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averyfuckingtiredyounglady · 20 hours ago

Text

Shattered

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

synopsis: You hadn’t meant to become his crutch. He hadn’t meant to become yours. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred, and the late-night hookups turned into something more. Something that neither of you could admit out loud.

genre: smut, angst, psychological horror, [hidden bonus]

word count: 7.5k

warnings: twist? main plot element is a surprise, mature themes, detailed sex scenes, ambiguous ending, y/n is down bad

a/n: aaayyee. the long awaited spooktober fic in january no less! this was a huge challenge for me, i wanted to take this in a direction that is completely unnatural for me, that plus the concept is what made this take so long to finish. this was really hard to write. that being said this is fucking weird. this is not going to be a lot of people's cup of tea i don't think. i personally havent seen any fics like this (and i read a lot) which is why i wrote it. I would hope someone could write something like this even better than i could maybe lol. But yeah please enjoy

“What?”

When you looked up at him half of his face was hidden in darkness, one half illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window and the other shaded. You could still make out the expression on his face, the frown of his brows, the glossiness of his eyes, his gaze set firmly on you.

“Are you really okay with how things are right now?

“What do you mean?” You set your phone down, matching his posture. You looked at Hyunjin, cocking your head to the side inquisitively.

He exhaled, letting out a strained sigh as he leaned down resting his head against his clasped hands before he spoke again.

“I don’t think this is going to work anymore. This isn’t good for me. I can’t pretend like I just want to come here to fuck and hang out and go home.. like.. like I don’t care about you. Like we don’t care about eachother… more than this.”

He lets his words fall from his mouth hurriedly, quick enough that he doesnt stop himself.

You don’t know what really brought this on. Why does he want to talk about this right now? What did you say? Was it something you did?

You’ve been aware that Hyunjin had feelings for you, though he tried not to show it, it was obvious. You just wouldn’t acknowledge it. Why should you? What good would that really do?

You sit across from Hyunjin, and you can all but see it, his heart, pulsing, rhythmically in his hand, gushing blood all over your living room floor.

You take a deep breath, feeling the light sting in your lungs before you exhale. You avoid his eyes, staring somewhere at his chest, eyes unfocused.

“You don’t really have a choice.” You let out. Your words hanging in the air like damp clothes on a line. Hyunjin sniffed at this, eyes searching around the room, the way he mustve been searching inside himself for the correct words to say to you.

You unfold your legs, leaning over to reach out a comforting hand to him, setting it on his thigh reassuringly, as this was all you could do.

“I don’t like it all that much either. I don’t. But, what am I to do? This is what works for us right now.” You squeeze his leg tighter, as you squeeze your next sentence out of your chest. “I can’t go through that again. Not right now. You understand?”

It’s not like you had to explain what you meant. How you felt. As he knew well, from firsthand experience what heartbreak could do to a person. What it did to him, but it didnt stop how his chest throbbed now as you rejected him. It didnt stop the way his body tensed up, staving the urge to reach out and hold you, as youd expressed discomfort in that.

So, he didn’t... hold you... he didnt do anything. Instead, Hyunjin collected his things and left your apartment, his mind clouded by thoughts of you that would stay with him that night.

You sat for a moment, clammed up on the floor, heart pricked with sharp shards of emotion that stirred a physical ache in your chest. The feeling was heavy, almost suffocating. It was a kind of pain that wasn’t just emotional—it felt tangible, a pressure that seemed to press in from all sides, making it hard to breathe.

For a few moments, you stayed there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Slowly, silently, you lifted yourself from the floor, steadying yourself against the edge of the coffee table. Each movement was careful, as if any sudden shift might destroy the delicate balance you were holding together.

As you turned toward your bedroom, you bumped into the table, your water glass tumbling over before you could react, shattering as it hit the floor.

Freezing for a moment, you stared at the fractured pieces scattered across the floor. Your reflection appeared in the jagged shards—split into fragmented pieces, your face warped and out of place.

“Shit,” you muttered, crouching down to pick up the broken pieces. The sharp edges of the glass caught the light as you gingerly gathered them in your hands. You couldn't shake the odd feeling that the image, fractured and distorted, mirrored something deeper inside you.

You woke up with an unfamiliar heat under your skin. When your eyes focused, you stared up at the ceiling, an orange glow spread across the tiles, sunlight creeping through a nearby window. “This isnt my bedroom…Its hot in here. I’m so thirsty.” You lay there breathing as each new thought vying for your attention made its way to the front of the queue. You sat up slowly in bed, limbs feeling oddly heavy. You feel the absence of any blankets. “This is not my bed either” “i know i was in my own bed last night” you recognize this is hyunjins place though you hadnt been many times.

And you remember the conversation you two had. The way he left, the way youd hurt him again.

“Where is Hyunjin?”

Then, you catch sight of the mirror.

You feel a scream crawling up your throat

Hyunjin opens his eyes to pitch darkness. The air feels thick, too close around him, and when he sits up, the sudden lightness of his limbs makes his head spin. Where the fuck is the lights? He staggers out of bed, getting caught in piles of blankets.

It takes a moment for the full impact to hit him. He stares down at the body he’s in—your body—and his breath catches in his throat. His hands—no, your hands—move instinctively to his chest, and the soft weight of your body feels completely alien. His skin tingles with discomfort, every movement too light, too foreign.

He nearly falls rushing to the bathroom, heart rattling his chest as his eyes meet yours in the mirror, but it’s not you, it’s him. He feels a pull from the floor trying to yank him down, like he’s about to pass out.

This can’t be happening.

He presses his hands to his face, trying to ground himself, but the sensation of your soft skin under his palms only makes everything worse. It’s like being trapped in a body that doesn’t belong to him—a body he knows too well but never thought he’d experience this way.

His phone—no, your phone—buzzes on the counter, pulling him out of his spiral. He grabs it, fumbling with the unfamiliar interface until he sees the notification.

It’s a message from you.

You arrive at your apartment before you’re ready to face him—or rather, face yourself. The walk over had been surreal, every step heavier than usual, every movement feeling slightly off. The world itself seemed wrong, like everything was tilted just a little to the side. People had looked at you—at Hyunjin’s body—without noticing anything unusual, but inside, you were unraveling.

Now, standing in front of your apartment door, your heart pounds in your chest. The weight of it feels strange, like even your heartbeat is foreign. You hesitate before knocking, staring down at your—his—hands, trying to remind yourself that none of this is real. It can’t be.

Finally, the door swings open, and you’re face to face with yourself.

For a second, neither of you says anything. It’s like looking in a mirror, but worse—because it’s not a reflection. It’s him. Hyunjin, standing in your skin, his expression tense and uncomfortable, like he’s just as disoriented by seeing you as you are by seeing him.

“This is insane,” he mutters, stepping aside to let you in. Hearing your own voice come from his mouth makes you flinch, your stomach twisting painfully.

“You think?” you reply, your voice—his voice—sounding too sharp, too loud in the small space.

You walk into the apartment, your movements awkward and stiff, trying to figure out how to exist in a body that isn’t yours. Everything feels wrong, from the way the muscles in your legs tighten when you walk to the way your hands rest at your sides. You’ve been in this body for less than a day, and you already feel like you’re trapped in someone else’s life.

Hyunjin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his—your—chest, watching you carefully. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable, as if he’s unsure what to do with his hands or how to hold his face.. There’s a moment of shared awkwardness, a realization that neither of you knows how to handle this.

You give a slight nod in his direction, a small grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take in the sight of your now-clothed body. “You dressed me?” you ask, amusement lacing your voice.

Hyunjin glances down at the baggy shirt draped over your figure—his shirt. “I mean… was I not supposed to?” he mumbles, crossing his arms again. “It only felt right…”

Looking down at yourself—his body—you swallow, the weight of it all settling heavily over you. “It feels… heavy,” you admit, your voice quieter now, thoughtful. “Like I’m too big for this space.”

Hyunjin nods, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that looks strange on you, “I know. It’s weird. Everything feels too... light.” He grimaces. “Like I’m fragile.”

“How do you deal with this?” Hyunjin suddenly asked, his voice quiet but pointed.

You blinked, frowning slightly. “Deal with what?”

“This,” Hyunjin said, gesturing vaguely to his—your—body. “The way everything feels so... tight. Like there’s always this knot in my chest. It’s exhausting.”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart sinking at his words. Of course, you knew that feeling—knew it all too well. That constant weight on your chest, the ever-present tension that never seemed to go away. You’d been living with it for so long that it had become a part of you, something you barely even noticed anymore.

But hearing Hyunjin describe it, feeling it through your body, made it hit differently. He could feel what you’d been feeling all this time, and the realization left you reeling.

“It’s always been like that,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I just... got used to it.”

Hyunjin turned his head to look at you, his eyes—your eyes—softening in a way you hadn’t expected. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and you found yourself swallowing hard, trying to push down the rising wave of emotions. He was right, of course. You shouldn’t have had to carry that weight alone, but you had. For so long. And you didn’t know how to let it go.

“I don’t know any other way,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. Your eyes stay fixed to the floor, the tiles blurring as tears flood into your vision. You don’t let them fall. You tighten your fists as to not let them spill out.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched out,

“I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve been carrying my own shit too. And I didn’t realize just how much it was weighing me down until now.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw it—the exhaustion in your own face, the way your shoulders sagged under the weight of everything you’d been carrying. It was strange, seeing yourself from the outside like this, but it also made you realize just how much Hyunjin had been holding back too.

“This sucks,” you said softly. “But It’s no way we could have avoided this… considering how fucked up we were.” You wiped your eyes, a hint of smile appearing. “God. I fucking hate crying.”

Hyunjin nodded, “Yeah. And im an ugly crier so...” He allowed himself to let out a small chuckle.

There was a long pause, the kind that usually felt uncomfortable but now felt… necessary. Like you were both finally starting to understand each other, finally starting to see what you’d been avoiding for so long.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere. “For… everything. For not being honest with you. For not seeing you, really seeing you, before all of this.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat at his words. You hadn’t expected an apology but hearing it now—hearing it from your own voice, no less—made your chest tighten with emotion.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “For pushing you away. For pretending this was just… casual. When it wasn’t.”

Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was no need for words. The understanding that passed between you was enough. You were both broken in your own ways, both carrying the weight of past relationships and unspoken emotions, but now—finally—you were starting to share that weight with each other.

And it felt like a small, tentative step toward healing.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The sense of unreality lingered in the air as you sat across from each other, still coming to terms with the strange new reality of being in each other’s bodies.

Hyunjin—your body sprawled on the couch—stared up at the ceiling, idly tapping his fingers against his leg. It was a movement so familiar, yet now it felt unsettling.

You sat on the edge of the armchair, elbows resting on your knees as you tried to process everything. There had to be a way to switch back, but as the realization that you might be stuck like this, at least for a little while longer, sank in, your skin crawled.

The rest of the day was spent in a strange, quiet rhythm. You’d both come to terms with the fact that you were stuck in each other’s bodies for the time being, and though it was still unsettling, the initial panic had subsided. Now, there was an unspoken agreement to figure things out together, to navigate this bizarre situation one step at a time.

There were awkward moments, of course. Simple tasks like eating breakfast or getting dressed were strange, and you both kept stumbling over the unfamiliar movements of each other’s bodies. But there were also moments of quiet understanding, where you could feel the growing connection between you.

At one point, you caught Hyunjin staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his—your—hand resting against the sink as he studied his face. He didn’t say anything when you passed by—the quiet contemplation, the way his fingers traced the curve of his cheek—made you feel like he was seeing something in you he hadn’t before.

He was learning you, just as you were learning him.

And though the situation was still bizarre, there was a strange comfort in that. A sense of closeness you hadn’t expected, but now that it was there, you couldn’t imagine going back.

Your eyes flick to Hyunjin laying on the couch. The arm of the sofa cradling his head and his -your- hair purposefully laid over it. You’ve seen your body a thousand times before, but never like this. Never from the outside, with someone else inhabiting it. It feels... strange. And unsettling. And a little too intimate.

