#hoo boy this one got long

[yes-asil]

During a trip in search of insects, Martin gets swept away by a stormy river current, leaving a guilt-ridden Chris to comb through the forest for him.

Have fun with this 8 year old plot bunny I took out of a dusty folder

[papple]

*slides in and bites lip* hayy....

so irl stuff happened but we've been cooking up some stuff here and there and we figured you guys might wanna see them :D

so we're gonna talk about the second dreamtale concept we have which is a variant of the swap!osd au by @calcium-cat,,,, and basically! nm has a harsher personality, but at the same time holds a much softer spot for dream. He fights back against his bullies and believes that dream is too kind and tells him so often using scathing comments, but dream understands that nm is just a little tsun tsun. Nm is also proud of all the knowledge he has cultivated and makes sure to rub it in peoples faces by delivering sick burns and insulting bullies left and right

For the apple incident, the apples blacken when nm and the villagers fight over the tree and he accidentally touches one of the fruits. Dream arrives in time to see the villagers dealing the fatal blow to nm as well as the tree

Desperate, dream feeds a black apple to nm hoping that it would still be able to heal him but instead intensifies nm's negativity. This later on will be the biggest factor behind dream's guilt

Nm is still dying so his negativity powers him to continue consuming the apples but he keeps going and the power eventually corrupts him

Now nm wants to get revenge so dream takes the last golden apple (this one fell from the tree while the tree was being cut, before the negativity got to it) to have more of a fighting chance and to better protect the people against nm, but he still gets petrified like in canon (or maybe we'll just put him in a coma induced by the intense negativity... i dont really understand the logic behind him turning to stone so we might toss out that idea) (we're open to suggestions though!)

Nm's adrenaline powered mind sees dream's petrified/knocked out self and goes mad, going on a rampage and destroying the entire village.

Of course, 500 years later, dream wakes up and joins ink's group. Ink actually asked sci to make something up that could weaken nightmare's gang but forgets about it, so the formula somehow ends up in dream's hands as the unofficial second in command. Dream, ever the guilt-ridden but hope-filled person, tests it out first on nm. Maybe, this could buy him just enough time to hold a civil conversation with him... imagine everyone's surprise when the lofty scholar-type king turns into a filthy mouthed baby gremlin

[beansterpie]

rewatching LoK, i'm being reminded how much I dislike the.... the brothers, mako and bolin, yanno? they're such underwhelming characters on basically every level. it'd almost be impressive if they weren't in every episode and didn't annoy me so much ugh

[svtskneecaps]

my biological peer reviewer (sibling) called this theory “fun” and said i should send it, so here goes

my personal theory is the feds ((”federation”)) created the eggs because they decided the best way to enforce “you can never leave” was to give the people something they couldn’t lose, like in the post by tumblr user alexaloraetheris (no relation to the smp) where their friend who might be a deity had said,

"When you die you descend to the underworld with nothing to lose. To keep you, they give you something to lose. When you want to return, they will demand it back. That's why nobody ever leaves. The only way out is to never enter."

i’m thinkin that on egg D-Day, at the end of the countdown, the feds weren’t gonna give the eggs back. they were just gonna hide them forever, or do something else, anything else, just keep them away from their surrogate parents, because then the people would just be STUCK, because people could theoretically take their eggs and leave, but if the eggs are missing, gone without a trace, then the residents CAN’T LEAVE, because presumably the eggs are STILL THERE, SOMEWHERE, IN NEED OF HELP AND RESCUE, if only the residents could find them ON THE ISLAND. if they leave the island while the eggs are missing, they are abandoning these things that have become their children.

but then in came the brazilians. and shit went south. because see, the spenglish (spanish / english) streamers were INVITED, but the brazilians CRASHED; the feds didn’t INVITE THEM, they weren’t EXPECTING THEM, but they can’t let these guys leave either, so they PANIC, and they scramble to give the brazilians the same thing--something to lose. the new egg had a brazilian jersey, homie was TAILOR MADE for them to pack bond with. the feds didn’t have time to send out multiple eggs, it was all or nothing, so they picked something they could reasonably assume all five of them would find endearing because they don’t know shit about these guys--they had a week to observe the OG batch, but all they know about these newbies is the brazilian flag on their boat--and so they sent the little egg out to become THEIR THING, the thing they couldn’t afford to lose.

it leaves open why the eggs are cracked too, bc idk what’s going on there lol, either 1: the eggs cracked because they’re hatching and the feds picked that date bc they wanted to yoink the eggs before they got Too Powerful, or 2: the feds were the ones to crack the eggs as an excuse for why they vanished--returning the eggs untouched would open too many questions the feds don’t want them asking; this way, instead of being concerned specifically with “why were the eggs missing”, the residents presume they know the answer--the cracks.

but yea i’m just gonna add as an aside that personally i think cucurucho / osito bimbo / the white fucker is way more active again because the feds are still scrambling to keep up with the brazilians (which, again, the feds weren’t expecting), and the binary fuckwad came in to put the fear of god into the newbies--maybe so they didn’t get too focused on the morse code transmissions; iirc max was theorizing that both osito and binary were part of the federation ? and if so it does make sense that the binary entity went to fuck with cellbit immediately after cellbit was introduced to the conspiracies of the island, yknow, a warning shot. i think they want them to be focused on the eggs.

BUT THAT’S JUST A THEOr

[umbracirrus]

The next chapter of The Perfect Storm is up, and it is a big one! Over 8,000 words of me putting Balgruuf through the motions and tackling his past. I need to hug the poor guy. He's been through a lot...

-----

Fic rating: E (for future content)

Fic relationships: Balgruuf the Greater/Female Dragonborn

Chapter description:

For over ten years, a blade which almost led to the downfall of the Jarl of Whiterun had been locked away in the basement of Dragonsreach. Balgruuf had hoped to leave it in the past. A conversation with Elyse digs up both the blade and more.

