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skylermadness · 3 months ago

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Snack Shenanigans [A Side] (Scott Howl TF/TG/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: October 27, 2023)

Wow, it's been about a year since the last time I wrote an FtM TF/TG and so far both FtMs I've written back to back are into werewolf characters. I've been itching to write out another Scott Howl FtM for a while now so I decided to finally get off my butt and actually write one! I'm trying to go back to more simplistic plots and such so the set-up and such is a bit short but I don't mind it. I'm just glad to provide more jock character FtMs in the world. It's a fun little subgenre that there just isn't enough of! On a more interesting note, this is the first time I managed to complete a second self-imposed challenge on myself: giving a story an alt! This was an idea that I thought worked for multiple characters and decided why not reuse it for an alternative version of the story into a different story! If you want to read it (which is a TF into the character Gunzo from Tokyo Afterschool Summoners). That'll be uploaded later this week.

One of the more prominent constants when it came to Madison's daily trips to her college campus were her visits to the cafeteria vending machines. And more often than not whenever she did she would typically buy the exact same thing from the machine’s array of snack foods. Most of her freshman year in college was spent buying out the machine’s mini-sandwich cookie stock, but she eventually grew tired of those and switched over to either chips or chocolate bars depending on her mood that week. With all things considered her trips to the vending machine were short, simplistic, and unchanging.

That was until today anyway. Madison found herself staring through the machine’s glass in curiosity, her eyes instantly scrutinizing a change in the machine’s selection. Usually the item labeled 206 was some random bag of chips whose brand she didn’t care to memorize since it wasn’t the kind she ordered. However she knew that what occupied that label wasn’t the brand she didn’t remember. Rather it seemed to be something new and unfamiliar to the woman.

The bag was simply labeled Scott Snacks with a fairly simple graphic of a bunch of potato chips with what she presumed to be the bag’s mascot (a thick bearded and fluffy haired man) giving a thumbs up. On one hand, the bag did look fairly generic. Then again most chip bags have that feel so it didn’t fully matter to Madison. She couldn’t really discern any other details from the bag such as flavor, but at the same time the graphic gave the vibe of either something plain or something cheesy. Neither prospects were ones she was against, especially since in the end all of this was just an excuse for her to deaden her appetite for the remainder of her classes.

With her mind made up Madison made the order with the vending machine. A satisfying thunk could be heard as the bag was pushed forward off the conveyor and into the machine’s pick-up box. She always despised when things got stuck in the vending machine, it was always a slightly embarrassing hassle…

Successfully retrieving her snack, she idly placed it into her backpack before hauling it onto her back and making her way out of the cafeteria. Madison disliked eating around other people she was unfamiliar with, the woman much rather preferring to find a nice quiet seat on one of the hallway benches and eating whatever she retrieved there. A short trek and a turn would lead her to her favorite spot of solitude (barring the occasional person who would walk out the elevator beside the bench). Placing her backpack beside her as she took a seat she removed the bag of unfamiliar chips from its confines and opened it. Casually she leaned her back against the wall behind her, finally opening the bag of chips and taking one out.

Considering the unfamiliarity of the situation, Madison had deemed it necessary to eye up the singular chip for a good few seconds. Standard looking potato chip, orange dust that denotes a cheese flavor, some flecks of salt. Although as these exact terms roamed through her head she realized that she somehow sounded like some kind of chip elitist. So in the end she just disregarded her concerns and placed the chip in her mouth.

…yup, very cheesy. Even has a bit of a meaty aftertaste as well. It wasn’t actually that bad. Perhaps this was a sign she could add a third snack into her vending machine rotation!

With those thoughts in her mind Madison continued eating, the woman blissfully unaware of the changes starting to form on her body as she did. It was rather isolated at first. The fingers on both hands slowly got thicker, ends and nails getting more blunt with each passing second. This evidently continued as her fingers continued to grow in thickness with a similar shift in size quickly jumping to the hands themselves. A firm meatiness steadily accumulating within each hand; larger, bulkier, seemingly more powerful in appearance.

That wasn’t the weirdest part of this transformation however. That came when something coarse started to poke out of the back of her hand. It was short at first with what looked to be follicles only millimeters in length, but it didn’t take long for them to grow out and quickly overtake the backs of each hand. What had rapidly sprouted from each hand were large amounts of dark brown hairs. This new development practically gives a more defined masculine feel to her already larger and almost blockier hands.

Evidently this supposedly masc appearance was one that would quickly spread beyond her wrists and beneath the sleeves of her sweater. Her musculature was the first that began to get affected. A mild heat surged through them as a steady thickness slowly burgeoned within each arm. Raw strength building up in each limb and filling their once slender appearance with a now dense and much more powerful look to them. It wasn't long until the sleeves of her sweater began filling out and the outlines of her muscles etched into the fabric.

The warmth in Madison's arms only grew more prominent as well with the hairiness of her hands quickly trailing up to her forearms. Heavy amounts of brown hairs coating their way across the back of each arm, the density of this forest of almost fur-like hairs getting more and more thick the closer it got towards her elbows. This steady increase in arm hair density would soon result in a thick tuft of arm hair that practically spiked out of each forearm. Unfortunately for the time being it would seem this major growth would remain hidden in her sleeves.

Less dense, albeit still very prominent, arm hair growth continued as it made its way to her upper arms and shoulders to coat the outer sections of them with ease. It was also by now that some of the more major muscle groups had gotten their almost instant workout with her biceps having bulked up alongside her triceps. The broadness of Madison's shoulders increased drastically as the deltoid muscles developed and rounded out even more. By this point the almost fragile seaming of her sweater began to break, tears forming against the new brawniness of her arms and revealing bits of her new coat of hair.

The sudden sounds of tearing finally alerted her to the changes, Madison placing the chip she was holding in her mouth before inspecting the source of the sound. Her eyes widened. "Wh-huh…? What happened to my arm?? And is that… hair…?"

Her gaze trailed downwards, the woman inspecting one arm up until she laid eyes on her hands. "How long have they been like that!?"

A part of her wanted to panic but something about the sight was just intriguing. She held a changed hand up in front of her, looking at the thickness and hairiness of it all. It was a little uncanny, especially with all the chip dust, but it looked firm. Strong.

While Madison preoccupied with staring at her hand the changes in her physical form only continued. It didn't take long for everything to move beyond her shoulders. The two waves of transformation quickly crashed into each other at the midline of her chest and from there expanded even more across the woman's body.

The overall width of Madison's frame was probably the next thing to start changing, her form broadening out and shifting to dispel her usually skinny figure more. This type of change got more prominent as her chest became the next part of her body to get altered. While the hair continued its spread and coating her chest, the fatty tissue of her breasts began to melt off and slowly flatten them. As it did so the muscles beneath them began to grow, swelling out rapidly to the point it would almost appear that her breasts hardened into thick meaty slabs of pectorals. These newly developed muscles would quickly grow to fill up the upper portion of her sweater, her now more masculine cleavage denting into the fabric.

The lower half of her body followed not long after as it too was changing. Her abdomen churned, bubbling almost as abdominal muscles steadily rose from her skin. They slotted out almost sequentially with row after row extending out until she had been granted a six-pack set of abs. All the while the hair that had coated her chest was cascading downwards, the coarse brown fuzz rapidly consuming her abdominal region. By this point the frontal portion of her body just looked like it had a darker shade than the back due to all this hair. And as the hair trailed to the sides she could feel her oblique muscles begin to burn a bit, alongside some cramping inside her that took her focus off her hands so she could use them to support her abdomen as she bent forward in mild pain.

"A-agh-" she winced, the sound of her voice seeming to crack only momentarily playing in her ears. She started to realize just how tight her shirt was getting, and she presumed it wouldn't be long until everything else would change to fit whatever form she was taking. A light haze was also entering her mind, thoughts steadily becoming a little bit harder as all these changes were overtaking her form. Curiosity faded to confusion, and that confusion quickly jumped to worry as she was still conscious enough to realize she didn't want to rip out of her shirt in a public hallway.

Madison ultimately decided to forgo her backpack and the rest of the chips to her side, then lifted herself up from the bench and hastily made her way around the hallway's corner in order to head into the nearest bathroom. Luckily it was unoccupied, so she just rushed in there and locked the door before heading to the mirror. Although it would seem she didn't notice that she had subconsciously rushed into the men's room…

Staring at herself in the mirror she came to the slow realization of just how large she had become. Not just in width but also in height as she evidently looked a little taller, especially with the hem of her sweater rising up her body. That and the slightly prominent feel of decompression in the woman's spine that seemed to grow more and more. Then there was this building pressure at the base of her spine that only continued to grow in prominence the more she continued to stare in the mirror. That coupled with the sight of more hair growing up her neck and beneath her jaw all made for this experience to feel even more surreal than it did prior.

Madison raised her head a bit and scratched the scruff on her neck. "A-ahh…" she let out a light breath. It felt a little good to finally scratch that fuzz after all this time. It helped clear her brain up just a bit, but it inevitably filled back up with fog. All she could do was stare at herself in the mirror and scratch herself, her only statement being, "Just… what is happening to me?" She asked that with a smile however. There just felt like nothing to distress over. Not the weird muscular form she had, or the increase in hairiness, or the fact her voice continued to shift to a point that sounded deeper and more laid-back.

She didn't even feel the need to worry over hearing the back of her pants suddenly split open, a tail with thick brown fur seeming to have almost instantly elongated from her spine's tailbone and freed itself from the confines of her legwear. All she did was look behind her as something in her brain seemed to click with the new appendage. She curled it up towards her and gently grabbed it with her free hand. All the while a goofy grin had formed on her face. "I have a tail now!? Cool!"