Hyunjin shifts, watching you from the corner of his eye. his gaze trailing over you—your hands, your face. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you now, something you can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how you do this,” he says softly, almost to himself. “How you live in this body.”

“I could say the same about yours,” you reply, your voice low, your throat tight and you can feel the weight of Hyunjin’s body pressing down on you, heavy and unfamiliar.

You move to sit next to him, taking a small space on the edge of the couch. Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again. There’s a sense of unfamiliarity and heightened awareness that thickens the air, and you know you both can feel it. It urges you closer to him—closer to yourself.

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out, your hand—Hyunjin’s hand—brushing lightly against his—your—knee. It’s a simple touch, barely anything, but the feeling of it—of his skin under your hand—makes you want to touch him more.

The moment stretches, heavy with anticipation, and neither of you moves. You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your chest, everywhere, and suddenly, the distance between you feels too far...

Your eyes trace the lines of your body, the way Hyunjin is sitting in it—his posture so different from yours, his movements more restrained, almost hesitant. It feels strange to see yourself like this, to see him in you. And even stranger to feel the pull in your chest that comes with that realization.

Hyunjin’s eyes flick up to yours, and something shifts in the room. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but you feel it—like a current passing between you. The air feels charged now, thick with something unspoken but undeniable.

“I can’t get used to this,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. He’s still looking at you—at his own face—like he’s trying to make sense of it, like maybe the answers are buried somewhere in your skin.

You swallow hard, your pulse thudding in your ears. “I don’t think we’re supposed to,” you reply, your voice low, rough around the edges. “But here we are.”

Hyunjin lets out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to where your fingers had brushed against his skin. There’s a tension in the way he moves, a kind of restraint, like he’s holding something back. And for a moment, you wonder what it would feel like to stop holding back. To stop pretending this isn’t happening, that there isn’t something pulling you together, drawing you closer.

The couch feels too small now, too confined. Your body—his body—feels too big for the space, and your skin feels too tight. Every breath feels like it’s pressing up against something just out of reach. You shift, turning slightly toward him, your knee brushing his—your—leg in the process.

Hyunjin doesn’t pull away this time. He just looks at you, his eyes—your eyes—searching yours. And in that moment, you realize that you’re both feeling it—that strange pull, that raw, unspoken need for connection, for understanding.

You’ve always been good at pushing things down, at keeping your emotions locked up tight, but right now, with Hyunjin sitting there in your body, the lines are blurring. It’s like you can feel the weight of his confusion, his frustration, and maybe something more.

“I wonder if...” Hyunjin starts, but his voice trails off. He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t have to. You know exactly what he’s thinking because you’re thinking it too.

Before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let the confusion or fear settle in, you lean in. Your hand moves almost on instinct, reaching for him—reaching for yourself, really—and it’s not gentle, but it’s not forceful either. Just a touch. Just enough to bridge the gap that’s been widening between you.

Your fingers trace the line of your jaw—his jaw, now—and you feel the smoothness of the skin beneath your fingertips. It’s surreal, touching yourself like this, feeling the angles and shapes you’ve only ever seen in the mirror. But it’s more than that. It’s the way Hyunjin looks at you while you do it. He looks out of it, like he has a million thoughts running through his head and he’s chasing after each one.

The tension that’s been simmering between you both finally boils over.

Hyunjin’s hand comes up, wrapping around your wrist—not to pull you away, but to hold you there and he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. They’re smooth and pillowy soft, your lips. As you kiss him back, eyes instinctively closing, you take in the smell of him, of his hair, and his skin. The smell of yourself.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, and you can feel his grip tighten on your wrist, his body tensing as he kisses back and a small sound escapes him, muffled by the kiss.

It feels different. But it’s something you can’t quite name, something that feels both terrifying and exhilarating. The way your lips move against each other, the way Hyunjin’s body presses against yours—it’s all so familiar and yet completely foreign.

You’re kissing yourself, and yet it’s him. It’s Hyunjin.

And it’s you.

Your hands begin to roam, exploring the contours of his body with a kind of urgency that surprises you. Hyunjin responds in kind, his fingers sliding down your spine, his breath hot against your skin.

Hyunjin's hands grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as though you could somehow fuse together, body and mind. His lips, moving against yours with a desperation you’ve never felt before, sending a faint tingling throughout your body.

It’s overwhelming—feeling your own body from the outside, feeling how soft your skin is, how responsive it is to every touch. And the strength of your body—Hyunjin’s body—surprises you. It’s like you’re discovering him all over again, but from the inside out.

You pull back for just a second, breathless, your forehead resting against his. Your breath mingles with his, both of you breathing hard, and when you look into his eyes—your eyes—the confusion is still there, but it’s mingled with something else now. Something you’re both too afraid to say out loud.

“Are we really doing this?” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice low, uncertain.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you kiss him again—harder this time, with all the urgency of the moment flooding into it. There’s no stopping now.

Without speaking, you both start peeling off clothes, the movements frantic, unsteady, like you can’t get out of your clothes fast enough. It’s surreal, watching your own body undress in front of you, seeing it from a perspective you never thought you’d have.

When Hyunjin’s body—your body—is finally bare in front of you, you openly stare at him for a beat too long and he tries to cover up with his hands. His shyness, though completely absurd, is still endearing. You’ve seen yourself naked countless times, but this is different. This is him in a different form. In a way, it doesn’t even seem like you anymore.

You close the distance between you, the feeling of his body on yours sinks into your skin, and spreads through every one of your nerves- Warm. Hyunjin lets out a soft sound, almost like a sigh, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way his hands grip your arms, holding on like he’s afraid to let go.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes dark with desire, but theres a softness there too, a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I’m okay with it,” you whisper, your voice shaky but certain. “I want this. I want you.”

Your hand drifts down, tracing the outline of your cock through your pants, the weight of it in your palm heavy and warm. The feeling sends a rush of heat through you—different from anything you’ve felt before. Hyunjin’s breath hitches, and you can see the flush in his cheeks, the way his body tenses under your touch.

“I wonder how it feels…” you whisper, your voice thick with desire, “to be inside myself.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something—curiosity, maybe, or something darker. “I want to know, too.”

Before you can overthink it, you’re pulling him down, your lips sliding against his in a messy kiss —your body responding to the familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

You could feel your own skin from the outside now, the sensation of it under your fingers unfamiliar but fascinating. The texture was soft, smoother than you’d ever noticed before, and for the first time, you realized how delicate you actually felt in Hyunjin’s hands. as he moved closer you could smell your own scent wafting from your skin—it was all-consuming. The scent of your own body, the taste of your lips when you kissed, the softness of your skin—it was intoxicating.

“I don’t even know what to do,” Hyunjin admitted quietly, his voice—your voice—tinged with uncertainty. “I mean, this is your body. I don’t want to…”

“You’re me right now,” you interrupted, your heart racing. “And I’m you. So… I think we just… feel.”

Your hand glides down his chest, tracing the curve of your own body and feeling how it responds to the touch. Hyunjin shudders as your hand brushes against the swell of his—your—breasts. The roughness of your hands against the softness there makes you pause, swallowing hard before continuing.

The sensation is strange—your breasts, which have always been a natural part of you, now feel unfamiliar, foreign, and yet deeply intimate. Your fingers trail over your skin with a mix of awe and confusion, exploring every curve with a renewed sense of wonder.

“I never knew… I never figured that—”

“You felt so good?” Hyunjin finishes for you, his voice soft but tinged with amazement. His hands mirror yours as he caresses himself—your body—with reverence, his touch tender as if learning you anew. “Yeah. It amazes me too.”

Hyunjin’s hand moves lower, tentative but curious, your eyes follow them. His fingers trace the soft skin of his thighs -a delicate dance between curiosity and intimacy. They slide between his legs, and you notice him take a deep breath.

“I’m wet.”

The words tumble out of him before he can stop them, —a fact spoken aloud to make it feel real.

it’s not that he didn’t expect this. Of course he did. It’s natural, inevitable. But knowing something in theory and feeling it are two entirely different things. And now, with the heat pooling between his thighs, the slickness against his skin, he’s finally experiencing it—fully, tangibly.

As Hyunjin’s fingers linger between his legs, you can’t help but feel a magnetic pull, an urge to close the distance. The sight of him—of you—so vulnerable, so immersed, stirs something deep within you. Your hand moves almost instinctively, reaching out, your curiosity stronger than any doubt.

Your fingertips brush lightly against his wrist, as if asking rather than taking. He glances at you, his breath hitching, and for a moment the two of you are caught in a quiet understanding. His hand doesn’t pull away.

Encouraged, your fingers settle just above his, not guiding, not interfering, but simply being there. Sharing the space, the sensation, the moment. His breath comes slower now, his movements steady, and you feel the warmth radiating from his skin through yours.

And then you feel it.

The slow, building pressure in your body. It starts as a tightness in your lower abdomen, an unfamiliar sensation that makes your breath hitch. You can feel your own skin heating up, the muscles in your groin tightening as something else builds inside of you.

The feeling of an erection.

The sensation of your own arousal was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The feeling of your cock hardening, the way your balls tightened with anticipation—it was both exhilarating and overwhelming. You had no control over the way your body responded, but at the same time, it felt natural, like something primal was taking over.

Hyunjin’s hands roamed over your body—his body—You could feel every muscle, every shift of skin under his touch, and it only made you crave more. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you melt under his fingers, because he knew you. He knew your body in a way no one else could, because for the first time, he had felt what you felt.

You bit your lip as you slid your hand under the waistband, freeing his erection. The feeling of Hyunjin’s dick in your hand—your own now—was almost too much to process. It was hot, heavy, the skin smooth and velvety beneath your palm, and the sensation of it pulsing in your grip

“It’s so… hard,” you whispered, your hand moving slowly, stroking along the length of his cock. You’d never felt anything like it before, the sheer rawness of it, the pressure of arousal building in your gut in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

“This feels…” Hyunjin’s voice—your voice—breaks the silence, as his hands move over your chest, tracing the lines of muscle there. “So different. So intense.”

You smirk, leaning down to press your lips against his neck, feeling the way his pulse races beneath your touch. “You have no idea.”

You decide to take the lead, guiding him to his back as you press kisses along his chest,

Your hands slide lower, grazing the inside of his thighs, and the sensation sends a rush of heat straight through you. more desperate, more eager to explore every inch of him. You pause, glancing up at him and see him staring at you, eyes lidded, but hesitant to close.

You can see the tension in Hyunjin’s face, the way he’s trying to process everything, but he’s too far gone now, too caught up in the overwhelming sensations. His hands grip your shoulders, pulling you closer and when you settle between his legs, you hesitate for a moment feeling your dick twitch at the slightest contact.

You reach for Hyunjin’s hands again, holding them tightly as your eyes meet his. His eyes are tracking your every move, and his eyebrows have worn a crease between them since you started. “Are you scared?” you whisper, voice soft yet steady.

Hyunjin lets out a quiet breath, his cheeks flushed as he glances away, gently pulling his hands from yours to hide his face. "You're even treating me like... like a girl," he says, his voice trailing off, almost embarrassed.

A small smile pulls at your lips. “In a way, aren’t we both… sort of like virgins right now?” You give him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Neither of us really knows what this feels like.”

He finally looks back at you, his gaze settling between your bodies for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I know you won’t hurt me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I never hurt you.”

The weight of his words presses into your chest, and though you know he believes them, you’re aware that it’s not entirely true. Pain and pleasure had often existed in the same space between you, something he’s about to experience, perhaps for the first time.

You guide his hands back to your body, encouraging him to explore each sensation, to feel every part of himself as if it’s brand new. He lets out a shaky breath, his touch growing more confident and as your eyes meet, he reaches down grab your cock, languidly stroking it, jerking you off with a touch that is familiar yet entirely new.

You buck your hips into him, seeing the way he twists his hands around the shaft. It feels so fucking good already. The sight of it—your cock, hard and throbbing—makes you dizzy. The need is overwhelming, and you don’t have time for hesitation.

