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ayanna-wild · 4 years

Text

A Place To Call Home

Word Count: 1557

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, possible trigger, fluff

A/N: Request from anonymous, And thank you all so much for being so supportive, screw the haters, you guys are amazing and I truly couldn't ask for better readers!

Tag list and Request are open!

Summary: He seldom came to this part of the city, where the people who resided would sooner rob him then help him. But he had a favor to collect on. While he waited to cross the street, he notices a small crowd of people and there you are at the center, torn clothes, dirty, and giving away all the money you had just collected from the crowd who had bought your art. He can't help but be curious and you soon find a persistent devil tailing after you. Wondering why you gave everything when it was clear you had nothing.

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Lucifer sighed as he stood impatiently on the sidewalk. This light always seemed to take so long to change, with how old it looked he was surprised it even functioned at all anymore. He'd have crossed the street already, light be damned, if he didn't think someone might run him over. He wouldn't put it past anyone in this part of the city. Most watched him like greedy vultures, waiting for his demise, so they could swoop in and collect from his misery.

A small crowd of people gathered around someone who was sitting on a blanket. He didn't think much of it, they'd been there a while. He turned his attention back to the light, just in time to see it flicker before fizzing out all together.

"Oh bloody hell."

Lucifer glared at the wretched thing, looking both ways to see if he could safely cross. He wouldn't even be here if the Detective hadn't asked him to use one of his favors. He was beginning to regret agreeing. He'd been seconds from stepping off the broken concrete, and onto the street when he threw one last glance over his shoulder. The crowd had dispersed, and he saw the person at the center was now gathering their blanket. He watched you closely as you walked a few feet down, handing the cup of money in your hand to an elderly woman.

The two of you seemed to argue for a moment, but ultimately it seemed you won and you draped the worn blanket you carried over her shoulders. Lucifer watched you walk away curiously before changing his direction. He approached the older woman with a kind smile.

"Excuse me, do you know who that was?" He asked politely.

She regarded him closely for a moment, almost suspiciously.

"I do. What's it to you?"

Lucifer smiled at the woman's attempt to be intimidating.

"I simply wish to ask her a few things is all."

He held his hands up, trying to show her he meant no harm to her or you.

"Her name is Y/N, she lives not far from here."

"And does she do that often? Give her money away like that?"

The woman shrugged, peering into the cup you'd given her.

"Yes, sometimes to me, sometimes to other people, I always tell that girl not to worry about me. She's worse off than I am. I've got my coat for the winter, but she insists on giving away her stuff. Her hard-earned money, she's talented, if her situation was different she'd have made a name for herself by now."

Lucifer was even more intrigued now, and he glanced down the street.

"There's a soup kitchen close by, poor funding but it provides at least three meals a week. Hardly anything, but it's enough to keep some skin on her bones."

Lucifer frowned a little at that, and the elderly lady began to gather her stuff.

"It's the alley by the old deli, you can't miss it, she's draped this old blue tarp over a few crates. Bit rough, but it gets the job done."

Lucifer thanked the woman before going on his way. He looked around the area, searching for the place she had described. He found you, placing an unused trashed bag over a hole in your tarp. You didn't notice him lingering as you taped the bag down.

"Not exactly a five-star hotel is it?"

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to face him with unease. Lucifer took a step into the alley, making you take one back.

"Maybe not, but it does the trick."

He watched you shiver, saw the goosebumps on your skin as you stood there.

"I don't have any drawings left to sell if that's why you're here."

Lucifer looked around the place you called home.

"You don't have much of anything by the looks of it." He hummed.

Your unease was gone, replaced instead by annoyance and you crossed your arms.

"It's better than what I had before... where I was before."

Lucifer frowned, tilting his head.

"Anyway, if you're just here to comment on my living situation than kindly fuck off."

Your words were bitter, a stark contrast to the actions you had displayed earlier. Lucifer walked closer to you, but you didn't seem as hesitant this time.

"I apologize that was rather rude of me, I assure you that isn't why I'm here."

"Then why are you?" You looked at him skeptically, like you didn't trust his words.

"I suppose your act of selflessness quipped my curiosity so, I've come to ask you why."

You looked at him confused and a little lost, and he continued, further explaining himself.

"You gave that woman all the money you made, from those drawings I'm assuming you spent hours making. Then you gave her your blanket, which by the looks of things was your only source of warmth for the winter, despite how tattered the thin fabric was. I simply wish to know why that is. Why share everything when you have nothing to give?"

