#I've had this in my drafts for awhile actually

[artsysurvivor]

Just some head-canons and a mini story about a variation of the trans!Halt AU. (Day 27, Struggle)

TW for transphobia, implied abuse, and gender dysphoria.

Ferris, until around 9 years old, was accepting of Halt, but he was also annoyed because he kept stealing his clothes. Their parents however did not accept this and taught them that the feelings of Halt being a boy were invalid, and to not be tempted by the Devil.

So for many years, Halt shoved down his feelings about being the future Queen. (Whenever it was said, there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind, shushed over and over again).

When he got older, and started experiencing puberty, the thoughts became louder. As his breasts started to develop, he had to wear a corset. He hated it, because it emphasized his hips, and cupped his breasts. The corsets had one positive though - they stopped them from jiggling, which felt immensely dysphoric.

This is also part of the reason why he refused a servant's help beyond tying the corset, and when in his pajamas, he would wear bandages around his chest.

Another point of dysphoria for him was his hair. He had been feeling more dysphoric than normal for around a month. One day, during the evening after his lessons were done with access to scissors, he cut his hair. It had reached to about his hips, but was now the length of Ferris's hair. (While the decision was impulsive, right before cutting it shorter, he had a nagging thought that it would land him in less trouble if he cut it to Ferris's length).

While that may have been true, it sure didn't feel like it.

After a late night of consequence, when he was sure his parents wouldn't see him, he grabbed a cloak and ran outside. His mind was so full, yet so empty at the same time. He was looking for any sort of release, a break from... well, everything.

For years, there was an abandoned cottage in the woods, spider webs forming on the corners, vines beginning to wind up the sides. If he was alert, he would've noticed that those things were gone, the dust on the windows had parted into the wind.

He did notice, after trying the knob, that the door was locked.

A sharp, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, a slight growl along with it. He turned around, only to be met with a shadowy figure that looked down upon him.

"What are you doing here?" came the deep yet wispy voice.

Halt straightened his back and looked up at the man, keeping his face impassive. "Who's asking?"

"The owner of the cabin," they said.

Halt squinted, recalling the improvements he had saw on the way here. He cursed himself for not being able to connect the dots. "I was exploring the woods," he glanced to where the stranger's saxe knife. "I mean you no harm."

The stranger smirked underneath his cowl as if to say, you wouldn't be able to anyway.

They looked up and studied the sky for a moment. "This isn't a good time to be exploring now is it? There's a lot of criminal activity around at this time."

"I'm aware."

"So...? What is your business, then?"

Halt scoffed. "I could ask you the same thing. Why aren't you in the cabin?"

They studied eachother for a moment. Then, the figure clicked their tongue.

"If I tell you my reasoning, would you tell me yours?"

"No."

"Well, I guess that solves that. But you really should be at home, kid."

Home. His stomach twisted at the thought, his throat turning dry.

The figure tilted their head. "Where are you from?"

Halt put his mouth into a fine line. There was a surprising amount of gentleness from that voice, but he couldn't tell why it turned to that all of a sudden. "I'm not comfortable with sharing that."

The stranger nodded. "Fair enough. Are you comfortable with telling me your name?"

"..."

"No? Well, you can call me Pritchard," Pritchard pulled down his hood, showing his light grey hair and discolored blue eyes. "If you want, I can bring you something to eat."

Halt grunted. "Alright. What is it you want?"

Pritchard looked at him questioningly. Halt stared at him in reply.

"I want to help you—honestly," he said after Halt narrowed his eyes. He sighed. "Well, what do you want, kid?"

If he saw what Pritchard saw, he would see a blank expression, and empty, deep brown eyes. On the inside, however, it was anything but, with many different scenarios running through his head. The thought of home made him feel nauseous; the thought of having to stay here, with a stranger, made him anxious; the thought of himself, what he was, made him confused; the thought of Caitlyn, the thought of Ferris...

The thought of his father.

"Actually, I think..." His voice lowered, making Pritchard lean in a little to hear him. "I think some food would be nice, please, sir."

Oddly, Pritchard seemed relieved.

[elephantlovemedleys]

thinking thoughts™️ about the idea of christian and satine as parents like i know christian would've been such a girldad and him and satine would have three little girls running around their household christian would write fairytales and tell them bedtime stories satine would have so much fun dressing her girls up and singing to them they'd all have picnics together they would take their daughters to a ballet and to a carnival but the most important thing their own children would get to have is growing up in an environment filled many great things and love being the most compelling thing ever

[allisonreader]

Sometimes I wonder why I bother to share my writing. I do write mostly for myself, but I enjoy sharing my work, even if there's no one to screech with over my ideas. But I do miss/look forward to those times where someone does enjoy it enough to say so. It doesn't seem to happen often though, so it feels like yelling into the void. Yet I understand it too. My writing won't be for everyone because it is written for a very narrow audience. Me. And anyone who might happen to enjoy similar things to me. There's many pieces of writing that I've never gotten a single word commented about. And those are stories that I'm particularly happy with, but the one that I'm thinking about in particular is extremely niche. But I love it all the same.

Recently, I think I've come to the conclusion that it doesn't even matter how much or little of a response you get to your writing, you're always going to want more. To be reassured that yes, it is actually good/has merit, that it's not just friends telling you such. It doesn't alleviate that desire to hear such, but makes it more reasonable of a thought.

[ooffies]

Brushing their hair!

author's note: hi everyone! It's been awhile since I last wrote but I've been itching to post/write again. This has been sitting in my drafts for like a four months so don't mind if it's a bit rough. I hope you enjoy!!! :)

Characters: Leona & Jamil

Warning: None!

Jamil Viper:

Jamil’s long, silky hair was always such a treat to brush. Sure, it takes a very long time to work through but he enjoys these rare chances to relax. You enjoyed it as well, perhaps even more! Finding any excuse to allow your boyfriend to take a break.

If you’re not brushing his hair first thing in the morning, more likely than not all the tangles will already have been brushed out. During the day he is often busy scampering from place to place, either housewarden duties or student activities. So, this activity is often reserved for the end of the day, allowing you both to unwind from the stress from the day.

This activity is often spent in a comfortable silence. Jamil’s eyes closed, muscles relaxed and sitting cross-legged on his bed. He simply enjoys your company, the feelings of your fingers and the brush running through his hair. In an almost sleep-like state but never actually falling asleep. Causal small talk isn’t unwelcome though, he enjoys hearing the little details about your day, recent gossip or whatever stupid shenanigans the headmage put you up to. But he often doesn’t talk much about his day unless asked, preferring to be the listener since you are the most interesting thing to him.

As much as it was a treat, brushing Jamil’s hair was a task you had to be meticulous about. Well… It was more like you wanted to be meticulous about it. Making sure to gently brush through every long strand with utmost care and precision. And once you were done, he’d lay his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through it and braiding it as you please

Brushing hair is a mutual form of affection with him! Although he never outright asks to do it, he will always do it when you ask him. Or if he sees you have a tangle, he’ll just grab the brush without a word and get to work. But styling your hair is his favorite! For whatever type of hair texture you have, Jamil has learned to work with it. Memorizing all different braids, twists and other things you enjoy having done to your hair.

Leona Kingscholar:

More often than not, this man has tangles in his hair, despite it mostly looking flawless on the outside. Just lift up a few layers of his thick hair and you’ll find yourself a tangle or two. He enjoys the pampering of getting his hair brushed by you. He will complain if you brush too hard but he’s never too serious about it.

You can brush his hair whenever really. While hanging out in his room or the gardens, helping him put it up for spell drive practice, you kinda have free reign over it. But he will only ever let you style it to your heart’s content when you're in private. Sure, throw it up into the occasional ponytail or redo his braids in-between classes but pigtails and all those cute clips you have are only to be put on in either of your rooms, far, far away from the public eye. He’ll surely complain about how stupid and childish pigtails look on him but will he stop you? No, he won’t. Cause you're his beloved partner and you're giving him affection. It’s your partner privileges to play with his hair as you please! Just make sure to give him a little extra smooch or two while at it if you want less complaining on his end.

If he’s not napping while you're brushing his hair, you two are chatting away. He prefers listening to you talk but he’ll still be willing to tell you more about his day as well. This chit chat can range from basic chatter to discussing future plans and dreams. Or maybe it’ll take the direction of something nostalgic like childhood stories or something silly like the stupid prick who kept beating him on an online chess website. Whatever it is, he’ll never miss the chance to talk with you!

© ooffies 

Please do not repost or translate my work without permission and credit. Thank you!

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[intimacyequalsdeath]

Greif (Bo Sinclair x AFAB Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile now cause I never felt good enough about it to actually post. I wanted to make a good hurt/comfort but not make it too over the top extreme and I'm really confident in this version of it to finally post it. This is the first time I've posted a heavier fic like this so please head all the trigger warnings I put for this one.

Notes: Minors DNI, This fic is written with an AFAB reader in mind though no specific descriptions are used the pronouns She/her are used in relation to the reader. Trigger warnings: Pregnancy, abortion talk (Briefly). Bo is really mean at least in the start, Hurt/Comfort. Afab reader with she/her pronouns used. Excessive Cursing.

"If you fuckin' think I'm lettin' you bring a fuckin' baby into this town you're fuckin crazy!"

Bo yelled as he paced around the living room of the main house. You had finally come clean and revealed to him that you were most likely pregnant. He was taking the news about as well as one would expect Bo Sinclair to.

