to follow.

You follow him silently, keeping your gaze to the ground as you walk by the other naked contesents. You'd rather not get a face full of someone's junk.

You narrowly miss bumping into Sampo when he stops. Peaking out behind his large frame, you set your eyes on the wrestling ring. Stars, it was huge. So was the crowd.

If they were closer, you could've sworn they'd blown out your eardrums.

"Well, it's game time. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Make sure to show them who they're dealing with. The most important thing to do is win. Just do that, and those credits are ours." Sampo grins, pushing your forward into the arena.

You go to stand next to the line of contesents. Head up tall, not letting your gaze leave the crowd.

With a few announcements from the host you couldn't bother focusing on, the matches has begun. You tap your foot in anticipation, snapping out of your trance when your name is called.

"(Y/N) and Kody, please come to the stage!"

You and a very burly man make your way up the ring. You shake hand before the match begins. He gets the first hit on you, making you quickly learn that he is top heavy. You dodge the next attempt to tackle you. Moving out of the way fats enough to grip the back of his neck and slam him on the ground, making sure to force your entire body weight onto him.

The referee calls it before you send off the ring, waiting for your turn again. Sampo was right about those who tried and sometimes succeeded in having sex. They even still had cum dripping out of their holes and dicks.

Your matches didn't last long, not long enough for someone to successfully grab your dick anyway.

You reach the end smoothly, standing on the back of your last opponent as the crowd chants your name.

The chant slowly dies down when a certain blue hair con artist makes his way to the rink, the spot light shining on his naked body.

The announcers cackle over the speakers, "You guys couldn't have thought that we weren't gonna end this without a bang. Now give it up for Sampo, one of our longest running contesents! Let's see if our new hotshot can win."

You step off of the man under you, staring at the blue-eyed bastard in front of you.

He grins mischievously, "I knew you'd make it this far. Now, let's see if you can make it past me."

You don't know what to say, thoughts getting interrupted as the referee begins the match. Sampo is quick to advance, throwing you against the borders of the ring, nearly making you fall through the ropes. He grabs you in a choke hold, pressing himself against you.

You claw and scratch at his arm, freezing for a split second when he rubs himself against you. You lean forward before quickly reversing and slamming into Sampo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

You managed to get Sampo off his feet and back on the ground. Slipping out of the hold, you move to pin his arms down and attempt to pin his long legs with yours.

"Just having a little fun, of course. Plus, it looks like I'm not the only one getting excited." Sampo chuckles, looking down at your harden dick.

Your head snaps down, checking to see if it was true. By the time you processed the truth, you were flipped over by Sampo.

He pins your arms with one hand, using his other to hold your hip down. He rubs himself against your, agonizingly slow.

"Sampo..." You whimper, already getting worked up. You internally curse yourself for becoming undone so quickly. You attempt to create more friction by rubbing yourself against him but fail as the hand on your hips doesn't allow you to move.

Sampo grin doesn't falter, if anything it judt grows. He leans towards you, noses almost touching.

"Yes, my dear?" Sampo asks with a teasing tone.

"Please..." You whimper out, desprate for his touch.

"Please, what? You'll have to use your words. C'mon now .." Sampo uses his thumb to rub at the dips of your hips. As if trying to be encouraging.

Sampo gazes down at you, his eyes feel like they can see your soul.

"Please fuck me, Sampo."

Sampo chuckles, taking his hand off your hip, not minding the way you start grinding your dick against his. He cups your face and gives you a soft pat before slipping two of his fingers into your mouth.

"Be a good boy and get those all nice and wet. Don't leave it dry."

You obliged, eagerly sucking off his fingers. Some of your saliva dripped its way out of your mouth and onto the floor. Sampo moves to rub himself against you again. Instead of your dick he chooses to run himself underneath your balls, having a hunch that's one of the places that you're sensitive.

Indeed, your were, the muffled moan around his fingers made it clear. This causes a tiny bit of your precum to start to drip out of your tip.

Sampo gives his hand a slight tug, a small warning before pulling his drenched fingers away from your mouth.

He moves his hand downward towards your hole. He lines his finger up with it, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod quickly.

Throwing your head back when he pushes inside, your walls tighten around him. He thrusts it in and out, letting you get used to the feeling before adding the other.

He adds the second in, despite the tightness he manages to scissor and curl his fingers. At this point, you're a drooling mess. Not at all used to his heavenly feeling. You can feel that certain knot in your stomach tighten.

You look up at Sampo, pleading eyes displaying how desprate you are for him. "Sampo, please... I need you in me so bad."

Sampo is glad he deemed you stretched out enough to take him and the way you say his name makes him want to pound you into the ground.

He slips his fingers out, admiring your the way your hole clenches around nothing. He lines his dick up, pushing in slowly. Enjoying the way you tighten around him.

You moan loudly, fuck... he felt huge, making you feel so full and good already.