You stared at him a moment, studying him as you tried to gauge if maybe he had ulterior motive beyond his question. However, it seemed he really was just curious.

"Her name is Edrsia, she's almost seventy-years-old. She's not on the streets by choice, her son took everything she had and pawned it off. Her husband passed years before, and she couldn't afford even a shoe box size apartment. She helped me, when I first started living on the streets. So, I give her what I can, whether I can spare it or not."

You expected him to be satisfied with your answer, maybe even leave you alone, but your response seemed to have the opposite effect.

"Yes but why? From what I can tell you're barely making it yourself. I simply cannot fathom why you'd give up what little you do have. Just because she helped you once, that hardly means you should risk your own well-being to return such a small act."

You smiled a little, offering a small shrug.

"I guess because it's just the human thing to do. I don't need a good reason to help someone, just a reason."

Lucifer pondered over your answer silently and you glanced back towards your makeshift tent.

"It's supposed to rain tonight, I really should-"

"Would you like a place to stay for a while?"

You almost tripped over yourself when you heard that.

"What?"

"Not for free of course, you see I rather like your art, and my bar could use a bit of...artistic flare."

You suspicion didn't go unnoticed by the handsome man, and he gave you a charming smile.

"The choice is yours, I'm merely offering you a warm place and a small job."

You mulled it over, he didn't come off as the type of person to play a joke this cruel. Yet, you suspected he had some underlining goal to this.

"What do you get out of this?"

Lucifer grinned, your question making him like you all the more.

"It's been my experience that humans can be rather selfish creatures, very few offer any real selflessness. If nothing else you can at least teach me a bit more about this side of humanity."

The deal seemed almost too good to be true, and a part of you wanted to refuse. But your shaking hands and the numbness in your limbs told you that you couldn't afford to be stubborn, not unless you wanted to freeze to death.

"Okay."

"Marvelous! Then if we have a deal-"

You shook your head, not moving to shake his outstretched hand.

"Not yet. I'm only agreeing if you help Edrsia, she doesn't have good health, she can't survive another year out here."

Lucifer once again seemed surprised, but he nodded regardless.

"Consider it done, now do we have a deal?"

This time you did shake his hand, and let out a yelp when he tugged on your arm pulling you to his side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leading you down the street.

"Goodness you're chilled to the bone darling, here take this."

Lucifer released you to remove his jacket, but you shook your head looking almost ashamed.

"I live on the streets, showers aren't a luxury I can afford."

He ignored your protest draping the material over your shoulders, despite your words you quickly pulled it tighter around you.

"I don't mind my dear, it's not your fault."

You looked up at him smiling a bit.

"Thank you... I never got your name."

"Oh dear how rude of me to skip introductions, my name is Lucifer Morningstar."

"It's nice to meet you Lucifer, I'm Y/N."

He raised an eyebrow, but the smile never left his lips.

"No last name?" He inquired.

"Does it matter?"

He hummed a little at your answer but didn't pry.

"I suppose not, well come on love, let's get you out of the cold."

You didn't argue when he placed a hand on your back, and you fought back grateful tears. Lucifer watched you from the corner of his eye, a soft smile on his lips, his heart swelling at the hope in your eyes.

Maybe you could teach the devil a thing or two about the better side of humanity.

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Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @star-trek-is-my-lifesource @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #luciferonfox #lucifernetflix #luciferonnetflix #lucifer morningstar oneshot #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x you

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werejusttouchingeachother · 4 years

Text

Divine

Req: would you mind writing a Sub!Ten smut where reader gives them a handjob and it goes from there? The scenario can be whatever you feel is best but the switch (dom+) in me has been quaking + something with a really dom reader + any whiny subby nct or exo member that first comes to mind? + pegging

Summary: art student!Ten gets assigned a project with you for your Photography class and although his ideas for the concept initially make you wary, you eventually see the silver lining once he invites you back to his place

Pairing: sub!Ten x dom!reader (both are bi/queer/sexually fluid)

Genre: smut (m)

Words: 6015

Tags: nudity, cursing, handjob, edging, pegging

A/N: I combined quite a few repeated reqs I’ve been getting for sub!nct and pegging in specific so sorry if this took way too long! I haven’t gone full feral dom in this the way I like to (because wbk im a hardcore dom) since i’ve noticed many on here have boundaries with it/not used to it so since this is my first proper sub!member fic, I’m just easing into it ok--i’ll go harder or less next time depending on the response this gets

You raise your hand to knock on the burgundy door, hesitation creeping up your mind and effectively stopping you. Your fist hovers mid-air as you straighten your dress with your free hand and pull out your phone to check your makeup again.