Chapter excerpt:

"Dragonborn… The Jarl said that you heard a voice from in here, yes? I believe that you may want to take a look at this," Farengar stated after taking a single step forward, and having given the room a quick once-over using a magelight spell to see. Elyse suddenly left his side to see what was meant by that, slipping past the wizard so that she could look, then let out a gasp. That was all of the prompting which he needed to follow the two of them, just to see what was happening. He decided, however, to remain by the door, just in case he had to do as previously suggested and allow them both to handle things in his stead. "It's empty… Why is the room empty?!" Elyse looked panicked as she glanced around the room, attempting to look for any sign of life. It was a sentiment which he shared with her, given that he trusted that she had indeed heard a voice addressing her when she had found the room herself. "I don't like this… Where is-" The sudden silence which struck the Dragonborn was enough to draw both his and Farengar's attention, no less when her head suddenly turned towards the table in the room… and the one thing which Balgruuf was doing his best not to look at.

[dutybcrne]

I like to think under the helm, Capitano may LOOK somewhat like one of R/V Alvcard’s monster forms

[purpldawne]

for an akifuyu stan i sure do struggle to draw autumn and winter troupe

[lustbcrne]

Sexual Traits - Kaeya

Tagged by: Stolen off le Dash​ Tagging: If you want it? TAKE IT

bold - applies always. italic - applies sometimes. Striked = personal notes, can be removed (anything in ‘extra’ can be removed, too)

inclinations/habits:

is submissive | is dominant | prefers to top | prefers to bottom | likes to switch | identifies as heterosexual | identifies as homosexual | identifies as bisexual | identifies as pansexual | identifies as demisexual | identifies as asexual | enjoys sex with men | enjoys sex with women | enjoys sex with multiple people at one time  | initiates (when he’s most comfortable/more confident) | waits for a partner to initiate (at the start of a relationship) | spits | swallows | prefers sex in the morning | prefers sex at night | prefers sex any time | no sex drive | low sex drive | average sex drive | high sex drive | hypersexual

Extra - He usually prefers to top or at the very least hold a power bottom role during sex because he likes feeling in control of himself and the situation overall out of comfort. He'll relinquish the reins to his partner if he sees they prefer it and/or he is trying to get on their good side, but for the most part, he likes being in the more dominant role. A partner who's built enough trust with him makes it easier for him when they want to take charge.

       Initiating usually involves him playfully testing the waters with the person in question; baiting, teasing and tempting them until they themself close the distance–this way, he can play off any desires on his part with plausible deniability. In a relationship, he tends to hold himself back a lot at first bc he doesn't want to overwhelm his partner with how much he wants them, esp with the extent of his own urges overall. If his partner gives the okay that he's free to initiate whenever, he WILL run with it. Meaning more frequent touches and flirting to distract them, teasing his partner to stir them up on whims, stealing and wearing nothing but their shirts around their place, the works, until he either gets what he wants or they tell him to curb it back. It is admittedly a mix of both desire for them and lingering self-destructive habit he's built up over the years, but the more secure in a relationship he is, it would tend to lean to the former. That said...

       ...even outside his genuine high sex drive, he's quite accustomed to having frequent sex to the point of being quite the regular at the Church for checkups after the fact, using it as a transaction/reward in exchange for info from choice contacts who've requested it of him/he himself offered it to, to stave off boredom & especially loneliness ( low-key takes rejection at these times rather hard ), to fight stress ( esp if he hadn't been able to drink in awhile ), to relieve pain ( chronic, emotional/dysphoric, or acquired on the job )/anxiety surges he gets, or rid himself of excess energy after a Dangerous Situation. It became one of his biggest coping mechanisms and means to an end in one shortly after becoming Cavalry Captain, when he realized just how many people had eyes on him/regarded him as quite the pretty face, and how much more favorably they acted towards him when he playfully humored advances. How much they were willing to give him in return for his time and favors he could do. He admittedly disliked it all at first because he had no idea what he was doing and kept getting roped into things he wasn't entirely comfortable with, but the more used to the arrangements he got, the more he figured out his likes/dislikes & how to manage more uncomfortable encounters, the more he grew to genuinely love sex, even like this. He also quickly took up making a habit of gathering blackmail on potential/current partners as a means to ensure these encounters remain on the down low–he has to protect his and the Knights' ( and in a way, the Ragnvindr family's ) reputations, after all. Though he would never use it to coerce partners into anything otherwise, only ever to ensure they don't try to take advantage of him like some people at the start did. If worse comes to worst, he has and still takes measures to get rid of any person trying to take advantage of him/their arrangement or otherwise going too damn far with him.

body/appearance:

small build | medium build | athletic build | muscular build | curvy build | voluptuous build | wears boxer/briefs | wears lingerie | goes ‘commando’ | shaves/waxes | doesn’t shave/wax | cup size a-c | cup size d-f | 1-5" in length | 6-9" in length | 10" or over in length

Extra - Is AFAB trans male, has considered phalloplasty, but he likes his body as is, even if dysphoria does tend to flare up more often than not. Would consider it actually going through with it if a long-term partner would want him too. He is comfortable being referred to by either male, feminine or neutral terms, though he does prefer male ones more. He has a mole just under his ass on his right leg, and various old burn scars on his right shoulder, upper arm, part of his face and on his left arm–his left arm has the worst of the lot ( barring his right eye ) and requires a brace to help with some movement. There are a couple faded scars here and there from old injuries, and a very faded few from stab and gunshot wounds he'd taken over the years that he's clumsily patched up himself to avoid heading to the Church.

       He has had top surgery sometime shortly after Crepus' death, just to reduce his chest to a more comfortable size/shape now that he was more independent and was encouraged to make more of his own decisions. He considered doing more, but he also recognized that was a feature of himself many really liked to see, and thus still flaunts it with his infamous low necklines. He's even a little vain about his chest when it's actively pointed out. ( self-harm ment ) His surgery scars are double incision that somewhat resemble claw marks because he ended up actually carving them worse in a very panicked, Visceral negative reaction after he first saw them after he'd gone home post-op. Had a moment of further panic when he finally snapped back into himself and saw the mess, then deliberately cut more to adjust them into looking a little more 'aesthetically pleasing' to himself before cleaning up the scene. He didn't go to the Church for help patching up again or let Adelinde know what actually happened bc he feared getting yelled at over it. Got yelled at anyways by Adelinde, Elzer, Jean, Varka, and the church staff because he agitated the wounds badly when he tried to get back to work earlier than recommended. ( end ) The scars aren't as faded as they should to have been because he took too long to get them properly treated and a little from lack of proper care overall in spite of Adelinde's best efforts to help, though they have still since dulled decently enough with time. He tends to deflect hard when asked about them in general.