He bottoms you out, balls slapping against your ass. He relases your wrists from his hold, placing his hands on either side of your head as he looks at the stomach bulge and back up at you.

You press one of your hands down on the bulge, liking the way it shapes into your skin. Sampo takes this as the queue to begin moving.

He starts out slow and hard before gradually going faster. Soon, the only thing you can focus on is the way he keeps hitting your prostate perfectly.

He moves your legs, putting them into a matting press as he thrusts deeper. He dives down, catching his lips with yours. Swallowing the sound of the beautiful sounds you let out.

His thrusts start to become erratic and sloppy as he fucks you, a sign that he's reaching his peak. You are as well.

You wrap your arms around Sampo, pressing your forehead against his, your last clouded eyes lock with his. "Fuck, Sampo I gotta cum so bad."

"Yeah I do too, let's cum together yeah?"

You nod eagerly.

"1,2,3...fuck. Baby, you feel so good." Sampo groans out, realsesing his load into you, pressing right against your protaste as he does so. You cum in long spurts, it landing mostly on your chest but some on his aswell.

He slowly takes his dick out of you once he's finished. Letting your shakey legs back onto the mat. He kisses you once more, mumbling sweet praises as he rubs your thigh.

He looks up at the referee proud and carefree look on his face.

"The winner is: Sampo!"

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Just a reminder, I do these every once in a while -- except in specific cases, unless folks fill out the Radio Free Monday submissions form, I generally don't put anything not submitted via form into RFM. Partly this is to ensure I even SEE the request (tagging me on tumblr has no guarantees, I'm afraid) but it's also to ensure that I have all the relevant information. The form is linked in the bottom of every RFM post, as well as in the header of my tumblr; if you want me to see something that's the place to put it, or if you want to direct someone to Radio Free Monday, giving them the link is super helpful. Thanks all!

Ways to Give:

webkinzcode is a disabled artist and unable to work at the moment; he's raising funds to cover rent, and currently accepting donations and offering commissions. You can read more, reblog, and find giving and commission information here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for Ola, a grad student and teacher in the faculty of science at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, whose life is one of many turned upside-down at the moment; she's raising funds to cover basic needs like food and water for her and her family. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

chibifukurou has a friend who has vertigo and EDS, and is raising funds for a second-hand Alinker (a foot-propelled mobility device); following an illness they are at an increased fall risk, and a recent fall subluxed the shoulder and collarbone on their crutch arm. You can read more and give via paypal here.

a-hackneyed-premise is raising funds for a car that is suitable transport for her disabled son; he is neurodivergent and frequently has mobility issues, and they need to be able to get him reliably to and from transport to his school. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to longhorned's fundraiser for Laureae, a small Native farmer who has built up her farm over the last five years and was recently served an eviction notice; she had been promised by the land owner that she would be given a purchase agreement, but the land can now be sold off and both her and her tenants like Longhorned removed. You can read more and reblog here or support the fundraiser here.

liminalweirdo is raising funds for emergency vet fees for their cat Quintin; you can read more and reblog here or support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for Pillowfort, which needs to meet a $5K goal to keep in operation beyond December of this year; they're currently at just over $3K. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

thegeeksqueaks's school district has shorted her on her summer teacher's budget; she can't afford her own bills much less stocking her classroom for back-to-school. She's raising funds to get her students school supplies and personal support -- food and hygiene tools for underserved kids as well as various aids for neurodivergent kids. You can read more and reblog here, give via DonorsChoose here or via paypal here, or purchase from an Amazon wishlist here.

onedollopofsourcream is raising funds for food and medication for their family including young children; they need medication that is important for family mental health. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

chingaderita's family was recently impacted by a house fire that destroyed their home; their partner has been unable to work and is now ill. They're raising funds for basic needs such as food and water, as well as medication for their partner and other family members. You can read more, reblog, and support the fundraiser here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[puckpocketed]

Hello. You might have seen this floating around on twt:

link 1 // link 2, archive link

If by any chance you or someone you know are thinking about joining in on the challenge… no one can stop you but I implore you as someone who makes art, as someone with friends in an often-exploited creative industry, as someone who lives in late stage capitalism alongside you and has seen this play out before: proceed with caution.

Read the fine print on that form. There is NO guarantee of an internship, much less a job at the end of it. I haven't gone further than this form, but if anyone reading this does, and if there's no written agreement that your work won't be used without credit to you + payment for services rendered - RUN.

This is a common corporate tactic to get free labor out of people. I'm not saying this is necessarily what’s happening; for all we know this was done as a completely innocent move to drum up some fan engagement and as a genuine search for talent for their analytics team. WHO KNOWS. But I can't ignore that I’ve seen this situation play out again and again, at every scale.