Sliding your hands slowly up his thighs, you press his legs apart, the vulnerability and trust in his gaze fuel your every move. You lean in, pressing gentle kisses down his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin, lingering, allowing him to adjust to each sensation. Your fingers trail along the delicate skin inside his thighs, inching closer before you reach his core. As your fingers press and rub circles over his clit, his hand falters, grip tightening around you as he gasps at the sensation. You feel him tremble beneath your touch, his arousal evident as your fingers slide lower, gathering wetness, slick and warm, and spreading it over him.

The look in Hyunjin’s eyes, in your eyes, is not like looking at your reflection. It’s like looking at a stranger. The disconnect catches you off guard but you know it’s him, and all you want is to make him feel good. Give him everything you know he needs right now.

You don’t mean to be rough, but there’s no gentleness in your movements either. Hyunjin’s body feels invincible, and the weight of it presses into Hyunjin’s—your—softer frame. You grip his wrists, holding him down as you straddle him, and you can’t help but notice how small his body feels under yours.

“You’re so fucking soft,” you mutter, almost to yourself, your hands running over his thighs, squeezing them as you press his legs apart, giving yourself the space to move. You’ve never felt your own skin from the outside, never appreciated just how warm and slick you get when aroused.

Hyunjin shifts beneath you, “I don’t know if I—” he starts, but you cut him off by positioning yourself between his legs, your cock heavy in your hand. You look down at your own body spread open and waiting. Your hands tremble slightly as you grip your cock, guiding it to his entrance.

But then Hyunjin’s hand pushes gently against your chest. “Wait.”

You pause, the sudden halt almost painful with how wound up you feel. “What?”

He hesitates, his eyes flicking down between your bodies. “You’re… not used to being a guy. Shouldn’t we—”

You know what he’s about to say, and before he can finish, you cut him off, the words coming out blunter than you intend. “I’m not using one.”

Hyunjin blinks up at you, your own face looking surprised and maybe a little alarmed. “Hell no. I don’t want any chance of you getting me—” he stumbles over the words, his voice rising in disbelief, “I mean, you—pregnant.”

The absurdity of the situation hangs in the air between you for a split second, but neither of you laughs. The tension between you is too high, the heat too intense, and you can tell he’s serious.

You click your tongue, the weight of the moment settling between you, then reach over to grab a condom from the side table. As you roll it on, there’s a brief pause, both of you staring at each other in this strange, disorienting exchange—like you’re both trying to process the line you’re about to cross, or maybe the ones you’ve already crossed.

This is something entirely new.

As you push inside, both of you cry out. Hyunjin tenses completely — the feeling of your cock stretching and filling him—is overwhelming. The tightness, the heat, the way your body clenches around you as you sink deeper inside. More than that, he’s wet, incredibly wet,. You begin to think that whatever the situation your body will always welcome his.

Hyunjin lets out a breathless moan, his hands gripping the back of the couch as his hips arch toward you, urging you to move. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his voice trembling as you begin to thrust into him, slow and steady.

You groan as you bottom out, the slickness of your folds making every movement feel smoother, more intense. The sensation of your cock sliding in and out of him—out of yourself—is unlike anything you could have imagined. The friction, the heat, the way his body—your body—responds to your every thrust. This is what keeps him coming back,

“Hyunjin,” you groan, your hands gripping his hips as you build a steady pace, feeling the pleasure build inside you. “It’s so tight.”

Hyunjin doesn’t give much of a response, though he is anything but quiet, clutching onto you for dear life. “Hyunjin?” You still for a moment, “are you okay?”

“Yes. Just don’t stop”

Hyunjin’s mind is reeling, but his body is burning with need, and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the moment --- to shut his brain off completely. As you press him further into the couch, folding his legs up, he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around you and hugging your body closer. He tries to picture you—the way you usually look, the way you touch him gently, the way you fit against him. That would make this easier, he thinks, if he can just pretend it’s you, like normal, things will feel familiar again.

. Every movement, every brush of your cock against his walls sends waves of pleasure crashing through both of you, the unfamiliar sensations heightening everything.

In your possession, his dick feels like a loaded weapon—dangerous, powerful, and utterly out of his contol. The weight of your body—his body—pinning him down, and every time he tries to picture your usual self above him, all he can feel is the undeniable presence of a man.

You push deeper, and Hyunjin can’t stop the sharp gasp that escapes his lips. The stretch is intense, it even hurts a little, but his body responds anyway, betraying him, heat pooling low in his stomach as you hit a spot that makes his legs weak.

“Fuck, I—” His words break off as you thrust harder, your grip tightening on his hips. He can’t finish the thought, can’t admit to himself what is really going through his mind.

He hates how good it feels. He hates that he can’t stop his body from reacting, cant stop the moans spilling from his lips, can’t stop the way his hips move to meet yours with every thrust.

“I can’t—” he tries again, his breath catching as your hips snap against his. He bites his lip, trying to suppress the noises escaping him, trying to hold on to some shred of control. But its slipping away, fast.

“You can’t what?” you mutter, your voice rough, “What’s wrong?”

He wants to hate it. Wants to stop. But he can’t.

You can tell Hyunjin is on the brink of losing it, the way his body—your body—trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the couch as he tried to hold on to something familiar. But there wasn’t anything familiar about this for him. He was in your body now, and you had all the power.

“I don’t…” Hyunjin swallowed hard, trying to get the words out, but they stuck in his throat. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. “I can’t… it doesn’t feel like me.”

You paused, your hips stilling for a moment as you looked down at him—at yourself. He could see the confusion on your face, but there was something darker there too, something satisfied in the way your lips curled into a small, almost amused smirk.

“It’s not,” you say, your voice quiet, yet clear, “Not right now.”

You push your hands behind his back, slowly bringing him into your arms and pressing his body against yours. Hyunjin realizes then that he is being carried. You pad toward your bedroom in short awkward steps, “Hold on. I got you.” And he does,

“Why are you carrying me?”

“Because I can.” You stand him up on the floor and turn him around to face the mirror, “Here. Look.”

In the reflection, you can see yourselves, your body, his, and the rest of your bedroom.

. You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear. “See? It’s us,”. You murmur, your hands sliding down to grip his hips, pulling him closer.

It takes Hyunjin a moment to understand what you mean. It’s us. Looking in the mirror like this, it almost feels normal. Like you both are in the right body. You bend him over the bed, allowing him to still see the scene in the mirror. “And this is better than the sofa.”

The expression you’re wearing on his face makes him a little uneasy. So, he puts all his focus onto yours, the real you. Before he realizes it, you’re pulling him back on your dick again. He jolts at the sudden movement, his body curling up off the bed. Have you always been this…rough? Does it just feel different now? Why does he like it so much?

He lets out a choked sound, pressing his face into the sheets. This new angle lets you move deeeep inside, you can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You’re throbbing inside of him, and you know he can feel it.

You hold him by the throat pulling him up to face the mirror, so he can see how good he looks when he’s fucking you, and how good he looks being fucked.

“You like that?” you groan as you rut into him faster, feeling his body clench tight around you. All he can do is nod. “I knew you would.”

Nobody likes the sound of their own voice, but you don’t want to shut up right now. Letting the sound of Hyunjins voice ring through your head. Every word and every moan that comes to you escaping passed your lips. Why not go all out?

You take each of his wrists, pulling them behind his back, lifting him up off the bed, giving him a full view of your body in the mirror, but he can barely keep his head up, hair falling in front of his face, and when you start to stuff your cock inside him again, your tits bounce up and down with your thrusts. You watch as Hyunjin’s dick disappears inside your pussy, again and again. The sight brings you close to cumming, but you control yourself.

You take in a sharp breath, slowing your pace, allowing yourself to feel the slow drag of your cock against the walls of your cunt, watching Hyunjin through lidded eyes, his reactions make you want to give him more, impossibly more. Dying to see how good you can make him feel.

You put a leg up on the bed, pulling his ass back against your dick. Your hands slide up his back, grabbing him by the neck, and the other hand grabbing a handful of hair. You’re thinking maybe he’ll like that as much as you do and how loud he’s getting confirms it for you.

You push your cock in completely, feeling his pussy clench around you, needing friction, but you still inside him, “You take dick pretty well.” You say before you pull out leaving in just the tip, just before you slam back in suddenly. You continue fucking him in long, deep strokes, your personal favorite.

“Tha-ts no-ot fu- uhah ahhh..” Hyunjin tries to speak through your hard thrusts but fails.

“I’m not being funny,” you grin, taking his jaw and turning it towards you, taking his lips for filthy kiss, sliding your tongue into his open mouth, swirling them around each other. It’s not long before you’re trying to kiss but only panting into each other’s mouths closer and closer to cumming.

You wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, caging his smaller frame inside your arms. Fucking him harder, not any faster, just harder and deeper. Fucking him until you feel him stiffen up below you, feeling his hands clutching at your arms trying to ground himself. You keep driving your cock into him until it sounds like he’s crying.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t sto-,” Hyunjin let out a choked sound, his head falling back as he came, his body convulsing beneath you as the orgasm tore through him. He wasn’t in control anymore—hadn’t been for a while. His body had already given in, and now his mind was catching up.

You could feel it too—the pressure building fast as you thrust deeper, pushing him through his orgasm. You tighten your hold around him, following close behind, the release hitting you hard as you cum inside him, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

For a moment, the world stops, it takes you both a while to come down, your bodies collapsing together in a tangled mess. The air feels thick, heavy with everything that has just happened, and when you finally pull out, the silence between you is deafening.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He lays there, staring up at the ceiling, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the way he is struggling to process it all. He wants to feel that this is just another hookup with you, but it isn’t. Not this time.

El FIN

second author's note: 🎵 i am yooouuu. I see me in youuu 🎶 i included like page break lines to show time skip but they didnt work when i pasted it in womp womp. look guys a bitch did her best. i tried to give yall the cute little pictures all the other hoes on here do. and i told yall it was weird. theres a lot of issues but writing this turned my brain into sloppy joe mix but if you made it to the end i appreciate youuuu soooo muuuchh. omg i feel like i fucked this up so bad anyway mwah mwah. Now go fuck yourself! Wink wink

#she writes #hyunjin smut #skz smut #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #oh no its 4 am

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milktrician · 6 hours ago

Note

Hello hello! :D

SQH-SY siblings au for the ask game, please?

I'm pretty sure I wrote this after someone wrote a text post about the idea but idk if I would be able to track that down, or if it existed at all and I'm misremembering. Anyway, I didn't really have a set plot in mind after I wrote this short snippet other than it would be very funny for Shen Yuan to try and actively sabotague Shang Qinghua's efforts to become head disciple of An Ding while looking as innocent as possible. I don't think I'm going to write anymore for this idea as I have other wips I want to focus on but feel free anyone to write out their own interpretation! Anyways, here's what I wrote a few weeks back:

[ Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System automatically triggered ]

What? What the fuck is this?

[ Host is in the midst of transmigration! ]

No—what? This is a dream, Airplane’s stupid fucking writing must have made me pass out!

Rrgh! I need to punch the fucker IRL!

[ Host would like to see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky? ]

YES!

[ Beginning transmigration… ]

What?

“Oh! It’s a boy!”

“W-Wait what? Doctor, didn’t you say it was going to be a girl?”

What the hell?

He feels himself get wrapped within a cloth, and suddenly he's enveloped in warmth. He’s being…held?

Any attempt to move his limbs is caught by the cloth wrapped around him. His tongue presses against toothless gums, and his vision is too blurry to make out anything.

No…

“Haha, well surprises always happen! Did you have a name in mind if you two had another son?”

“Ah, well I suppose we never gave any thought to it. A-Yu, you’re always good at coming up with names with your little stories, how about you name your little brother?”

No…

“You…ah, shouldn’t it be up to you two? Like erm. Tradition or something? Like this is a whole baby I sh-shouldn’t be responsible for the name he’ll be called for the rest of his life!”