"I didn't ask to get pregnant Bo! Maybe you should've been more careful!"

You screamed right back at him. Bo scoffed at your argument and shook his head, a nasty grin overtaking his face.

"I shoulda never let you fuckin stay here. I told myself the day you rolled into town that you were gonna cause me nothin' but trouble"

"Maybe you should let Vincent make me into one of his wax figures then Bo, or better yet, you can keep me in the basement under the station."

Bo froze at your statement and fixed you with an expression you had never seen grace his face before.

"You better watch your fuckin' mouth if you know what's good for ya"

"Why Bo? You can't handle the truth of what you were doing in that basement before I came along?"

"You have not got a fuckin' clue what you're talkin' about. When what you need to worry about is what your gonna do with bastard you got growin' in there cause it's not gonna have any relation to me"

He spat, motioning to your stomach.

"If you don't wanna keep the baby what do you suppose I do then?"

"I mean hell if I know, I'm sure the pharmacy in the next town over has some pills or somethin' to nip the problem in the bud"

"Y- you'd really want me to go through with that? After everything we've been through together? Are you fucking serious?"

"No darlin' I want you to go all the way over to the next town over and go on a fuckin' shoppin' spree!"

"How could you even suggest something like that Bo? After everything we've been through?"

"A baby ain't nothin' but a liability, a liability ain't a single one of us got time for. 'sides do you really fuckin' think Ambrose is the place to raise a baby?"

"You, Vince and Les grew up here! Plus it's not like you'd let me fuckin' leave and go somewhere else to raise the baby. You'd turn me into a wax figure before that ever happened"

"Exactly, so what happens when that rug rat grows up and starts askin' questions? Askin' shit about what his daddy and uncles do? Askin' about the figures? What the fuck are you gonna do then?"

"You explained what the 3 of you do to me pretty damn near perfect didn't you?"

You countered Bo's argument. You watch his face as another unreadable expression crossed it as he finally sat down in his recliner and put his head in his hands. You sat and watched him in sick curiosity before the overwhelming feeling hit you like a truck.

Bo Sinclair was afraid.

An emotion you quite honestly never thought you'd see Bo experience. Sure Lester had told you stories from when they were kids and scared of their parents, storms or the usual childhood fears. But this was different. Bo wasn't a child and this wasn't a storm that would just pass if he hid under his covers and waited long enough.

You sat looking at a broken son in the body of a man, a son who had never healed from the torture his own parents put him through. The cracks that Bo tried to conceal so well from his own upbringing were crumbling in front of you. The fears coming back to him, his mother's voice echoing in his head that he would just grow up to be like his father.

The fear that it would be twins, like him and Vince and he'd have to watch them be separated and not be able to do a thing for them. Not being able to take them to a hospital just to protect Ambrose and his brothers.

"You're not going to be like them Bo"

You broke the silence with a whisper. You could hear Bo sharply suck in a breath, you were treading on unprecedented territory with Bo. His childhood was just something he didn't talk or think about at all and now it was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"Shut up"

He mumbled back. A usual response for when Bo felt like you were trying to back him into a corner and he was running out of ammo to fight you off.

"You're not going to be like them Bo. You aren't them and you never will be."

You exclaimed louder. Bo threw his hands off his face and stood up so fast the chair tipped on it's back legs. He stood, in front of the chair, just starring at you, breathing heavily as emotions swam through his eyes. You decided to be bold and test the waters, you began to take small steps toward Bo, he wasn't attempting to walk away so you continued this until you were right in front of him.

"Bo"

You said softly as you stood directly in front of him. He finally snapped his eyes down to meet yours.

"Bo, you're going to be better then them. You're going to be a good dad Bo, you've had a first hand experience of what not to be like as a parent, it's going to be rocky sure but-"

"My mama always told me I'd end up being just like daddy, Just a mean son of a bitch who never had anything nice to say to no one."

Bo cut you off, a much softer tone then before when his fear was translating to anger.

"Do you want to be like you dad? Are you gonna hate this baby if it doesn't come out to be what you were expecting?"

Bo look at you as if you had grown three heads.

"Of course not, it's my kid, how could I not love my own flesh and blood."

"If you know that, and aren't planning to emulate your father, then why are you so worried about ending up like him?"

Bo was stunned, no one had ever talked him through his emotions like that.

"T-that was the only image of a father I ever got. I don't know what a good dad is like. I don't know how "normal" kids who parents actually wanted 'em around had it"

You reached down and grabbed his wrist gently. Bringing it up and rubbing your fingers over his scars, the scars that told many glaring stories of what shaped him into the cold man he was today. You were thawing him out though, slowly but surely.

"You'll learn, No ones saying it'll be easy, but you're capable of running this whole town and taking care of the four of us, I'm sure you'll pick up fatherhood just as quick as anything else."

"Well that ain't my only issue with this whole baby thing though"

"What else is wrong then Bo?"

"It's- It's fuckin'" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "What if it's twins, and their conjoined like- like me and Vince were."

"Oh Bo"

"We ain't got no doctors here, and it's not like we could go stay in another town for the duration of it that would be too risky, god forbid you have complications too. I just- I don't know if I could do that darlin'"

Everything was coming together and your vision on why Bo was so angry was becoming clearer and clearer. Bo wasn't angry at you, he was scared of loosing you. Scared of being alone when he had finally found something he never thought he would ever get to have.

"Bo honey, I know it's scary, but what happened with you and Vince was rare. There's no guarantee that this baby will even be twins. You should've brought this all to me instead of just yelling."

"I know darlin', I should've went about it better. But I guess when you told me you were pregnant I- I got scared. The entire time you've been here I've had these scenarios in my head, worryin' about what would happen"

You were speechless as you watch as he turned away from you and began pacing again, this time without the yelling. The entire time you had known Bo you had never known him to be one to talk about his feelings. "I'm not a fuckin' pussy" He was remark to you when you would ask him what was wrong.

The front door swung open as Vincent returned from the wax museum. Bo stopped as your gazes moved to Vince who was now frozen in the doorway of the living room.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Vincent signed. You looked at him apologetically before flicking your eyes over to Bo to see what he would say.

"Nah Vince it's nothin'. Just uh- She's pregnant is all"

Vincent perked up and his gaze immediately flicked over to you.

"Really?"

He signed, giving off an aura of excitement. You nodded at him and mustered a smile

"I'm gonna be an uncle!. I'll start reading dad's old medical books and learn things to help with the delivery"

"Now Vince we ain't even-"

"I know he had an entire book about it, I'll start getting set up for prenatal appointments too. Maybe we could even go to the next town over for checkups and stuff, we'll need stuff for the baby too"

Vincent kept rambling in sign, something he did often. You couldn't help but laugh at his childlike wonder at the prospect of being an uncle. You looked over to Bo, who was noticeably less tense as he watched his twin's excitement over the new member of the family.

"Vince chill out for a sec, having this baby is so risky. What if it's twin and they come out like us? You're gonna separate 'em?"

"Well all things considered, the pregnancy only has a one in 250 chance of becoming a twin pregnancy. Plus we're identical twins, only fraternal ones run in families which means two separate eggs would have to be fertilized instead of the egg splitting."

Bo and you look at Vincent in dumbfounded shock as he signed the information as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where the hell did ya learn all that?"

Bo asked still in shock as he looked at his brother as if he had grown another head.

"In dad's old medical books" Vincent shrugged "I'll leave you two alone now though, I should go get researching"

Vincent signed in reply before turning and heading upstairs to his bedroom. When you heard Vincent's bedroom door close you turned back to look at Bo who was already looking at you when your eyes met his. A lighter mood fell over the living room and smile at him.

"A one in 250 chance huh?"

"Yeah, I reckon so"

"You wanna take that chance daddy?"

All the emotions of the night wash over Bo's face as he thinks for a moment then answers.

"If you think it's a good idea, can't really argue with facts I suppose. But there's gonna be rules."

With that Bo is back, the rule making irritable Bo you fell in love with when you rolled into the gas station all those years ago.

"What rules are we talkin' about?"

"For starters your gonna take it easy, when someone comes into town your gonna stay here at the house and out of sight. No heavy lifting, no helping Vincent anymore, no walk-"

"Bo, Just wrap me in bubble wrap then yeah?"

"I mean I could go to the next town over and find somethin-"

"I was joking Bo, You're not wrapping me in a protective layer"

"I can if I want too"

He mumbled under his breath. I bit back a laugh and rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say Bo"

"Hey I run this town-"

Bo begins the spiel you've heard about 20,000 times since you began living here as you walk into the kitchen, the cravings starting to take over, as he follows you to explain how he runs the town and how what he says goes and if he has to make more rules to keep you he will.

As you stand in the kitchen, eating your snack and listening to Bo's spiel. Something deep down inside you, lets a feeling wash over you that maybe just maybe, everything will be just fine.

[maple-the-awesome]

Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun 💜

Zelda Masterlist 🤎Fandom Masterlist

It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do. 

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes. 

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

[fresanita]

I LITERALLY ADORE YOUR PARENTAL ALASTOR SERIES,, IT'S SO GOOD!!! AAAAAAA, I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY, I JUST WANT IT TO BE KNOWN THAT IT IS SO GOOD AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE MORE :)

IM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLYYY🙏🙏!! My classes have really been taking up my time💔

But anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!♡♡ SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY LITTLE COMIC, I promise I'm working on the next part🫶🙂 when I first posted it, I didn't expect people to really like it! I'm so glad they admire parental alastor the same way I do, though☹️🩷!!