All during this sequence of events, the changes were also making their progression down to Madison's legs. This section of the transformation mirrored that of her arms, muscle mass easily packing into both sections of her legs with a quick pacing. Thighs grew thicker with bulkier hamstrings and quadriceps, and she could feel a surge of heat flare up in her calves as they bloated up with muscle mass as well. Her height continued to increase as well, and the brown hairs rapidly rushed downwards to encompass the surface area of her legs. All of this combined contributed to her jeans feeling severely more constricted, a few tears forming in the sides as a result.

What followed were the changes in her feet. While hair emerged from the bridge of her feet, the overall size of them steadily increased in all directions. They got wider, pushing up against the sides of her shoes easily. And they got longer, heels digging into the back of her footwear while her toes pressed up against the front. It wouldn't take very long for them to grow to a fitting proportion for her new body, their appearance having quickly altered to fit the more rugged and masculine look that Madison now was possessing. It resulted in her shoes having immense trouble containing her larger feet with a couple rips already forming across the sides.

The last person of her physical form that remained unchanged was her face, but as Madison started to see and feel the soft pricks of hair poking out her skin she knew that wasn't going to last long.

"B-bro!" she casually yelled out to no one in particular, her voice now settling into that aforementioned laid-back and male cadence that had been etching into it this whole time. "Guess I'll be getting a beard next! Might as well start considering myself a guy at this point!"

The very thought of that was appealing to him. If anything, it felt like the always correct assumption. For some reason something about this new form felt so good and so much more correct now! It was as if it should have always been him!

He continued to stare into the mirror, a look of enjoyment on his face as he saw the brown fuzz continuing to grow out his chin. This fuzz grew thicker and thicker, and it's spread expanded across his jawline rapidly. From the middle, trailing up his sides, slowly connecting to the slight sideburns he possessed. As his beard got more dense and bushy it gained an almost spiky styling as well. All the while his jawline shifted beneath it, broadening and chiseling out into a more square shape.

If anything it would seem Madison's entire face shifted to gain a more masculine appearance. Skull widening for a broader structure, nose enlarging slightly, a certain level of toughness formulating across his skin. Bits of his beard even poked out from his jawline and onto his face in order to grow on a small portion of his cheeks. There even came a set of even stranger changes to his head's physicality such as his ears lengthening and sharpening to a point, or the hairs on his eyebrows increasing in amount drastically to gain a similar level of spiked bushiness that his beard possessed. There had also seemed to be a level of sharpness entering much of his teeth as well.

All while these changes occurred, his hair was in the process of shifting and restyling to fit his new body. It had already begun to shorten as his beard was beginning to grow, and it continued to do so as his beard got more prominent and his face continued to change. Slowly it went up from being shoulder length to trailing up the nape of his neck to being of equal length with his chin, and it still got shorter as time continued. All the while the waviness of it was straightened, and the dark blonde coloration was deepened to the same brown as the rest of his body and facial hair. By the time his hair got to what the transformation seemed as an acceptable length, its density seemed to shift into something fur-like before bits of it fluffed and stuck out into a thick and messy spiky style. One that he just couldn't resist running a hand through to just feel the fluffiness of his hair.

"This is so cool, dude…" he said, watching his hair spike back up after getting run through by his hand. And the man only continued to poke and prod at bits of his body by scratching his beard, scritching himself behind his ear, and giving his muscles some good flexes. He even couldn't help from tearing open his sweater from the front to let his pecs and abs breathe. Everything about this body felt so new, but at the same time the cloud in his mind was making it seem so familiar as well.

Shouldn't this be his body? Why was it so hard to even recall what his other body was like? Did he even have another body? If this body is so familiar it just must be his, right?!

He could feel his eyes beginning to drift to the side in confusion. "Ooh, too many questions in my brain! Is this what happens when you think too much…"

For some reason he really felt like he wasn't used to using his brain for extended periods of time. If he were to be honest everything about it just felt drained! Like so many aspects has been dulled down or simplified in himself. All of this was making the concept of having an identity prior to this one feel so fleeting and incorrect. He just wanted to completely disregard it as too complicated. A lot of things just felt complicated at this point.

He braced himself on the bathroom sink, mind in complete confusion to the point he wasn't keeping track of what was going on with his clothing. His attire had seemed to finally start to shift.The sleeves of his sweater slowly lifted upwards to unveil the dense fluff of his forearms, the rips all sealed themselves while the tear he made down the middle of his shirt restitched itself to look like it was meant to be there. The coloration of the sleeves bleached to white while the wrists shifted to red, meanwhile the actual body of the sweater shifted to the same shade of red. Buttons and eyelets lined the split while a small white and red-striped collar raised from the neck. With the formation of pockets on each side of the newly shifted clothing, it seemed his sweater had altered into a varsity jacket. Meanwhile a plain white t-shirt materialized beneath it and around his body, its size being just baggy enough to still reveal the upper portion of his chest.

Following this came the less impressive changes in his legwear and footwear. His jeans just grew a bit to better fit his legs while repairing themselves. The tear in the back also restitched to look intentional, seemingly becoming a hole for his tail that went beneath the belt loop. His shoes did go through a bit more drastic of a change, also growing and repairing while the sides brightened to a red and the soles and front became white. The cloth toughened up as the strings became straps, fully shifting his footwear into a pair of athletic sneakers.

The man's thoughts continued to simplify as his earlier concerns were constantly drained away. Thoughts of a former identity and life disappearing, the rising worries about them being dispelled as he couldn't even remember what he had to be worried about! All that mattered was football and hanging out with his bros after all! Nothing to worry about from that!

It was also by this point that his identity fully solidified. Scott Howl!

Wait, is he telling himself to howl?

"AWWROOOOOOOOO!!!" he howled out, the sound echoing through the small one-person bathroom. Once it was all let out he opened his eyes, a nice royal blue having embedded within them.

"Oh wait, I was just thinking about my last name!"

One of Scott's ears flicked as he heard someone knock on the bathroom door. "Uhhh, I'm taking it this is occupied?"

The werewolf made his way to the entrance and opened it. "Was just finishing up with… whatever I was doing!"

The comment made the guy who was on the other side of the bathroom door somewhat confused, but between that and the fact they were facing a large hairy man with a tail this whole situation was already feeling weird. "What were you doing… howling??"

Scott just smiled and ruffled the other man's hair. "Sometimes you just have to let one out, y'know?" He then moved past them and made his leave. The random man just watched him leave, both unaware that the burly football player's interaction with him had left an almost pitch black stain in the follicles of the man's hair that very slowly spread across it. But they just shook their head and walked into the bathroom, deciding to just disregard the strange interaction.

Meanwhile, Scott made his way down the hall before his heightened sense of smell caught a whiff of something… cheesy? Meaty? His head turned to find a bag of chips labeled Scott Snacks beside a backpack on top of a bench. For some reason his brain registered both as his own.

"Oh, can't forget about these!" He walked over to the bench and hauled up the backpack to his back before picking up the bag of chips. Popping one in his mouth he comments, "This'll make a great snack before practice!" before going about his day…

#character tf #tf #transformation #human tf #muscle growth tf #ftm tf tg #tf tg #male transformation #werewolf tf

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lllluffyvert · 11 months ago

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It’s funny how the entire trajectory of one’s life could be completely and utterly changed by a singular event. A chance encounter with a living whirlwind, a sunbeam in human form. An extended hand and bright, brown eyes that sparkled with the promise of an adventure and despite himself, Zoro was utterly captivated.

“I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy, the kid who saved him without a thought for himself, without even knowing him, declared with utmost conviction, as if it were a fact, already set in stone. “I need a strong crew, the best of the best! And you’re amazing, Zoro!” A huge, toothy smile split across his freckled face and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I want you to be my first mate. Let’s help each other achieve our dreams!”

And it’s with the idea of pursuing his dream alongside someone this dazzling and so wholly determined that Zoro, the pirate-killer, the bounty-hunter, a man of self-imposed solitude, grasps Luffy’s outstretched hand in his own, catalogs the warmth of his sun-kissed skin, and swears his swords and his loyalty.

Just like that, Zoro finds himself whisked away to sea, sailing the East Blue with Luffy at the ship’s bow and their 3rd member, Nami, at the helm.

“She’s our crew’s navigator, the best there’ll ever be!” Luffy had announced by way of introductions, tipping his straw hat and throwing Zoro an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Not part of your crew,” Nami replied firmly while crossing her arms. The sleeve of her shirt shifted with the movement and a bandage wrapped around her right arm peeked from underneath the fabric. “Just hitching a ride.”

“I know,” Luffy said with a knowing wink and a winning smile. Zoro eyed Nami with some suspicion, but he could tell that Luffy had already made up his mind to trust her, and he wouldn’t question his captain.

It didn’t take long for Luffy to secure the fourth member of the crew: Usopp, an incredible sniper and an even worse liar. Zoro’s eyebrow twitched every time he called himself “Captain Usopp”, but along with Usopp came the Going Merry, and Luffy finally had his ship. Zoro would let Usopp spin all the tall tales he wanted as long as Luffy was happy.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky now as they skim over calm ocean waters. Zoro reclines against the ship’s wooden railing, nurses a bottle of beer and kicks his feet up. He contemplates taking a nap when he catches sight of Luffy, perched atop the sheep’s head of the Going Merry and basking in the sunshine. He holds his straw hat in his lap and hums a jovial tune as the salted breeze tussles his brown curls in a way that has Zoro feeling short of breath.

Luffy turns like he feels the weight of Zoro’s gaze and meets his eyes. He smiles, bright and warm like a ray of sun. Beautiful, is what Zoro thinks, as he sends up a silent prayer to the gods he doesn’t believe in that he would be deserving of such an expression, quietly devoting himself to his captain as his first mate, as his sword, as anything Luffy wanted him to be.

I’ll become the world’s greatest fucking swordsman, he vows with rekindled resolve, his hand a tight fist around the hilt of his sword. Whatever it takes.