Job interviews, when they ask you how YOU think they should improve their systems, how YOU would solve their problems? When they require that you do some problem-solving for them, and it goes beyond a simple task? That’s a free consultation you’re giving them, that's free work you or someone else should be getting paid for.

When big streamers/influencers ask their fans to join in on a fan art contest to choose their new pfp/banner? That’s hundreds, possibly thousands of pieces of free art they never would’ve gotten otherwise. They could've gone to the trouble of paying someone in-house to do it, hiring someone for that position, commissioning a professional for a piece. It's free work from their dedicated fans.

In this case, Utah HC is asking fans to not only choose/provide their own dataset, but to do a complex analysis on it AND do the work of visual and verbal communication to senior management, who likely do not have a deeper grasp of the concepts and will need it simplified. The stipulation that you will present your work could be ANYTHING!! The "five page deliverable" is already bananas to me, having dipped my toe into what analytics is and how complex the fun ones are. Condensing it all is WORK. The presentation portion may include speaking time and answering questions; the groundwork for doing this effectively may include producing data visualisations, making spreadsheets, time consuming write-ups. Maths and science communication is hard. It is WORK. They are asking for free labor.

Many have already called it out, but it's still gaining traction via retweets from big accounts uncritically sharing it. I found out through the official Puckpedia account. Jack Han called it out pretty eloquently on twitter and on his substack:

Many people aspire to work as an analyst in the NHL. Earlier today the Utah Hockey Club gave those people a glimmer of hope. Utah’s Summer Analytics Challenge is unusual in that it doesn’t provide a dataset or detailed instructions. The open-ended contests contrasts with other public (ex: Big Data Cup) or private (ex: NHL team interview) events. In those scenarios, participants are given proprietary data to clean, model and analyze, which influence direction and methodology. Meanwhile, Utah is seemingly happy with anything as long as the writeup is under five pages long. Utah’s contest also stands out in its near-total absence of legal fine print. There are no mention of intellectual property implications, which is perhaps fitting when the team is asking participants to bring their own data and analysis. [...] Open casting calls such as Utah’s analytics challenge start out as a lose-lose-lose proposition: > The employer loses because it will have to invest massive human resources to trawl/filter/evaluate/reverse-engineer the hundreds of write-ups it is sure to receive, with no guarantee that any of them will be of use > Applicants lose because the vast, vast majority of them will have nothing to show for their efforts, while a tiny minority risks having its IP stolen > Good ideas lose because they’ll be born into an environment where their parents (the applicant & the employer) have no defined relationship and won’t be in a position to grow together

link, archive link

I do try to keep things light on this blog, but this is super personal for me <3 thank u for listening

[home-for-wayward-fawns]

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒪𝓊𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓃 𝑀𝑒

A commission I wrote for my friend @selenezq in which her OC Emma tried to run away from Alastor, and it didn't quite go as planned!

TW: Dub-con, possessive!Alastor, dark themes.

Alastor sat on his armchair in his bedroom, one leg crossed over the other while he held the newspaper open across his lap. He didn’t look up as he heard his door slam open, turning the page in a languid manner. He heard a gentle grunt as his favourite Morningstar was forced to her knees by his shadow—he only wished he could understand why she insisted on misbehaving when she already had all his attention. What else could she possibly need?

“I do believe we made an agreement of sorts, dearest.” He sighed. “If I recall correctly, you begged me for eternity. Were you under the impression I am a liar—perhaps you thought I was a man who does not keep his word?” 

“I didn’t expect—”

He slammed the newspaper down on the side table beside him, leaning forward as his eyes glowed a bright red—an ominous glow compared to her brilliant shine. “I am well aware of your station and the privileges you possess. Do you think me a stupid man, princess?” 

He spat the title at her, as if it were an insult rather than her birthright as the devil’s daughter. Her eyes narrowed, a bitter barb ready on her tongue, even as her bottom lip wobbled but he wasn’t going to give her the time to let the words form. “I am more than aware that your parents have done a poor job of teaching you what commitment means, so I’m going to show you. I will teach you this lesson as many times as I need to until you understand what it means to be mine. I am not one of your witless little boyfriends lapping at your feet for just a scrap of your attention, Emma Morningstar, and I am not your spineless father willing to let you walk all over me. There are rules and you will abide by them.” 

His shadow released her hair, disappearing into the shadows as tentacles rose from the ground beneath her, wrapping tightly around her ankles and wrists to drag her onto the ground. “It seems there are people in your life who have led you to believe that you do not matter, that you’re not worth chasing after, and that is the only reason I will go easy on you, my pretty diamond. This is the only time I will do so; if you make this mistake again, the consequences will be far more dire.” 

Alastor stood up, taking the dainty crown off her head and placing it on the ground in front of her. She looked up, confusion in her eyes and he kicked it, watching as it rolled away from her with a cruel smile on his face. She was such a pretty little thing, dressed in a short red dress with lace trimmings up the side. Her pretty tits were almost hanging out from her position on her knees, and her skirt was riding up her ass, not enough material to keep her covered and he tutted. “Lesson one, my little pet. I am inescapable, unavoidable and inevitable. There is no living without me, my love, I will not allow it.” 