When Ten approached you at the library yesterday, you certainly hadn’t expected him to call you back to his apartment.

Well, then again, you hadn’t expected a lot of what Ten had said at the library when he sat across from you while you were working on your assignment.

Chittaphon Ten is nothing less of popular at your university—with a double major in Art and Dance, a minor in Photography, it’s no surprise that both students and faculty were always constantly in awe of how he seemed to always have his shit together, scoring impressive grades, being extremely sociable and generally was the most well-rounded person that you’d ever seen.

His crazy attractive features weren’t a drawback either.

Like most girls, you admired him from afar without ever making a move. Not because you were too shy to do anything—Lord knows you weren’t, and so did a good majority of the students who you’d been with—but because he was always surrounded by people, the life of every party he went to, the one who never had a problem getting laid and the one whose attention required too much effort.

Which is why you were extremely surprised when Ten sought you out at the library yesterday. He’d called your name, which you didn’t even know he knew until then. It made you recall the first time he’d said it—one of the many faces that you’d been introduced to at the freshmen’s party during your first year at university.

He’d been the cool friendly popular sophomore, a beacon to all the lost freshmen and you’d been one of them as you exchanged names, later drinks and then, you were pretty sure, a tipsy dance together towards the end of the night.

That was the extent of your interaction—with the exception of the friendly smiles and casual ‘Hey’s as you passed each other in the hallway. What’s even sadder is that most of the memories from that night aren’t even clear to you due to all the shots you had downed—it’s only when you saw all the blurry pictures on Instagram the next day that you realised he’d danced with his hands around you but you couldn’t remember even feeling them, nevertheless the dance.

Needless to say, Ten was probably the only guy to ever make you reconsider the decision to drink at parties.

Regardless of all this, you hadn’t expected to be paired with him in your Photography class that you two happened to share this semester. You never thought he’d attend much since it was only an elective—moreover, attendance wasn’t even compulsory—but you should have known better, of course perfect Ten was there.

And of course, on the one day that you’d skipped classes, you and Ten had gotten a paired assignment.

“The concept,” Ten said in a hushed voice as he leaned over the table at the library, making your gaze unknowingly rivet to his mouth. You had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his as he continued, “The concept for the assignment is Biblical influence on art.”

Still, you’d nodded. You’d shrugged it off in stride.

At least, you did until Ten said the following words:

“I have an idea. Everyone else is going to be at churches and cemeteries and cathedrals and basilicas. For the architecture and lightings. I was thinking, since we both are studying Art, we could paint on you to make you look like a Michelangelo sculpture.”

You’d blinked at him, wondering if you had misheard because he was whispering so lowly. You’d opened your mouth and closed it again, gaping like a fish. When he’d seen your obvious confusion, he repeated the last part, making your eyebrows furrow and then inhale sharply as you realised he was serious.

“Just hear me out,” Ten started before you could start yelling in the middle of the university library. “Think about it. No one would do such a unique concept.”

“Yeah, because it’s crazy?”

“Its art, Y/N. Crazy is kind of what gets you recognition.”

“This is an assignment that isn’t even accounted for twenty percent, Ten. It’s not even going to get published. Make it make sense,” you said in a flat voice.

“Imagine if it does, though, because it’s that good,” he muttered, widening his eyes at you to further emphasise his point.

You didn’t agree. You didn’t disagree either but the way you’d shaken your head and quickly stormed out of the library with an excuse that you needed to get to class let him know that you weren’t exactly in favour of the whole idea.

Then he’d called that night. It was later than you’d expect anyone to call—especially to discuss an assignment—but for some reason, it had worked.

You’re not sure why you agreed. Maybe it was because he’d actually made some good points over the call.

Or maybe because his voice had sounded so lulling over the phone, you’d found yourself nodding along without even paying attention to what he’d been suggesting. You agreed to meet him after your last evening class the next day at his apartment to ‘get it over with as soon as possible’.

Right now, you stood outside his door and tried to recall what all he had said last night. You were wearing a wrap-around dress that dropped only till your knees—the easiest thing to get in and out of—and had washed your hair so that it hung around your face. You’d scrubbed and shaved every surface of your skin until you were polished and squeaky clean, smelling like fresh soap and your mildly-scented lavender perfume.