Zoro is tested much sooner than expected, when only days later he, Nami, and Usopp are confronted by Dracule Mihawk, one of seven Warlords of the Sea, a man that Zoro simultaneously idolizes and strives to surpass. As Mihawk tersely questions their captain’s whereabouts, Zoro unsheaths his sword and points the tip at Mihawk’s chest.

“I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel.”

“Zoro,” Nami hisses, her expression tense. “Please, don’t do this.”

Mihawk looks him up and down with eyes full of contempt and scoffs. “I don’t waste my time with children.”

“I’ve followed your career since I was a child,” Zoro doesn’t waver, adrenaline pumping in his veins and blood rushing in his ears. “And it’s my dream to be a greater swordsman than even you.”

One of Mihawk’s perfectly manicured eyebrows raises inquisitively as he stares at Zoro for a moment before nodding once. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll humor you, because you’ve piqued my interest, Roronoa Zoro. We’ll meet at dawn, and do try your best not to disappoint me.” He turns and strides away with a flutter of his dark cloak and disappears into the night.

“Why did you have to do that?!” Nami’s voice shakes with anger. “He’s going to kill you!”

Zoro sheaths his sword and looks to Nami. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are filled with apprehension.

“It’s a chance at my dream,” he says with conviction. Nami glares at him. “And why do you even care?”

“Why do I–” Nami sputters, and punches his arm hard. “Because you’re my friend, you idiot! I’m telling Luffy about this!”

She storms off and Usopp follows quickly, but not before he casts an apprehensive glance at Zoro, in agreement with Nami but afraid to speak his opinion.

Luffy will understand, Zoro thinks, and the idea provides him a modicum of comfort. Out of everyone, he knows his captain will understand because they’re the same. It’s what drew Zoro to him so easily; that unbreakable spirit and unshakable resolve. It might’ve also been the beaming smiles that sometimes seemed to be just for him, or maybe those big, sparkling brown eyes that only ever looked at him with adoration. He made Zoro want to be better, to be the best; he’d do anything to make his captain proud and dueling Dracule Mihawk was only the first step.

The hours seem to crawl. Zoro doesn’t sleep, choosing instead to cycle between meditation and polishing his swords, clearing his mind and steeling his nerves up until his crewmates barge into the room with only a few minutes remaining before dawn.

“Okay, now tell him to back out of the duel, Luffy!” Nami demands.

Luffy looks a little unsure, glancing back and forth between Zoro and Nami and biting his lip. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Zoro,” he says finally, pushing his hat back to scratch at his forehead, an anxious movement as he’s suddenly forced to make a decision as captain.

“I have to,” Zoro says, a bit desperately as he holds Luffy’s gaze. “To achieve my dream, I have to do this.” Understand me, Captain, is his silent plea.

At that, Luffy’s hesitant expression shifts into one of comprehension, and he immediately straightens his posture and nods firmly. “I’ll support you, Zoro,” he states resolutely.

It’s like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, and Zoro’s devotion grows ever deeper. His captain was at his side, and nothing else mattered.

Nami makes a noise of protest and her eyes begin to well up with tears. “Luffy, why?”

“I can’t get in the way of someone else’s dream, Nami.”

“Even if that dream will get him killed?!”

“Zoro is strong,” Luffy says simply, causing Zoro’s heart to skip a beat.

“I won’t let you down,” Zoro promises, as time runs out and the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

“I know,” Luffy replies with a reassuring smile and a confident gleam in his eyes, believing entirely in his first mate and filling Zoro with a fiery determination. He picks up his swords, ties his bandana around his head, and marches outside to the docks where Dracule Mihawk awaits.

“Ah, you actually showed up,” Mihawk says dully, looking rather bored. “Bravo.”

Zoro says nothing. He stands before Mihawk and pulls out his swords, biting down on the hilt of one and the other two in each hand.

The duel is quick. Zoro breathes heavily, Mihawk’s dagger in his shoulder and blood trailing down his arm to drip from his fingertips. He hears Nami cry out and Usopp gasps. Luffy makes no sound but watches him with wide eyes, features drawn with apprehension.

“Why don’t you retreat?” Mihawk questions, looking pointedly at the wound he’d created.

“If I do,” Zoro says through gritted teeth, “My dream will be lost forever.”

Mihawk hums appreciatively and pulls the knife from Zoro’s shoulder with a wet schlick. “Not bad, Roronoa Zoro,” he says, and a metallic ring echoes in the quiet of the morning as he unsheathes his greatsword from the holster on his back. “I believe you deserve to die by Yoru.”

Zoro rushes him, but his attack is parried easily; Yoru slices into his skin and ends him flying backwards. Two of Zoro’s swords shatter, leaving him only Wado Ichimonji, which he removes from his mouth to grasp firmly in his hand, standing despite his injuries.

“You’ve been defeated,” Mihawk says, “Why do you still fight?”

“Wounds on the back are a swordsman’s greatest shame,” Zoro responds honestly.

“Magnificient,” Mihawk murmurs.

Zoro opens his arms wide and closes his eyes as Yoru slashes across his chest, throwing him onto his back as blood pours from the gaping cut and pools around him, soaking into his shirt.

I’m sorry, Luf, is the only thought in his mind as his senses are wracked with pain and his vision fades to black. He thinks he hears Luffy cry out his name, but it’s faint under the ringing in his ears. Mihawk’s blurred silhouette stands above him, and it might be the blood loss, but he thinks he catches a gleam of respect in his enemy’s eyes.

“When you’re stronger, come and find me,” Mihawk says quietly, before he turns towards Luffy, who’s already running past him to drop to his knees at Zoro’s side, and Zoro’s focus shifts to where his captain’s warm hands touch his cheek, his arm, his chest, burning hotter than the pain in his body. It grounds him for just a moment, and he opens his eyes to meet his captain’s, huge and round and glistening with unshed tears.

Don’t cry for me, he silently begs, I don’t deserve it. I failed.

“Luffy.” Zoro’s voice is solemn, penitent. “If I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman, you’ll be disappointed in me.”

“Never,” Luffy says immediately, and he leans forward to press his forehead to Zoro’s, balling his fists in his blood soaked shirt. “You could never disappoint me, Zoro.”

Zoro briefly considers what might happen if he were to tilt his head and catch Luffy’s lips, which were so, so close, in a kiss, and he blames the intrusive thought on blood loss induced delirium, before his vision goes black and he fades to nothing.

It’s dark outside when he comes to, without any idea of the time or day. He blinks to clear his eyes and gathers his bearings. He’s lying on a firm cot, the laceration to his chest has been cleaned and bandaged, and the pain is down to a dull sting. There’s a soft blanket around his upper body, and he can see Wado Ichimonji propped up against the opposite wall. His head throbs and right hand is asleep, prickling uncomfortably. He tries to move it, and hears someone shift beside him. He turns his head and catches his breath at the sight of Luffy. His captain’s hand is wrapped tightly around his own even as he stirs from his slumber, his hat around his neck and his brown locks sticking to the side of his face, and Zoro wonders how long he’s been sitting there, waiting for him to wake up.

His heart aches at the thought, and he hates himself for causing Luffy any grief.

“Eh? Zoro?!” Luffy is suddenly wide awake, and he drops Zoro’s hand, choosing instead to hop up onto the cot and hover over Zoro on all fours, straddling his hips. “Zoro! How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

He’s always so warm, Zoro thinks, and as his right hand regains feeling he lifts it to stroke his captain’s flushed cheek.

“Barely a papercut,” he quips softly with a smile only ever for his captain. Luffy’s laugh rings like a bell, a pretty sound that Zoro will never tire of hearing, and he drops to wrap his arms around Zoro, burying his face in his neck. Zoro’s heart hammers behind his ribs and returns the embrace, barely registering the pain his movements induce to his very recent injuries and thinking only of how Luffy smells of sea salt and fresh air, and how perfectly he fits against him.

Luffy lifts himself onto his elbows and meets Zoro’s eyes, his own filled with conviction. “You’ll grow stronger for me,” he says quietly, confidently. “And you'll be the greatest swordsman ever.”

Zoro’s hands move of their own accord, sliding his fingers up Luffy’s neck and into his hair, and he marvels at its softness for a moment before he brings Luffy’s head down and kisses him gently.

Fuck, is his desperate thought as the contact lights a fire in his stomach and he suddenly needs more, craves it.

“Captain,” he breathes reverently, and Luffy’s lips are slightly chapped but pliant against his own as he kisses him again, tenderly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. Luffy hasn’t moved, but he hasn’t told Zoro to stop either, so Zoro kisses him yet again, even goes so far as to suck Luffy’s bottom lip into his mouth and swipe his tongue over his velvety skin. That seems to shock Luffy to his senses, as he makes a soft noise that Zoro swallows up and tentatively, awkwardly returns the pressure, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, exactly.

The idea of being his captain’s first kiss sends a thrill up Zoro’s spine, and his fingers tangle in Luffy’s hair as he deepens the embrace, tilting his head and licking into Luffy’s mouth like he was dying of thirst and his captain was life-saving water, only breaking the contact to gasp for air.

Luffy looks down at him with twinkling eyes and Zoro’s heart aches, this time with adoration for his captain. He pulls Luffy down against him, wraps his arms around his waist, and buries his face in his curls.