The tentacles wrapped around her ankles pulled harshly, pulling her legs open to reveal the scarlet red thong that was doing a terrible job of covering anything. 

“Alastor, stop it.” She commanded, finally finding her words and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” He told her tersely, another tentacle rising from the ground beneath her. It was far thick than the rest, and it pressed against her clothed cunt. He watched with smug amusement as she began to rock her hips against it, riding the length of the thick appendage. “You have your safe word pet, and I will respect it, but know you will be punished regardless. You’ll enjoy this a lot more than what I originally had planned for you.” 

“What were you going to do to me?” She asked, tilting her head as a blush began to spread across her face but she was smiling as she pleasured herself using his tentacles—his beautiful little attention whore.

He crouched in front of her, gripping her jaw as he forced her to look deep into his eyes. “I considered breaking every single one of your dainty little bones, my love. I would chain you to my bed, and I’d be terribly slow, make sure you thanked me for every delightful crack until you were a broken mess, my perfect toy, and do you know what I love most about you, dearest? I’ve put the idea in your mind now and before long you’ll beg for exactly that.” 

He dropped her jaw, enjoying the way she poked out her little tongue to lick her plump lips that were just designed for his cock. “But I promised to go easy on you—just this once—so instead we’re going to play a game! You like games, don’t you, dearest? Here’s how to play: you’re going to let me use your perfect little body, stuff it so full of me that you don’t even remember what it felt like to be empty and be grateful.” 

“How do I win?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and he laughed. 

He unzipped his trousers, pulling out his thick, heavy cock. He gripped her hair tightly, tugging her head back as he pressed the head of his cock against her lip. She opened easily—so fucking eager for him—and he thrust forward, forcing her to take him all the way to the base. 

“You don’t.” He growled. 

She looked up with wide panicked eyes, her hands pressed flat into the floor as the tentacles kept them in place, drool beginning to pool at the corner of her lips as she gagged around him. He peered over her arched back where he saw that thick tentacle pressing against the entrance to her dripping cunt. “That looks like it’s going to hurt, pet.” He chuckled darkly. 

He pulled his cock all the way out, slapping her face with it as she panted for air. He wanted to hear her scream, hear her cry as she forced open. She let out a confused whine before suddenly she was screaming, lowering her back as she pushed her hips in the air. She tried to crawl forward, to escape the thick intrusion, but the tentacles held her in place. “Alastor, please, it hurts.” 

“I’m going to release your wrists, dearest, and you’re going to use them to spread yourself wide for me. Do not disobey me; you will not like the consequences.” He growled at her. 

The tentacles released her and he gripped her hair tighter, holding her up while she reached behind her,  spreading her fat ass so the tentacles could push deeper. She looked up as tears began to flow and he could feel himself getting impossibly harder in her mouth. “How many do you think I can fit inside you, pet? How many do you think I can force your tiny body to take?” He growled low, as another thick tentacle rose from the ground, pushing at her sopping wet hole. 

He groaned loudly as she cried out around him, sharp nails digging into her own beautiful flesh as she tried to stretch herself wide, tried to accommodate for the girth inside her. “You’re beautiful, look at you—have I been neglecting you, pet? Do you need more attention?” 

She whined, trying to shake her head but he held her still. He thrust into her slow, dragging his cock along her tongue while the tentacles pounded deep inside her, stretching her wide. He let out a low growl as he pushed his cock down to the back of her throat, feeling her throat convulse around him as he pushed further still. “As if I’d ever let you escape me, my pretty little jewel.” 

The two tentacles inside of her pushed against the sides of her walls, stretching her wide so a third one could wiggle in between them. She let out a scream around his cock, and he groaned—she had no business feeling so good around his cock. 

“That’s it, take it all for me.” He growled low, and she looked up at him; her beautiful ruby-red eyes rolling back as she struggled to keep her gaze secured on his form. 

He pulled out, resting his cock on top of her nose. Drool and pre-cum dribbled down her face as she gasped desperately for air. “Alastor—Alastor—I need—can't—” 

“Poor little princess, do you need to cum? Do you need to cum while I use your tiny cunt for my own amusement?” He teased and she nodded her head. 

“Alastor, please.” She begged, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she looked up with those pretty eyes and there was a part of him that was angry about that. 

Perfect little fucking pretty slut who had her claws piercing deep into his very soul. She could never know how desperate he was for her, how far he'd go to keep her. 

He walked around her, crouching by her side and he whistled when he saw her stretched-out cunt. “Perfect, my perfect pet.” 

He reached underneath her, pressing a finger against her soaked cunt and trailing it up slowly to her clit. She bucked her hips against him as he did so, crying out as cum dribbled out of her pretty pussy. 