I've been gone for awhile and I had actually drafted a response for your submission BUT IT DIDNT SAVE FOR SOME REASON😧! It's fine though💔

Alastor as a parent was always such a charming concept to me - but that's mainly because I always admired a dynamic w a possessive/obsessive parent and their child; I love reading those type of fanfics🙂🫶! In Angel and Alastors dynamic, when they were both human and more familial w each other, I always love imagining how domestic they'd be: Alastor would cook the meals and pick out clothes for his little boy because his Antoní was always hesitant to dress up pretty☹️🩷 I have my own indulgence where Alastor would sew or purchase frilly/simple dresses merely because he catches Angel staring at them a lot.

(ANGEL DUST WAS ONCE A KID TOO, HE DESERVES A PARENT☹️)

Quick doodles I did of human kid angel dust w clothes Alastor would dress him in if he could🫶 the top left has his head a too big, but whatever💔

[herwritingartcowboy]

A/n: I've been getting a lot of smut yandere Aqua. I don't know what to feel about it but I have had this in my drafts for awhile so here is some Fluff Aqua.

Fandom: Oshi No Ko

Character(s): Aquamarine Hoshino

Warning(s):

Readers Gender: Gn

You and Aqua had been planning this night for awhile now. You two have been dating for a year and the night you two confessed so the both of you had just wanted to have that night together.

You had just got done getting ready leaving your home to rush to the place where you and Aqua had agreed to meet. After a couple of minutes you made it to a nice little cafe where you saw Aqua inside.

You went inside and went over to Aqua placing a kiss on his cheek. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting for long" "Oh no don't worry". You had sat down and Aqua started to speak up, "You look very nice today" "Thank you but you look way better than me". You said smiling as Aqua's face became flushed and you just continued to talk till you both ordered.

As you both waited for your orders you asked Aqua about Ruby and where and how she is. "She is just at home and she has been fine still her happy self" "That's good to hear and you how have you've been". But before Aqua could answer your orders came and Aqua just started to talk about other things. You both hung around the cafe for awhile till you both wanted to walk around for a bit just to end the date off with the relaxing vide outside.

Once you got outside you had asked Aqua your question again, "So how have you been?" "It's been nice actually even working nowadays it doesn't seem so stressful" "You know if you ever need to talk to someone I'm there and I just want you to know that". Aqua smiled at your remark as he stopped making you stop as well, "Aqua, Is everything alright".

You said only to be pulled in a hug, Aqua's arms were wrapped around you, he held you tight as you are one of the most precious things to him, he is afraid once he lets go you will be taken away from him. You hugged Aqua back and when you both looked at each other you both had a nice passionate kiss.

The date from there was nice as you both held hands as you guys went to different places while also trying to avoid fans. You and Aqua had taken pictures, got more snacks, and did some more fun things but it was time for the both of you to head home.

Aqua had taken you home as now Aqua stood in front of your door as you were on the other side. "I had a fun day today" "Glad you did Aqua" "I'm so happy to have some like you to call my partner" "Well I was the one to confess first. But thank you for being the person I fell in love with". Before Aqua went back home you two shared another kiss as you both said your good byes and hoped to see each other tomorrow.

[soursvgar]

How would you meet them if they were human? ♡

A/N: this idea was laying in my drafts for awhile, i haven't been around much lately so i don't know if it's been done before, but i sort of combined my ideas of what job would they have as humans and how would mc meet them if they were humans, i hope you all enjoy! ♡

Demon brothers x gender neutral reader ; fluff

���･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Lucifer ━ ෆ

Terribly confused, you wander through the seemingly unending hallways of your new institution. You could swear you've walked through those same corridors for the third time in the past hour, merely searching for your next class - whoever handed you those dated maps has got to find a more suitable job because you are officially lost. Contemplating to just cut class altogether and give up on the whole freshman fiasco, you set camp on a misplaced bench, figuring nobody is coming to your aid at this point.

"Well, what do we have here, a lost sheep?" The voice is deep and tender, carrying what's left of your attention span to it. You notice the tall figure's tailored outfit, worried at the possible misconception at first, before you decide you are too tired to care whether he believes you, or assumes a different reason for your absence. "Come on, tell me where you have to get to and I'll guide you to it. You're not the first student I've found lost in these halls." He stretches his hand towards you with a smile, and suddenly, all of your worries seem to fade.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Mammon ━ ෆ

The crisp air slither through the gaps in your garment, making you shudder and tighten the scarf around your neck; if there's anything you desire in this chilly early morning, it’s a hot cup of coffee to hold snug between your fingers. Not being welcomed by your name upon your arrival causes you to peek behind the counter to spot a new barista brushing back his silver hair in frustration, brows furrowing as he helplessly scrubs off a stain while trying to memorize a costumer's complicated order.

"It was medium decaf soy latte, extra shot of cream and two vanilla pumps. They order it every morning, don't worry, you'll get used to it." You approach with a chuckle; the latter responds with a sigh of relief as he frantically notes down your words. "It's a shame ya don't work here instead, my boss is extremely unhelpful-" His sentence is cut short when his eyes meet yours, lingering for a moment with his lips shaped into a perfect 'o'. "I-I'm Mammon, I'm actually a model but I work here part time- could I get your order, with your name and- your number too, maybe?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Leviathan ━ ෆ

You have been forging your hobby for quite a while now- gaming had been a passion of yours since a young age, and as the years passed you've grown better and better. The time has finally come for you to enter a professional competition, but once you pick up the courage to register, your connection fails you. Frustrated, you make your way towards the nearest internet cafe, praying your confident remains by the time you arrive.

Once seated, you take a glimpse at your neighbor's screen as you recognize the familiar colors, and your guess is indeed correct- he is signing up to the same competition as you. Your gaze shifts to the figure frantically typing and a pink hue spreads across your cheeks at the scenery, you did not expect him to look this cute. "Um- Excuse me..." you immediately regret the spark of courage that flushed through you, because now his eyes are on you, and you swear your voice is about to break. However, the latter is quicker to respond. "Are y-you talking to- to me?" he questions, looking around to make sure the two of you are the only ones inhibiting the cafe at this hour, his appearance just as sheepish as yours. "Y-Yes, I see you're registering to the same competition as me." you mutter bashfully, lowering your eyes as the contact was spreading fire to your cheeks. "I was wondering... if you'd want to be my teammate?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Satan ━ ෆ

As an avid book reader, you couldn't be more excited about your favorite author going on a book tour for his new release. His identity was kept a secret, and his appearance in events was scarce- many people claimed to have met him, but none had any evidence to back it up; You were determined to be a different case. However, disappointment is not late to follow as you are met with a cancellation notice, and a staff on the author's behalf shows up to market the book instead. Disheartened, you trudge through the library's halls to divert your mind off of your despondency, fingers lightly brushing over the hard covers as you walk past the shelves.

"I heard he never comes to his own events, very unprofessional, if you're asking me." You pause when a stranger address you, looking up to see blonde locks peeking through a hat. "His books are not even that good, honestly." the male shrugs before returning to the book in his hands. "Well, I'll have you know he's actually my favorite author. If he chooses not to reveal his identity, that's his right to do so." You reply, astonished by the sheer nerve and disrespect. "Hm, can I see that? Maybe I should give it a second look, since you think it's so good." He closes the book in his grasp and gestures towards the one in yours, scribbling something inside as you hand it to him before taking his leave. Confused, you open the cover to inspect the inscription. "I'm happy to hear you enjoyed my book; here's my phone number- give me a call sometimes so we can chat. -S."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Asmodeus ━ ෆ

You've always had a pull towards art and design, and your recent form of artistic expression is manifested through your nails- you've been enjoying coloring and decorating them with little drawings. However, the workload of your day to day life had been burdening your creative spirit, making you feel like you require a nudge in the right direction. With the recommendation of the internet, you decide to visit a trending independent nail salon and hopefully catch some inspiration while you get your nails done.

"Come here! Sit down, beautiful." Cheerfully, you are greeted by an angelic looking artist, his luscious pink curls outlining his flawless features, leaving you mesmerized enough to forget your own introduction. As your appointment progress, he lets you in on his secret gig as a junior fashion designer to advertise his brand, but also because he has the talent of picking a fresh face out of a crowd- or so he tells you, with a wink. In return, you share your own artistic endeavors, watching as he curiously tunes in, clearly wanting to hear more. "Just to be clear, I don't click like that with all of my clients." He offers a whimsical expression, but his nervousness shows through his stiff body language. "I really enjoyed talking to you, how about we see each other again, after hours?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Beelzebub ━ ෆ

"You deserve it." Failing to convince yourself, you take an anxious glimpse at your bank balance. For some time now, your friends had tried to convince you to accompany them to the hottest new place in town- an exclusive gourmet dining experience, drinks included, but the prices were keeping you at bay. A long, exhausting week was all it took to finally drive you to make a decision, though, stepping inside alone has you feeling a bit under dressed for the occasion, and your antsy attitude doesn't slip from the servers’ eyes.