“Now let me get some sleep,” he mutters, and Luffy chuckles against him, snuggling deeper into his chest and sighing contentedly. He’s asleep within seconds, his warm breath puffing against Zoro’s neck and if he wasn’t wounded, he might’ve done something about it, but instead he follows his captain's lead and lets sleep take him.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #nami #Usopp #opla #my fic #guys you don’t understand they mean everything to me

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jaskierx · 1 year ago

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doing the hourly listen of miles from nowhere and i love thinking about it in relation to s2’s finale

like it fit perfectly for for s1 - the characters were physically miles apart, the marooned crew were miles from safety, stede was miles from his old life. the themes of climbing a mountain and taking time to reach where you want to be summed up the challenges facing basically everybody. the lines ‘i creep through the valleys and i grope through the woods cause i know when i find my honey it’s gonna make me feel good’ represent stede setting off to go get his man, the lines ‘lord my body has been a good friend but i won’t need it when i reach the end’ foreshadow ed’s future suicidality

but now? at the end of s2? it still fits but in an overwhelmingly positive way. ed and stede are miles from nowhere (not a soul in sight) but importantly, that’s deliberate, they’re together, in their own secluded space that they chose specifically for the two of them. the challenges they face aren’t so much mountains to be climbed as positive things they want to achieve together like working towards opening the inn. the lines ‘i have my freedom, i can make my own rules, oh yeah, the ones that i choose’ are applicable to the entire cast - ed is free from blackbeard, stede is free from feeling like he has to be a good pirate to impress ed, izzy’s whole arc was about freeing himself from the self-imposed repression he’d been struggling with for his whole life. the crew is complete again (thanks to jackie and the swede jumping aboard for their honeymoon cruise) plus a few new friends and they’re free to choose whatever adventure they want to pursue

i love this show

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd meta #lyse.jpg

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thefirstknife · 1 year ago

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Getting real sick of a certain subset of Destiny players complaining that it’s a baby game and crying to Bungie to nerf exotics and abilities when their ENTIRE POINT IS TO BE STRONG in specific ways as if they are being locked into using them.

IF YOU WANT AN EXTRA CHALLENGE STOP BEING SUCH A DPS GOBLIN AND JUST EQUIP SOMETHING THATS NOT TOP TIER META AND STOP COMPLAINING JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

MOOD. Go off.

It's incredibly annoying to me. They always use the argument of "the game should FORCE me to do things, I should not SELF-IMPOSE challenges." And like. ? I'm sorry but what? It's a video game for a big audience, it's here to be playable and accessible to the widest possible playerbase. There are plenty of ways to make the game difficult for yourself, so knock yourself out if that's your thing, but don't force others into it.

Like, I enjoy hard content, I regularly at least attempt day 1 raids, I do master raids, GMs, solo and solo flawless content and all that. But only when I want to. Sometimes I don't and I don't want to suffer in a patrol zone or struggle in a seasonal activity I'm doing for the story. The majority of the players don't want that. Designing games for the professional gamers only has NEVER been a good idea and never will be. Fifty streamers can't sustain a video game. It needs casual players who will want to come back to the game instead of feeling defeated.

One of the reasons I really enjoy helping others is because I know that casual players tend to struggle in stuff that's basic activity for me. I've seen people unable to get through a strike. I've sat for 10 minutes rezing someone who couldn't do the jump in a seasonal activity. I want those people to be able to play basic content without feeling frustrated and I want them to know that there are people out there who will help them out.

And this doesn't apply just to basic content, although it should start with that. I think all dungeons and raids and everything should be things that all players can complete. Fine, doing a master raid with all challenges should be tough, but it should be achievable with time and practice, not impossible. What a lot of these "pros" want is just completely divorced from reality.

It takes days and days of practice every time a new master raid is out for me and my team (all with thousands of hours of playtime) to get comfortable to finally finish it. We're far from casual players and it still takes a lot of time to be able to finish hard content. Making it even harder is insane to me. Like, if something is so hard that my team full of people, each with 5000+ hours of playtime and a coordinated team that's been raiding together for years now can't finish it, that means it's absolutely impossible for probably 90% of the playerbase. That's wild to me. Raids and GMs should have more people playing them. If master raids are too easy for you, Mr. I-Play-Destiny-For-A-Living, that's on you buddy. Unequip the super god tier god roll meta guns and loadouts or play something else.

And ofc, another excuse they make is "if I don't use meta, I am not going to win a raid race!" Then don't. Idk. Let me play you the tiniest violin. This affects literally nobody except a grand total of 50 people. Run your meta in day 1, and play with random shit otherwise. Play raids with all white weapons. Play without mods. Play without a HUD. Do things solo only. I don't know, make up a way to spice things up for yourself. I'm not interested in that and neither are 99% of the players out there. The game is genuinely hard enough for the majority of the players. On top of that, I am here to feel like a powerful space fantasy superhero. I am NOT here to die to dregs in patrol zones. If there's ONE thing that I know for a fact that put people off from Lightfall (as in this year of Destiny), it's the difficulty changes. They're annoying, frustrating and for some a barrier to entry more than anything else.

#destiny 2 #gameplay #ask #long post #i really do love helping but i can't not feel bad because once the people i helped are out of my fireteam...#...there's no telling what other experiences they'll have #there's so many speedrunners and people who don't care and people who just aren't helping and are instead mocking others #you can only do so much for a few people you see in activities #this season's activities are super tough. every time so far I've played everyone in the team was struggling #i'm gonna have to start going into altars of summoning with my full support build warlock just to sit in there and help people #istg the 'pros' have to get their loadouts restricted. go play with non-god tier armour sets and guns #equip the same loadout that some casual player has available and let me see you then #this idea that everyone has minmaxed best equipment available at all times is bizarre. please get your head out of your ass #'i have perfectly rolled all artifice armour with perfect stat exotics for every loadout because i have infinite time to grind' okay dude #most of us aren't being paid to play destiny. lmao #'the game used to be hard' no. you got better. you mastered it #why is this so difficult to understand. everything is hard when you first start. 5000 hours later it no longer is #the game is fine. the 'health of the game' is fine. you mastered it and outgrew it #either impose challenges on yourself or find something else #like. when i first started GMs they were almost impossible for me #now i play them for fun. they're still challenging but they're not the same level of hard and I'm fine with that #i enjoy them as content and they're still entertaining #and when a new GM comes out it's a new challenge to master so it'll be hard at the start #as everything ever in the world #if that's no longer enough for you then you just outgrew the game and should probably move on #the only reason why some things used to be hard was poor quality of life that got improved over time #not being able to mantle in d1 is not difficulty. it's just not good design. it was fixed and improved #the bitching about light 3.0 as well. man. just don't use the 'OP' fragments. it's so easy to unequip them #i personally love the variety and all the options i have now as opposed to before #okay tag essay done. fhkajhakfhksjf

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buckets-and-trees · 28 days ago

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Hi and happy weekend! I was wondering if you would be willing to open your creative process a little. You are publishing a lot of incredible stories at an amazingly fast pace, and I am curious about how you are able to keep both the quality and the quantity at this level?

Would you be willing to share what a typical writing week looks for you, and if you tend to finish writing any longfics before you start publishing them? How/how much do you typically edit; do you have a workflow of several steps including outlining, a first draft, and edit rounds, or are you more "go with the flow" type writer?

Anyway, you're an incredibly talented writer and amazing!

Stella, it's been a hot five minutes since you sent me this ask, but I'm finally here to pounce on it now! The past few weeks have been on and off with my brain energy, and I've been working to keep to my twice-weekly posting schedule with my self-imposed Countdown to Chris-mas and keeping weekly updates for Red, White & True, and I know those aren't mandatory things, but... even a posting schedule actually goes into part of the method to my madness.

THANK YOU for the compliments! I do know I'm writing a lot this year - mostly since summer - and it's absolutely not always that way. Plus there are people who I feel like write way more than me/more quickly, and I just have to remind myself that that's them and I'm me, and even my own muse has come and gone. From 2005-2008, I wrote A LOT of fanfic, then from 2008-2012 I wrote a little bit of fic here and there. In 2013, I started working on an original story concept more diligently than I had before.

Then I wrote two fics between 2014-2016, and then nothing until 2021. I dabbled just a little bit in 21, and then in 2022 I realized I had really lost almost all my hobbies, so I went on a journey to reclaim hobbies in my life. That summer I decided to start writing just an hour each evening - and that it was okay if sometimes writing was "writing" (rereading what I'd been working on, researching elements for my ideas, adding to an outline, writing down bits of dialogue or storylines that I didn't have a purpose for yet but that I liked the idea of). That got the wheels going.

I don't adhere to strict every night writing anymore, but I do write most nights. I now find it a way to really unwind while also indulging in the energy you can get from creating something. I also write a lot on the weekends. I have very little social life right now. It's half something I've chosen, half friends moving/getting married/having kids/some differences in political beliefs and our lives just drifting.

Long fics... The only chaptered fic I wrote a lot of in advance was Chosen, and that was because I'd written the story up through the content of chapter 5 and say how high up I was in the word count and hadn't even gotten to the main action yet, so... I decided to break it up into chapters and start posting. Devour and Warm Shadows I knew would be series, but I didn't write chapters in advance, only had an outline, and those both took a year to finally complete. Most of my series started off with only one story or drabble, and then I got an idea to go back to with a couple or AU.

The inspo? It can come from anywhere. Songs, watching a show or movie and liking that genre, experiencing something in my own life that I think should go into a fic... Sometimes asks have inspired story ideas. I also really enjoy participating in challenges! Some of my friends and mutuals around here host writing events and those prompts can be motivating and/or inspiring. Sometimes a bit of riffing with @vonalyn, @stargazingfangirl18, @biteofcherry, @witchywithwhiskey, @navybrat817, @vesearlee...

And then my actual writing? Not super organized. Some people use software or apps specifically for writing, and I'm just mildly ghetto and use Word, a private Discord server, and Apple's Notes app. Word is for actual writing. On my private Discord server, I've got channels for each thing I'm working on, and that's typically where I dump inspo (photos, links, etc), and sometimes I'll write actual story bits there if I'm typing on my phone (because I don't love Word or Google Docs typing on my phone). Apple Notes is where I outline because I can bring it up across devices from my phone to my laptop to my work desktop, which makes it easy to just dump an idea into the outline so I don't lose it and then can go back to whatever I'm doing. Sometimes my outlines have quick records of dialogue that I work out in my head.

OH MY GOSH, THIS GOT/IS GETTING SO LONG, I'M SO SORRY!