“Who do you belong to, princess? Who owns you?” He growled as he rubbed aggressively—angrily—against her bundle of nerves. 

“Yours! I'm yours. I belong to you. Fuck, please.” She cried, and then she screamed as she fell onto her face. 

She dropped her hands, claws scratching along his wooden floorboards as she screamed. Her entire body shook, beautiful squelching sounds filling the room as her body tightened around the tentacles stretching her so wide. 

As her body stopped and she slumped against floor, her hips high in the air; he found himself smiling. The tentacles slowly pulled out of her and she whimpered at the loss before he pressed the head of his cock at her abused entrance. 

“I will say this once.” He growled, and she made a sound of confusion, rocking her hips back, trying to get him to fuck her again but he refused to fill her again—not yet. “You—Are—MINE.” 

He punctuated each word with a thrust deep inside her and she wailed, pushing her hips up as high as she could as the tentacles pulled her ankles apart, splitting her in two in more ways than one. “Yes—yes—yours—yours!” She agreed, panting loudly as she cried out. 

He wrapped both his hands around her waist, sharp claws digging into delicate skin and piercing through her until she bled. She cried out in pain, whimpering as he thrust deeper and deeper. He needed to be so deep that she would spend days feeling his absence, that she would never again consider leaving him—he would never allow her to leave him again. 

He grabbed her perfect blonde hair, yanking it back and forcing her to allow him to hold all of the weight. She moaned as he pushed himself deeper inside of her, her weight forcing him deeper inside and he growled against the skin of her neck. “If you ever fucking think about leaving me again Emma, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking kill you, and I’ll still keep your body, because you’re mine.” 

He bit down into her neck while she screamed, pretty tears falling down her face and he grunted as he filled her with thick ropes of cum. He felt his knot expand and chuckled as he watched her try to crawl away, try to escape him, but he would never allow such a thing. 

“Too much—too big—Alastor—no—” She whined, but he held her tight against him, gently rocking his hips into her own as he filled her perfectly—they fit together like a filthy puzzle. 

“Whoops.” He chuckled, as the tentacles rescinded back into the shadows and he held her against his lap. He’d keep her for hours just like this, his fucked out filthy little whore trapped on his knot and then when it went down he’d do it all over again. He’d fuck her like this until she learnt her lesson, until she understood they were inevitable.

[kaybreezy3000]

Do you think Five had anything with The Handler or women during his time on the commission?

I know that the Five of the comic differs a lot from the Five of Netflix, but still So I love both of them very much (they have their attractiveness). Also a panel in the Dallas comic, Five himself says: "but I was the best, I was subtle and the blood ran between my fingers like the sand of an hourglass. as did the women"

When it comes to my familiarity with the comic book version of Five, I hate to say it, it isn't that great. I have not read them, but I know somethings about them, and I love their much more feral version of Five.

That said, I think to answer your question, I need to break apart the show version verses the comic book version of Five Hargreeves.

Like you, I love the character so much too, and since you asked me my opinion on this, I have to say that prior to reading your quote from the comic, I didn't feel like Five fooled around sexually with The Handler while at The Commission and maybe not with anyone there. I did know that the idea of him and The Handler has been flirted with on the show, only I thought the attraction there was one sided, with The Handler toying with him, but more so to be cruel and demeaning, not to actually get in his cute old man pants. 😨😄

I actually have never written a fanfic that referenced them together sexually. I have mentioned the extreme forms of manipulation that she did to him that were mentally abusive and further served to crush his already tormented soul. I just didn't see the hard evidence on the show for anything with them further than that, but I am 100% not the authority on our favorite guy and I didn't know about that line from the comics, so please take what I say with a grain of salt. I'm not looking to upset anyone with my thoughts on this-they are just thoughts based on how I saw what the show gave us, nothing more.

To me, how Five looks at The Handler on the show was not in a way showing that he was attracted to her like that. I think she's very pretty and she's got confidence and style to the max, but she's so damn conniving and wicked it cancels all that out for me and I am not sure how he could see her otherwise either. The thought of being touched by her in that way, be it in love or merely lust, would probably make Five's skin crawl. He may have been deprived of love and inexperienced and horny as hell at that point in his life, but she'd probably been the last one he'd want to get with.

To me, Five seems to loath The Handler with every fiber of his being, and I don't blame him for it. She may have saved him from the apocalypse, but she also left him there (or the mutual agreement at the Commission was to leave him there-I don't remember that one for sure) until he was so broken and desperate that he'd have done anything to get out of there, and he did. He became a murderer for them. As Five spitefully said to her, (I think in season 2), "You made it to where I don't belong anywhere!" He was not happy about that and that's putting it lightly. She took something away from Five that broke him-maybe even worse than Reginald or his lifetime alone did. 😭 I'd think that kind of manipulation makes it hard to feel any sort of emotion for someone other than hate. He'd have probably rather never known what it was like to be with someone than be with her.