You took a breath and checked your reflection for the millionth time in just half an hour on your phone’s screen before sighing and knocking on his door.

There was a shuffle of steps and then the door opened, Ten poking his head out and smiling at you.

“Hey,” he greeted softly and held the door open. “Come on in.”

You slowly entered, your mind racing with multiple thoughts as you closed the door behind you. You heard him mumble that he’ll be right back and to make yourself comfortable as he headed to a room at the end of the hallway.

You entered the first room to your left that he’d gestured at, your eyes quickly scanning the place. You immediately notice how he’d drawn all the curtains open and can’t help but smile at the very obvious attempt to have cleaned up—everything had been pushed to the corners of the room and things were thrown haphazardly to a side to clear the floor.

Biting back a smile, you turn right as he enters and hold your hands up to stop him before he starts speaking.

“Before anything,” you start, lowering your raised hands when you notice he’s listening. “Explain to me entirely what your plan is for the project. All of it.”

He nods and grabs his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You listen attentively as Ten explains how he thought it would be cool if he painted your entire body like a marble sculpture with a sheet draped over your body—painting over the sheet as well for a hyper-realistic effect while you posed like a statue.

You bit down on your lip at the idea of getting naked in his apartment with only a slinky garment to cover you, eyes moving from his phone’s screen to meet his. You can see the question in them and he even gives you a polite smile as if to tell you that you can always refuse if you’re uncomfortable with it.

But beneath that, you can see the challenging glint: he is daring you to back down because he knows you’re on unfamiliar grounds with him. He’d surely been naked many times in his apartment with several mutual friends of yours and so had you back in your own place but never with each other.

And maybe it was that or maybe this exciting air of ‘what if this went somewhere?’ and ‘what if one of us leaned in closer?’—but you didn’t want to back down.

So you gave him a firm nod, relishing in the way his eyes slightly widened at your affirmation as you turned to head for the bathroom that you’d seen when walking in. You turn at the last second, right as you’re near the door to see Ten staring at you as if baffled that you’re actually agreeing to this and you ask as nonchalantly as possible, “Ten? The sheet?”

“What?” He blinks before realising. “Oh, right, right, sorry.”

He grabs an ivory-coloured sheet that laid neatly over the back of a chair and hands it over to you. You still as your eyes fall on the silky satin material you held in your hands, the fabric almost slipping from your fingers because of how smooth it was.

You slowly raise your eyes from the sheet to ask him what exactly you were supposed to do with it and stop when you notice that his eyebrow is raised, expression apprehensive as if to wait for you to drop the sheet and leave his apartment.

Plastering on an overly sweet smile, you nod in thanks and turn to the bathroom.

Once inside, you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you give yourself a pep-talk.

You weren’t backing down. There was just no way—especially when there was a good chance that this was all in your head and you were just making it into a bigger deal than what it actually is. It could just be about the project and Ten’s perfectionistic tendency wanting the highest grade.

So you slowly disrobed from your floral wraparound dress, hanging it over the hook on the back of the bathroom door. You hadn’t put much makeup on except for some gloss on your lips and some mascara—not wanting to be completely barefaced but at the same time, not going fully out.

Taking a deep breath, you take the satin sheet and stare at it as you contemplate how to wrap it around yourself.

You settle for wrapping it around your body, under the arm similar to how you usually do with a towel. You try to wrap it twice but the material is hardly enough to envelop more than once fully around your frame.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and have to force yourself to not get back into your comfy dress and jump out the bathroom window. The material clings to your body like a second skin and despite being layered twice around your front, your nipples still poke through due to how thin and supple the satin is.

Sighing and straightening your back, you turn to make sure that the knot at the back is fastened tightly and feel glad that you’d had the sense to shave your entire body spotless earlier today before coming here.

You meet your gaze in the mirror one last time, narrowing your eyes slightly as you take a deep breath and get your game face on. You walk to the door and step out, immediately feeling goosebumps rise on your skin at the sudden change in temperature from the cool bathroom.

You re-enter the hall and immediately notice Ten fight every instinct in his body to react at your appearance as his eyes swiftly rake over your entire form before quickly flitting back to your eyes.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you stand in front of him and he hesitates before finally saying, “Uh. You. That’s not actually how I thought you’d wear it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting against the urge to cross your arms over your chest defensively because you knew that would only draw more attention towards your breasts.