A woman then laughs above him,

“A-Yu, I think I’m much too tired to think right now. You’re a smart boy, any name you come up with I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

He…died.

Transmigration’s real!?

AND HE’S A BABY!

Oh—whoever this person is, please don’t name him something stupid.

[ Don’t worry Host! This System has you covered! ]

“…Yuan?” Whoever “A-Yu” is, he said that like he wasn’t even sure of it himself! Thank god he still has his old name in this life at least.

“Shang Yuan…I like that.”

System…where have I transmigrated?

[ This System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance to your wish, ‘see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ ]

[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! ]

What now?!

[ User has completed his wish! ]

I…did?

[ Entering Limited Sandbox Mode! Feel free to explore within the constraints of the plot! ]

[ We hope you enjoy the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! ]

WHAT?

“Ah! He’s crying, give him here.”

“Ahh. You’re so cute lil bro! Cutest baby in the whole wide world!”

A-Yu, or Shang Hongyu, is his new older brother in this life and is maybe eight or nine years older than him. He’s apparently very smart for his age, and their parents are already tutoring him to take over their father’s business.

He hears his older brother sniffle,

“Too bad you’ll probably never see me again in a few years.” he says, “I’ve gotta head to Cang Qiong and make my way up An Ding in the next few years.”

Hold on a second.

His older brother holds him tight against his chest, and from here he can feel his breath shudder.

“I’ve never had a sibling by blood before.”

He’s brought to his sibling’s bed and his brother lays next to him lazily.

“Just a few more years and you guys won’t have to see me again.” his brother says to noone, “They’re…surprisingly good parents, didi. Once they don’t have me to worry about, they can spoil you as much as you want.”

Geez, what kind of weird complex do you have?

Though. Shang surely is a common surname right? Lots of Shangs to go to An Ding!

System where in the timeline are we?

[ System is currently in maintenance for future updates! ]

Fine. He’ll figure it out his own way!

His own chubby fingers are able to grab onto his brother’s robe.

“Gege.” He says, to the best of his ability with his shitty little baby mouth.

He doesn’t expect his brother to burst out crying and start to hug him tight.

#fic wip #svsss fic #shen yuan #shang qinghua

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y-rhywbeth2 · 2 days ago

Text

Lore: Deities #1

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. etc]

What A God Is | Divine Ranks, Types and Further Abilities | Gods in Toril*

(*all 100+ of them...)

Deities in general, rather than a focus on specific ones and their followers.

So. What a god is, how they perceive the universe, how they function, 'how to utilise your god correctly,' their blanket abilities and limitations, etc etc. Because idk I felt like it and it might be useful for writing religious characters and/or those un/fortunate enough to have divine attention.

---

Nature and perception:

‘...gods’re more than just big mortals with lots of impressive tricks and mighty abilities. They’re concepts and symbols, too. They embody every aspect of their portfolios, the living representations of their spheres of control – and of mortals’ hopes and fears. The essence of the powers extends to a whole other kind of existence. ‘It’s crucial to remember that – the powers are incomprehensible, their motives and abilities unguessable.’ - On Hallowed Ground

A deity – sometimes called a god, or ‘power’ in Toril and most of the Outer Planes – embodies a concept, defined by mortals as ‘portfolios.’ Their nature also very literally determines how the universe appears to them. What embodies or aids their portfolio is good, what opposes and hinders it is evil, what exists outside of it is irrelevant. Tyr, for example, understands the world through the lens of a rigid code of right and wrong, aimed at bringing about justice. Bane has a similar desire for order, coloured with hate and fear; the Dark One quite literally cannot understand love and kindness except as lies, even if he’s experiencing the emotions himself. The portfolio likewise provides their drive and motivation, as they attempt to push the universe into the way it ‘should’ be. Gods always seek to spread their aims and gain power for that purpose, forming alliances with like-minded powers and plotting against rivals and enemies. Many squabble over portfolios – for example the oft shattered portfolio of death as a wider concept on Toril sees Jergal, Kelemvor, Myrkul, Bhaal and Velsharoon in uncomfortable proximity.

Gods all have a divine rank – admittedly a mortal classification system and one that comes in many forms, but good enough to work with – this groups gods together by their relative power levels, and the extent of their temporal power via mortal worshippers.

Weaker gods pledge themselves to stronger gods as servants, for fear that other gods will prey on them for their power, or to anchor themselves to another’s divine power if they’re at risk of fading and dying for whatever reason. Stronger powers take on these servants for reasons that in-universe theologians continue to debate, though one theory is that more powerful gods take weaker deities under their wing for the same reason that they have clerics – more hands to put to work. Others suggest that some gods are extorting these weaker gods for power, and routinely receive a small portion of their divine essence in exchange. It's believed that pantheons are the result of these kinds of alliances, when they're not family groupings.

Their personalities are not wholly one dimensional; like many outsiders they seem to enjoy the whole gamut of mortal pleasures, but they lack the flexibility and full free will of living mortals. They can learn and adapt slowly over time, particularly when mortal worship affects them. (They can also get drunk, apparently, though not necessarily on alcohol and some gods get drunk on weird and unspecified things.)

Their concept-based nature leads to the gods being locked in a permanent, cosmic political and ideological battle pushing back and forth: Shar wants the world returned to darkness and all that lives in it aware of the misery of the fact that they exist; Selûne would see life in all its diversity thrive and be happy. Chauntea seeks a world of flourishing life; Bhaal wants a world of death, populated by the (un)dead. Ilmater seeks to alleviate the pain of the world; Loviatar to increase it. Bane wants the cosmos – mortals and gods alike – enslaved in perfectly ordered hierarchy answering to him in fear; a lot of gods absolutely do not.

A god is more than themselves: aside from their being usually getting divided into multitude, existing in many forms acting independently and focused on different parts of a multiverse, a god contains the consciousnesses of hundreds to thousands of mortal souls who eventually merged with their divine essence over the course of their afterlives. Souls in the afterlife are called petitioners. Petitioners who have melded with their god retain their original independent identity and thoughts while also being intrinsically one and the same as the god, and some scholars of the planes theorise that a god is in fact a hive-mind of thousands of souls with the same value and goals acting in concert.

There’s a lot of theories about how and why gods exist. One is that gods were born from mortal desires – the outer planes are shaped from belief, and so from beliefs and creations (love, hate, fear, war, music… etc etc) beings embodying the fragments of mortal sapience and desire were born... Probably best not to ask the gods what they think of that theory.

Killing a god is, for all intents and purposes, basically impossible. A greater deity can only be slain by a greater deity. Deities of lower ranks are a bit more nebulous but still difficult. Only in exceptional conditions have mortals ever slain a god. The way you’re technically supposed to be able to kill a god is by killing them within their own domain – where they’re all full, reality-warping power, the entire environment is an extension of themselves and folds to their will, every artefact of power they’ve ever collected and an army of various semi-divine and fully divine allies will defend them. Assuming you can get anywhere near the god themselves, because they’ll generally make sure you don’t get that far.

Gods can also ‘die’ from loss of worship, which is also borderline impossible. So long as a single mortal worships them a god will not die. Such a death is very slow, and even once there are no mortals left worshipping them there will be enough ‘residual’ power linked to them, invested on the prime (‘their name, their sovereignty over the principles and ideals in their portfolio, and even the awe inspired by tales told about them as myths or parables.’) that they can still use to sustain themselves. During such time the god will do everything in their power to gain worshippers (and apparently praying to dead gods is a popular last ditch prayer of the desperate who hope that an equally desperate power will be eager enough for the attention to answer).

‘To effectively ensure the death of such a deity, in all likelihood it would have to be imprisoned on its home plane and rendered unable to communicate with any mortal being. Eventually, then, it would die.' - Faiths and Avatars

(And then it would end up on the Astral Plane, where it would be more comatose than dead and fully capable of coming back.)

Limitations:

‘The gods help those who help themselves.’ - A Faerûnian saying, Lords of Darkness (1e)

Gods are neither omnipotent nor all-powerful. They certainly are extremely powerful and basically impossible to fight or kill for the vast majority of the universe; but activities such as taking avatar form, rewriting reality, raising the dead and so forth are greatly taxing.

Their sensory and information processing capabilities far outstrips the comprehension of a mortal, but they're not perfect: A god – with their attention spaced out all across the continent and possibly multiple worlds – cannot feasibly see to every tiny detail. They keep their attention fixed on ‘the big picture,' and instead of running themselves ragged the gods delegate. They act through those who have been given their power and authority to move on their behalf: through their divine servitors (pit fiends, daeva, whatever) and through their clergy. ‘By allowing others to act for them in day-to-day matters, the powers can conserve their strength for the big battles – the times when they really need it.’

‘Every single action a power takes requires him to expend a portion of his might.’ Even simply answering prayers and empowering their priests and holy warriors ‘takes something out of [them].’ A god is not a limitless font of power; they expend their energies to further their goals and stymie that of their enemies (cosmic philosophical battle for the shape of the multiverse on a scale from the grand to the petty, yada yada), and as such they won’t weaken themselves for somebody or something that doesn’t give back to them. Somebody who prays for something on their own behalf will generally get no response. Something unrelated to the god’s aims will not have their prayer answered by that deity (that is to say; send your requests to the correct division. Don’t pray to Tyr for good crop weather, don’t pray to Umberlee for a good financial year, so on so forth). Somebody with no faith in the god who has never worshipped them will likely not be heard at all, both because the god has no reason to expend their efforts and because they likely cannot hear the prayer of the faithless at all:

While a god is aware of every usage of their power, investiture of their essence, every invocation of their name, and every prayer begging for their attention; even the divine cannot handle all of this emotion at once and gods must learn to compartmentalise, lest they end up like Cyric, completely overstimulated and unable to function:

The voices of Cyric's myriad selves shouted out their dismay, chorused their anger. The Prince of Lies stared, unseeing, at his shadow, trying to make some sense of the bizarre scene. He couldn't. There were too many things clawing at his thoughts, hoarding bits of his attention. In Yulash, an assassin offered up a half-hearted prayer to the God of Murder, her words as empty of devotion as her heart was of pity. A peddler, down on his luck and starving amidst the opulence of Waterdeep, bitterly cursed the God of Strife. His insults flew up like arrows into Cyric's mind. And then there were the Zhentish. Thousands of women and men shrieked Cyric's name, as if that act alone could earn his aid. Their pleas streamed across the death god's consciousness, scattering his thoughts in their wake. He was lost, his consciousness torn in a million directions at once. The blow caught Cyric in the face. He barely noticed the physical pain, but the surprise dragged his attention from the maelstrom of racing thoughts back to his realm in Hades. The Prince of Lies looked out on the ravaged throne room, but what he saw there only confused him more. The Burning Men, loosed from shattered chains, writhed across the floor in pain, unable to douse the fires consuming them. The explosion from the attack on Godsbane – no, Mask – had charred the walls and scorched a huge hole in the carpet. Cyric's throne had been shattered, the bones strewn about. All these things seemed right somehow, appropriate to the setting. Yet there were other objects, other people in the room as well, bits and pieces from all the vistas taken in by Cyric's incarnations. They all superimposed themselves over the reality of Bone Castle, creating a strange jumble of images. […] He attempted to focus his mind on teleporting away from Hades, but too many things were drawing his consciousness away from the enchantment. The voices in his head had become a chorus of discord offering five dozen opinions on even the slightest matter. And there were his faithful all across Faerun, of course, invoking the death god's name to resolve every petty conflict in their lives. - Prince of Lies

Gods literally can’t answer every prayer. What prayers they are ‘tuned into’ come from their clerics and faithful, and strong pulls from important events and mortals whose natures and actions align with the deity’s portfolio and nature (thus bringing them into the deity’s awareness). The rest is so much noise, and trivial prayers and prayers from those who have never offered worship unto the deity get lost.