When it comes to Five at the Commission being a ladies' man who had 'women' running through his fingers like sands through an hourglass, I also don't write my stuff using that idea that he's been with anyone during that time at the Commision, but that doesn't mean I am right on that, and it seems the comic book version is totally going that way with him. For the most part, I used only the show version to base my stuff, but it makes total sense that Five would want to explore that sort of thing when he finally had a chance to do it. So, again, yes, I think Five totally could have done that and I am intrigued comic Five is played that way and now I'm looking at the show version in a new light and I may have missed some stuff.

Not that you asked, but the reason that I don't write Five having done that is as I said, I was looking at the show, and it's also pretty much based on ideas I got in my own head a long time ago because that Five is very, very messed up emotionally and he's super untrustworthy and has good reason to be. I always felt it would be near impossible for him to let his guard down and let himself be vulnerable to someone like that, especially at the Commission or with someone who was working there with him since they are an institution that is using him.

There were also things on the show that I noticed, and other people also picked up on and have posted about, that Five can be very jumpy about affection from others, at first when he comes back, I mean. I don't know if I am reading that wrong, but that idea was also another reason I never went with the idea he was with anyone while at The Commission. He was in a very dire situation while there and adding sex or love or whatever into while there could have made things all the harder for him to get back or just in general. He did let Luther carry him home drunk, so there was that, and later, we see him dancing with Lila and even in the new trailer we have him hugging her back, so Five is not opposed to being touched. We writers sometimes take small things about a character like aversion to touch and we run with them, and we aren't always right, but we do it to explore angsty storylines and look at real human problems that real people sometimes face due to trauma. Five stories with him being touch averse I think comes from all of this and it's all good with me.

When I do pair Five with someone, it's either before the Commission (like in my stories of alternate childhood stuff where he doesn't jump as early as he did on the show) or it's with tons of drama along the way that is based on him dealing with all sorts of quirks and fun kinks and crazy stuff that he needs to work out. I love pairing him romantically, but I just never did the take with him going there at the Commission. That said, I could bend my head to the idea that he was a big-time player, strutting around there all cocky after a series of seamlessly pulled off kills, using his scary reputation to impress people at the Commission so he could get laid. It's sort of hilarious to imagine that and also plays well into Five's impressive ego and probably why Gerad Way wrote him that way. That version of Five sounds so wild, and again, I need to read more of it.😄👍

Still, I love the idea of Five being a mega romantic and a little less hard like comic Five is, that being based on what we see of him with his heartbreaking goal of saving his family even if it kills him, and how he is with Dolores on the show, and with that, I like to think he'd be the type that wouldn't be with just anyone just for sex. He seems to have major feelings even if many write him very stoic and the comic book version comes off much more full of himself and borderline narcissistic (not all his fault-he was genetically altered with serial killer DNA in those). But if the comic book says he's a Casanova, then let's just say, it's a strong possibility Five is or was supposed to be played that way and that is huge stuff you just pointed out.

Maybe in a few weeks when the show airs we will get the real answers on this for the shows final take on Five, but something tells me we won't. I have a feeling they aren't going to say much more about Five finding love. I wish they would, because I want him to be happy no matter what that means and romance doesn't even have to have anything to do with it. They don't have much time to complete this story for us, so my bet is we aren't going to have flashbacks of Five's mysterious time at the Commission, or anything else being shown with him building a relationship with anyone in this kind of way. They might want to keep us wondering and I think that's smart writing that will work for everyone who loves him, those who ship him in relationships of the sexual kind, and those who don't.

Lastly.... (for those who want to look at these ideas a little more and maybe read some fanfics that explore them)

People I know have written some pretty compelling takes on this stuff you mentioned with and The Handler and their 'relationship.' And since you opened my eyes to comic book Five and his interests in the ladies, I am seeing more possibilities that he and The Handler's thing could have been a thing-thing. In one of these stories I am thinking of, the author did go with the notion that Five and The Handler were together in this manner, only it's some dark and very potentially triggering stuff, but the main idea in it still stands that when they wrote that, Five was not with her because he wanted to be. Basically, in the fanfic version I am refereeing to, he was very naive thanks to is extreme isolation, and The Handler was using sex to control Five and keep him under her thumb more than he already was. She essentially was trying to break him, and she did, and it was super sad. @Mangoshorthand -you will find the version of Five I am talking about here, and all I can say is, it is explicit stuff and read her warnings first if you are going to read that. It's not an easy read and wasn't meant to be, especially in the one she wrote that goes deep into this idea of them sexually linked. It's called, 'The Moth and the Spider,' and you can find it under her blog on her master list.