"My name is Beel, I'll be your waiter today." A handsome redhead greets the group, eyes seemingly stalling on you for a just a promptous second. At first you thought you are misreading a mild coaxing towards a big tip, but around the third free entrée you assume the accidental brushes while delivering your food were, in fact, quite intentional. You decide to try out your luck, conveniently forgetting your coat on the chair when it's time to head out. As you return, your waiter is waiting where you left him, your coat hanging on his arm and his chiseled face graced with an expectant expression. "So, I'm actually also an aspiring chef- when I'm not waiting tables. Those extra dishes I let you sample were off menu, and my own doing. Would you like to maybe... meet up sometimes, and try some more of my cooking, just the two of us?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Belphegor ━ ෆ

It was a rare occurrence for you to experience a day where you had no responsibilities to attend to, and simultaneously, said day brought upon it not a single cloud in the sky and a sun that shines exceptionally bright. The urge to take a walk outside and feel the graze of nature over your skin is unavoidable, leading you to find yourself alone in the nearest park, enjoying a cherished moment of relaxation. Hearing a sudden purr, your eyes are met with the slanted pupils of a stray cat and your body acts on its own as you lean down to pet it. The feline refuses, and instead, meows at you before it trails off in a different direction, stopping once as if it grants you permission to follow.

"Ah, there you are, I was looking all over for you." Confused, your gaze follows the voice as you watch the cat being picked up into an embrace. "And you made a friend?" Now intended at you, you blink as a warm pair of arms brush against you, offering you the animal cuddled within their hold. "I'm Belphegor, by the way. I volunteer at the local cat shelter because they let me take naps at work." The stranger chuckles. "And I believe my cat had just chosen you." Looking around, you notice several cats perched at the man's feet, basking in the sun and enjoying the warm weather. "If you want, you're more than welcome to join us on our little-" He pauses, smiling shyly. "Cat nap..."

[tanix-dragon]

To Be the Dragon: Living as Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii

For many years now (about 6!), I've been in the alterhuman community, thinking about how I want to write about my dragon kintype. I’ve never written much, though, despite being fairly comfortable doing so. This isn’t out of lack of things to talk about—it’s more because I have such a basic run-of-the-mill spiritual dragon kintype (in my mind) that I wasn’t sure that writing about it would do anything for anyone. Besides, it’s all so normal to me. It’s hard to write about your life when it feels so utterly mundane that to pick each piece out of it feels ridiculous. I have a dozen concepts for essays in my Tumblr drafts, but in the end, I’ve just decided to write something big. I’m going to go through it all, all I can think of, because I don’t know if I can pull it apart enough to write about each piece separately. It’s all so intertwined that it’s just easier to write a big one.

Strap in. This is going to take awhile. I’m a wordy bastard and despite how little I actually go into it, I do know a lot about this kintype.

Awakening

This is where most people start, and I’m sorry to disappoint; this is a short one. When I was a kid, I loved dinosaurs, and when I discovered dragons, and I mean really discovered them, realized how cool they are, I felt some kind of deep resonance. As a kid, I figured that it was just because they were the coolest thing of all time. In reality, this awakened phantom limbs (I think? Or just strengthened them. I don’t really remember very well; “I” as I’m known didn’t quite exist at the time, system stuff, you understand) and set me on a path of self-discovery and overwhelming draconity. I was known as the “crazy dragon kid” at school, even for years after I stopped talking about them, and I’ve always been very recognizable, even at a distance, even for people that barely know me, because I “move differently.” A friend once told me that I move like someone put a lizard or a bird in a human’s body, that I have a dragon’s walk cycle, that I have the wrong animation set for my skeleton. That was a very nice thing to be told.

I don’t know. I spent a lot of years with constant phantom limbs and sort of figured that they were normal, more or less? I didn’t think about them. They were just a part of me. Only once I tripped over a dragonkin’s blog completely accidentally in early 2018 did I start putting pieces together, and then it hit me like lightning: oh. I’m a dragon. I’m actually a dragon. And I’m not alone. I started my Tumblr kin blog and that was that. No questioning, no kinsidering, no “am I really?”--I had known that the thing was dragon, but I hadn’t known how it applied to me, and the second I did, I knew it was right. I am a dragon, and that was that.

I’d wondered off and on for a while if someone could have a past life as a dragon, but had never mentioned it to anyone (at least as far as I remember), because I was worried about the response I’d get. Once I realized that I was otherkin, though, I embraced that wholeheartedly: I had been a dragon, and that had rolled over so powerfully that I still am a dragon. It fits, and I love it.

What’s it like?

“What’s it like being a dragon?” my non-kin friends ask me sometimes. It’s kind of almost exactly the same as being not a dragon, except my mental image of myself is a big blue dragon instead of a human. Chronic pain flaring up? Dragon curled up and complaining about it. OCD lashing out? Dragon resting head against the wall with shut eyes and half-bared teeth. Someone annoying me? Dragon with exposed teeth and fangs all puffed up to try to make them back down.

My dragon body maps onto my human body to produce feeling like an anthro dragon most of the time, even though my dragonself isn’t even bipedal. It’s the happy medium my brain can settle on between what I feel I should be and my physical reality, although, again, mentally, most of the time when I imagine myself, I’m as I should be. In headspace where my headmates can see me, I’m quadrupedal unless I’m doing something that requires me to be bipedal. (Our headspace is pretty flexible, don’t worry about it.) All of this evens out to me moving kind of oddly—toss in how stiff and sore I am all the time (it’s some kind of unknown but disabling condition, hooray), and you get someone who moves very oddly. I turn my head like there’s significantly more weight to it than there should be, I visibly squeeze through spaces that are plenty big enough for me as if trying to accommodate great wings, I walk with a slight adjustment to my hips to compensate for a heavy tail, and I lift my shoulders to flare or gesture with my wings. I have slight head movements that correspond to how I move my ear fins, expressions that call for me to bare my teeth, gestures that only make sense with wings, tail, and claws, and a dozen other little things I probably don’t even notice that I do.

I don’t get a lot of species dysphoria anymore. I’d prefer to be able to switch in and out of dragon form (ideally with that anthro dragon that my brain has invented for me as an option too! I do love it as a middle ground), but I can make do as-is. I spent untold centuries as a dragon, I can handle some decades as a human. I’m here now, and I have a different life to live, and frankly, I love humans. I love the things they do, the cultures they have, the things they make, the ways they act, and I feel really lucky that I get to be in one of those human cultures and witness others. I have a minor in anthropology—I promise I’m not about to become a misanthrope anytime soon. I believe that humans are inherently creatures like any other, and can be driven to great good or great evil. I don’t believe that’s a reason to hate them, and besides, some part of me identifies as human as well as my kintypes. Not everyone does, but I do, and it’s comfortable for me.

I do have a few draconic instincts I have to juggle, but none are terribly maladaptive or troublesome. I know exactly how to breathe fire and want to when angry or struggling to keep a fire going in winter, and I know that there’s something in my chest and something else in my throat that are missing, structures that allow firebreathing, but I have phantoms and can mimic it okay, so I can huff and puff and burn nothing down. I have a prey drive that kicks in hard watching squirrels or, worse, rabbits out of my window, but I don’t ever actually chase anything (not that my slow ass could catch anything even if I did). I want to sharpen my claws, curl up in the sun, growl and threat-display with my wings (and do flare my phantoms when I’m in the car and another vehicle does something I don’t like), and a bunch of other small things I can’t think of right now. Again, it doesn’t bother me—it’s just affirmations of my draconity, and most are subtle enough that I can do them in front of people and they don’t notice, or, if they do, they don’t think much of it. 

What’s it like? What a question. What else do I say? Sometimes my chronic back pain reaches into my rhomboid muscles, which is where my phantom wings connect, so it registers as wing pain, I guess. That doesn’t usually happen, but it can. I walk on my toes a lot because I naturally want to move digitigrade. Shocker, I know. I don’t know—what’s it like being a dragon? What’s it like being human, or anything else? What’s it like to be who and what you are?

The Dragon Driik’lor

Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii. Tanix of Fire and Breath. What a name—and one I have known parts of for a long, long time. As a kid, I’d sign off messages and emails as Tanadin of Fire and Air. When choosing a name for myself when I came out as trans (Tanix), I knew that I wanted something with the nickname ‘Tan’ still, derived originally from my username “Tanadin,” because it felt right. Was my name truly Tanix? I don’t know. It feels right, or at least, right enough. I swapped out “air” for “breath” because Tanix lei Dramon ak Voron didn’t feel as right. I guess the question is—who is, or was, this Tanix, and what language is that?

(I'll occasionally be referring to my dragonself as Tanix and myself as… me, I guess. I know, I’m sorry, that’s confusing, but that’s driiv name as far as I know, and calling driik anything else feels weird.)

Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii was a mature adult dragon of a sapient and extremely intelligent species with its own language. My noemata have provided me with pieces of this language—individual words and ideas on its structure, some suffixes, some sounds and pieces of what a sentence should sound like. A few letters, even, for the written version. For the past fourteen or so years, I have worked on uncovering as much of this language (that, as a kid, I called Dranonic, and I haven’t changed that) as I can, and have made up much of the rest. I will never reconstruct an entire language from noemata alone, and I know that, so I just do what doesn’t feel wrong and change things if I get an inkling that I’m off somewhere.