turn-ons/kinks:

having their hands pinned | pinning their partner’s hands | having their ears pulled | pulling their partner’s ears | being watched (by their partner) | being watched (by a third party) | watching their partner | receiving oral | giving oral | calling their partner ‘daddy’ | being called ‘daddy’ /’mummy’ | giving praise | receiving praise | biting/marking | being bitten/marked | spanking | being spanked | teasing | being teased | having toys used on them | using toys on their partner | giving anal | receiving anal | choking | being choked | dirty talk | being tied up | tying their partner up | being worshipped | worshipping their partner | humiliating | being humiliated | degrading | being degraded | knife play | blood play | being pegged | pegging

Extra - Guaranteed, he loves displaying himself ( though not entirely unclothed ) for his partners during foreplay and make outs, or even deliberately getting himself off in a way where they're sure to catch him in the act–because he knows just how pretty people find him, scars and all ( though tends to like wearing his own/his partner's clothes over himself on more dysphoric days ). But when it comes to actual sex, if he's the one being penetrated, he strongly prefers being taken from behind & facing away from his partners, be it being pinned under them ( if that's what they prefer ) or in reverse cowgirl ( his most preferred position ), etc. Unless he is completely comfortable with his partner, in which case, he'll let them take him from the front/facing them. If he's got the chance to peg his partner, he likes it missionary the most, eager to watch their every reaction with great delight. Or with them facedown, face pushed against the mattress/surface they're on as he fucks into them. Especially if he's able to cage them in and croon things to them as he moves.

       Has sadomasochistic tendencies. He definitely loves pain during sex, especially being on the receiving end of it–biting, scratching, spanking, knifeplay, name it, he'll allow it, so long as the marks aren't so easy to see like on his chest or neck. Is just as happy to indulge his partner if they're into it too, though always carefully measuring their limits. Is a HUGE fan of overstimulating his partners and especially using Visions during sex, but would actually LOATHE feeling any Pyro on him unless he Explicitly tells the person he trusts them & is given ample warning it will happen before they start. Any heat-based play in general is a hard no, unless he has that extreme trust in the person. Or is going through a particularly self-destructive spiral, but that is easy to spot once you know him well enough. Overall, sex that really ups his adrenaline levels in some way is the best in his eyes, especially since it help takes his mind of things and especially his usual touch aversion. Gentler sex tends to make him feel a lot more vulnerable, to the point where he's actually more likely to cry from being overwhelmed than he would if he were knocked around and hurt during sex ( esp considering he's entirely unused to it at ALL ). Has indulged in more extreme fear plays with past partners ( gun play, asphyxiation, kidnapping, interrogation-based consensual nonconsent, etc ), found certain delight in them too, but prefers anything like that to be properly negotiated some time beforehand, unless the person is okay with actually having to fight him a little before he realizes what they're doing & starts playing along. His safeword is Valberry, but also tends to follow equivalent of the stoplight colors system. He is okay indulging most any kink his partner wants at least once, esp bc he likes the idea of discovering a new one for himself.

       Loves, loves, LOVES being degraded and being called names, though ones themed after royalty, 'young master', or using his Captain title are a surefire way to anger him. Either making him stop altogether ( particularly the former two ) or making him extremely ornery and spiteful that his partner's gotta get a firm hand on him to bring him back around if they want to continue. As long as the humiliation/insults given to him don't mention his body type/appearance in a negative way, he's a-ok for damn near anything else though, even being referred to as a girl ( actually finds it funny whenever he is and might even taunt them for it ). HOWEVER if he's being called cute/loving pet names during a rougher fuck, he flusters up and falls apart much faster. He does have very particular names he likes most, but those he leaves his partners to discover on their own. And yes, he does reward them each time one is stumbled on.

       Usually neglects aftercare for himself outside of a relationship, sometimes during one. Will tend to his partners for theirs as much as they're willing then be right on his way. In a relationship, he goes above and beyond with aftercare for his partners, regardless of how rough the sex was on them or who topped/bottomed. Prepping baths, fetching them water or a quick bite, checking in with them, massages, administering first aid where needed, the works, no matter how sore he himself may be. He won't make any moves to ask for anything for himself from them, rather will simply partake in whatever he can share with his partner like snacks or bathing with them. Anything else, his partner would have to bring up or take initiative to treat him to.

sounds:

is silent/makes little to no sounds | is very quiet | is very loud | grows in volume over time | bites hand/partner/pillow to muffle themselves | calls out partner’s name | curses | fakes/exaggerates | prefers a quiet partner | prefers a loud partner | is turned on by dirty talk | is turned off by dirty talk

Extra - He doesn't tend to muffle up his voice during, especially if he wants to get caught by somebody ( most often like when he’s getting himself off while his partner’s nearby ). He's unabashed with his voice during sex, purring and crooning about how good it feels, how good they are being for him, pitching and trembling, all to look good for them. If he starts trying to stifle his voice behind a hand, chances are it's because he wants to hear his partner plead and encourage him to get louder, particularly because he knows there’s a chance he’ll get praise out of it if he does. That, and he gets off on hearing his partner beg or demand things of him. Or he's trying to rile them up so they can knock him around some, that too. Tends to babble breathlessly when he's close to his own climax, spilling near incoherent curses and pleas before a drawn out whine finally leaves him.

       He doesn't tend to beg, but will get whiny and do so if his partner keeps teasing him or they hold back their own voice, even after he tries to encourage them. Will throw all dignity out the window if it means he can hear how good they feel, no matter how pathetic he's gotta make himself to have it. Loves hearing every crack and hitch of their voices, any growls and gasps that pass through their lips. Praises will drip from his own like honey each and every time his partner's voice gets louder or a particularly delightful sound leaves them. Notably, they could easily shock the brat out of him ( in a good way ) if they snarl right in his ear for him to behave, or near any other sort of dirty talk, especially the more possessive and domineering it is.

[funny-fella-fantrolls]

You already know I have to drop a little 🗣️ Vex + Ofu. Heavily intruiged :)

((THis is a follow up to this post!))