Last is just working on a schedule now. In summer 2023, I relized that I had signed up for three challenges AND was part of a community with monthly writing events AND had a few friends hosting writing events, and I realized that if I wanted to have any chance of getting done all the stuff I wanted to do, I needed to map it out - especially due dates and where I could double or triple up on common themes/ideas. It totally revolutionized how productive I was that summer. I'd never been that prolific, and I didn't hit EVERY goal or deadline, but I hit so much more than I would have simply because I made a plan. I like lists, I liked the challenge of trying to make the deadlines, and because I liked the ideas that I had dreamed up to try and make it all happen, it was a huge amount of fun.

That died off in the fall, and more in the winter. Spring this year I realized I really wasn't writing as much (and I did move/was busy February/March), so going back into summer, I thought about that again. I didn't make the elaborate spreadsheet list like I had in summer 23, but I had Hot Bucky Summer to get me back into that groove, and then I decided to do my own Countdown to Chris-mas thing since I felt like I'd done SO MUCH for Hot Bucky Summer and wanted to pay attention to the CEvans characters. The spreadsheet scheduling specifically came out again because I wanted to try and balance out the characters and new fics versus sequels in the schedule of posting.

Having the list now has been helpful in keeping my writing going because instead of trying to think about what I want to write, I just look at what I thought I wanted to write, and then go to the notes I may or may not have, and then type away at the story. I give myself liberal permission to switch things up - Viking Steve wasn't on the list for Chris-mas when I made it in September, I got the idea/itch for him on a Thursday night, thought about him Friday and Saturday, started workig on him Saturday/Sunday and then I think finished him late Monday night? And so he bumped Tattoo Ari and Curtis back a week and one of my other Steve ides off the 12 weeks entirely.

Lastly, you asked about editing. I like the spelling and grammar help in Word. I do tend to do a lot of re-reading when I'm writing, because I'm typically writing a chunk of story each day, so I have to go back and review where I left off from. I've worked with a beta/editor or sometimes just asked for someone to read something to check that it's on track only a handful of times in this fandom era (in my 2005-08 time, I had three beta readers who ended up some of my best online friends, and they whipped me into writing shape). Part of it is that I want this to be my hobby. I don't want to take too much of it too seriously. But some stories I either have some doubts/know I need feedback OR feel like it's so important to me that I want another set of eyes on it to make sure it's living up to its full potential.

tl;dr I am half planned, half vibes. I have a schedule right now because I want to sty on target in somehow trying to write all the ideas in my head. Ideas can come from anywhere for me. I'm enjoying the ride right now, but I don't expect it to last indefinitely.

And, genuinely, I decided to just brain dump my chaos because hopefully anyone else writing or thinking about writing sees that there's NO ONE WAY to write, even for one author.

OMG SORRY AGAIN THIS GOT SO LONG - probably could use an editor scenario here, but ASKS ARE FOR FUNZIES!

THANK YOU AGAIN, STELLA, FOR ASKING/SORRY FOR THE ESSAY YOU DIDN'T ANTICIPATE RECEIVING IN RESPONSE!!!!

#askpen #an aspen thing #stella

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sugarmasonmearii · 5 months ago

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Day 31 (Finale): Hard Work Deserving a Luxio Jacket

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"You've done all that work the whole month. I think you deserve this jacket." - Starburst, to Mearii, probably

And with all of that, the art challenge has finally concluded. And I'm happy that I manage to finish it, no days missed, albeit some days are delayed. It was quite a journey drawing all of those artworks just to show some love to an otherwise overshadowed Pokemon like Luxio.

To those who have been part of this art challenge, my Discord Community especially, thanks for lending a hand and sharing interesting suggestions. This challenge would've not gone all the way to the end of July without everyone's help and support.

Now if you're wondering, will I ever repeat this challenge? Or will I do either Shinx or Luxray, or a Pokemon of my choosing for a month worth art? Maybe, maybe not, but someday perhaps... For now, I do want to look back into continuing some personal projects, as well as MtLu. Chapter 4 won't start itself after all.

---

This art is part of my self-imposed challenge called Ju-Luxio Challenge, where every day of July, I'll draw a Luxio doing something, or involved with something, and the suggestions will be randomly picked from my Discord Community! As of posting this artwork, I had completed the challenge.

[Previous] [Beginning]

OC: Starburst (my Luxio) and Mearii (my artsona), both are mine Pokemon: (c) Nintendo, GF, CR

Art by me

#pokemon #art challenge #ju-luxio #luxio #pokemon oc #artsona #chibi #sleeping #jacket #aww #so eepy #challenge complete #poke style jacket

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charmedcherry · 2 months ago

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My Personal Advice on How to Find Your Way Back to Yourself and Start Your Journey Towards Healing

I've realized I'm not really fond of or like the overused phrase: "What happened to you is not your fault but it is your responsibility to heal."

It's not really trauma-informed or worded kindly or empathetically. The way its worded can sound and be perceived more as shameful. As if it's meant to impose guilt to those who have not learned to "fully heal" from deep-rooted wounds and memories from the past.

Therefore, I'd like to reword it and explain it too. This is in an attempt to create a better understanding of what truly matters. To express what I think is crucial when it comes to the inner work of engaging with others and even more importantly with yourself, in a healthier and more mindful way.

Plus, I want to emphasize what points are essential when it comes to making progress towards self-improvement, developing maturity, experiencing breakthroughs within yourself, in relationships (platonic or not), or interactions with the outside world.

I want what I say to be more helpful and informative, rather than harmful and to feel like blame is being put upon you or that fingers are being pointed.

I come from a place of care, empathy, understanding, and self-reflection. My words originate from my own personal experiences of struggles with everything I'll talk about.

My intentions are also grounded in hope, care, and love. My overall purpose of rewording the original phrase and expanding on it, is so I can help others make better decisions, learn, and to spread awareness.

What I'm about to say next is probably going to be a huge relief to you (and honestly I don't blame you, I'm a yapper in the form of a writer).

I'm going to finally get to the point of it all. My revision of the original quote:

You didn't deserve the parts of your past that have had a negative impact on you or were traumatic. However, you cannot use that to justify hurting others or to have unacceptable behaviors and actions (intentionally or not).

You have to take responsibility towards getting on a path of growth, reflection, self-awareness, behavioral change, and developing coping mechanisms when experiences distress or when heightened emotions occur.

You are not expected to find a complete resolution to the issues you have faced or continue to face. You shouldn't be expected to become completely healed from everything that has happened to you, but it's not unreasonable for those in your life, that come from good intentions, to express when your behaviors and actions are unacceptable. It should be understandable if boundaries (rightfully) have to be made. Especially if they are repeatedly being mistreated or hurt even after they've expressed this to you.

Your feelings are valid and there is no such thing as bad or wrong feelings because feelings are meant to be what they are called. They are meant to be felt.

You were already born into this world with the intent of experiencing emotions.

It's part of what makes us human and you cannot be expected to not have them. Having feelings from events or in general is a natural reaction and is inevitably an ingrained part of us all.

It's okay to feel what you feel, regardless of what feeling it is.

However you do have to hold yourself accountable for how you react and what you turn your feelings into. Especially when it starts to negatively affects yourself and others.

You have the capability to create a you that is ever-evolving and that thrives.

Remember, healing doesn't mean forgetting or completely erasing the past. It's about learning to live with it in a way that empowers you to move forward.

Also lastly,

If you ever feel you may need help during this process and journey of growth

or want to have more support and guidance, it's okay to ask for help.

You are definitely not alone in this and don't have to be.

We have all struggled with emotional challenges at one point or another and that's a part of life that is bound to happen.

But,

No matter how big or small you may think your trauma or battles may be

They are real.

And they are valid.

Be compassionate and forgiving to yourself.

Show yourself the love you show or hope to get from others.

If you have made it this far: (first of all, seriously thank you so much for even taking the time out of your day to read this long ass piece of writing I've wrote. This took me quite a while and I appreciate it more than you will ever know).

But also that means you're already beginning on a path of healing, self-improvement, and transformation just by allowing yourself to be open-minded to my advice that may potentially help you in life (or so I hope).

Please take the time to forgive, congratulate, and acknowledge yourself. Be proud of yourself, for wanting to reach your full potential, and unlock the strengths you've had within you all along.

With much love,

Rosie ♡

#healing #personal growth #selflove #forgiveness #innerstrength #writers of tumblr #mindfullness #mental health #life advice #tips #healing journey #trauma recovery #resilience #support

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lura-valentine · 13 days ago

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Note

No age limit

Ca. 3,500 worts

Anime/Manga: My Hero Academia / Boku no Hero Academia

This fanfiction is written from the point of view of my OFC Rain Black.

➡️ Click her for Profile of my OFC Rain Black ⬅️

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes.

AI image. I'm too stupid to draw women 😑

Found in the Chaos

My name is Rain Black, and I am a mercenary from Europe. My raven black hair, which falls in waves over my shoulders, and my blood red eyes radiate the authority I represent. The black wings on my back, studded with feathers that shimmer blood red in the light, remind everyone that I am no ordinary LOV member. I am here because I have a vision, and that vision tolerates no compromise.

When I joined the League of Villains, it wasn't out of desperation or lust for power, but out of conviction. This society is rotten. Children are forced into a system that imposes the will of their parents and society on them. Heroes? They are nothing more than puppets, propping up a system that stifles individuality. I saw the darkness that lurks in the shadows of the so-called heroic existence. It was time to break the pretense, and the League seemed to be the only place willing to take that step.

My first contact with Shigaraki was anything but harmonious. He, the unpredictable leader of the League, was not impressed by my self-assured manner. But I did not let myself be intimidated. With a sharp tone and a clear vision, I faced him, ignored his cynical remarks and made my demands: If the League really wanted to bring down the world of heroes, then it needed more than chaos - it needed a plan. A plan that not only destroys, but also recreates.