They are also subject to other limitations:

By unanimous agreement gods do not manifest their true forms on the mortal worlds of Prime Material Plane, and they keep their conflict on the Prime within set boundaries. As soon as one god gets involved, it’s an opening for their enemies to involve themselves. Even assuming the battle does not turn into a war, even two deities using their full power is an extinction level threat. So the gods’ involvement is limited – lest divine fighting turn the worlds of the material planes into uninhabited wastelands. Shar and Selûne are a good example; if the Moonmaiden does literally anything her sister will immediately start trying to sabotage it. Selûne is extremely wary of manifesting on Toril because Shar takes obscene delight in murdering her sister in horrible and creative ways (as such most of Selûne’s personal actions against Shar occur on the Outer Planes).

It’s theorised in-universe that the gods have agreed to impose a limit on the number of souls they’re willing to resurrect: if every god could keep their servants going forever it’s simply turn into an endless bloodbath consuming the world, just with mortals instead of gods doing the burning.

Mortals are not privy to the abilities and limitations of the gods and often perceive them as more powerful than they are. It is common knowledge that the gods are neither omnipotent nor flawless, but gods have a vested interest in seeming more powerful and appealing than their competition, and more often than not the clergy are taught to believe their god’s propaganda and to preach it.

A deity’s power (and their divine rank) is tied to mortal worship; the more they are worshipped the more power they have. Apparently worship born of genuine love and zeal is more empowering more than fear (also the Dark Gods certainly do love being feared, regardless). The less power a god has, the more attentive they’re likely to be to their worshippers.

Apparently they cannot directly interfere with free will, though they can chose to emotionally manipulate you, seduce you, harass you, magically influence your emotions and memories, sabotage you, babble about destiny while making a grandiose light show, sometimes literally possess you, and otherwise manipulate you into doing what they want you to do with that free will.

----

Powers, regardless of rank*

*(Refers only to ‘true’/above-rank-1 deities. Other beings classified as deities such as half-gods and titans (mostly) not included).

They are immortal, with no biological needs. Their appearance is entirely dependant on what they chose to look like.

Deities, whichever and any aspect of them, can teleport to anywhere at will without error. There is nothing any being of lesser power can do to stop them. With the exception of most quasideities, gods can also teleport to other planes with equal ease.

A god can speak and understand any language in existence, in any form of communication. Ever really weird alien ones foreign to human physiology. They can speak directly into the mind – or minds – anyone, anywhere without being detected if they wish, and there’s nothing anybody (who isn’t a god of higher rank) can do to stop them. They can also speak out loud as a disembodied voice. The tongue of the gods is Supernal, which likewise can be understood flawlessly by any being capable of socialising. Evil gods also speak Dark Speech, which is concentrated evil so strong that mortals can’t bear it and even fiends don’t like hearing it. (Most gods prefer communicating via annoyingly vague omens though.)

Gods come with the ability to restructure reality to their whims, in what is essentially a built-in wish or miracle spell. The degree to which they can do so is limited by divine rank, however. According to Ed Greenwood, the spell itself functions on Toril by petitioning a deity to use their ability on your behalf.

They can freely cast any spell of any level whenever the hell they like instantly with no preparation or requirements (sometimes subject to the limits of their portfolio: Shar cannot use spells that generate light, for example). They can also invent any new spell on the spot or tweak recognised spells to make them work slightly differently.

They are immune to psionics, and glyphs and warding spells ‘do nothing to them except attract their attention.’ It’s borderline impossible to affect a god with magic, and literally impossible to affect a greater deity

A deity cannot be harmed with mundane force, for example stabbing them with a blade of metal won’t do anything, and magic is required to harm them (so enchanting the blade will make it effective).

A god can grant any ability or spell, regardless of any requirements, to their priests (as long as the mortal in question is capable of containing/wielding the power, so a druid who can cast 5th level spells may be granted any spell of 5th level or lower). This is how clerics, druids, rangers and paladins get all their spells anyway.

While gods have hard limits, as discussed, they are partially omniscient. A god knows when and where their name is spoken the moment it is invoked, and has awareness of the area surrounding that invocation for at least a mile. The most powerful deities are capable of extending their awareness over an entire plane of existence for at least a year when invoked. They are always aware of their worshippers, holy sites, artefacts and any activity that relates to their porfolio[s] and everything the world surrounding these things up to at least a mile (although they can’t sense those of other gods, unless that god wills it). They won’t be consciously tuned in 24/7 but if something happens they will be aware and shift their attention to whatever is happening.

They also have sharp mundane senses, possessing the same 5 mortal senses humans do, but they pick up sensory input from 1-10 miles immediately surrounding them (and they have the ability to process this and not go into sensory overload). They move faster and they’re stronger and more durable than a mortal can hope to match.

Every god emanates an aura that has a profound spiritual effect on mortals, unsettling or uplifting depending on the personal relationship between individual mortals and the deity and also the god’s mood at the time. Apparently this is regularly experienced, as while gods don’t fully manifest their aura can be felt – even by lay-worshippers – while praying, such as at mass (or whatever that should be called on Toril).

#You know like if you're going to seduce a god #Or if you're the recently disowned child of a god who wants to know how the weaknesses and strengths of your asshole father...#lore stuff #I want a word with Ao #long post

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callme-holly · 2 days ago

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I love your writing SOOO much. Could you do how the gang acts around kids? Like babysitting? Tysm!

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 [𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬]

𝐚/𝐧: I thought this was such a sweet concept omg i love it.

Darry Curtis:

Darry is incredibly good with kids; he’s grown up with two younger brothers he’s had to look out for his whole life, so looking after children and babysitting comes naturally to him. He’s incredibly patient and always happy to help out, trying his hardest to balance his time so that the kid he’s looking after gets the right amount of attention. He is very responsible, always making sure the kid is safe, that they have everything they need, that they’ve done their homework if they have it, but he also has a soft spot. Sometimes you’ll catch him letting the kid climb all over him, telling them stories, and joining in their silly games when he gets the chance.

Sodapop Curtis:

Soda is every kid’s ideal babysitter. He’s fun, he’s entertaining, but he can also be incredibly responsible when he needs to be. If you’re babysitting, the child is instantly drawn to Soda, and he matches their energy perfectly, joining in with their games and making them laugh. However, he isn’t the best when it comes to discipline and sometimes lets the kids get away with more than they should, which is where you, more often than not, need to step in. Sometimes it feels like babysitting two kids, but you can’t be upset with him because he manages the chaos so well.

Ponyboy Curtis:

Pony is a little more awkward around kids and unsure when it comes down to babysitting. He’s a lot more quiet and level-headed, settling for calmer activities to keep the child entertained. He’ll draw with them, help them with their reading, and will also help them with schoolwork depending on their age. If the kids are particularly rowdy, he might struggle a bit at first, but it won’t take him long to warm up to them, and soon he’ll be dragged into their games and will be playing along, helping build up big, dramatic storylines with his more than creative imagination.

Johnny Cade:

Much like Pony, Johnny is a little unsure at first, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing. He’s never had any experiences with younger kids, and he hasn’t exactly had the best role models, but when the kids start gravitating towards his calm personality, he relaxes a little. He’ll sit with them and play along with action figures, going along with storylines and listening to all the stories they have to tell like they’re the most interesting and important things in the world. He’s incredibly good when the child is upset, knowing exactly how to calm them down, and doesn’t complain when they cling to him for comfort.

Dallas Winston:

Babysitting is Dally’s worst nightmare, and he doesn’t enjoy it a single bit, only sticking around because you insist. Unfortunately for him, kids tend to be fascinated by his cool demeanour, and while he may come across as scary at first, they quickly warm up to him when they catch you scolding him for being rude. If they were to climb all over him, he’d grumble and half-heartedly push them away, wanting nothing to do with their games. However, he can be surprisingly protective over the kids, and if they were to get hurt, he’ll defend them whilst keeping that slightly rough attitude. “Hey, kid, look at me. You wanted to climb that tree, and you fell, man. That’s on you. Just… don’t do it again.”

Steve Randle:

Steve is the fun babysitter. He’s all about burning off the kid’s energy, running around with them and playing games until they crash. He’ll let them suggest games, and he’ll laugh along with every joke and story. Sometimes, just to give you a break from babysitting, he’ll show the kid his car, teaching them about all the parts and letting them sit behind the wheel. However, he also has a stern side and can enforce rules when they’re really necessary. He isn’t afraid to put his foot down and is pretty good at keeping the kid in control.

Two-Bit Mathews:

Two is a big kid at heart, so he bonds with the child very easily. He’ll goof off, telling funny stories, cracking jokes, and playing any game the kid wants in a way that matches their energy perfectly. He sometimes sneaks them snacks behind your back, telling them to keep it a secret. He isn’t super strict, but he can maintain a certain level of control when its needed.

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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keferon · 5 months ago

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*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

#chapter 37 #of 120 or something #I must be like 90k words in haha #large word count is not an intimidation. It’s an invitation haha #I love the fics that I can’t read in just one hour:)#I gotta say I don’t enjoy the concept of making robots into organic life #it’s just my preference #seeing them as humans or animals or whatever feels so fucking wrong #the concept itself drives me off #like. Strongly #But at the same time. This fic isn’t about them being ‘haha cute organics’#it’s ‘oh god. I was turned into something I’m not’#instead of teeheee they’re fluffy #it’s please free me from this fucking nightmare. please let me be myself again.#idk how to explain. I resonate I guess #it often feels very disturbing but the characters are also disturbed #So now I’m kind of stuck reading this fic because I just can’t stop lol #just politely skipping the parts that make me too uncomfortable #also #the body horror is….damn. Impressive. I didn’t expect to read about grotesque fleshy creature turning itself inside out #it’s not even aesthetic or symbolic #it literally looks like a fucking nightmare. Which is impressive also.#the flesh is g r o s s #the beginning got me struggling and skipping #but the intermission is currently ruining my sleep schedule #oh fuck….I usually send my posts to the authors of the fics I read…..but I feel like I might offend the author of Ninth if do this……..#there’s a tiny chance they’re following me….if it’s true then I wanna tell I’m sorry pls don’t take this seriously #your fic got me waay out of my comfort zone #huge points for writing Ratchet. Drift in this fic is…the grossest fucking thing I could probably imagine but Ratchet doesn’t even hesitate #he helps him and he cares for him. Which is…..imma be real my first instinct would be to set Drift on fire to end his misery

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livesincerely · 2 months ago

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Jack’s hauling all six feet of Davey’s deadweight back to his car, trying to shove his lanky, drunken, noodle limbs into the passenger seat—Jesus Christ, he really is all leg, ain’t he?—when Davey kisses him.

Jack freezes. Goes perfectly still, frozen in place, as panic pierces his chest like a shot to the heart.

Because Davey is drunk, drunker than drunk, really, his mouth warm and soft and a little sloppy against his own. He tastes like salt and tequila and that last round of fireball shots Racetrack ordered for the table, tastes like everything Jack’s ever wanted and nothing he’s allowed to have.

Davey makes soft, unhappy noise in the back of his throat, then loops clumsy arms around Jack’s neck and tugs him closer: stubborn, insistent, and drunk, so fucking drunk, because Jack knows better than to think he’d ever do this sober.

But he smells so good—like coconut conditioner and the fancy fabric softener he insists on and Davey—and he fits so perfectly in Jack’s arms and he’s kissing Jack like he wants him. Right here in the parking lot, half in and half out of the passenger seat of Jack’s car, with nothing but the buzzing street lamps overhead to notice Jack’s heart cracking into tiny little pieces.

Davey sighs against his lips, his fingers curling gently around the nape of his neck, and Jack knows.

Knows he shouldn’t. Knows it’s a mistake. Knows that Davey—clever, gorgeous, wonderful Davey—won’t remember this in the morning, and Jack will never, not ever forget.

But he’s only human. He’s just a man, hopelessly in love with his best friend.

And for just a moment, he kisses him back.

00000

Jack forces himself to pull away. Davey looks up at him with big, blue pleading eyes, his mouth wet and red and perfect, his cheeks pink from the rasp of Jack’s stubble.