Vextri, still clutching his injured shoulder, swings the door open.

Hey, []fu? Y[]u get the bandages and sh][t ready?

A voice comes from another room, clearly sounding a little tired.

Yeah... I did... {ome here, I {an help if you want...

The bronzeblood walks in, seeing Ofu sat there, a worried look on his face.

What... what happened? Are you okay? Sit down, and... and...

A bright green tint fills the limeblood's face.

T-take your shirt off, I need to be able to {lean it first...

Vex responds a little dismissively, not as worried as his friend.

]['m fine. S[]me an[]n dec][ded t[] b][te me pretty fuck][n' hard, but ]['ll l][ve.

He lets go of his shoulder, taking off his jacket and then struggling to pull his shirt over his horns.

See? N[]t even that deep. Deep en[]ugh that ][t needs bandag][n', sure, but []nly barely.

Ofuuno flushes even brighter as he looks over the wound, and he fetches a wipe.

Okay... I'm... I'm gonna {lean it up, sorry if this stings...

He starts wiping away at the wound, making sure it's clean as the bronzeblood winces.

I'm sorry! It's... It's going to be alright...

][t's f][ne. Just... get []n w][th ][t.

Eventually, the wound is clean, and the wipe is tossed into the bin.

Okay, so now I need to bandage it...

He picks up the bandages, and begins slowly wrapping up the other troll's shoulder.

So... why did you get bitten?

D[]n't kn[]w. Typ][cal an[]n sh][t, ][ guess. Luck][ly, ][t gave me a chance t[] pr[]perly test my pr[]ject.

Did... did it work?

Sure d][d. Pretty much perfect. []nly th][ng ][ m][ght wanna w[]rk []n ][s the energy eff][c][ency []f the p[]wer cells, but that m][ght be s[]meth][ng t[] get Therus t[] l[][]k ][nt[], see ][f he can f][nd anyth][ng []ut there.

Ofuuno looks at him with a concerned look on his face.

Does that mean you're a{tually sleeping now?

Yeah. Been catch][ng up.

There's a moment of silence before Vextri speaks up again.

[]fu... ][ sh[]uld ap[]l[]g][ze. ][ heard fr[]m s[]me an[]ns that after what happened y[]u were k][nda beat][ng y[]urself up []ver ][t...

You... you what? N-no, if anyone should be apologizing, it's me, I mean, I went way too far there, a-and I shouldn't have brought up what I did...

Well, yeah, but... ][ kn[]w y[]u meant well, and hell, ][t's not l][ke much else c[]ulda g[]tten thr[]ugh t[] me. Y[]u were try][n' t[] help, and ][ just g[]t mad. ]['m s[]rry. ][ g[]t t[][] wrapped up ][n the pr[]ject, and ][ c[]uldn't see that ][t was hurt][n' y[]u.

Vex... {an we... talk about something? I've been... thinking, a lot...

Sure. ]['ll hear y[]u []ut.

Well, uh, when we had that argument... it was really tough for me... it felt like I was gonna lose you, and... and that idea really hurt...

][... ][ c[]uld tell. S[]unds l][ke y[]u were real br[]ken up ab[]ut ][t. Aga][n, ]['m s[]rry, dude.

Vex... I think... I think there's something I need to tell you about.

G[] ahead.

So... for a long, long time now... I've been having pale feelings for you. A-and I hope that doesn't weird you out or anything...

][... ][ see. ][ mean, ][ can't say the ][dea never []ccured t[] me, ][ mean, we've b[]th heard f[]lks th][nk][n' it.

Y-yeah... b-but... gog, should I even be saying this? {an... {an you promise me you won't get mad when I say this?

][ mean, ]['ll try. K][nda hard t[] pr[]mise that s][nce ][ d[]n't kn[]w what y[]u're g[]nna say.

O-okay. W-well, while we weren't talking... I kept thinking, and...

He takes a shaky breath and looks up, making direct eye contact with the bronzeblood.

I... Vex, I'm flushed for you.

Vextri's eyes go wide, and an orange tint creeps onto his face.

[]fu... Y[]u're... Y[]u're fuck][n' w][th me, r][ght?

N-no... I've been thinking about this for a while, and... fu{k, I shouldn't have said anything...

The limeblood goes silent and just focuses on wrapping Vex's wound up.

L[][]k, dude, ][... ][ d[]n't kn[]w what t[] say... ][ mean... ]['ve never th[]ught ab[]ut that, least n[]t any m[]re than ]['ve had t[] the c[]uple t][mes f[]lks had assumed that bef[]re.

Ofu finishes up the bandaging and stands up, starting to walk off.

Well... I should go... hope you enjoy the rest of the night, Vex...

Just as he's about to leave the room, a hand grabs his wrist, stopping him.

[]fu, l[][]k at me.

He turns around, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

][ can't say ]['ve th[]ught ab[]ut ][t, but... That d[]esn't s[]und l][ke the w[]rst th][ng ever. Just... g][ve me a wh][le t[] th][nk ab[]ut ][t, []kay?

You... You don't hate me now?

N[], []fu. ][ d[]n't hate y[]u. ][... ][ c[]uld never hate y[]u. And... ][ kn[]w better than t[] let y[]u g[] s][t and wall[]w ab[]ut th][s. C[]me back ][n here, and... sh][t, ][ dunn[], we c[]uld cuddle unt][l y[]u feel better? ][ kn[]w y[]u l[]ve cuddles.

That... that sounds really ni{e. T-thank you, Vex...

The two sit down on the loungeplank, and Ofu cuddles up close to his now-aware flush crush.

[inkantation-arch]

hc: death & death culture

I'm putting a huge trigger warning here: This post will not only discuss death as a concept, but also discuss decomposition (a section that i'll clearly label with a start and end) and as such may not be the best for everyone to read.

A summary: Traditionally, both Octarians and Inkadians hold reverence for the cycle of life and death, and practice that in different ways. Inkadians practice forms of mummification and preservation, while Octarians prefe sky / sun burial. In modern times, aquamation ( alkaline hydrolysis ) and sea burial are also a very popular option for both cultures. This reverence for the cycle of life and death extends throughout their cultures ( the games they play mimic war, but with the clear delineation between death and "being splatted" )

Let's start on that last point. I feel like that's a pretty commonly accepted headcanon, that splatting and death are separate things. This is from a headcanon I know someone else wrote, and if I find it, I'll link it here, but a very quick summary should suffice for this blog. Being splatted basically means losing ink and losing stability. Respawn points, then, are physically jumped back to, with the persons clothes and weapons also turned into ink in order to jump back with them. Recently splatted Inkfish cannot touch water, thus why it's used as an out of bounds for Ink games.