Another great fanfic writer @badkitty3000 wrote a version of Five that was sexually active with other women, (not The Handler), during his time at the Commission, and it's not nearly as traumatic stuff going for him as the story I mentioned above. Kitty's entire version on Five uses this idea that once he had the chance to find that kind of thing with a real person, he did only at first, he struggled bigtime with opening himself up in any other real sort of way with these people. It's all written very well and explores what figuring this stuff out was like for Five, being he was mentally not so much in a great place after his time in the apocalypse, he was a temporal assassin, he was a much older man that was still a virgin (at first) and dealing with major issues of all kinds. Her story, 'The Sexual Awakenings of Mr. Number Five Hargreeves,' is sort of the starter story to all her other stories with him, and there are many Five Centric stories under her A03 profile, and all are good stuff if you like to read about an older adult Five and what his life might be like after or before the things happening during the show go down.

So... yeah. Another long answer by me and I hope it gives you an idea of where my head is at with all this. Your question is great, and I could totally get on board with the bloody hands, sands of time, on the hunt for a good time, version of Five. Maybe he did get with the Handler in the comics and that was what he was alluding to there with that remark. Number Five is not against fighting dirty and he for sure had plenty of reason to want to stick it to her-pun intended. 🤣 I love to imagine him all sorts of ways, the more the better and the comics are why we got the show so I will always be grateful for them.

Thank you again for the ask and letting those of us know about that panel from the comic. It's very telling.

So.....

What do you think based on all this? I am genuinely curious and it's rare that anyone says much to these posts, so please do chat it up in the comments below if you feel comfortable sharing. ❤️

[levionok]

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[e-r0da]

A Strong Sorcerer

AN: First work so please let me know what you think! Don't really know where this came from tbh, just wanted to try my hand at writing :) Might make a part two if the inspo strikes!

Word Count: ~1.5k

CW: Mention of severe injury. Fluff hinting at a potential Yuuta x reader pairing.

----------------------------------------------------

You were never going to be the strongest sorcerer.

Perhaps that’s not what the doctor said, but it’s what you understood.

Your fingers trailed your face softly, inching above your cheekbones and around the bridge of your nose, mapping out the bandages that hid what came of your first solo assignment. 

Perhaps this is how it feels, you thought. To prove yourself.

It wasn’t your mission, at least not originally. But as a newly enrolled second-grade with an untested talent for handling shikigami, the sorcerer commission was curious enough to sub you in for Megumi, who was busy enough. So you took the mission. You just wanted to be of use.  

But no one anticipated a special-grade curse to be there to greet you.

Curious, you tried touching your right eye. A searing bolt of pain wormed its way into your brain as your hand jolted from your face, white stars blooming in your mind’s eye. Fuck. You felt a bit sick to your stomach, trying your best to calm your breathing and bite back a yelp.

You forced yourself to think logistically.

You would never be the strongest. Fine. This was never about that, anyway.

Would the commission even name you a grade-one after this? Maybe. It was undeniable that you had potential. And even if they never did, well. That wouldn’t be what stopped you.

Most importantly, could you still do it?

Could you still kill that curse?

You sat silently. You didn’t know how to answer the question that mattered most.

Without your sight, how much longer would it take to do what was needed?

*

“We’re here. Hold still for a minute, I’ll grab your stuff first and help you in.”

“Thanks.”

You felt Megumi’s hand leave your shoulder, his warmth slipping behind you quietly, presumably down the hall where a duffel of your equipment and medical supplies had been set down at the dorm’s entrance.

He felt bad, you knew that. But you wish he hadn’t. Megumi didn’t need another burden to shoulder.

The sound of wood creaking distracted you. It sounded like it came from your upper left. Huh. He moved fast.

“Megumi, I should have it from here so you don’t ne—”

“Wait-no Rika I didn’t mean—!”

“YUUTA YOU LIAR!”

You couldn’t help but feel your eyebrows shoot up as the floor shook beneath you. You searched for a wall to keep you balanced. Wait...Rika?

“Please it’s really okay—”

“BUT YOU TOLD THEM NO ONIONS!!” The floor shook again. 

Oh yeah, yup. Yuuta was definitely back.

The corner of your mouth twitched as you piped up. “Did he at least get the ranch, Rika?”

“-oh my god...”

“—YUUTA WHERE IS THE RANCH??!?”

You heard Megumi quietly step to your left, a small sigh leaving him. “No ranch? Now that’s just wrong, man.”

Turning your head in the direction of his voice, you murmured an agreement.

A door creaked open, followed by the soft sound of Yuuta scratching the back of his head timidly. Even without your sight, you’d watched him do it enough in the past to picture it now with ease.

“...Hey.”

You began to smile at the sound of his voice. But then the air was squeezed from you in one fell swoop.

“EEEE!”

You clambered an arm around Rika’s bear-hugging form, trying to simultaneously give her a welcome-back pat and expand your lungs.