Tanix’s species had some extremely complex social rules and dances that driit largely didn’t do much with. Dragons could be either solitary or live in clans, and driit was pretty solitary. Driit was also fucking annoying. Sorry, but it’s true—Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii was a pretentious, self-centered, prideful, overconfident bastard that had other dragons going “oh gods here comes Tanix again, just smile and wave.” Driit was a bulky, powerful, physically imposing dragon, and driit knew it. (In this human life, my family is actually fairly dense and stout despite being quite tall, so that’s free species euphoria.) As far as I can tell, given driiv five horns and larger stature, driit was female. (I talk about horn count and dragon gender more in my essay Counting Horns and Making Assumptions, or, Draconic Age and Gender, if you’re interested.) However, pronouns in Dranonic are based on age category, not gender, so the fact that Tanix and driiv mate have different pronouns is because of a difference in age, not gender.

Oh, Selkhenar. Selkhenar of the Darkened Swamp. I wish I knew more about you. Muut seems to be the only dragon that Tanix wasn’t a huge bitch to—and let me tell you something. Driit was vain as fuck. My dragon instincts know what driit did and did not find attractive in a dragon, and Selkhenar was considered, in that society, to be a kind of dumpy little green and black swamp beast with a weirdly long face, short ass legs, and kind of weird proportions.

And driit loved muut more than anything. Every time I think about Selkhenar, I get holdover fuzzies and butterflies from my time as the dragon the first go-around, and man, driit was gone for this swamp dragon. I have flashes of memory of much more impressive-looking dragons trying to woo driik and getting passed up, but accidentally tripping over Selkhenar in the swamp just beyond the edge of driiv territory was apparently what driik needed.

They had at least one clutch of eggs together. I remember guarding them ferociously, even growling at Selkhenar once before recognizing muuk. I remember them hatching into the cutest little whelplings of all time, and I remember them being a mix of blue and green and red and black. I remember teaching them to fly, throwing them over the ledge outside of the cave and off the cliff. Selkhenar was below, ready to catch if they didn’t figure it out, but still, uh, not the strategy I would recommend, necessarily. I remember hunting for them, both land animals and skimming the lake outside of our cave, down in the evergreens at the base of the mountain, for fish, even though… Selkhenar was a water dragon and therefore better suited to fishing…. I think it was a pride thing. Tanix was a ferociously prideful dragon and I suspect driit was like NO, MY LOVE, I WILL HUNT FOR YOU, YOU TINY THING… YOU GUARD THE BABIES WHILE I PROVIDE FOR YOU…. and then proceeded to accidentally driik’lor (Dranonic for him/her/themself) into the water. Repeatedly. Over and over. I have very firm noemata of hunting fish, eating fish, and fucking up while hunting fish and fouling my wings and falling into the lake. I was an okay swimmer and was mostly just glad that no one saw, but like… come on. Let the swamp dragon do it. I mean, I’m sure muut did, but I don’t have memories of that.

What’d This Dragon Look Like, Anyway?

Good question! That’s something I have the firmest grasp on. I’ve been drawing this dragon for as long as I’ve been super aware of dragons, and driit has been through a lot of iterations, but I think I’m very close.

Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii was approximately fifty feet long from nose to tailtip. Driit was a deep, intense blue (take a peek at any art I’ve ever done of driik/myself) with bright red stripes along driiv midline—basically, along the spine, down the tail, and along the face. The stripes also appeared on driiv legs and maybe wings, but I’m not sure about that one. Driit had five horns that were either darker blue or slightly purple that curved slightly back and were slightly offset from one another, with each set being slightly smaller than the last and a bit further back, with the single horn being the smallest and furthest back. Driit also had a single nose spike that matched the horns. Driit had big (kind of disproportionately big) ear fins, a more recent discovery of mine and out of date on most of my art, used for communication and showing of mood, mostly. Driiv “hands” had three fingers and a thumb, driiv back feet had three toes and a dewclaw, and driiv wings had four “fingers” with membrane stretched between them and a fifth “finger” that seemed to serve little to no purpose. This wing membrane connected pretty low down on the body (near or on the tail), providing a large area for lift. I believe this membrane was a lighter color than the scales around it, and I have the distinct feeling that I could flush blood into it to make it change color—red, I think? Maybe it was just some markings that could appear. I’m not sure.

Along driiv back were spikes or spines, of a similar color to the horns, lined up perfectly with the stripes. I know that driit had some kind of dangerous weapon on the dip of driiv tail, and I know that this thing had three sharp points, but its exact shape and color, I’m less sure on. I know that the tail itself was fairly flexible, especially near the tip, but was most assuredly a powerful weapon when needed. Driiv belly was lightly plated, providing protection for the vital organs. Driit also, of course, had sharp teeth and a forked tongue, although two of driiv teeth were elongated and poked slightly out of the mouth when shut, which I tend to call driiv fangs.

The Binding

Back in August of 2023, I tripped over an image that made dragonbrain click on and triggered a fear response as well as a flood of noemata. The post I wrote at the time of that discovery is here, but I’ll write it out in a more comprehensible format, both for your convenience and so that I have a more organized version in general.

Some kind of humanoid species (not humans) on my planet found and trapped me when I was quite young, and dragged me to a structure not dissimilar to the image I found, not far from or in one of their cities. My limbs and jaws were chained so that I couldn’t fight or escape, and I so clearly remember feeling my claws and scales scrape over that rough, coarse stone, and the sound of the chains dragging across it. Some of the humanoids rode other dragons, who were clearly enslaved and, in many ways, broken. They had no choice but to obey, or face punishment. Their eyes were dull and they passed over me without registering me, because to acknowledge that such a young dragon was facing their same fate was, I imagine, too painful.

For the record, I was so young that I thought I might be able to carry one of these humanoids, maybe, and not all of my red markings had come in yet. I was very young.

For some reason or another—maybe I was misbehaving, maybe this was protocol with all new dragons, I don’t know—they dragged me to a dungeon underneath a great arena where they made some dragons that they figured they could never turn into mounts fight for their amusement. I was chained up down there, fairly tightly, barely fed and barely able to move. There were a couple of other dragons down there with me, in the dark and the damp, curled up on those horrible stone bricks just like I was. I could barely see them, it was so dark, but they could see me, their eyes more adjusted due to years or decades down here.

My primary companion was a dull red dragon, an adult male, as far as I can figure. I don’t remember muuv name, but it started with an Ez- or an El- with a z in there somewhere, and ended in -iel or something along those lines. Elaziel, Ezkhaliel, Ezkerial, Elzariel? I don’t remember. I wish I did. I remember muut being as reassuring as muut could be, trying to do muuv best for this poor scared youngling. Muut was beaten and broken but incapable of either fighting or being a mount—one or more of muuv limbs were gone or broken and healed incorrectly. Muut couldn’t fly and I think muut struggled to walk. I don’t know why the humanoids kept muut alive, but I do know that I reinvigorated muuk, and muut decided to do whatever muut could to get me out.

I don’t remember what happened, really. All I know is that, at some point, there was an escape, and multiple dragons made it out, or at least tried to. I remember the red dragon shouting “Mor anor axid, mor anor axid! Mor anor axid veran!”, which is Dranonic for “Let them fly, let them fly! Let them fly away!” with “anor” being distinctly plural—you would never call a single dragon “anor,” indicating that there were multiple dragons trying to get away. I know muut wasn’t among them—muut would never make it out, and I’m sure that the humanoids killed him after. I never looked back. I never saw.

I know that there was a light green dragon involved in all that, a female, I think. Muut was chained down there with myself and the red dragon, and maybe others. Maybe muut was the other one in “anor.” I don’t know. I don’t remember much about muut.

I do remember part of the escape—the red dragon’s shouted pleas, the hesitation of the dragon mounts, the sting of the dragonbone arrows fired from the humanoids that pierced my scales (because of course they harvested the bodies of their spent slaves, why wouldn’t they, the bastards), the screaming of my underused wing muscles as I tore out of that place and never looked back, not once.

I never returned. Not even as an adult, not even once my fifth horn came in. I flew far, far away, and never drew closer again. I never wanted to see that place, never wanted to fear it, never wanted to risk it. My two fears as a dragon were that place and the ocean, and the second, I feel, had some kind of horrible dragon-slaughtering beast in it that was a long, instinctive, genetic terror. That horrible place beat it out by miles.

A Couple Other Memories

I remember other things, too, not just that whole… sequence, or what I talked about before. I know that there were some kind of “dragon mimics” out there, some kind of insectoid things that looked like dragons at a distance but revealed what they were close up. They’d either do displays intended to anger a dragon and draw them close, or courtship displays to interest a dragon. Either way, once a dragon was close enough for the mimic to strike, it was too late. A lot of insectoid dragon designs set off my dragonbrain’s “mimic alarm,” and it’s kind of interesting to play with and see what triggers it and what doesn’t. I’m sure I had personal experience with them—I have too clear of a mental image of one trying to lure me in for anything else—but I don’t know the specifics.

One of the memories that I’ve had, crystal clear, for a long time, is my death. I was falling from a great height, wings too damaged to hold me, uselessly streaming behind me as I fell. Selkhenar flew down with me in a panic, knowing muut could never catch me (I was far bigger than muuk), trying to talk me into getting my wings sorted out and at least slowing my fall or something. I remember there being wounds all over me—I’d been losing some great, horrible battle—and peering at Selkhenar, thinking it was very sweet of muuk to be so worried about me but I was clearly lost, muut needed to get out of here—and then a sharp pain at the base of my skull, where it connects to my spine, and nothing. I feel like it was some sort of projectile, well-aimed, that took me out instantly.