DECOMPOSITION / BURIAL SECTION.

Real life squids and octopi actually decompose incredibly quickly - most of them being mid-to deep sea creatures, they are devoured and otherwise are gone within a few days. Likewise, Inkfish decomposition is fast. Not "a few days" but more on the time scale of a few weeks.

The most popular burials ( though "burial" likely wouldn't be the popular term, since most of these methods do not involve a six foot deep hole in the ground ) involve speeding up or simply allowing decomposition to take place.

Much like plankton and other post mortem feeders, the air borne microbes that clean up ink after turf wars also provide the means for sky burial. Though, I personally believe they would call it Sun Burial. This technique, most popular with Octarians, involves preparing a shroud, leaving the decedent high in the mountains, and allowing them to be completely decomposed. The shroud is usually made of a material that will break down ( like a linen or pure cotton )

Sea burial, or burial at sea, is exactly what it sounds like. Take a ship out to deep water ( 3 nautical miles from land and at least 600 feet deep ) and, tying off the shroud with some heavy weights, cast the decedent into the ocean, back from where their ancestors came. It's very symbolic.

Aquamation ( alkaline hydrolysis ) is a more modern, popular version of hastening decomposition. Using heat, water, and alkalines, the body is dissolved, and the effluent is disposed of in the same process as a sea burial ( 3 nautical miles, 600 feet deep. )

Finally, we have mummification. Luckily for us, we already know the old method used: the dried squid in Sunken Scroll 21 implies that the sort of drying process was used to preserve their bodies post mortem. We can assume this is more popular with Inkadians. Modern mummification likely involves a less direct drying, and instead, sealing the decedent away from air. This kind of burial is meant to preserve the memory of the person.

Overall, both cultures know and accept death - it's natural. Both the Octarian and Inkadian post-mortem treatment of bodies involves being close with the decedent, and they have no qualms or 'ickiness' about dead bodies. It's natural, and a body cannot hurt you ( In rare cases, if a decadent is a viable vector for the disease that killed them, tradition will be broken for the safety of the living. )

DECOMPOSITION / BURIAL SECTION OVER.

Octarian death tradition has been disrupted over the past century.

Really, it started with the Great Turf War. Everything starts there. After losing the war and being forced into the sea, treated like they are already dead, the Octarians were cut off from most of their burial traditions. Incapable of sun burial, unable to reach the sea, really, all that was left was aquamation.

Death and hunger become constant friends, as the power crisis begins to set in, and people ration out the best they can. The Octarian view on death becomes saddled with pain that it shouldn't have. Death is natural, but their deaths, their care for their dead has been cut off. A wound across generations.

But the greatest insult does not come from the Great Turf War, or the Inkadians. It comes from Tartar. It comes from some of their own being stolen, and instead of dying and returning to the sun or sea, they are made forever weapons in undeath. A true, cosmic, unnatural removal.

[arolesbianism]

In other news Odile crashed my game during her friend quest. Smiles in pain.

[flamesignite]

finally roy worked for me to answer and gave me novella again. God I need to do these longer stuff so that's why I am doing them now since he's actually doing stuff.

[lowkeyremi]

JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.

[woahjo]

APHRODISIAC! (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist 

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Katsuki gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk. You decide to check in on him. What could go wrong?

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, dubcon, smut, porn with little to no plot, aphrodisiac quirks, quirkless reader, prohero!katsuki, rough sex, borderline free use, biting, creampie, multiple orgasms (fem!receiving), masturbation, edging (kinda), manhandling, katsuki is dominant but also not idk he's desperate, possessiveness, overstimulation, size kink, scent kink, some light aftercare! woo hoo!, friends to lovers sort of

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: yeah ik this isn't what i typically write but idk where this came from. i had a thought and it spiraled bad and now i have this. there is no deeper message. there is no meaning. i wrote this to make him FUCK and be kinda weird and desperate and pathetic about it. i needed to see him physically overpower us while also so desperate that it makes him look stupid. i feel violent. this bad boy is not going on ao3 lol. anyway, enjoy, heed the warnings.

Katsuki paces around the one bedroom apartment he rents in downtown Musutafu. His skin is tingling. Every nerve he has burns like it's been set on fire, needing some sort of touch to soothe it. His cock aches between his legs, hard and leaking against the side of his thigh. Katsuki grits his teeth, running his hands over his hair and then letting his palms slide down the sides of his exposed biceps. 

Sweat collects on his skin, the kind that comes from desperation or maybe a fever, and he feels it on his palms when he lets them drop to his sides and clenches his fists. Fuck, he can't believe he got hit with a non-fatal quirk and had to be sent home. It's humiliating. What's worse is that it hasn't worn off yet, rendering him completely useless. 

He sits on his couch, his legs spread wide, and leans back against the couch cushions, wincing as he reaches to unbutton his pants. He's never been this sensitive in his life and it almost hurts to grab his cock and pull it from his pants. Katsuki watches it twitch for a moment, rigid between his legs and leaking pre-cum from its angry tip. He doesn't even have to think about anything in particular, he's just turned on. Unbearably so. 

Katsuki wraps his hand around the base of his cock and jerks upward once, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at his own sensitivity. Then, the desperation sets in fully and he squeezes the head of his cock with a wince and a low groan before beginning to slide his hand up and down. He pauses to spit into his palm, desperate for some sort of relief from the tension weaving its way through his body, his hand moving faster and fast over this dick. Katsuki only pauses when he touches his overly sensitive head, swallowing down an audible moan as he moves his hips to desperately fuck his fist. 

He tries not to think of the humiliation in this, instead focusing on chasing a high that seems to get farther and farther. He stays like this for a while, desperately fucking his fist with low groans and whines. His face is completely flushed, sweat beading on his brow and forehead, covering every inch of his skin with a pathetic, glowing sheen. God, he's almost fucking angry. The frustration, the sheer desperation for release, is making it difficult to control his temper and he knots his free hand into the soft pillow beside him, raising it to his face and using it to cover his head so he can be a little louder. 