“What did you think then?” You ask in a deadpan tone and Ten grabs his phone from the table, showing you an image of a marbled woman sculpture that had a similarly thin cloth adorning her body except it fell over one shoulder and was held tight by pressing down the other arm. Moreover, she was postured by leaning her hips against a short pedestal and arching her back with her head raised upwards.

The garment covered her chest and stopped short at the very top of her thighs—barely covering anything but exposing her curvy hips, thighs and sides in their full glory.

You unknowingly release a loud sigh of frustration before nodding. Determined, you reach back to unknot the cloth but Ten stops you with his hand, saying, “Wait, its fine.”

Your hand is caught underneath his, and you look at him with confusion. “What?”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, lowering his hand from your shoulder. “This is better cause I have to paint your shoulders anyway and they’re both revealed this way. We’ll paint your entire body first before putting the satin over it and paint that last.”

“Um,” you say softly, nodding as he gestures for you to sit on the chair. You slowly sit down and contemplate crossing your legs but decide against it as that would cause the material to hike up further than it already is. “Okay.”

Ten stands above you, dipping a brush with thick bristles into a palette. You keep your eyes on his face, watching him carefully and don’t fail to see the way his breath slightly catches when he notices your intense gaze on him. You try to bite back a smirk as he leans over you and presses the cool brush against your shoulder, lightly stroking it over the skin in an experimental brushstroke.

“Could you lean your head back?” He asks you, his voice considerably lower.

“Mhm, sure,” you softly hum in agreement as you arch your neck back, noticing the way his grip falters on the brush as he presses the brush more firmly against your shoulder. The contact with your skin mixed with the air that had suddenly grown thick around the two of you made slight bumps rise along your arms and you feel Ten’s gaze dart to your face, having noticed the effect.

Yeah. This wasn’t about the project. Your senses were tingling and even if you knew nothing else, you could smell sexual tension from miles away.

You deliberately sigh softly, your chest heaving with the release of air and feel the brush still against your skin again. You sneak a look at Ten and notice that he’s completely stopped faking it, watching your face carefully.

You lower your head and turn it in his direction, feeling both your breaths intermingle from how close your faces are. You’re just about to lean in when he says, “It’s not working.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “What?”

“The paint.” You glance down at your shoulder to see that the colour was slightly faded and almost runny, not in the thick layers that they should be with the amount of strokes Ten had just made.

“Your skin,” he said, thinking as he leaned back slightly, promptly breaking the moment that you just had. “There’s something that’s not allowing the paint to settle. Did you put something before you came here?”

You think for a moment before answering, “Uh, yeah, moisturiser. Lotion. Is that it?”

Ten swallowed thickly, nodding at your words as he stepped back. “Do you think you can remove it with body wash or soap? I can’t paint your skin otherwise and it needs to be layered thickly for the marble effect.”

You stare at Ten, eyes narrowed as you tried to figure what game he was playing here. You’re almost tempted to just stand up and grab him, press him against the desk and kiss him hungrily.

Did he just want you to shower here? Was he going to walk in? Or was this to just have you smelling like the same sweet-scented soap that he always smelled like?

Or was this really because he was concerned with the project and didn’t want your Vaseline bodycream to stand in the way of a perfect grade?

Did he even want to sleep with you in the first place?

You stand up abruptly, unable to take the million thoughts flooding into your head. Turning around, you made a beeline for the bathroom again while mentally cursing him.

If he was playing hard-to-get, this was the longest you’d ever held out for someone you were interested in sleeping with, despite how much you loved the game.

You’re Y/N. Sure, Ten had a reputation as the campus heartthrob with nights of guaranteed fun and pleasure but so did you—you had entire groups of people who would attest to your skills in the bedroom.

Except you didn’t know right now. The signals you’d been receiving all night were mixed and you couldn’t tell reality anymore from your own fantasies of taking Ten and having him in your own way.

You wished you were right—that he was really interested in sleeping with you. Because you couldn’t get the pretty images of Ten whining and mewling softly out of your head, reminiscing the way his Adam’s apple had bobbed nervously every time he swallowed when he noticed your gaze, loving the way he’d slightly faltered as you’d breathed softly.

You wanted to ruin him so bad—you could feel your core clenching with desire just from the thought of it.