I’m still afraid of heights without my wings.

Wrap-Up

There’s more, I’m sure. More specific essays that I feel like I can write now that I’ve gotten most of it down. I could write an essay on draconic courtship, or what little I know of rearing offspring, or whatever else comes to mind. For now, though—that’s most of it. That’s The Everything. I’ve been meaning to put this together for a long time, and now I have, and I hope it’s helpful to someone—either in understanding me, or in understanding yourself. I know that, when you’re questioning something, reading about someone else’s experiences helps a lot. I’ve never felt like talking about my dragon kintype was ever going to be terribly helpful in that regard—after all, there’s a dozen other similar essays out there—but I decided, well, it’s not for other people. It’s for me. And no one’s written four thousand words detailing my kintype before.

That’s the thing about writing like this. It’s for you, and if it helps someone else, that’s just a bonus. Write what will help you, what will let you figure yourself out and document it so that, if it changes, you can pinpoint when that was and track your own growth and change. I wonder what, in a few years, will be inaccurate in this essay? I wonder what I will add, what I will change, in a theoretical future version?

I guess we’ll find out together. Thanks for reading.

[toseehowthestoryends]

Hal Gates = Henry Avery

So, I've seen the theory that Hal Gates = Henry Avery, and I laughed at it until I did the research.

And holy shit, it fits.

What made me start scratching my head was when I stumbled upon a second draft script for the pilot that is a little different from what aired. It straight up says that Hal Gates is in his 60s in Episode I/1715. For some reason, I figured him a bit younger, but since Mark Ryan was only 58 when the show started airing...it starts to make sense.

Henry Avery was (probably) born in 1659. He'd be 56 in 1715.

Short history: Henry (Hal?) Avery was a British-born sailor who spent some time in the Royal Navy as a master's mate, became a privateer, and then a pirate captain when the crew of his ship mutinied and elected him. Then he became the most successful pirate of his age, the "Arch Pirate," and the subject of the first-ever worldwide manhunt after only two years as a pirate captain.

Then he escaped with his loot around 1695, twenty years before Black Sails begins, never to be seen again.

But there are theories that he disappeared to New Providence Island.

(More on that below the cut). Isn't that fascinating? We don't know where Hal Gates comes from, but we know he's been around for quite awhile. He's the right age (practically spot on). Hornigold implies that Gates has been at sea for around 50 years, which would mean he first went to sea around 1665, give or take a little. The first mention of Every at sea is around 1671, but what's 5-6 years when you're rounding?

The Black Sails universe credits Avery/Every as one of the founders of the Nation of Thieves, saying "this is a place for free men," on New Providence Island. He's also the man who found Skeleton Island.

We know Hal Gates sailed on his crew and had his journals (his "prized possession," which he gave to Flint for safekeeping. Why give those to someone who was supposedly a minor member of his crew (someone who was "terrified Avery knew his name")? That doesn't add up very well. Why would Gates even have those journals?

"They say it started with a man named Henry Avery. Sailed into the port of Nassau, bribed the colonial governor to look past his sins, encamped his crew upon the beach, and thus began the pirate issue on New Providence Island." (Thomas Hamilton to James McGraw)

Avery vanishes into thin air, after supposedly giving Hal Gates his journals and leaving some of his crew on New Providence Island, including - presumably - Gates. Unless, of course, he is Hal "Gates." Then we've definitely seen him, the man who didn't really want to be a pirate captain until it was thrust upon him. That's a weird attitude, unless, of course, he's retired and is just going to see as a quartermaster because he missed the action?

More Avery/Every history beneath the cut.

Black Sails spells his name as Avery, though the common spelling is actually Every. So, what's his story?

Henry Every, also known as Henry Avery, Jack Avery, John Avery, Benjamin Bridgeman, or Long Ben, was the "Arch Pirate" or "King of Pirates" in his day.

He was probably born in Newton Ferrers, England (near Plymouth), in August 1659. His last name may have been spelled "Evarie" at this time.) Sometime between 1671 and 1689, he joined the Royal Navy under the name Henry Every and made it to the rank of master's mate before being discharged in 1690.

He also married to Dorothy Arther in 1690. Even in the navy, he was known as a family man, sending his money home instead of wasting it.

Then Every joined up with a new shipping company, and became first mate on a privateer warship, Charles II. The Spanish Expedition Shipping company was basically a bunch of English privateers who headed out to help Spain (then an English ally) hurt the French (never an English ally) in the West Indies. But Spain didn't deliver the promised letter of marque, failed to pay them, and left them sitting around as virtual prisoners. The crew of Charles II mutinied. Next you know, Every was unanimously elected captain and they changed the name of the ship to Fancy.

Over the next two years, Every and his crew embarked on a legendary series of raids that culminated in him commanding a squadron of pirate ships and taking a prize worth about £600,000 (about $135 million today). This was a 25 ship convoy owned by the Grand Mughal (Emperor), and it was the biggest prize ever taken by a pirate at the time.

The result? The first ever worldwide manhunt for one Henry Every. Britain's privy council and the East India Company offered a bounty of £1,000 (about $224,000 today) for his capture, plus a free pardon to informers.

It was due to his actions that Parliament declared pirates hostis humani generis ,or enemies of all mankind.

What happened to Every after this? What we know for sure is that he disappeared, forever to be the one pirate who got away scott free with his treasure. Sightings were reported for years, but none were reliable. Some say he died in poverty after squandering his treasure or being unable to sell it. But there's a strong theory that he disappeared in a place we all know very well: New Providence Island.

According to this theory, in Every and Fancy headed to St. Thomas and sold some of their treasure. Anchoring about 50 miles off New Providence Island, some of his men went to talk to the governor and ask leave for the crew to come to the island in exchange for hefty bribe. Their captain, "Henry Bridgeman" promised the governor a gift.

Every's crew spent months in the Bahamas and Fancy was stripped of everything valuable, ending up running aground and sinking, perhaps at the governor's orders. Eventually, the governor learned about the price on Every's head and put a warrant out for his arrest, but he seems to have tipped off the crew. Of 113 men, only 24 were captured (and 5 executed). Every was never seen again, having told his men multiple stories about where he intended to go.

And then he vanished, never to be seen again.

Unless he didn't.

[circular-bircular]

I'm putting this blog to rest.

I'm done. I'm out. And god, is it a relief.

You might notice I'm posting this around the same time that SAS is posting a major post in an effort to light the tag on fire. I highly doubt it'll work, but it's the best attempt. Me and SAS are close. Nearly one in the same, some days...

You'll notice the end of the post says, "just wait for what happens next."

This is what happens next.

I'm deleting my syscourse blogs. Finally. No "maybe I will" or "I've been considering it." I've been considering it for a loooong time, and I've actually been intending on getting rid of Circular's-Reasoning for awhile now. I just... haven't had the energy to.

But now... My life is moving on. I'm moving on, quite literally, I gain possession of my new house... probably today when I end up posting this. I'm not sure, it's my first draft, we'll see how this goes. That's terrifying to realize. I'm like... an adult. I'm an adult who's craving good conversations about my disorder, about systemhood and how it's conceptualized, and more intricate parts of my selfhood. And... Syscourse just is not that.

I've done this sort of thing before, if you all know MotCR -- @memoriesofthecircularroom, for the uninitiated. That's the OG Circular Blog, and is an archive of the first few years of syscourse. But... Now, it's going to become a bit more. Here's my game plan.

I update MotCR to be the Circular Archive. Anything I think needs archiving -- good posts of mine, silly reblogs, or just good posts overall where I added something of my own -- will get reblogged there. It's gonna be busy for a bit.

In the meantime while I start that process, I answer any and all final questions/asks or drafts that've been in the works. I don't want to leave people hanging.

I delete a lot of blogs. And... I do mean a lot -- not even just the syscourse ones. Just the ones I think it's time to let go of.

I've often teased how many blogs I have. It's fluctuated wildly in the past. But here's the down and dirty. Here's what I own, and what I'm planning on removing.

@circular-bircular (Hi, Hello, You're Here)

@circulars-reasoning (Already planned to be gone awhile ago)

@systemquirks (I just don't have the energy to run it, and I'm so sorry for that)

@yourfaveissecretlysas (Yes, I am the one running that)

@system-confessions (Surprise! No name blog that barely exists, again, I don't have the energy)

@debunkingsyscourse (Look, I make these too easily)

@equalsys (Not sure how this is a shocker to anyone)

@ricejustdidthings (An old system-no-syscourse blog I have that I don't use anymore)

@my-systems-cringe (Been meaning to delete this for ages)

@circulars-answers (Unneeded)

And potentially one other, unnamed for now blog -- that's the one I've never told people I have outside of select discords...

So that's 11 blogs I'm getting rid of, potentially more. And that's with me still keeping 2 syscourse blogs and an 18+ system blog. Jesus christ.

It feels good to get it off my chest, though. It feels really good to be leaving.

"But Circ! Your posts make me happy!"

Fantastic! You can follow the new system blog I'm going to be making, @thecircularsystem (is that link working? I don't know, it's a brand new blog.)

Try this link out instead if that doesn't work!

I'm still going to be posting system related content there. I'm still going to be doing my normal random shit that I always do. I may even dabble in syscourse -- and definitely in sysconversation. I like that tag! But I'm not going to be doing syscourse nearly as often, and I'm going to try and stay out of that tag in search of reblogs and such. Too often, it results in me getting aggressive with someone, rather than just... spreading good information about systems, or existing online as I want to exist.