He's desperately humping his fist when his doorbell rings. At first, it's only once and Katsuki thinks he can ignore it, but then it comes again, five more times and consistently more aggressive. 

"Katsuki?" your voice calls through the wood paneling of his door. "I heard you got hit with a quirk and sent home. Let me in." 

He furrows his eyebrows at the irony of the last person in the world he wants to encounter at a time like this. Pretty, quirkless, you. His long time friend and recent dispatcher at his agency. Someone he secretly wants to fuck even without the aphrodisiac quirk floating through his bloodstream. You really get under his skin. You’re exactly his type, right down to that annoying little attitude of yours that drives Katsuki insane. Of course, he's always respected your friendship a little too much to do anything about it, but tonight, he doesn't think he'll be able to and he sits in silence with his lip caught between his teeth while he fucks his fists and hopes you'll go away. 

"I know you're in there," you call again. "I can see the light on." 

You bang three times on the door and then ring the doorbell again, pushy and insistent the way you always are. A match for his stubborn attitude. 

Katsuki swears and stands up, his hands shaking as he tucks his sensitive cock back into his sweatpants and flips the head up into his waistband with a hiss. 

The crazy thing is, he can literally smell you through the door. The scent of you, that sweet and rounded perfume you wear, wafts under the crack of his apartment door. He pauses outside of it, resisting the temptation to open it, to welcome that smell into his apartment and use you to relieve the aching in his cock and lower belly. 

"Katsuki?" You ask, a little quieter now. 

Jesus fucking christ, don't call his name like that. 

He swings the door open, letting his hand rest on the side of it so that it is positioned above his head. You look taken aback at his appearance, covered in sweat and flushed from the neck up, his chest exposed and heaving. 

"What?" he says, looking you up and down. 

Katsuki bites back the urge to yank you in. Why is it he can literally smell the sweat on your body and every prick of your emotions? It's like he can tell exactly what you're thinking, or maybe it's what he wants you to be thinking. 

"Don't get on my ass about me still technically needing to be at work," you start, stepping forward. "I heard something happened and I just came to check and you look like shi-" 

Katsuki blocks you from coming in with his body. You stumble backwards lightly and raise your eyebrow at him. There's a pause as you register that you've just run into a solid wall of muscle, sweat covered and glistening, while Katsuki eyes you like you're meat on a platter. He knows he's doing it, but he can literally smell every turn of your scent, soft and sweet. And he may be fooling himself... but are you... turned on? 

"Let me in?" you say with a small laugh, side stepping to go around him. He blocks you again, his fingers gripping the door frame so hard that his knuckles are white. 

"Go home," he says quietly, his voice tense. 

"What? No," you furrow your eyebrows at him. "What's the matter with you?" 

You duck under his arm and place your hand momentarily on his chest. Your touch makes him tingle all over and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

"I'm not fucking around," he says. 

"Okay, me neither," you respond with a bit of an attitude. "I expected you to be worse for wear but you look like crap. Like you're... I don't know." 

You trail off a little. 

"Let me help," you say, shaking off whatever thought had come over you. "I'll make you some food." 

"Look, no offense, but I don't think you want to help me with this," he says, a frustrated bite in his voice. Food isn't exactly what he's hungry for. 

"That's too bad," you say slowly, seemingly put off by the desperate air about him and settling into his kitchen. You move to open the fridge.

Katsuki walks up to you quickly, taking your wrist from the door and holding it between the two of you. Cool air hits his exposed chest and arm as the door falls shut again. 

"I'm dead serious. Get the fuck out of here or I'm gonna do something I regret," he hisses through a clenched jaw. Your skin is warm on the pads of his fingers, wrist held flush against his palm. He bites back a genuine shudder. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, glancing between where he's caught your wrist by your head and his eyes. Katsuki's gaze roams over your face, pausing as he hits the top of your blouse where a few buttons remain open. When he returns his eyes to yours, your mouth moves to open before a heady understanding settles over your features. You're so pretty. Everything about you is pretty, so delightful and delicate. Your eyes look glassy and wide. Katsuki has always found them tempting, but today he can't stop himself. 

He leans forward and kisses you, holding your wrist to his chest as his mouth comes messily into contact with yours. You squeak and freeze and it takes all he has to pull away from you. 

"Go home," he says again, his lips tingling. Katsuki feels the color creep onto his cheeks, his hand still holding your wrist. 

You don't say anything, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He swallows thick and feels the saliva drag against his throat. Then, his mouth dries completely, his expression twisting into discomfort as his cock throbs between his legs as the scent of you takes on a sharper turn. He's never felt anything like this before, something animal. 

Katsuki tightens his jaw, staring at you for a moment. Then, he takes a step towards you. You take one back, though he doesn't feel like you're afraid. Rather, you tilt your head down to look at him through your lashes. He lets out a breath through his teeth and walks you back until your ass hits the counter, his free hand coming to gingerly touch your waist. You inhale when he leans in to kiss you again, screwing your eyes shut and reaching to grab at his shoulder to pull him closer. 

Every touch tingles. It burns and he drops your wrist to manhandle your hips. You suck on his bottom lip, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. He ruts his hips against yours, desperate for any sort of friction to relieve the ache, and you gasp a little and let your mouth fall open. Katsuki takes the opportunity to bite down hard on your lip with a low groan, slipping his tongue into your mouth as the pads of his fingers press harshly into you. You whine, eyebrows pulling up. 

Katsuki’s eyes are slightly open, just so that he can look at you. Every aspect of his senses feel heightened and the relief of your mouth far surpasses that of his hand over his throbbing cock only minutes earlier. 

He pants, taking your hips and lifting you onto the counter so that you’re seated, pulling away for just a moment to lift the hem of your shirt and expose your breasts. Katsuki puts his face on the pillowy tops of them, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as his hand teases its way up the skin of your back to unclasp it. He thinks you’re probably looking at him, but if you are, he doesn’t have the mind to care about what sort of behavior he’s exhibiting. He can practically smell how wet you are from just a little touching and if he weren’t so fucking desperate for a little relief, he’d tease you for a few hours just to watch your pussy drool over him. 