It didn't take long for the other members to recognize my value. I wasn't one to hide or take the easy way out. Whether it was talking sense into Twice's chaotic behavior or standing up to Dabi in a heated argument, I used my sharp words and, when necessary, my Quirk. Shigaraki? Convincing him was harder, but I understood him better than he thought. I knew when to challenge him and when to back off so as not to completely break his crumbling patience.

The League of Villains is a dangerous place, and I'm here to tear down the system so kids can finally become what they want to be. I won't rest until I've shaped the world to my liking - with or without the League's approval.

That was my plan anyway. But as everyone can imagine, fate had other plans for me...

Toga, Twice, Spinner, Mr. Compress, Kurogiri, Dabi and even Shigaraki became my home in a strange, almost ironic way. My family. They were all broken people, each with their own burden, their own pain - and yet they created a place where, contrary to expectations, I felt at home.

Toga Himiko, the girl with the sweet smile and madness in her eyes, was probably the liveliest of them all. Her fascination with blood, her obsessive way of defining "love" - she was a mystery to me. At first I kept her at a distance. But the more I talked to her, the more I recognized the loneliness behind her mask. I let her get close to me and she quickly learned to deal with my way and we became friends.

Twice, the man with two souls, was like a lost child in many ways. His inner conflict reminded me of the children I had once protected. I spoke to him as an equal, calming him down when his inner voice threatened to tear him apart. He often called me "the big sister he never had," which made me smile reluctantly. I would never admit it, but his silly sayings made me laugh every now and then.

Spinner, the quiet dreamer, was something I liked from the start. His goal of changing society was similar to mine. We often talked about our ideals, even if I found his blind adoration for Stain naive. He respected me, and I respected him. Spinner was one of the few who didn't try to step out of my shadow - and maybe that's why we got along so well.

Mr. Compress, the master of theatrics, was a constant source of irony. His way of staging everything like a play irritated me at first. But the longer I knew him, the more I appreciated his calm, analytical nature behind the facade. When things got serious, I could count on him - and I appreciated that. I let him have his dramas as long as they didn't interfere with the mission.

Kurogiri, the League's steadfast butler, was the constant that held us all together. His calmness was infectious, his loyalty admirable. He treated me with the same respect as everyone else, and I quickly realized that he was the true anchor of this group. I often spoke to him about strategies and plans, as his analytical mind complemented mine.

Dabi, the man with the blue flames, was a challenge I had rarely encountered. We argued often, and our arguments were almost as fiery as our Quirks. But behind his cool, cynical facade, I saw the pain. I looked at him and saw parts of myself - the anger, the disappointment. Although we got on each other's nerves, there was an unspoken rule between us - no pointless power struggles.

Shigaraki was the most difficult of all. His unpredictability, his hatred of everything and everyone - it was hard to put up with him. But I understood him. I knew what it was like to be destroyed, and I knew what it was like to try to create something new with the ashes. Our dynamic was a dance on a knife edge. I pushed him when he got lost in his chaos, and stepped back when I felt I was going too far. It was a dangerous balance, but it worked.

With each passing day, it became clearer to me that I wasn't just another member of this league. I was their voice of reason - and to my surprise, their heart. They all made me smile, think, and sometimes even to the brink of despair. But they were my family, and I would protect them, like I always have. Because now, I was no longer the only one who wanted to change the world.

After a few months, however, the dynamics in the league changed. Dabi, who often traveled alone, returned injured more and more often. His Quirk, so powerful and destructive, seemed to be turning against him more and more. The burned and scarred skin, which was attached to the healthy parts with staples, showed new burn marks almost every week. At first he let Kurogiri treat him, but eventually he began to refuse even that.

One evening, as I was walking down the hall, my eyes fell on the slightly open bathroom door. I saw Dabi laboriously tending to himself. His hands were steady, but I could see the tension in his movements. He cleaned the wounds, changed the clamps, and gritted his teeth as if pain was just another part of his daily routine. But what really bothered me was the visible mark on his back - a large burn that he couldn't possibly reach himself.

Without thinking twice, I went in. "Sit down. I'll do it," I said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Dabi slowly turned to me, the anger in his eyes unmistakable. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he hissed.

"Stopping you from getting an infection," I replied coolly, crossing my arms.

"I don't need help, especially not from you," he growled, trying to drive me away with a cold look.

I was not impressed and reached for the bandages on the shelf. "Listen, Dabi. You can shout at me as much as you want, but that won't change anything. Your back is a disaster, and if you don't get it taken care of, it will get even worse."

"That's not your problem, Rain," he replied sharply and turned away.

"Wrong," I replied immediately. "It's my problem because you're part of the League. I'm worried about you."

Those words stopped him. I saw his shoulders drop slightly and for a moment the room was silent. He slowly turned back to me, his gaze no longer cold but... uncertain. "Worried?" he repeated quietly, as if the word was a foreign language to him.

"Yes, Dabi. Worry. No one has ever cared about you, I know that. But I do. And I won't let you drown in your own pain just because you're too stubborn to accept help."

He stared at me as if I had hit him, and I held his gaze. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and sank down on the edge of the tub. "Do what you want," he muttered reluctantly.

From then on, he let me treat him, but it was always a challenge. Every dressing change, every cleaning of his staples, started with an argument about how he "didn't need help" and that I was "wasting my time." But in the end, he always let me do it.

I knew he was having a hard time accepting help - and maybe even more so having someone actually care about him. But I wasn't going to give in. Dabi might be a walking powder keg, but he was part of this strange family. And I wasn't going to let him destroy himself just because he thought no one was going to save him.

After a few more months, the dynamic changed again. Dabi's behavior changed, like a flame that flickered less wildly but still burned unabated.

The arguments we used to have every time I wanted to treat his wounds disappeared. Instead of standing up to me, he just let me do what I wanted. He even started calling me when he had new burns or his staples needed cleaning - even in places he could easily reach himself.

But what irritated me the most were his looks. Those beautiful turquoise eyes, which were usually full of arrogance and coldness, seemed to change. More and more often I caught him looking at me when I was concentrating on his treatment. It was no longer a cold, appraising look. No, there was something else - something softer, more thoughtful. And although I didn't want to admit it to myself, it sometimes made my heart beat faster.

Dabi was not a man who changed easily, and yet the change was undeniable. Even his behavior towards the other members of the League changed. His sharp tongue was still there, but his tone was less aggressive, almost calm. The anger that always surrounded him like a shield had not disappeared, but it seemed to be subdued - as if he was slowly finding a way to deal with it.

It was as if a part of him that had been hidden deep for a long time was slowly coming to the surface. I didn't know what this change meant or where it would lead, but I felt that I was a part of it. Whether I wanted to be or not.

A few days later, after another endless discussion with Shigaraki, where we argued about which buildings would be suitable for hiding, I was in desperate need of a break. His stubbornness could drive anyone mad - including me. So I decided to train in the evening to clear my head.

Under the bar, in an old wine cellar that we had converted into a training hall, it was pleasantly cool. Here I could work on my feather control undisturbed. The black feathers that Solve from my feathers were enveloped in a dark red, almost black fire, dancing around the room as I concentrated on directing their movements. Sometimes they swirled in gentle circles, sometimes they shot through the air like projectiles. It was a mixture of combat training and a dance that I had created for myself to stay in shape.

But it must also be explained that my quirk is a kind of symbiosis of fire and feathers. Without my fire, there is no feather control - without feathers, there is no fire.

I was so lost in my rhythm that I barely noticed the door opening. It was only when I heard a familiar voice that I was pulled out of my concentration.

"There you are, my nurse. I need you."

I turned around and saw Dabi standing in the doorway. His usual casual demeanor, his hands in his pockets, his expression half bored, half mocking. But his words only made me roll my eyes.

"What do you want, Dabi? If it's not life-threatening, you can go," I replied dryly as I turned back to my flames.

"A cut," he explained, pointing with a finger to his left cheek, where a small wound was indeed visible. "Nothing major. But you know how it goes. Infections and all."

I laughed quietly and shook my head without looking at him. "You spent weeks treating yourself and now I'm supposed to step in because of a cut on your cheek? This is ridiculous, Dabi."

I felt his eyes on me as I released the next feather, letting it hiss elegantly through the air. He was silent, and I assumed he was either insulted or annoyed. But then I heard footsteps, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him approaching me.

“What are you actually doing?” he asked, his voice less mocking this time and more curious.

"Train. Or are you blind?" I answered curtly as I continued to guide the feathers across the room.

He was silent again, but I could feel him watching me. It was almost as if he had decided to just stay, just to throw me off track. But suddenly, he raised a hand, and suddenly the blue of his flames flickered.

The surprise almost made me lose my concentration as he began to send his flames into the air. But they were not random - no, they moved as if they were reacting to my feathers. His flames followed the paths of my feathers and complemented them in an eerily harmonious dance.

It was fascinating how the dark red, fire feathers and the bright blue of his flames combined to create a perfect symphony of light and movement. My steps became slower, more fluid, almost unconsciously I adapted to his rhythm. The tension in the room was palpable when we finally stood facing each other, our Quirks dancing in the air around us like sparks from a shared fire.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Dabi's gaze met mine, and there was an intensity in his turquoise eyes that made me hold my breath. It was as if there was an unspoken understanding, a connection that I couldn't explain.

But as always, it was Dabi who ruined such moments. He raised a hand, pointed a finger at his cheek and asked in his usual casual tone: "So, what now? Are you going to treat me, or am I just going to stand here so you can keep staring at me?"

I blinked and the moment was over. With an annoyed sigh, I let the feathers burn and glared at him. "Sit down before I change my mind," I hissed, while he followed with a grinning "I knew you couldn't resist"... Typical Dabi.

That was also the moment when I noticed that something had changed about Dabi. It wasn't something he said out loud or consciously showed - that wasn't who he was. But it was in the little things that I might have missed before.