I just need a refresh. A new step, a big change. I'm moving on.

I really hope you all can too <3

[cheralith]

Is there any more jjk fics coming? If yes what are they..a sneak peak??👀👀👀👀I loved the geto fic!!

there's actually two gojo fics that have been under construction for awhile now !! but i want to bring my attention to only one of them since they may be mini-series or just a really long one-shot.

one is a superhero!gojo x unlucky!reader set in a college au, in which gojo lives a double life balancing both being a student and a hero. the fun part about it is that reader doesn't know his true identity in either cases! they think hero!gojo and student!gojo are two separate people hehe. i've also had this in my drafts for quite a while but i know it has potential.

here’s a preview ⤵️

the other is a similar concept in which the reader doesn't know his identity, but it's more inspired by the film roman holiday. this is more runaway prince!gojo x townie!reader. gojo is a famous prince visiting a small oceanside town, but no one has ever seen his face that's usually hidden behind a veil, adding this mysterious persona around him. in a desperate attempt to be free for a few days, he parades this town without it while under a false identity who he introduces himself to reader with, who takes him on an escapade around town.

preview ⤵️

i'm leaning a little towards the second plot, since that'll be shorter and sweeter than the former, but i'm curious to see what you guys would generally prefer. truth be told, i won't be totally swayed by an audience's general preference, but it'll definitely help to provide some encouragement knowing that people may be interested in either or!

[youcouldmakealife]

Hi Taylor! Question from an aspiring writer... how do you track your words written per month? Is it the words you actually publish or do you have a spreadsheet? Just curious!

I use a few methods, because I a) lose things (I lost a whole ass writing journal after a year of steady use, and had to start another after tearing my house apart. I'll probably find it the day I move). b) really really like tracking metrics, and get a sense of satisfaction from them that's almost like accomplishment, but for most of the time I've been writing the 'verse, I've used simple monthly spread sheets.

Like this:

Typically, I have a set writing goal for the day (1250 right now) and only update the 'Min' when I'm finished, so I can see where I am for my monthly goal. I absolutely need to separate out projects for my own sanity, but you don't need to. At the bottom of the month are my totals for each project.

All my WIPs are titled to include the POV char or prompt, the part number if it's a series, and the current word count. So if I start the day on James 25 (850), and at the end of the day it's at, say, 1250, then Hold'em (Cards on the Table) gets updated with 400 words. If I worked on Holden as well, I just add 'em up, I don't mind that. Go with what makes your brain happy.

I'm just going to say straight up that this has been something I've trialled and errored for literally a decade now, and it's something that's worked for me, but I've also used:

a literal piece of paper that happened to be within reach

a notebook (and still do, updating it with a handwritten version of the above, along with what's been posted, and a 'fill in a square every 250 words' in which each project gets a different colour, which I find immensely satisfying, and helpful for seeing trends.

~estimation (or yeah, adding up word counts, though then you don't get to log anything you cut and that's no fun)

A fancy tracker that gives me ~graphs~

But at the end of the day, I can't rely on my enjoying a thing forever, and I'm pretty decent at keeping up the spreadsheet. But I should note that I like data analysis and I like spreadsheets, and if spreadsheets make you break out in a cold sweat, they're not going to work for you.

Whatever is easy enough to consistently keep up with, do that one, because it sucks when you have a big data gap because you hit a rough patch and couldn't be bothered to keep your system up. For me, that's the spreadsheet. For you it could be a little notebook, or in a planner, or numbers in a calendar box, or a habit tracker, or an email draft you update at the end of the day and send yourself every once in awhile. Whatever you'll be fucked to do when you don't have many fucks to give.

(I have...also done all of those at some point.)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Writing anon #1 here with a few questions! As usual please don’t reply if you don’t want to. :)

What kind of character would you suggest writing for? Characters I’m currently interested in or characters I know more about? Perhaps a mix? I’m a little afraid that if I write for the characters I’m currently fixated on I’ll lose interest in them for awhile. For example, I’m currently interested in Daredevil but I know more about the Avengers because I hyperfixated on them in high school.

Where/how do you find inspiration and motivation to write? 

Do you think someone could write a relationship without having experienced it themselves? (Like a romantic relationship) I would assume it would just take a lot of research and editing to make sure it’s fairly realistic. Just like when you writing something else you don’t have experience in (like writing a character being a doctor or barista if you don’t have experience with that.)

Like the second anon I have a lot of trouble with outlining and plots. I usually get an idea I would love to write but have no idea what to do with it. Like how to get to the idea/scene or where to go from it. I really should try actually outlining and taking my time. I also really need to get my brain to understand that drafts are okay and normal. (I struggle with perfectionism, but I’m working on it.)

I realize now how number three might come across. I am an adult not a minor. I just had an extremely sheltered life growing up and have spent the few years I’ve been an adult dealing with a few things that are out of my control. So I haven’t had a romantic relationship of my own, I have read a ton of x reader fanfics and watched a lot of romcoms. And number four isn’t a question. :) Thank you so much in advance!

I'd say write for someone you like, someone you're comfortable with, and if you don't feel like you know enough about them to begin writing then that's easily fixed! rewatch/reread/re-whatever the thing that they're from and pay extra close attention, do it however many times you'd like, take notes. wiki's about the characters can also be super helpful for a ton of those little facts. but at the end of the day, write for whoever you like, whoever will be super fun to write for, whoever will make you excited to write. also you don't have to just choose one or even be stuck if you ever wanna move on, you make up the rules.

inspiration? i find that everywhere. sure, a movie is an easy thing to get my mind hooked on a fantasy, but most of my stories have just come to me in very mundane things. I've leaned into my own life experiences for a lot of sad stories (also used it as a therapeutic tool). there is literally inspiration everywhere, you just gotta open your eyes and see it. that weird tree right outside your window? that could be enough inspiration to begin a whole book. and as for motivation? well, first of all I really enjoy the whole process, so that helps a ton. I'm also autistic and have very good concentration, so I can easily just disappear completely into my wip. I'm also really good at just having it in my routine, sitting down and writing when I have the most energy for it. when I'm working on something very long, that's when it can become harder to keep that flame alive, but I think I've worked out a good rhythm to keep it going and not loose the drive to work on it: first of all, a detailed outline and notes. making a proper routine with it, though also not beating yourself up if it's a bad day and you only reread the last page 50 times, but don't actually write anything new. I also try my best to stay in the world while I work on it. like for when i'm not sitting and actively writing it, then I listen to music that fits the theme or watch movies or shows that have the vibe.

I think that truly depends on the person. some people can and some people can't. I personally don't write about too many subjects I don't have experience in (though still some like for example murder and some of the jobs the characters have, but my imagination can get me far enough to make me comfortable tackling those subjects). so yeah, that's so individual whether someone can do that well or not.

from my understanding of you from the very limited interactions we've had, I'd say that it'll probably continue to be difficult while you're not getting enough sleep for your brain to function properly as well as some other stressful things I could imagine is also going on and perhaps is the cause of the sleep issues. a few things that helps my perfectionism is to say that this draft will only be read by me and no one else, to say that this is only a silly little fanfiction just for the lols and not a fancy leather-bound novel, and also to aim for it simply to be finished and not for it to be perfect. and sometimes when it comes to beginning, you'll just have to jump straight in with the attitude of an imaginative and playful child. also sitting down and being like "okay, I'm not allowed to do anything other then come up with a story. I'm allowed to sit here, look around at my surroundings, and push through the boredom till my brain comes up with a story to entertain me". don't be afraid of slowing down and embracing the stillness, that's always where my best stuff comes from. and plot stuff? that is a huge subject and I'm not sure what advice could be beneficial for you. it's one of those things where learning about it on a technical level can be helpful, but only to get the sense into your bones and then throwing those rules and patterns out of the window like they never existed to begin with and just letting the flow of the story lead you.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Tripped and fell into VerDi brainrot and, this is the result. Had this in the drafts for awhile now and I was initially going to post another piece before it but, I want to work on posting works in chronological order from when I start them. Honestly, this might be my favourite piece that I've written so far. Enjoy the filth.

Lee Chan x Fem! Reader x Hansol Vernon Chwe, Chan and Reader are in a relationship, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Vernon watches Chan and Reader have sex, praise kink (f. and m. receiving), unprotected piv sex, spanking (f. receiving), creampie, oral sex (m. receiving), Dom! Chan, Switch! Reader, Sub(ish)! Vernon and Chan being an overall menace to both Reader and Vernon.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When your boyfriend first suggested this, you were more than a little uncertain. Not that you had any issues with Vernon, quite the opposite actually. You two got along incredibly well, much to Chan's relief, and have become relatively good friends in your own right. However, being good friends with your boyfriend's best friend doesn't magically equate to being comfortable with involving him as a third during sex. Vernon is a good looking man, to put it simply. You weren't blind to that. It also didn't help that you found his more shy and reserved personality endearing. Sometimes wondering how he became best friends with your loud ass boyfriend. The two of them feeling like complete opposites at times. Regardless, while you were attracted to him, you did had your reservations about including him in your sex life when your boyfriend brought it up.