The cool air of his apartment hits your exposed nipples. Katsuki takes it upon himself, without even a second thought, to roll the hard bud under his tongue. He feels the way goosebumps rise on your skin, his hands coming to rest over the tops of your thighs. Katsuki bites lightly on your breast and you fucking whine at it, tipping your head back and rooting your hand into the tufts of his blonde hair. 

His cock jumps in his pants and he’s no doubt leaked enough to leave an evident wet spot against the gray of his sweatpants. He stands to his full height, pushing your skirt up and pressing the outline of his cock to your crotch. Heat bleeds through your panties, the kind that makes him feel like he’s going absolutely fucking insane. You gasp, putting your hands on his shoulders and pulling him close again. 

Katsuki’s mouth hits yours messily, breathing hard as he ruts his hips up against your crotch, pulling you forward on the counter so he can feel as much of the pillowy folds of your pussy through the thick fabric as possible. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth, sharp canines digging into the wet flesh of your mouth. He whines— high-pitched, desperate sound—as you position your hips to press your crotch against the head of his cock. His head falls onto your chest, forehead resting against the hollow of your throat. Katsuki humps at you, pulling you against him to match the rhythm of his hips, grinding your clothed cunt over the bulge of his cock. It’s a desperate motion, completely subconscious as he lets the quirk he’s been hit with take the lead.

His fingers dip into the crease of your thigh, fumbling as they reach for the waistband of the panties you’re wearing. Katsuki’s desperation is so palpable that he finds himself panting as he slips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down. You gasp at the force of it and he swears he hears a small tear as he pulls them from your cunt, the crotch sticking to the lips of your pussy. 

He leans his hips forward again, sliding his cock between your folds with a deep grunt. His mouth finds your neck and he bites along the side of it, lathing his tongue over your pulse point. It’s like he can taste you. Salt and that stupid perfume, collecting on his tongue as you dig your fingers into his back, his dick rutting restlessly against your clit. At one point, he almost slips in, his eagerness and your wetness making him careless. Katsuki sucks in a breath through his teeth, his whole body on fire. 

The kitchen light shines down on his back and he can see the outline of part of his shadow on your thighs as he stares down at them, guiding the tip of himself to your entrance. He hears you wine when he presses against it and moves his hand down subconsciously to rub at your clit. An attempt to ease the stretch. 

You tip your head back in a moan and Katsuki takes the opportunity to kiss your neck before settling his teeth against your shoulder and biting down harshly on the muscle connecting your neck and arm. You yelp at the sensation and Katsuki shutters at the sound, willing out a choked I’m sorry as he slides into your wetness. His hands push into the delightfully soft flesh of your upper thighs, the fat spilling up around each individual digit as he uses your legs for leverage, sliding you forward even further to better seat you on him. 

Your legs are shaking and he can feel the way your nails dig into his exposed shoulder blades. Your bunch up skirt causes the fat of your tummy to fold over in a way that practically makes Katsuki drool. He urges himself to pause, attempting to come back to his senses as the quirk kicks into high gear. There’s relief in being inside of you, in feeling the flutter of your walls around his thick cock, but it also makes him desperate. Katsuki feels like he’s chasing something that he was desperately and it’s just out of his reach. 

You’re breathing heavily above him, he can see the rise and fall of your chest from where his head hangs down, his hands trembling on the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes, his vision foggy around the edges as if he were peering through a tube. You’re at the end of it, your eyes glassy and mouth open, returning the look. Your eyebrows are knitted up in pleasure, but you almost seem confused. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathe out, the first thing you’ve said since he started touching you. 

The tone of your voice is needy, with a delightful whiny lilt that makes him groan out loud. He can barely manage the words that come out next, his brain half mush, and he feels the way his cock jumps inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth, his breath coming heavy. 

There’s a pause and he feels the distinct sensation of you squeezing down around his cock, like the idea turns you on. 

“Use me,” you respond cautiously, your voice still containing that needy lilt. 

Katsuki’s hips fuck up into you voluntarily and he feels the way his breath catches in his throat at the near desperate sound of your voice.

“Say that again.” 

“Use me, Katsuki,” you respond, choking on your words as he fucks his hips up into you. 

You reach for his face, taking it in your hands and drawing it close until it’s just in front of yours. Then, your palms slide down his shoulders and he screws his eyes shut and fucks into you again, harder this time, causing your body to jolt upwards on the counter. 

He curses under his breath, pushing one leg further to the side and fucking his hips up into you roughly. You’re looking right at him, your expression drawn and pleasure-soaked, sweat collecting on your forehead as your mouth drops open into an o-shape. You punctuate his thrusts with high pitched yelps, squeaking out your pleasure and the deepness of where he’s hitting through choked moans. 

Katsuki’s hands move up your stomach to roughly cup your breasts, his mouth so close to yours that he’s practically breathing in the sounds you make in exchange for his own hurried groans. He kneads at the fat of your chest, rolling your breast under his fingers before taking your nipples and pulling lightly on them. 

He’s aware of just how rough he’s being, just how hard his hips are slapping yours, but he feels like he can’t stop. Katsuki chases a high so fucking desperate that his body is on autopilot, reaching and touching and moaning unabashedly as the room fills with the wet sound of his balls on the backs of your thick thighs. 

You push your chest forward towards him, legs spread wide to make room for the width of his hips between yours as he bullies that perfect sensitive spot inside of you. Katsuki feels the way he makes you flutter. Every shift of your body, every involuntary squeeze of your cunt as he drags his cock along your walls, registers as if he were a part of you. His skin tingles everywhere you touch and the drag of your nails over his shoulder blades makes him want to crawl into the deepest part of you. Even the sound of your voice, drawn and desperate and mildly overwhelmed, feels like a drug to him. Every sense he has seems to be acutely attuned to just how badly he needs to fuck your lights out. 

His hands slink down to your hips, resituating you and pulling you flush against him. Then, he drags his cock all the way out of you and quickly ruts back in, moaning as he does. His pace picks up, manhandling you forward on the counter until he is supporting most of your weight. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as you let him use you like a toy. 