“Why’d you stop?” Davey mumbles, a swirly curl of hair falling over his forehead. Jack’s heart skips in his chest. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“Dave, I—“ What can he say? What can he possibly say?

He needs to apologize, needs to beg for forgiveness because Davey might be drunk off his ass but Jack absolutely is not, had a half a beer and a single shot, so there’s no excuse to fall back on. There’s no excuse for this.

Davey pats him on the shoulder with all the coordination of a wet mop head.

“‘S okay,” he says. “I don’t want to kiss you either.”

Jack’s pretty sure a baseball bat to the back of the head would hurt less.

He wants to stumble away as quickly as he can, wants to see if Kath and Sarah are still out front waiting for their Uber and if they’d take Davey home instead if he asked really, really nicely and walked away before they could ask him any questions.

Instead he sucks in a steadying breath. Carefully reaches around Davey to buckle in his seatbelt.

“There’s this guy,” Davey says, hushed like he’s sharing a secret. “I wanna kiss him all— all the time. He’s handsome and funny and way smarter than he gives himself credit for and— and he’s just the best, you know?”

Jack does not know. Jack would rather be force-fed his own liver than know any of this.

He starts manually lifting Davey’s legs into the footwells. Tucks his feet in so they don’t block the car door.

“His name’s Jack.”

Jack stops. Wonders, for just a second, if maybe someone did hit him over the head, actually, because—

Because the last ten minutes have been a fucking rollercoaster and he might have the world’s first genuine case of emotional whiplash, but—

His name is Jack.

His name is Jack, right?

#newsies #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #just a concept I’ve been kicking around today #could easily be talked into turning it into a proper one shot if anyone’s interested #I think you can tell from the snippet but I’m going for a miscommunication turned accidental confession-type thing #hope you enjoy!!

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crookedfivefingers · 2 months ago

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3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

#doctor who #tenth doctor #martha jones #david tennant #freema agyeman #(good god. without even meaning to I went into 'psycho stream of consciousness tagging' mode. whoops)#always thinking of that one post #where OP mentions how the writing tries to make it seem like Ten looked right through Martha/etc #which is a good concept for demonstrating his grief. but also isnt what we really see throughout S3 #(not saying he wasn't a grieving MESS because he was. but he's a multi-faceted character and he can grieve AND value Martha simultaneously)#but we see such fierce protective instinct+trust; a bond between them that obviously isn't some one-sided affair #+ his clear intent to impress her/be admired and respected by her (apropos the post that inspired this sentiment)#but RTD obviously isn't the most infallible of writers #*cough* [list of reasons I cut down b/c long] *cough*#He can make Martha say “he's not seeing me/he doesn't look at me” but then you just watch with your eyes and you get a different story #It's like the opposite of when Moffat tries to make you believe someone is super important through bold claims without showing his work #instead RTD tries to make you believe Ten is functionally blind to Martha's existence while showing numerous examples of the contrary #then bring in the novels+myspace blog+cartoon that he all signed off on. Which tie together to create a canon backdrop #basically I said all of that to say this—#it's the whole reason I had to make this blog to get this sort of stuff off my chest (even if it's just for me sometimes)—#Ten not only SAW Martha—he trusted+respected+enjoyed+adored her. And it's a good thing #it doesn't cheapen his grief. I feel like people must think it does which is why I constantly see bad unnecessary takes about them #it just means that Martha was SO important to him and it's ok. they had a killer friendship outside the unrequited minutiae and it's ok #there's even a comic where 'someone' makes him believe she's Martha and he makes her change her appearance because “it's still too raw”#Just saying you don't say that sort of thing about someone whose existence you're all blasé about #Martha already gets fucked by the narrative in enough ways without people totally missing her significance in the Doctor's life #you don't have to ship them to appreciate them on a deeper level #anyway. fuck. if you actually read all of these then I'm so sorry #creating this blog has taught me that there are only like two people who feel the same way about tenmartha matters and it’s fine 😂#but if I didn’t give myself an outlet it would probably form a tumor SO there we are then

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fatedroses · 5 months ago

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When a test of a prince's taste backfires horribly. Or, how Alisaie gave herself psychic damage for not realizing this man may not act like how she imagines and she's suddenly being thanked for giving the worst food on the star to him.

(or, even, indirectly giving Meteor and Tsukiko psychic damage as Meteor refuses to let Zenos eat that god forsaken bread and has to hold him back like a misbehaving cat away from it.)

#ffxiv #sketch #comic #zenos yae galvus #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #adventurer zenos #zenos- who undoubtably hasn't had a lovingly cooked meal in ages- tastes tataru's (HQ) cooking for the first time and inhales it #and alisaie- having to watch this man scarf down THE affront to the gods not realizing he was -very hungry- and -very drained-#im excited to write more about zenos' relationship with food (mainly him not eating anything unless he has to for any reason)#the concept that this man is a two legged apex predator has always stood out to me #so I wanted the first thing in terms of change for him to be him losing his numbness- food being the beginning of it #but also the struggle of Tsukiko and Kukuti trying to prevent the giant depressed super soldier from taking the easy way out of a meal #I also just enjoy writing the dissonance Alisaie has over how she views zenos and how zenos actually is #(also hehe I like the concept that Zenos can stomach archon loaf and the WoL cant)#I love being an omnicrafter LMAO #this also takes place not long after the return comic just for reference

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tiktowafel · 7 months ago

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do you ever think about how all you used to draw when you were 10 was ponies and that you should still know how to do that, then get an idea and proceed to draw something like these in nearly one sitting and it turns out better than any drawing you've done in the entire past month

sooo anyway does anyone have cutie mark or pony name ideas for them?? lol

#(the b girl lineups are older than a month because i procrastinated a lot on doing minor fixes. nothing i drew in the month of june 2024 #is really worth showing it's all shitty doodles lmao)#bnha #class 1b #mlp #?#yui kodai #setsuna tokage #itsuka kendo #ibara shiozaki #(i love how she came out in particular! creature :3)#reiko yanagi #tikto's art #you may be wondering why pony of all people isn't here.#i did draw her! but i kind of ran out of steam so i ended up not really liking the result lol same for kinoko #anyway shoutout to elementary school me i was SO obsessed with mlp. brony stuff was one of the first things i used the internet for #and you know what. i wouldn't say it ruined me it was a pleasant experience #i just read what was basically a polish version of equestria daily and constantly checked the deviantart profile of one (1) specific artist #that i liked a lot #i did watch some weird speedpaints (yknow the horror ones) but i honestly dont remember being very bothered by them i just liked the art #i was just chilling there lurking and never actively participating due to being 10 and afraid of online strangers (good for me tbh)#i remember having an identity crisis though because can i really call myself a brony if i'm a little girl? the target audience of the show?#lmao anyway i would also draw ponies constantly and write oc fanfics (and the ocs were actually my irl friends ponified)#and i even had my own little g5 concept. good times good times #tag story time over god bless enjoy your day

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silverskye13 · 13 days ago

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My brother in law let me borrow Sonic Frontiers [also read: asked me if I had access to a PS5 and when I said yes, handed it to me and said "play this"] and now my two biggest gaming nightmares are merged into one! [Fast paced gaming mechanics and open world map structures]

Anyway, I've been playing for 8 hours.

#spazzcat barks #i also bought sonic x shadow origins #because im... well... going insane i think #i am having so much fun with the edgy hedgehogs #unrelated but i think my favorite version of knuckles is sonic frontiers knuckles #man is both really curious about whats going on and still shoving himself in to protect sonic despite being basically a ghost #we stan a king #knuckles and shadow are currently battling as my fav characters #also? really like sonic as a character?#the idea of a hero who is reckless and who cant say no to a fight no matter how bad an idea it might be #but who still manages to be a paragon of optimism despite the pitfalls of his personality #cool concept #it reminds me of something? a 90s anime protagonist maybe?#i keep thinking Luffy but i watched like... 20 episodes of One Piece so i think thats wrong #maybe Edward Elric if he werent so jaded #oh! to whom it may concern: i promise im still enjoying Hermitcraft and working on RnS #this does not mark a major shift in fandoms lol #ive just hit a... we'll call it a mental play period #im having fun with a new thing -- especially after the old thing was becoming tedious #[having a hard time writing no time for drawing etc]#end of rhe year rut #this is passing it nicely though

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danieyells · 1 month ago

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Acimo unscrambles into Camio, and Camio is depicted as standing on burning coals when answering questions, which I assume is the aspect of it that grants Ritsu his pseudo-invulnerability

And I imagined that when Ritsu made his wish it was something like to be unshakeable and impenetrable. He mostly meant it figuratively but as @ritsu-shinjo puts it, being immune to being punched in the face makes Ritsu very smug.

And I imagined that Camio gave him a trial. Just a little one. Maybe even before he made the wish--Leo said the demons chose them after all, so I can imagine that Camio tested Ritsu before he was ever in a situation where he would be desperate enough to sell his soul for a wish.

Ritsu found himself in some vast void or pit in hell or something. But the only thing of note between him and the bird-demon watching him was a little road of burning coals. And all Camio asked him to do was walk to where he stood across the coals. If it hurt too much or he was too frightened the path was narrow enough that he could go off the side. But if he truly believed himself worthy of the change he desired--if he really wanted to be able to help his father--he need only walk through the coals, for the trials ahead of him in life would be equally difficult, if not moreso. His soul was the only cost. But he would live normally. Should Camio need more of him, such as to use his soul while his body lived on or some such, he would know.

Ritsu, of course, requested this contract in writing. It was provided and signed(Camio 'signed' with one of his little clawed bird feet in red. . .'ink'--unsettling but not all that different from a hanko stamp Ritsu supposed) and Ritsu looked at this coal path and his bare feet(this was definitely a dream because his pajamas had mysteriously disappeared and he felt unbothered by his own nudity) and. He walked. And it burned but he was determined. He was worthy. He wasn't going to back down.

And the coals started to give way and sink a bit. They sank his ankles and they burned the whole of his feet. But he kept walking through them, trying to lift his feet up further to unsink himself. But he sank further, down to his calves. It wasn't too late to turn back and escape--but he refused to show weakness or doubt in himself. He wasn't going to show weakness to some nightmare. He kept walking and sank further--knees thighs hips and finally one step just dropped him wholly into a pit where the coals swallowed him completely.

At first he was terrified--but he realized it. Didn't hurt? It was a little hard to breathe, the fire was swallowing his oxygen, but he wasn't in pain. And if he moved his arms or legs the coals moved out of the way. He felt extremely warm, like burning, but not pain and feom what little he could see of his own hands through the coals he wasn't. Burning at all. His body was fine.

He kept walking in the direction he'd been facing. He felt a wall in front of him and when he pressed his hand against it he felt the coals covering him fall away to the ground around him and he was back in his room, pajamas back where they ought to be, no hellish void and his skin cooling down, the only coal left burning in his own hand with the little demon bird stood atop it.

It sang and for a moment he understood. Congratulatory. "Well done, Coalwalker."

The bird flapped its wings and the coal in his hand turned to the contract they had signed, Camio itself becoming a thick smoke he inhaled with a sharp gasp but didn't feel any need to cough from his lungs.

"Should you need the agreed upon strength again, you need only recite the incantation: Acimo."

"Acimo. . . ." He felt stiff, but not tense. Heavy, but not weighed down by his body. Sliding, and tilting, and-- "aah!"

His mattress slid and tilted sideways off of his bed, depositing him onto the floor with a thump much louder than he was sure was truly necessary, his bedside table sliding along the floor some from his head thumping against it. It didn't hurt despite that he felt his elbow collide with the floor--and when he squinted into the dark, hearing his mother running down the hall towards his room in response to the noise, he was certain he saw a divot in the wood where he'd cracked it on impact. None on the rest of the floor at least, but it seemed the desire to be 'unshakeable' had manifested in an increased density.

"Ritsu! Are you alright!?" His mother called into his room. "I'm coming in, okay?"