I started noticing it in everyday life. When I was helping Kurogiri take orders behind the bar because the crowd was too much for him to handle alone. Suddenly he was standing there, somewhere nearby. Dabi acted like he had nothing better to do, but I could feel his eyes following me as I polished glasses or poured drinks.

While gossiping with Himiko, when she would tell me about her latest crushes - mostly about Deku - I would notice Dabi standing somewhere nearby. He seemed busy, smoking a cigarette or playing with a blue flame between his fingers, but his attention was mostly on me.

Even in the mundane things, like doing housework to keep the messy mess we called home somewhat in order, I felt his presence. I couldn't believe it, but there were times when he actually helped me. He never admitted that he was doing it for me, but grumbled something like "I have nothing better to do" or "It looks like a garbage dump here," but I wasn't stupid.

And then there were the looks. The way he studied me when he thought I didn't notice. It wasn't unpleasant, but it left me thinking. Those turquoise eyes, so often cold and distant, seemed to soften, almost thoughtful, when they rested on me. It was as if he was looking for something, perhaps an answer that he himself didn't know.

I didn't know what that meant, and honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Dabi was a mystery that would never be fully solved—and maybe that was for the best. But one thing was clear: he had started acting differently around me. And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, I noticed.

His behavior remained his secret until one particular day...

It was one of those nights when Himiko had used all her powers of persuasion to get us to watch a movie together. I didn't know how she always managed to get even Shigaraki to join in, but there we were, more or less ready to watch one of her chosen films.

Shigaraki had made himself comfortable in an armchair as usual, while Mr. Compress sat down on a chair and Spinner sat down on the floor with a quiet hum. Himiko had already sat down next to me on the sofa and was grinning broadly at me. There was still a free seat next to me, and just as Twice was loudly delighted that it was left for him, Dabi came out of the next room and stood between Twice and the seat.

Twice paused for a moment, looking first at Dabi, then at the seat, then back at Dabi, before sighing and moving to a pile of pillows on the floor. Dabi, on the other hand, sank down onto the sofa without a word, displaying his usual indifference.

I glanced at him, but he was staring at the TV as if he hadn't done anything wrong... Typical Dabi.

When the movie started, Mr. Compress turned off the lights so that the room was lit only by the flickering light of the screen. It was silent, except for the occasional crackling of chips or Himiko's quiet giggle when a particularly dramatic scene was playing.

And then I felt it.

Something gently rested on my thigh and slowly moved down until it rested on my knee. It was so subtle I almost thought I was imagining it. But when I looked down, my suspicions were confirmed: It was Dabi's hand.

She didn't just lie there - she applied a gentle pressure, just enough to get my attention. My heart skipped a beat and I cautiously raised my eyes, only to find Him already looking at me.

His face was in half shadow, but his turquoise eyes shimmered like two flames in the light of the television. There was something in his gaze, an intensity that I had never seen in him before. It was as if he wanted to tell me something without saying a single word.

And suddenly I understood.

It hit me like a blow - the looks, the little gestures, his changed behavior. Dabi is in love with me. Not in that classic, romantic way that Himiko might be. No, he was Dabi. He didn't talk about feelings, he showed them in his own, often messed up way.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help but keep looking at him. Time seemed to stand still and all I could see was his gaze - a quiet admission that hung unspoken between us, embedded in the silence of the room.

His turquoise eyes seemed to pierce me, and I couldn't look away. My heart beat faster as I thought about him. I had always found him fascinating in some way. Despite the scars and the staples that held his skin together - or maybe because of them? They told stories he never spoke, of pain and struggles that had made him who he was.

But it wasn't just that. It was the way he moved, the way he spoke, and of course his Quirk. His flames, as dangerous and destructive as they were, had an incredible beauty that captivated me every time. They were a part of him - strong, free, wild.

It was only now that I caught myself observing him many times myself. His presence was hard to ignore, his mysterious demeanor drew me in like a light to a moth.

And then there was this attention he had been giving me all this time without me really noticing it. Not loud, not intrusive, but quiet, almost inconspicuous. It was there, in the little gestures, the hidden glances. And suddenly I liked it. This subtle affection that I saw in his eyes made my heart beat faster until I realized a truth that I had been repressed all this time.

I was in love with him.

The thought struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I wondered how long I had been ignoring it. The way he looked at me, the way he acted towards me - it had reached my heart long before my mind could even comprehend it.

His hand was still on my knee, and without thinking about it, I raised my own hand and carefully placed it on his. My fingers trembled slightly as I felt the warmth of his skin. It was a tentative gesture, a step into the unknown, but I couldn't help it.

Dabi, however, wasn't the type to hesitate. As soon as my hand touched his, he turned it in a fluid motion so that our palms were together. With an almost confident calm, he intertwined his fingers with mine, as if it were nothing special, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The warmth of his skin seemed to flood through me, and my heart was racing so loudly I was sure he could hear it. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me, and I could see the hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn't a smirk, not a mockery - it was gentle, honest, and in that moment I was sure I saw the Dabi that no one else saw.

No one else in the room seemed to notice. The movie continued, voices murmured quietly in the background, but for me, he was the only one who existed. His hand in mine, his eyes looking at me as if I were all that mattered to him. And for that moment, I allowed myself to feel the same way.

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nanowrimo · 2 years ago

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Five Ways NaNoWriMo Turned Me into a Writer at Fifty-One

No matter your age, NaNoWriMo has something to offer for you. For participant, Dorothy Wong, Camp NaNoWriMo gave her the chance to finish a novel! Read below to learn about her experience and what she gained during her writing journey. The year I turned forty, I took a twelve month leave from my job. With no work commitments, I thought I would finally write my novel. While I ended up with a blog full of chatty travel posts and fantastic memories, I didn’t write my book, not even a rough outline. Anytime I tried, I found myself distracted and overwhelmed. If I couldn’t write during that sabbatical year, I told myself, I was never going to write anything. And for almost a decade, I didn’t.

Then a friend posted on Facebook that she was attempting a month-long writing challenge called NaNoWriMo. My first thought was, “Why would anyone voluntarily sign up for that?”. I couldn’t imagine putting myself under that time pressure to produce an actual novel.

Turns out, NaNoWriMo was exactly what I needed to break through my self-imposed barriers to writing. During Camp NaNoWriMo April 2021 I went from never writing at all to writing an average of 1500 words per day and creating a flawed, but completed, 50,000 word manuscript. I was ecstatic. Not only did I finish a novel, I thoroughly enjoyed the process.

Here are the top five ways NaNoWriMo turned me into an enthusiastic writer at fifty-one:

1. Community: There’s nothing quite like being part of a group effort, where everyone is cheering you on to complete your 50,000 words. NaNoWriMo is dedicated to creating safe and diverse spaces, including providing online and in-person opportunities to meet fellow writers. As an older writer, I worried about keeping up when the participant age range skewed much younger. To my relief I found a community through the BIPOC online meet-ups that connected me to others like me, many with established careers and extensive life experience, who wanted to write. Finding a community of writers will give you the support you didn’t know you needed.

2. Timed Sprints: During my first online writing sprint, to my absolute shock, I churned out 600 words in 15 minutes. Being in the company of others who are all doing the same thing (known as “body doubling”) really worked for my brain. Scientific studies show that doing a task in tandem with others increases productivity. If you’ve never tried timed writing sprints, they can be a game-changer.

3. Word Count Tracker: NaNoWriMo’s online word count tracker sent an instant dopamine hit to my brain every time I updated my progress.

4. Word Count Goal: While writing an entire novel can be daunting, reaching 50,000 words felt doable. Broken down to 1500 a day, I worked in short bursts throughout the day, finding time around my job and caring for my family, to get that word count in. When I reached my goal each day, I felt incredibly motivated to keep going. Even if I didn’t reach the goal, getting some words down every day kept my inspiration burning.

5. Limits are Freeing: NaNoWriMo’s time-bounded word count freed me from the “what if it’s not any good” voice in my head. If I wanted to write, I had to sit down and write, no excuses, and I had to keep moving the story forward, as there was no time to go back and edit. By accepting that I would be writing a crappy first draft, I gave up perfection and embraced the challenge.

NaNoWriMo made me finally believe that I could write a novel. If you’ve spent a lifetime trying to get started on your novel, I encourage you to give NaNoWriMo a try!

Dorothy Wong lives with her family on beautiful Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada where she works as a lawyer by day and writes mysteries by night. She joined NaNoWriMo in 2021 and has been happily writing ever since. Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash Interested in the writing events Dorothy talked about? Feel free to check out our upcoming events for Writers of Color Virtual Meetups or Virtual Write-Ins! Writers of Color are also invited to check out the forum group.

#nanowrimo #camp nanowrimo #nanowrimo experience #inspiration #older writers #writers of color #by nano guest #dorothy wong

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nell0-0 · 2 years ago

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Just had an idea for your 'Emmet reunites with Ingo is funny ways' fic. (You don't have to write it, just a scenario you can imagine)

Have you ever heard of the theory that Elvis never died but became a fast food worker in a different state? They constantly laugh at it in the book Good Omens but it's a real theory.

Well imagine: Emmet has decided that he wants some junk food, maybe it's a bad day and he needs a pick me up or it's a good day and he decided to treat himself. He going to get quite a bit so that he can binge watch train documents until early morning cos its one of those days, he might even order more if Elesa is invited.

He goes into a small time fast food chain (maybe he's in Unova and it's one he used to visit or maybe he's in Sinnoh and it's recommended) and at the counter he's face to face with Rei/Akari and Ingos in the back flipping burgers.

It's 2023, inflation hasn't made it easy to house a time displaced full grown man. Even though they could make some money battling, they don't want Ingo to be in the spotlight as a professional battler just yet as he's only just gotten used to some modern things.