Katsuki chases his high, his stomach seeming to wind tighter and tighter but never finding that perfect snap and release. His movements grow faster, using all of his strength to fuck his hips up into you, barreling his cock against your gummy walls and bullying your sweet spot. He feels the way you tighten down around him, your body tensing and fingers digging crescent moons into the tops of his shoulders. 

“Ka-” you choke out desperately, your voice breaking. “Wait, Katsuki, wait! I’m gonna-” 

You shudder, your thighs squeezing around him as he continues to fuck you. 

“Do it,” he seethes, “just fuckin’ do it.” 

The end of his sentence comes out as more of a whimper as you cry out and squeeze down around him, squirming in his grasp as you begin to twitch with every additional thrust. Your body shakes, legs locking around him and struggling to hold him inside as he fucks you clear through your orgasm and then to the other side. 

Katsuki’s voice breaks, almost whimpering like an animal as he buries himself in your pussy over and over again. He wants to smother you, he wants to completely cover your body and get as close as he possibly can. He’s already so much bigger than you, so much broader, how hard could it be to swallow you completely? 

Katsuki’s hands come up under your ass as he wordlessly lifts you from the counter and moves to the couch on desperate, shaky steps. He lays you down, slipping out of you for a moment, before pressing a hand to the inside of your thigh, spreading your legs, and sinking his cock back into you as he crowds his body over yours. 

“You know what?” He says, not really sure what’s going to come next. His head is so clouded with the quirk that he can’t think straight. “I’ve wanted to do this forever. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so- long-” 

He screws his eyes shut, almost angry with the way he can’t seem to hit that high, teetering on a desperate and near painful edge. 

“Those fuckin’ pencil skirts,” he says, unable to control his words or sharp tone. “The way you wear your hair, that damn look in your eye that constantly makes you seem like you’re beggin’ for it.” 

Katsuki whines, a sharp sound from the back of his throat, as you tighten up around him. He meets your gaze, clouded and watery eyes accented by the delightful furrow in the center of your brow. 

“And then you show up here,” he groans, not even sure of what he’s really saying. “Blouse unbuttoned, looking for trouble. I’m gonna fuck your lights out. ‘Till you can’t even think about fuckin’ anyone else.” 

He leans in close, his mouth right up against yours. 

“This is g’nna make you mine, right?” 

You nod, your movements clumsy, and pull him close to you. 

Katsuki loses all of his sense, burying himself in the feel of your pussy and the way he sinks into you, giving into the desperation of the quirk. He can feel just how deep he’s hitting, the way you suck in sharp, whiny breaths with every inward thrust. Katsuki’s hands grip your waist, pulling your ass up off the couch so that his angle is better. 

His cock seems to drag endlessly against your overstimulated, pillowy, insides and you practically drool around. He feels like a dog slobbering over meat, any semblance of politeness completely gone from both his expression and his movements. This is going to fucking ruin your friendship, but he doesn’t even have half of a mind to think about it, so drawn into the delightful feel of your body and the aching in his cock that only seems to subside slightly with every thrust. 

You try to choke out the word “again” and he feels like he knows what’s coming. Your whole body tenses, legs locking around him as you cream over his cock for the second time. 

This seems to get Katsuki somewhere, the sensation of your pussy clamping down finally giving him some leeway to relief. He hits the edge of an orgasm, leading himself to the finish line. 

The tension in his belly grows, cock twitching inside of your fucked out cunt. His fingers dig into your hips and he collapses forward, rolling his body so that the head of his cock catches perfectly inside of you, massaging and churning you up. You’re moaning, though maybe it’s more adjacent to whining, and Katsuki can hear himself mimicking the sounds, his body leading the way. 

Then finally, on a pathetic and broken whimper, Katsuki cums. His whole body tenses, weight pressing down on you as he buries his face into your neck and lets his voice out beside the hollow of your throat. The relief and pleasure is so intense that Katsuki feels the way every muscle in his body tenses and lets go, filling you up with as much of him as he has to give. 

His hips continue to pathetically rut into you, little choked moans escaping his lips as he uses his own cum as lube for his weak little thrusts. Then, he completely relaxes. 

Katsuki feels the way his skin stops burning, the way the desperation at the back of his throat subsides, how his body rids itself of the quirk as quickly as the arousal came on. He shudders, coming back to himself and raising his head to peer at your expression. 

You look exhausted, hair a mess and face covered in a thick sheen of sweat. You still flutter around his cock, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try and ride through the overstimulation of just having him inside of you. Katsuki furrows his brows, exhaustion creeping into his muscles. He raises his hand and uses it to push stray strands of hair from your face with his palm on your forehead. Then, with a clear mind, he leans forward and kisses you. 

You blink at him for a second, before giving a weak smile, raising your eyebrows and letting your head fall to the side. Katsuki winces when he pulls out of you, sucking in a sharp breath and standing to his full height. He places a hand on his forehead like he’s assessing the situation, staring at your body, still fully clothed with your skirt pushed all the way up your stomach and your blouse missing a button at the top. 

He wordlessly walks to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water, walking back over to you and wiping down the exposed parts of your body. You don’t really say anything to him, but you smile quietly while he gingerly wipes you down, your smeared makeup accenting just how much of a mess he’s made. 

“Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how-” 

“How you wanted this to go?” You say softly, the corners of your lips turning up. 

Katsuki feels the way he flushes, all the way to the tops of his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he admits, running a hand over his face as he crouches beside you. 

You laugh a little and he furrows his brows at you, frustrated and embarrassed. 

“You’ve got a bit of a possessive streak, huh?” You tease lightly.

“I got hit with some asshole’s fuckin’ quirk and-” he begins explaining himself, something he probably should have done when you showed up at the door. 

“It was good though,” you say, tilting your head at him from where you lay.

Katsuki blinks at you, his expression completely flat. You should really know just how fucking crazy you drive him. Then, he scowls a little, not because he’s upset, but because he’s currently feeling the opposite and that makes him awkward. 

“You’re into that shit?” He says, a bit incredulously. 

You shrug and give him a coy smile. 

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko

AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo

~1400 word count

Part 2 once your done reading :)

SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...

The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.

You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.

"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.

On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.

Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.

"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.

While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.

You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.

Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.

Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."

Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.

Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"

'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'

You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.

Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.

You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.

Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.

"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.