"Yes, that's fine--I'm alright. . . ." He wasn't in any pain at all. Not from his elbow in the floor or his head hitting the corner of the table. No pain, no blood, no disorientation beyond what was expected from sliding down suddenly--and the sudden lights from the hall and his room light turning on once his mother had opened the door and run over. She reached out to examine him, worried for his wellbeing. Noted his tension--the stiffness that hardened his body when he recited that incantation--and he reassured her that he was simply tense from suddenly waking up falling down. Something guided him to how he could disable the power and he 'relaxed' with a few deep breaths before his mother could worry over him further, although she still insisted on a quick trip to the emergency room to make sure he hadn't had some sort of seizure or fractured anything in his fall.

They replaced his bedframe and had the floor repaired in the coming weeks.

On the way home from the emergency room with his clean bill of health, his mother pointed out to him how rare and odd it was to see a thrush so far into the city. It tweeted at him, and he knew it was for him though he no longer understood its song, and flew away.

It would be a long time before he found use for the physical power he'd been given, but knowing that he was practically immune to physical pain bolstered his mind. Unshakeable. Impenetrable.

He need only become a fully fledged lawyer--the best lawyer in Japan--and he would absolve his father of the mounting accusations against him. This wish was only a piece in his true wish.

Nothing would get in his way, now that he had walked the coals.

#danie yells writing #danie yells at tokyo debunker #ritsu shinjo #i didn't mean to make it this way but it ended up kind of fic-like lol #this concept has actually been in my head for like. months i think.#i don't think i ever really wrote it down #camio calls ritsu 'coalwalker' in the rare event that they speak or that it talks about ritsu #it isn't always a tiny bird either! it becomes like an anthro birdman demon. or just a humanoid demon #it doesn't just look like a bird but i cba to describe the little horned thing in my head haha #he doesn't look very intimidating when he's just a tiny bird either way but like. aura or whatever.#looks like an mostly normal little black thrush until it needs to lol #anyway. enjoy this little thought or whatever. maybe i did post something about this headcanon before idk.#ritsu is camio's little fledgeling coalwalker and they kind of trust each other. camio's not a bad guy just like how shax isn't #(bonus fun fact i keep typing 'camio' as 'caimo' which is not correct lol)#anyway i've been staring at my phone for like two hours writing this haha i'm gonna get food and do other things!

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necrotic-nephilim · 5 months ago

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for the ask game (3)

au where all robins develop a mental link after fighting some magical criminal of the week. what would they see in each other's minds? what secrets and repressed feelings do they discover? how would they deal with it?

for the ask game!

oooh, i love telepathic links that end up revealing secrets. especially with a family like the Batfam, who are usually so convinced they're good enough at reading each other to not have many secrets kept. so weird reveals are always fun

if i did this, i'd do DamiTim. just because of all the like, "deep dark feelings that are being hidden" for Robin shipping, DamiTim is the most fun for me. you expect DickTim or DickJay or JayTim, even DamiDick. but there's something that's so enjoyable about Damian having his feelings forcibly outted. not just to Tim, but to everyone. the way it'd be an active landmine none of them knowing what to say but all feeling each other's reactions. i honestly think Damian would try to punch somebody about it. (also, if you do a history of TImSteph where they've had sex, Damian would be directly linked to Steph's memories of how Tim was in bed, so that's fun as both something horrifying and enlightening just to screw with his feelings some more.) would they end up together? in my head probably, but it'd be weird and likely toxic bc how do you date someone you know inside out and know exactly what they think of all your flaws and what parts of you they obsess over. the answer is not very well but hey, the sex is good-

i think Jason *directly* feeling how everyone felt about his death would really rock him. he's heard all the apologies, but part of him isn't convinced there's truth to them. so to be crushed by Dick's *grief* over his death would be a come to jesus moment for him. but on the less fun flipside, you have him feeling how Dick feels about him *now*. because Dick doesn't really *like* Jason and deep down, sees Jason as a lost cause. that's his "deep dark secret". and Jason would feel and know that from the one person who he still wants to believe in him. i really do think Jason would have the Worst Time with all this, overwhelmed with everyone's intimate and complex feelings over his death. Jason is a very defensive person when it comes to his death and how reactionary he gets when other people make it about them, not him. so for Jason to have to constantly deal with that in his head, i truly do think he'd lash out a bit. the arguments. yelling at Dick and feeling Dick's guilt and snapping bc Dick has no right to feel guilty now. feeling that Tim viewed Jason as a failure. it's just a damaging mindspace to be in and man do i think Jason would take a While to recover.

oddly though, i think it'd be a good bonding moment for Steph and Jason. we really don't get much exploration of Steph and Jason bonding over dying. bc sure, Steph didn't actually die, but she *did* experience the social death where everyone believed she was dead and mourned her as such for a good while. she also felt *directly* responsible for her own death. a lot of blame falls on Steph for War Games (for the Doylist reasons of sexism but yk) and Jason feels responsible for his own death for walking into a trap. but unlike Jason, Steph had no suit in a case, no memorials, her name held no infamy. so i think she deserves just a bit of righteous fury about how dramatic Jason can be while she just has to move on bc hey, it's not like she *really* died. and she buries those feelings well, but not well enough to hide them from a mental link. and Jason, who hasn't really considered Steph before because he was so wrapped up in his complex over Tim, confronts those feelings with her. if anyone is going to know how he feels, it's going to be her. you could do it platonic or romantic, but i do think when Jason sinks to his lowest, she's the one who snaps him out of it, both with tough love and genuine compassion for his situation.

for the less serious crack of it all: they're all going to have far too intimate knowledge of each other's sex lives. everyone's gonna know Dick has fucked Slade. everyone's gonna know Jason has fucked Talia. in my heart, i believe Tim has slept with Anarky (Lonnie, not Ulysses) and everyone would *know* that too. absolute judgment all around. it's the spider-man meme of "wait you've done WHAT with WHO" and honestly, it gives a nice distraction for the more serious feelings. it's a palette cleanser they can default to. like when the fighting gets a little too serious and they're cutting too deep for comfort, someone's going to blurt out "well at least i didn't fuck Deathstroke." and the whole moment goes awry with laughter. bc i do think, at the end of it once they get through the worst of the angst, they'd be closer for it and self-aware of the ridiculous nature of all this. it's enlightening, in a way to see how they all felt about their time as Robin and the baggage/trauma they hold. even the ugliest feelings they hold for each other don't completely suffocate the fondness/respect.

that said, knowing the baggage/trauma. oof. i don't think Dick has ever fully opened up about his history with Mirage/Tarantula/Liu and now it's forced to sit in the open. Damian has never admitted the worst of being raised in the League. Tim hasn't fully faced the suffocating image of his dead father and his deep-seated want to kill Boomerang. all those ugly truths they stamp down bc well, either you're a vigilante or you're a well adjusted person, are out in the open now. and it's ugly and gruesome to force those thoughts to be shared. they all want to comfort each other for different reasons, while simultaneously not wanting their own trauma to be acknowledged. it'd be fun to see who'd instinctively react to whose trauma first. because it's an overwhelming rush of information, and you just naturally get pulled in certain directions. i think Damian would react to Dick's history of sexual abuse first, whereas Jason would be reacting to the murderous rage TIm is trying to fight off. Tim is reacting to just how much guilt Steph carries about War Games and all of it is very crunchy. there's so much they'd all have to talk about and it'd take days for them to address it all, between the arguments about the ugly parts. would they come out stronger for it? yes. but only if they didn't kill each other in the process. i hesitate to do a "and they come out one big happy family" ending, bc it's not very in canon, but i do think the bond of the Robin mantle is something special. even when the link is broken, they hold onto a freakish understanding of each other. they react and move in sync, can fight together without needing words. are they emotionally on the same page/have they forgiven each other for the worst of it? absolutely not. but they've got each other backs. it's a very much "if you called i'd drop everything to save you. but also we don't have it in us to hang out casually." bond, which i think is deeply underrated in fanfiction. sometimes, you can care about people but you have to do it from a distance.

#necrotic festerings #damitim #potential jaysteph #sladick #batcest #i actually really love this. i might try to write it.#like there are SO many complex interpersonal things happening and god it's good.#also writing this reminds me of tags you put on the post about batfamily fanon #where you said you shipped jaytalia noting how I critiqued it in the meta #and i never got to clarify but i do actually think jaytalia *could* be fun #it's just one of those ships that falls into the “i love the concept but i don't think i'd enjoy it in canon” category for me!#esp the way it was handled in lost days bc it dropped out of NOWHERE and felt ooc given talia's motivations #and i love shipping it but *only* using it for a “jason fucked damian's mom joke” always irks me bc. lord get new material yk #those are my thoughts on that anywya #this is so crunchy. forced mental links as a plot device. aways so good.#like the end result would be messy as fuck but in a loving way #the batfam can love each other fiercely without having sitcom movie night type moments yk #bc their bond isn't domestic it's shaped by their vigilante lives #they know each other as vigilantes first so like. they struggle to connect as normal ppl even if they love each other #and know each other that personally #it's nuanced. it's fun.

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doyelikehaggis · 26 days ago

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25 Days of Sleighpairs: Paige Krasikeva x Violet (Teen Wolf) + “Chocolate”

Requested by @mariedemedicis

"I have a surprise for you."

Paige lit up as soon as she laid eyes on Violet, slipping into the empty music room and closing the door behind her. She kept her hand behind her back for dramatic effect.

"I like the sound of that."

Putting her cello aside, Paige raised her eyebrows and waited - impatiently - as Violet dropped into the seat beside her, their knees touching. Finally, she produced the gift, wrapped up in brown paper with a deep purple satin ribbon tied around it. Paige's favourite colour, of course.

"You know Christmas isn't for another week, right?" she teased, but she eagerly took the present.

"It's nothing big," Violet said quickly, watching her delicately untie the ribbon, making sure to keep it intact. The paper was a different story.

As soon as she got into them, Paige lit up like the Christmas tree that she always complained her family put up too early. Violet liked it; it was definitely better than her foster parents' attempts to "make her feel included" in their traditions. She forced the smile to stay on her face, but as soon as Paige started squealing in delight, it didn't take much effort.

"I love these," she said, already opening the box of chocolates. "They're my favourite kind."

"I know," Violet said softly.

Paige lifted her gaze to her, and her smile stretched. She leaned over and kissed her cheek, startling her. But Paige didn't seem to notice as she pulled back, saying, "This is the best gift ever. I'm totally going to eat these before Christmas, you know that?"

Violet laughed, trying to ignore the warm flush beneath her skin. Paige popped one in her mouth then insisted that she eat one, too. And she could never say no to her.

They stayed in the music room, messing around with the instruments. Paige didn't do a whole lot of proper practicing, but she didn't seem to mind Violet's distraction. As they were mid-laughter, there was a knock on the door and a head popped around it. A boy. His beaming smile fell a little when he saw them both sitting there.

Violet was about to ask if he wanted something, but Paige spoke first with a roll of her eyes. "Derek, what are you doing here?"

"I was just coming to see if you were in here," he said with a shrug, trying and failing to be totally smooth. "Wanted to say hi. And see you."

Violet's stomach turned. Violently. She glanced from him to Paige, trying to gauge her reaction - annoyance, right? She hated Derek Hale, they both did. He was loud and annoying and was always disrupting the class.

But Paige was smiling. "Well, now you have. So, you can go."

"Right. See you later."

He left, but Paige was still smiling. Violet coudn't muster one. Her heart was almost beating too fast to hear her as she said, "I forgot to tell you" and launched into a recollection of how he had talked to her and what they had said the other day. The chocolate aftertaste turned sour in her mouth as Paige's cheeks turned pink and her smile grew wider with every word.

Finally, when there was a pause, Violet asked, "Do you like him?"

"What?" Paige rolled her eyes again and scoffed. "No, definitely not. I mean, he's kind of cute. In an annoying way. But I don't like him."