“I missed you too, girlie.” You breathed out.

“Rika, she’s injured.” Bless your heart, Megumi.

You were dropped quickly. 

Megumi quietly grabbed your shoulder once again before you could stumble.

“NOOOO! NOOO! I’M SORRY!!”

You laughed. “I’m fine, Rika. You did nothing wrong.”

You heard the special-grade curse whimper. 

“I MISSED ONEE-CHAN...” Sometimes, Rika reminds you of a baby sister. 

It was easy to forget what the small girl had become at times like this. You wondered a bit if soon it would be even easier, now that you couldn’t actually see her anymore.

“We both missed you.” Your head whipped around. 

Yuuta. It made your chest warm up a bit, knowing he sounded the same as ever.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Hungry, if I’m being honest.”

“WE GOT NUGGETS!!! YUUTA! YUUTA THE NUGGETS!!!”

You let out an excited gasp. “With—”

“—with honey mustard, yes. I’m on it!” Rika let out a satisfied hum as Yuuta went to find your nuggets.

“YUUTA WENT BACK FOR THE MUSTARD. HE WAS SO COOL!!”

“Wooow! How did he forget his ranch then?”

Yuuta let out a strangled sigh from inside his room.

And...did Megumi just snort? 

*

Licking the last of the honey mustard from the counter of your mouth, you took in the silence that filled the hall, jokes of the past hour or so fading into the walls. Megumi had left to help with a mission, but Yuuta was still here, sitting beside you, and now that he was sans Rika he was awfully quiet. 

You missed being able to read people’s faces.

He breaks the silence. 

“We should have been there.”

Ah. You grasp at the floor around you for a napkin before wiping your hands and face clean. It buys you a few seconds to conjure something logical to say.

“At least it's dead. It can’t hurt anyone else.”

“It hurt you, though.” Oof. Okay, we’re being direct today.

“…No use crying over spilt milk, Yuuta.”

“This feels more serious than spilt milk, y/n.”

Man. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“…”

This kind of silence–awkward silence–between you two felt foreign. You usually found peace in his company, even when it was silent. And even when things went wrong, you were usually the one trying to convince Yuuta to seek out help–whether it be in the form of medicine, company, or a break. Having someone fuss over you so persistently instead made you itchy all over. 

You wanted it to stop.

“...Yuuta.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” for a brief moment, you thought you wanted to ask him for a hug. 

“Can I have your onions?” That was equally as bad.

“...oh. Yeah, lemme put them on your plate.”

“Thanks.”

The silence now was worse than before, with the only thing filling it being your obnoxious crunching and the smell of raw onion (why oh why did you do this to yourself) making things even more acidic feeling, if possible.

He tries again, softer this time, if that was even possible.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” 

For some reason his words get the onions lodged in your throat.

You get up quickly mid-retch, trying to escape the fucking onions–and Yuuta’s aura of pity.

He pats your back firmly at some point (while apologizing because he seems to think that this counts as hitting you??) and it dislodges the vegetable, much to your relief. 

“This is all my fault.” Jesus christ.

“Ohmygod Yuuta please–”

“I really told them no onions this time, though.” Oh. Oh.

You let loose a cackle, at the absurdity of it all. And soon enough, Yuuta follows suit, hand still lingering on your back. Suddenly it feels like how things usually are between you two. Easy.

You breathe in deeply, taking a moment to recover from your laughing/choking fit before remembering what it is he said that got you in this state in the first place.

“I know I can talk to you, Yuuta. You’re probably the only person I would talk to...like that.”

The honesty in your voice somewhat surprises even you, making you a bit embarrassed. From the way his hand grips your shirt slightly, you would say the vulnerability shocked him too.

“–But! For now, can you take me back to my room?” you scratched the base of your skull. “I could really use a nap after all that yummy stuff.”

His chuckle is delicate, understanding. “I’d be happy to.” 

You don’t quite hear him move until you feel his warm breath fanning your neck, his hand softly holding your arm. 

“And...”

“Yeah?” Your cheeks feel hot.

“Whether I worry about you or not is up to me.”

At that you were quiet, brows scrunched together as your heart felt just a bit more heavy with every passing moment you spent together.

Yuuta was one of the few people who could still make you…uncomfortable. But not because he was mean. Never because he was mean. People like that had long since stopped bothering you. Rather, he reminded you of your mother’s hand in your hair, calming you between sobs. He reminded you of the freely-given ‘I love you’s’ of your baby sister. He reminded you of the only people you buried. Of tenderness.

He was probably the best friend you had ever made. It was just a shame that you had a death wish.

After a few moments of hobbling around together, he places your hand at the door knob of your room. 

“Here we are.”

You try to be honest. To warn him, inadvertently, as you step from your shared space in the hall to the one that was just your own.

“I still plan on fighting, you know.”

He doesn’t even miss a beat.

“Then I’ll help you train.”