"I- what brought this on?" You asked Chan, completely bewildered by this suggestion to let Vernon watch the two of you. Chan's ears are a bright red as he explains what his friend confessed to him one night after one too many drinks, "He thinks you're hot. Always has. He said one night he overheard us fucking in the dance studio and, got off on hearing us. He said after that he's been curious about what watching us would be like." All of this information hits you like a truck. Learning far more about Vernon's sexual interests than you ever expected to in your lifetime. While you can see the appeal for yourself and Vernon, you do wonder what's in it for Chan. "Why do you want to do it?" You finally ask when you remember how to formulate words. Your brain still reeling from all of this. Chan just smirks before answering, "I thought you'd notice by now, I like showing off."

That's how you find yourself thighs spread wide with Chan fucking into while Vernon sits across from you two on a chair, watching. Chan's hands grip your thighs tightly to make sure they stay open. Making sure Vernon can see ever movement of his girthy cock inside of you. His chest is hot and sweaty against your back, his breaths against your shoulder and neck giving rise to goosebumps. A particularly hard thrust from him has you throwing your head back and, moaning long and loud for both men to hear. "Isn't she so pretty?" Chan asks the older man over your shoulder, moving one of his hands to toy with your hardened nipple. "Yeah, so fucking pretty," Vernon responds completely transfixed by the sight of the two of you.

Vernon is yet to do anything other than sit there and watch, in nothing but his boxers. Both men agreeing to let you take the reins in that regard. Honestly, he's just happy you both agreed to let him watch. You're quite literally making one of his wildest fantasies a reality. He wasn't going to get all greedy now. Trying his best to ignore the painful ache of his profusely leaking cock in his boxers, he struggles to choose where to focus his gaze. One part of him desperately wants to watch the way your tight pussy eagerly swallows his best friend's (kind of intimidating) cock. The other part of him wants to watch your tits jump and bounce and jiggle with each of Chan's precise thrusts. The final part of him wants to watch your beautiful face. Eyes lidded in pleasure, lips bruised and swollen from how thoroughly Chan had kissed you and, every little noise you make shooting straight to his cock. Vernon would never tell Chan this because the younger man's ego is enormous enough as it is but, he thinks he finally understands why you're so willing and eager to spread your thighs for him, any and everywhere. Chan is nothing if not thorough at making sure you're fucked out.

He settles on alternating between looking at every part of you but, he finds his eyes wondering to your pussy more than anywhere else. You may be becoming too dazed to notice but, Chan notices and he pounces.

He fucks into you particularly hard, biting back a groan at how you tighten around him and dig your nails into the skin of his arms as he holds onto you firmly. "She's so tight. I can barely move," he tells Vernon, enjoying the way his words wash over his friend. His grip on the arms of the chair he's been sitting for what feels like hours tightening slightly as he swallows thickly. "Chan," you whine out in embarrassment at his words, turning your head in an attempt to hide from Vernon's scorching gaze. Chan won't be having any of it, however. The hand that had been toying with your nipple moves to cup your jaw, turning you back to face his best friend, whispering in your ear, "There's no need to be shy, baby. Look at how hard Vernon is from watching us. From watching you."

You shyly let your eyes wander to Vernon and are immediately struck with how delectable he looks. His brown locks sticking to his sweaty forehead, face flushed an adorable shade of pink and his cock straining against his boxers with a noticeable wet spot. The sight of him causing you clench around Chan's cock and moan out far louder than you intended to. "Y-you look so pretty, Ver-Vernon," you stutter out, taking great pleasure in watching his blush darken and spread down to his neck. "She means it. I almost came from how hard she clenched around me just now," Chan adds over your shoulder, moving his hand from your jaw to your clit.

"Th-Thanks," comes Vernon's bashful response, his cock throbbing from the praise. He watches intently as Chan makes quick work of your clit, still fucking you incessantly while encouraging you to cum on his cock. Cum while Vernon watches.

"Don't you want to show Vernon how much of a good girl you are? How beautiful you look when you cum?" Chan asks loud enough for both of you to hear clear as day, his fingers and his cock not giving you much of a choice. You hold Vernon's gaze as you cum. Insides tightening around Chan like a vice while your juices gush down his cock and his balls onto your shared bed, mouth open as you cry out for both men to hear.

Vernon has never cum untouched but, he thinks he just might from watching how hard you cum. You're arching and squirming so attractively, all your sounds of pleasure making his boxers even more of a sticky mess. Chan was right, you do look beautiful when you cum. Speaking of the younger man, this is probably the first time he isn't running his mouth all night. His own moans mixing with yours from how hard you try and milk him for his cum but, he resists. He still has other ideas in mind for how he wants this evening to go. Steeling his resolve to not fill you with his cum, he does keep you steady against his chest as you ride out your climax. Slowing his thrusts down as to not completely overwhelm you and, cooing encouragements and praise at you for how well you did, how pretty you looked and how good you were for him.

"Are you okay? Do you want to take a break?" Chan asks you softly, hands now rubbing your thighs soothingly. Once you finally start to regain the ability to formulate words you respond, "No, I don't want to stop. I have an idea actually. I want you to fuck me while I suck off Vernon." It's a desire of yours that's been building as you've watched Vernon squirm in that chair while Chan makes you take him. You want to touch Vernon, to taste him. You'd even be okay with letting him fuck you too but, you know Chan probably wouldn't be comfortable with that. Atleast for now. "That's if you're both okay with that," you add hurriedly, giving both men ample opportunity to back out. They seem to have a silent conversation with one another for a moment. Communicating through eye contact and nothing else. You try not to squirm too much on Chan's lap, his cock still very much rock hard inside of you while the two of them communicate. Finally, Chan's hands gravitate to your hips and he kisses the side of your head before say, "I'm down and something tells me Vernon is too. How do you want us, baby?"

That's how you find yourself with your face in Vernon's lap while Chan gradually fucks into you from behind. His hands holding your hips while he thrusts into you slowly. Giving you time to adjust to the new angle and focus on Vernon with minimal distractions. Vernon watches you in a mixture of fascination and shyness, your face centimetres from his still covered cock. You slowly reach for his boxers, giving him the chance to stop you if he wants to. He doesn't. You watch through half-lidded eyes how his lengthy cock smacks against his stomach, smearing pre-cum on his skin. Chan's grip on your hips tightens for a moment when you clench around him at the sight of Vernon's cock, picking up the pace behind you gradually. "Is it o-okay if I touch you now?" You ask him, hand hovering just above his cock that is flushed a rather angry looking red. "Yeah," he breathes out and, it takes everything in him not to cum on the spot when you finally do touch him. Wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly to become accustomed to the weight of him.

Vernon is a little embarrassed at the noise he makes when you experimentally lick him, his taste a little salty but, otherwise not unpleasant. "You can touch me too, okay?" You tell him softly with a smile before easing your mouth onto his cock, feeling him pulse violently against your tongue for a few beats. Vernon's shaky hands find themselves in your hair, being careful not to tug too hard as you begin to well and truly suck him off. "You can be more rough. Not only can she take it, she loves it. Isn't that right, princess?" Chan asks you, giving your ass a harsh slap to prove his point. Your answering moan with a mouthful of Vernon's cock and attempts at nodding make Chan smirk before he focuses his attention back on making sure you're fucked thoroughly. Watching the way your pussy takes ever bit of his cock and your ass kisses his abs with ever thrust have him steadily heading towards his orgasm. Vernon isn't fairing much better. Even while partially distracted by Chan, you still try your utmost to make sure the older man is enjoying himself. Taking him as far as you can, swallowing around him and deliberately slowly easing off of him until his tip rests against your tongue once more. He thinks he might just lose his mind with how much of a tease you're being. "I- please" he begs hoarsely, grip tightening on your hair as you ease down onto his cock once again. At his plea, you meet his wild eyes, stilling your mouth momentarily while you stare at him with a glint of amusement. He knows what you want him to do and Vernon has never been too proud of a man to beg for what he wants. "Please. Please l-let me cum. Please," he whines, trying his best to stay still and behave for you.

Chan groans from behind you at how you clench around him at Vernon's words, fucking into your faster. His grip on your hip and ass bruising now. You wouldn't be surprised to find indents of his fingers on your skin when he was finished with you. Deciding to treat Vernon with a little kindness since he asked so nicely, you continue your ministrations on him. This time not slowing down or taking it easy on him in the slightest. Your bedroom filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, you gagging on Vernon's cock and the moans of pleasure from the two men.

To the surprise of everyone, Chan is the first to cum. You know before he informs you based on the way his cock pulses incessantly inside of you and he keeps you still against his hips that he's going to cum. His cum is warm and familiar inside of you and, the vibrations from your moans at being being filled up by your lovely boyfriend quickly send Vernon over the edge as well. You do appreciate his attempts in trying to warn you but, you were more than happy to swallow his cum. You try your best to swallow all of it but, there's just too much of it so bits of it dribble past your lips and down your chin. You lap at him softly until he moans from the oversensitivity so, eventually you stop and give him some time to catch his breath. Vernon watches you scoop up all his cum that made it past your lips with your fingers and push them into your mouth until they're licked completely clean.

God, you're so hot.

Chan gently eases out of you. Both of you shuddering at the feeling and, he takes a moment to admire the view of his cum leaking out of your pretty pussy. Honestly, you don't think you've felt this full of cum and well-fucked in your life. Which is really saying something because your boyfriend is an extremely thorough man when it comes to sex. Even on the verge of blacking out, you're so glad you decided to say yes to this idea.