You don’t realise you hadn’t closed the door behind you and it’s only when you turn around, catching Ten standing at the door that you realise.

You stare at him, feeling a slight tingle run through you as you gazed at him. You could see your own reflection on the mirror from your peripheral as Ten leaned on the wall beside it, his eyes transfixed on you.

“How is it that we’ve never ran in the same circles?” He asks, cocking his head.

Is he finally taking the bait?

You smile at his words, crossing your arms on purpose this time. “What do you mean?”

He falters slightly and you know it’s to fight the urge to lower his gaze from your face. He clears his throat, saying slowly, “I mean, we're both...”

“Hoes?” You offer, raising an eyebrow.

Ten blinks, surprised at your word choice. “I was going to say ‘the same’ but uh, sure, I guess that applies too.”

You chuckle, leaning your hip against the sink as you grin at him. “It’s cause we run in different circles that rarely interact with each other and the ones that do are comparatively lesser.”

Ten frowned at that, throwing your earlier question back at you. “What do you mean?”

“You fuck more guys and I fuck more girls.”

Ten’s eyes shot open, a light brush creeping up his cheeks at your bluntness and making you smirk slightly.

You think for a second, remembering all the times you’d spent with girls who were switches or leaned more towards dom. “You’ve slept with Amber, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “Taeyong?”

You nod. “Hwasa?”

“Of course. Mark?”

“Duh. Dahyun?”

“Obviously.”

You smile, glancing at the mirror as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “All right, then. I’ll shower now.”

You start to close the door but his hand is quick to grab your arm, stopping you effectively. You lift your head quickly to meet his gaze, able to smell the paint that was lingering on his clothes and unable to think with the need to just kiss him.

But you had to think, you had to control. He’d toyed with you enough so it’s only fair that you return the favour.

He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief, unable to say the words that he’s thinking.

“You’re…” He pauses before hesitantly asking, “That’s it? You’re just going to shower?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, playing genuinely confused. “... Yeah? I asked all that cause I was curious and I never knew you were such a power bottom. So are both Mark and Taeyong so I’m guessing that didn’t work well for you. Unlike the girls you slept with, who are all switches.”

He nods, his fingers still wrapped around your forearm. “I know. But they never... they never...”

He trails off and your eyes widen as you realise what he’s trying to say. “Whoa. What? Really?”

“What’s that expression supposed to mean?” Ten demands, narrowing his eyes at you. “You dommed Mark and Taeyong?”

“No,” you scowled before reluctantly explaining, “I mean I did. But not as much as I wanted to. They chickened out in the last second and we just fucked in missionary.”

Ten hesitates, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip nervously. “How... how much do you want to?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you feel your heart skip a beat, a sense of excitement suddenly rushing through your blood. Your eyes are transfixed on his lips, now glistening with his saliva and you can’t help but imagine them parted wide open, gasping and moaning.

“Why?” You ask, your voice husky with arousal as you lower your lashes at him. “How far do you want me to go?”

“How far can you go?”

You raise your eyebrow challengingly. “Farther than Dahyun or the others would ever dare going.”

He grabs your waist then and your hands are already on his shoulders, slamming him back onto the door.

Your mouths meet heatedly and he moans as you press your body completely up against him.

Ten’s hands are gripping your hips tightly as you trail your one hand down his chest, between the two of you. Your hand passes over the waistband of his sweatpants and you palm his growing erection roughly. Ten gasps aloud and the sound is music to your ears as you take the opportunity to slip your tongue inside his parted lips.

Your fingers grip his length over the soft material of his pants and he’s twitching even with the minimal contact. Ten’s hand grabs your neck and pulls you away enough to breathe heavily, “Bedroom.”

“Yes, let’s go,” you mutter hurriedly and you grab his hand, pulling him in the direction of what you assumed to be the bedroom—the only other room in the small apartment.

You sit on the edge of the bed and yank him to you, loving the way a soft gasp leaves his mouth as he almost stumbles into your lap. Hesitantly he sits on your thighs and you shake your head, noticing that he still had his sweatpants on.

“Take the clothes off, sweetheart,” you say sweetly but with enough firmness to immediately make him get off your lap and peel his shirt off. You lean back with your hands on the bed to support you as you stare at him, watching him as he stripped.

You stand up when he’s bare in front of you, taking his hand and pushing him onto the bed before crawling on top of him.