Thankfully this fast food chain is known for taking on anyone regardless if they are qualified and the food and equipment is simple enough for Ingo to use, helps that it isn't really popular too. Rei/Akari works with him to help him adjust and to help with any food rushes.

So yeah. There Emmet is, standing in front of his adopted nephew/niece and his long lost brother handing him a tray of a dozen fries, burgers, nuggets and a slushpuppy while in an apron and goofy hat.

Omg anon, what would your reaction be if I showed you one of my wips with this idea. It's been months since it's been a things in my phone's note app and I had completely forgotten.

LOOK AT THIS (far from complete but oop-):

The seat felt uncomfortable under him, but Emmet didn't have any other option than endure it, self imposed suffering as it was. He had promised Iris he would take her out to eat wherever she chose if she managed to regain her title as champion. Defeating Rosa, after all, was no easy feat. Not only was she one of the region's heroes, but also a regular at the Battle Subway. Emmet knew first hand how difficult, how fun and challenging, it was to fight her.

And finally, after a year and a half of frustrated training sessions and manic strategizing, Iris rose as champion of Unova once more. Enduring it was.

That didn't mean he wasn't enjoying himself, though. Emmet usually had some time set apart for socializing with family and friends at least twice a week, so it wasn't a matter of social battery. Just the wooden seats.

He could understand from an objective point of view why this particular restaurant had them. it was aiming for an 'old era' feeling, with high barstools, wooden furniture and walls, gentle light coming from paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling... There were also sepia photos filling the walls to the brim with pictures of extinct pokemon and historical figures, of which Emmet only managed to recognize profesor Laventon. If he looked more closely, maybe he would distantly recognize more from his time in school, but he had no interest. He had a set schedule, a point of arrival already in sight.

To have a fun night out with his favorite (and only) cousin.

Why this place, he had asked Iris. To try something different had been her reasoning, of course.

The restaurant wasn't as bombastic as the usual Nimbasan ones, not even Unovan. A fairly new restaurant that focused on 'traditional Sinnoh' cuisine. He usually wouldn't trust such bold statements in Unova of all places, yet all reviews of people who came from Sinnoh had seemed surprised in a good way.

Emmet's preferences had always been to traverse the same tracks over and over again. Always the same. But it was Iris who was asking, and for family Emmet would go a long way. Especially since...

Must have been verrrry fun to battle Rosa again. Emmet wondered when the girl would show up in the Battle Subway, since now she had the free roam being champion didn't allow her. Emmet hoped Rosa chose the Doubles. He would see her regardless, but he verrrry much hoped for the Doubles line.

Emmet was sure Ingo would have been delighted to see Rosa challenging the Battle Subway again. He sighed. Damn it, he had been avoiding the thought of his twin so well lately, too. It hurt to be glad about it, but Emmet was so, so tired of the constant agony. He was sure Ingo would forgive him, just this once.

"Heeeeeeyoooo, Nimbasa to Emmet! Are you there?"

"I am Emmet. I am here. In front of you."

Aaaaaand that's about all I have written out. From there it would go on a funny reunion with chef Ingo, waiter Melli and a Karen. Melli vs Karen the ultimate showdown. Poor Ingo.

Lmao, I wanna get back to writing fanfic so bad, but I really really shouldn't right now.

#asks #my fanfic tag #my fanfic ideas #subway bosses

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bubybubsters · 1 year ago

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Assistant

a/n: I have 6 drafts now that I have to finished. time to grind out a few before lunch (no prob not). Enjoy! Yall idk who Im going to pair with reader

wc: 1400+

⚠️: idk man

Masterlist

Amren was waltzing down the streets of Velaris towards the rainbow, completely ready to order ask Feyre to paint something for her when she felt it. A shift in the world, nearly impossible to detect but she knew this feeling, it was what she felt when she'd fell through the folds of the universe itself and into this world. A slight tilt of the world, barely half a degree. Someone had just opened a portal straight into Prythian, maybe even straight into Velaris based off how easy the shift was to detect.

Amren looked up in time to see tear appear in the sky, and a female fall through. As the female fell she was franticly pressing her fingers to her shoulders and cursing when nothing happened. Amren wondered if she should save the female, she'd been in that situation a few centuries ago after all. But her magic was gone and she couldn’t do much other than watch. But 15 meters from the ground a parachute sprouted from her back and slowed her fall. The people were looking up now, at the female that floated down and landed among them. She was beautiful, like a dream. White hair, blue eyes ringed with gold, pointed ears and a climbing outfit that showed her body spectacularly.

The female looked around and spoke warily, “hello?” Her voice was soft and carried over the small crowd with the authority of a commander.

The fae around her had mixed reactions, some glowered while others smiled warmly. As Amren watched a male stepped forward. He had a sneer on his face as the female backed up, hands on the hilts of knives. Amren took a step forward, noticing the knives had a hole between the blade and hilt. Climbing knives that matched her outfit, what was this female doing?

“How did you get here? What do you want with this city?” The male started to advance on the female as she held her ground. The people were on high alert after the War and some had begun to get hostile. Amren recognized this particular male, Kian.

This was trouble especially since this female wasn’t backing down. Amren hesitated, she could save her without anyone dying.

As the male advanced and the female raised her knives, Amren stepped forward and spoke, “She is my assistant and was up there by my command testing out a new parachute so go back to your business and stay out of ours.”

Immediately everyone scattered and Amren grabbed the girl by the arm and led her away.

Guess she wasn’t going to Feyre’s studio after all.

*****

Y/n’s POV- three hours earlier

Y/n grinned as her parents rode off to go have vacation that probably involved a lot little fun. She strapped on her gear as her older brother gave her a look and she grinned back at him, tipping her nonexistent hat. Hopping on a horse Y/n rode to the only mountain she hadn’t climbed yet. It was taller than she could see and the rock was smoother than all the others. This was the final test, the final self imposed challenge. There was already a rope at her feet that she’d begged her dad to fly up to the top. He’d agreed but only if she didn’t rush it. (Have you all guessed who her parents are yet?)

She grabbed the rope, testing its strength before pulling out her favorite climbing knife and beginning the ascent. Around half way up, the first problem occurred, she’d skipped a rest stop because she was feeling energetic. But now her body was at its limit, it seemed this particular stretch between stops was longer than the others. Y/n looked around trying not to panic, all around her smooth stone with no crevice’s to be seen. She glanced down and saw the spot she’d skipped 100 meters below. She tilted her head back and looked up, above her another 75 meters was the next stop. Spewing out a few colorful words her mother would have been proud of she used one hand to scrawl a quick note to her parents and siblings before pinning it to the rope with a small pocket knife. Using the rest of her strength she hauled her body up another 5 meters, cursing when her left foot slipped.

Then her right foot.

Now dangling in mid air she kicked at the rock to try to anchor her feet. But with the force of the kick her right hand lost it’s grip on the knife she’d imbedded into the rock. Cursing the gods and herself, she was suddenly glad of the brutal training she and her brothers had endured. Managing to get her feedback anchored and her hand back on the hilt of her knife she decided it wasn’t possible to continue for now.

If there was one thing her uncle Fenrys had taught her it was to know your body’s limits and how far to push. She’d already pushed herself farther than she could endure and if she pushed any farther she wouldn’t make it. So y/n pulled out her knife and let her body drop.

Pushing at the shoulder pads that activated the parachute she desperately searched for a good place to land.

But she never got the chance.

A flash of light sparked and she fell through what looked like a rip in the world. As y/n fell she cursed every deity she knew, just her fucking luck. One of the cuts through worlds right here! How many times had the creature that was made of nightmares gone back and fourth through the worlds?

Time to worry about that later.

As she fell for what seemed like forever she would occasionally glimpsed people laughing in a city or two men brawling with a crowd cheering them on. Once she even glimpsed a black dragon soaring through the air with a navy blue one.

After a glimpse of a women in blue playing with fire like her mother she jolted as she felt herself cross into a different world. Holding her breath she fell through puffs of clouds until a city came into view. She knew it was going to be hard to go back but she could try if she survived. Just climb another mountain and jump right?

As she fell she took in the sprawling city below, it was beautiful, more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen before. Spectacular buildings with a sparkling river running through the city. On one side of the river, large buildings with many windows and clocks, the other smaller buildings with all the surfaces colored. But what stood out the most was the rainbow in the midst of the city.

Speaking of the city, the ground was approaching terrifyingly fast and Y/n hurriedly tried to activate her parachute. With barely 20 meters to the ground it activated and her fall slowed to a more bearable speed.

When she landed there was already a large group of fae staring at her like she’d just come in from another world. Which she had. She eyed the people carefully, noting the mix of hostile and welcoming faces.

“Hello?”

They all stared at her as if she’d spoken a different language which she was pretty sure she hadn’t but then some smiled and other glowered. A moment of confusion and silence later a muscular male stepped forward.

Y/n could tell this male wanted a fight, she placed her hands on her climbing knives. Not ideal weapons for fighting but better than nothing. “How did you get here? What do you want with this city?”

The male continued advancing and Y/n drew her knives. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here and she certainly didn’t want to be here but she doubted this male was going to believe her.

Suddenly a petite female stepped forward with authority and spoke.“She is my assistant and was up there by my command testing out a new parachute so go back to your business and stay out of ours.”

Y/n eyed the female with suspicion before sliding one knife back in its sheath. If this female had the power to make that crowd scatter with just a few well placed words, she was definitely dangerous. The female grabbed her by the arm and pushed a path through the bustling city.

Y/n opened her mouth, “who-”

“Quiet,” snapped the female looking back at her and Y/n reeled back slightly at the unsettling silver eyes.

But she followed the female as she had aced her from trouble and maybe had a way to get back to her world that didn’t involve falling off another cliff.

Might be a little much to hope for though.

*****

That wasn’t the greatest but ok, please vote below

Guessed who readers parents are yet?

#bubybubsters #tog #acotar #Mix #amren #velaris #azriel #rhysand #cassian #poll

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