She avoided looking at her. The bell went, perfectly in sync with Violet's heart as she watched Paige get up, suddenly worried about being late for their next class. She waited for her, holding the door open, but Violet knew, deep down, that she had already lost her.

#teen wolf #paige krasikeva #violet teen wolf #paige x violet #violet x paige #25 days of sleighpairs #rowing the rarepair rowboats #rarepair rowboats #maridemedicis #OKAY SO #I love the concept of this pairing??#I have absolutely no idea if this was the kind of thing you had in mind when you requested them (probably not)#but I decided to go a little au with it and age violet up #so she went to school with paige and derek #and she and paige were like best friends at school and had known each other for quite a while #and violet was a little in love with her #and then derek. derek came along and got paige's attention and suddenly violet had lost her best friend in more ways than one #because then she was dead #and violet knew what had happened (I haven't decided how she knew but she just did. maybe werewolves killed her parents as well idk)#but she knew and then suddenly she had this pure hatred and rage for the supernatural because they took the one person she had left #thus her becoming an assassin and everything #I was torn between aging violet up and ressurecting paige (because that's fun too) but decided this had more angst purposes #I genuinely could write a whole fic about this au lmao #my point is: this is a great ship. I love it. hope you enjoy!! <3

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deoidesign · 9 months ago

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Hi, I kind of have a question, Adam said that can't walk in the sun when doesn't drink blood, but what exactly happens? Do vampires just burn immediately, begin to be more sensitive to sunburn or is it another kind of thing?

so, in time and time again I really wanted blood to be something of a medicinal need for vampires. it's not a 1:1 metaphor of course, please don't try to think of it that way, but it's how I conceptualize it.

He needs blood to go in the sun, to heal, to "be something of a human again" and it also grants him the ability to time travel, shapeshift, compel others...

Without blood, he can't do these things. So, to be honest, without blood vampires would just... die. They can't exist without it. being in the sun uses blood, its dangerous. it wears you down. it makes you weaker. it can kill you!

I realize this ends up making my vampires feel weak, but... it's a metaphor for chronic illness. They have limited energy and if they do not take the time and the 'medications' they need to recover, they'll become weak or die. They have to manage their limited energy.

there's extreme privilege for vampires who have steady access to blood, like Adam does. His access to blood lets him time travel, transform, go in the sun constantly, etc. Vampires without as much access have to become nocturnal, they get stuck in one place, they have to be careful because even a small cut can cost precious resources...

A desperate vampire might end up hurting someone for what they need. a vampire with people who are willing to help them can get by, or even thrive. a vampire with none of these will die.

I know it's not the most satisfying answer, but it is my answer! My experiences being chronically ill are very much at play here.

#I dont want people to think too much about it as a metaphor for chronic illness #cause. OBVIOUSLY 'monster who kills people' is kind of loade #but as you can tell in my writing I'm sort of doing my own kinds of vampires #idk. I think within the confines of my story it's a metaphor I'm comfortable with people reading #but within the broad scope of vampires as a concept not so much #I mean even within the confines of my story I think that it has severe limitations as a metaphor #just. yknow it is the internal logic I'm using and the intent I have #asks #anon #also you dont have to start all your asks with 'hi i sort of have a question'#its okay to just ask me things #pretty sure these are all coming from the same person and I'm pretty sure I know who #not to freak you out just #its a tell haha #its ok to just ask me things I promise #I enjoy talking about my work #I'm happy to get the questions

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princess-of-purple-prose · 4 months ago

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Fish, 7 (For your prompts! ❤️)

Hi, anon!! Thank you for the prompt, you were the very first one to send one in! 7 was, again, the wildcard, so I randomly generated a different number to land on Yue Qingyuan (from Scum Villain)! I have no choice but to dedicate this to @bytedykes, because I told her about this prompt and she said “yqy pet fish mental health speedrun” and we went, uh, a little insane about it. Enjoy some yuefang, folks!!!!

“Mu-xiong,” Yue Qingyuan says. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you available?”

“Yue-xiong is never a bother,” Mu Qingfang says warmly. “And I am, actually, yes. Is everything okay, Yue-xiong?”

“I think I need help.” A bit dramatic, perhaps, and Yue Qingyuan hates to trouble Mu Qingfang on a rare day off, but Yue Qingyuan and impulse have never been the best combination, and he would appreciate a second opinion.

Mu Qingfang’s voice turns hard. “Where are you? I'll come right away.”

“What—?” Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone like the blank call screen will tell him why Mu Qingfang suddenly sounds so serious. “I'm at home, but—”

“I'll be right there,” Mu Qingfang says, and hangs up.

Yue Qingyuan stares at his phone for another second, then lifts his gaze to his sparkling new aquarium. His new betta, white and black and resplendent of fin, stares back. Was his crisis of faith about his viability as a fish owner really so deserving of such urgency…?

—

“So,” Mu Qingfang says. “This was your emergency?” He looks about as unimpressed by the betta as it does by the two of them.

Yue Qingyuan feels obscurely like he’s being scolded. Mu Qingfang is one of the nicest men he knows, but that just means that his censure takes the form of a blunt instrument of mass disappointment.

“In my defense,” he points out meekly, “I didn’t say there was an emergency. Mu-xiong just assumed.”

“That’ll teach me,” Mu Qingfang huffs, but at least he looks amused. “Yue-xiong should get used to asking for help more so this gege doesn’t have to panic every time he does ask.”

Yue Qingyuan’s mouth almost drops open. He can only hope his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Er—well, I asked this time, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Mu Qingfang allows, looking something horribly close to fond. Yue Qingyuan swallows and tries to hurry on.

“So—not an emergency, but I do want your opinion,” he coughs out. “I’m having… doubts. About the fish.” Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows contract. Yue Qingyuan rushes it out. “Do you think I should keep it?”

“Yue-xiong…” Mu Qingfang looks politely incredulous. “Why does my opinion matter? The fish is already yours, isn’t it? If you don’t think maintaining its upkeep will be feasible, that’s one thing, but… Surely Yue-xiong did the research before getting it?”

He doesn’t sound judgemental, but Yue Qingyuan feels his cheeks warm. “I did, but I wasn’t planning on getting a fish; I was only admiring the tanks. There was a salesperson who was… very insistent.”

Mu Qingfang regards him doubtfully, which is fair. Yue Qingyuan towers over most people he meets, and his bulk only further adds to the impression of immovability. It’s only when he opens his mouth that it becomes clear how spineless he actually is.

Yue Qingyuan falters. “I had thought… I thought it might be nice.” The bettas had seemed so majestic in their tanks, iridescent monarchs of false grass and plastic coves, and Yue Qingyuan had thought, wildly, that one might be rewarding to keep, might breathe a touch of life into his immaculately sleek living room. The whole affair hadn’t even been expensive by his shiny new standards, forget difficult to physically arrange. It was only when installation and set-up for his new aquarium had finished and he was left to watch that jewel-bright being swim disaffectedly through its new home that doubt had seized him, all-consuming and black. He had, admittedly, panicked a little after that.

(Yue Qingyuan’s apartment is very large, and very clean, and very empty. It holds the barest amount of decoration and muss to qualify as lived-in rather than a snapshot from a magazine ad. The fish may, in fact, be the only thing in the entire place which really qualifies as his. No wonder Yue Qingyuan wanted to jettison it from his life as soon as he got it.)

Mu Qingfang’s expression hovers between concern and simple confusion. “I’m sure Yue-xiong will be a more than adequate caretaker,” he says, more gently than Yue Qingyuan and all his neuroses probably deserve. “What’s this really about, Yue-xiong?”

Ah. There it is. Being the mildest person of Yue Qingyuan’s admittedly sharp-tongued social circle doesn’t preclude Mu Qingfang’s wit from being as keen as the scalpels he works with.

“I don’t…” Yue Qingyuan falters. How to express to Mu Qingfang how manifestly unfit Yue Qingyuan is to care for any living creature at all? He changes tack. “I think he hates me,” he admits dolefully.

Mu Qingfang stares at him for a long time, long enough to imply that he’s reevaluating certain opinions about Yue Qingyuan’s intelligence. “Yue-xiong, with all due respect to your new pet—it’s a fish.”

“Fish have emotions!” Yue Qingyuan argues. He flushes at the volume at which it comes out, and at the way Mu Qingfang’s eyes go wide-eyed in startlement. But the salesperson had been very insistent about that, as well. “Bettas are intelligent animals. They dislike certain colors, apparently, and they’re very sensitive—ah, to environmental disruptions, that is. And—”

Mu Qingfang’s eyebrows are still high, but his face has relaxed into a smile. “It sounds to me like you like it quite a bit already. Isn’t that reason enough to keep it?” His tone curls with sudden mischief. “Have heart, Yue-xiong—you’ve hardly known each other for a day! Give it time to adjust to you, and I’m sure you’ll win it over as surely as you do everyone else.” And he grins, sure and easy in his trust that Yue Qingyuan won’t fumble and shatter something so small and monumental as a life that he could cup in his palms.

While Yue Qingyuan is still dazed by that, Mu Qingfang’s eyes alight with interest. “Ah, Yue-xiong—what have you named it?”

“...”

Mu Qingfang’s face falls as devastatingly as it had lit up. “Yue-xiong…”

“Mu-xiong is aware that I was unsure of whether or not I’d keep him!” Yue Qingyuan is terribly aware that his ears are now heating up to match his cheeks. Mu Qingfang’s ensuing laughter does not help with that matter.

Yue Qingyuan is not very good at holding onto things. More often than not, he makes a mess of whatever he’s set his clumsy hands to, lets it fall right through his scarred fingers. But Mu Qingfang’s words ring through his head: Isn’t that reason enough to keep it? And, well, isn’t it? Surely Yue Qingyuan is adult enough to follow through on this. Maybe happiness can be look like his new betta swimming up to the tank to observe the new colorful form moving in front of it, can come as easy as Mu Qingfang quipping that his knowledge about fish is clearly lacking and vowing casually to read up on bettas to be a better fish uncle.

Yue Qingyuan buries a smile and walks over to let Mu Qingfang know that bettas can be trained to follow fingers around. The betta’s clear preference for Mu Qingfang over Yue Qingyuan is as good a marker of intelligence as any fun fact the pet shop worker could have given him. Yes, Yue Qingyuan thinks with a smile—he thinks he’ll be keeping this after all.

#yqy in canon: i make impulsive decisions of a scale where they torpedo my entire life #me: got it. in a modern au he makes expensive impulse purchases and then returns them immediately after #bc he can't conceptualize doing things for himself and also has no idea how to spend all his money he doesn't know what to do with #(this is suchh a vague modern au lmao like mqf is obv still a doctor #but i didn't write yqy as his boss here and am not sure what he does in this world or why he's rich now #and i have no idea who the fucking pet shop salesperson was either. i think it's sqh though)#don't worry about it okay? just enjoy the yuefang and the fruits of my and nik's agenda to make all our fave sect leaders fish owners #i personally see mqf as older than yqy! in this au he thinks he could be really into yqy #but he respects that yqy doesn't seem to be looking for a relationship (and that he has some shit going on that he hasn't seen fit to share #with mqf yet)#so he's content to stick to some mild flirting while enjoying their friendship #meanwhile yqy is totally divorced from the concept of attraction (directed at or coming from him)#so he panics every time mqf flirts with him but has no fucking idea that that's actually what's happening on either end #they would be so good together :)) mqf is going to be such a good fish co-parent :)) this fish is going to get these two together okay :)))#the betta is a black dragon/orchid; i couldn't decide so it's up to you #writing this was kinda funny bc the fish could and probably should have been a metaphor for sj #but i wanted to write smth yqy-centric that didn't directly allude to him even once #and i succeeded!!!#the entire reason i wrote this as modern au was bc i thought of mqf calling yqy 'yue-xiong' and went insane btw #OKAY SHUTTING UP NOW. THANK YOU AGAIN ANON!!!!!#asks #anonymous #my writing #svsss #yue qingyuan #mu qingfang #yuefang #yqy tag #betta blues

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