Ten sits on the edge of the bed with you on his lap and you place your knees on either side of his thighs. You grab the hair on the back of his head, gripping the locks tightly in your fingers to yank his head back roughly and quickly move your mouth around his slender throat.

It doesn’t take long to find the sweet spot that has him moaning, his chest jerking up with his gasps at your relentless lips. You lick a stripe from his ear to his clavicle, sucking on the soft flesh where his shoulder and neck meets.

Ten's whimpers are the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard, his fingers having bunched up the satin sheet around you as he grips it tightly. The material gives away easily and next thing you know, cool air is hitting your skin as the satin is now fisted in his grip. Your legs are splayed over his, feeling his warm skin against yours as you kiss around his neck. You lower your mouth to his clavicle, sucking on the skin enough to leave bruises that you’re sure will darken by tomorrow as you mark him. Ten’s head is thrown back in pleasure as you leave hickeys all over his throat and you use the distraction to slowly roll your hips, rubbing your core over his growing erection. Ten gasps at the sudden sensation and you smirk against his skin, pulling him back hurriedly by his shoulders.

“Y/N,” his voice is a shaky whisper as they leave his lips and you hum in response, kissing him again deeply in a way that let him know you were going to absolutely devour him. Your hands find his hair again and you hold him firmly to you, moving your lips against his and letting your tongue explore the warmth of his mouth in a way that left him dazed and breathless when you finally pulled away.

You settled on his knees, leaving enough space between your bodies for your hands to quickly reach down and wrap your fingers around his length. Ten is deliciously responsive—bucking into your touch, hands reflexively reaching out to grip the sheets behind him tightly and moaning softly.

You’re certain that he can see how lust-crazed you are with the way he looks underneath you, his eyes all big and pleading as he waits patiently for you to move your hand, to go faster, to do anything.

So you do.

You’re gentle at first, barely doing much as you swipe your thumb over the pink head. You take your time, admiring the smoothness and length of his dick, swallowing the urge to just take him into your mouth already as you move the pads of your fingers lightly over his length and stroke him leisurely. You watch his face as you do so, loving how Ten’s eyes dilate with the frustration or pleasure or both, you weren’t sure. As his breaths quicken, you remove your hand and smirk while lazily using just your finger to stroke up and down, loving the way he was twitching even with just a single digit on him.

His whines grow louder and you finally give in, wrapping your hand fully around him, suddenly moving it up and down so quickly that it had him breathing harder as your pace suddenly transitioned. Ten’s hands gently came up to hold your hips and he raised his torso from the bed to lean his head into your neck, warm heavy breaths hitting your skin. He whimpered as you lowered your other hand to his balls, fondling them while stroking his erection. His chest started heaving and you could tell he was close from the soft “ah’s” that were leaving his lips, almost in a way that made you think he didn't know he was making them. His eyes were closed tightly, head now leaned back and fingers clenching the sheets so hard that his knuckles were white and you can’t recall when he took his hands away from your waist and pulled his head back from your neck.

You watched him carefully, feeling yourself grow wetter as he came closer to his high and right when he twitched in your hand and his chest jerked up, his entire skin flushing as he panted, you immediately stopped and pulled your hand away completely, disengaging contact.

Ten’s eyes shoot open and you have to bite back a smile at the way he looks utterly breathless and crestfallen at the stolen orgasm.

You take a breath as you crawl over his body, pushing him back by his shoulders and resuming the kisses on his throat and neck. You let your hand tease up his stomach and chest, feeling the way his slender body shivers beneath your fingers at even the slightest feather-touch as you mutter lowly into his ear, “Where are your toys?”

“Bedside drawer,” he whispers breathily and you pull your mouth away from the reddening skin of his neck as you move across the bed to the small wooden drawers.

You grab the strap-on that you found and the bottle of flavoured-lube next to it, closing the drawers shut as you keep them on the bed. Your eyes fall on the beige satin lying at the foot of the bed where it had slipped from Ten’s fingers and you reach across the bed for the material.

Ten watches you with his chest still heaving slightly as he tries to steady his irregular breathing and you grab his wrists, pulling them above his head and binding them together with the same satin that had been around you only an hour earlier.

You adjust on his lap so that your slit is perfectly aligned with his dripping member, enjoying the way he breathed harder as he felt your heat. You moved your hips in torturously slow circles over his length, sliding it up and down as you watched it glisten beneath you with both your fluids while you busied your hands by rubbing the lube in between them and over the strap-on.

“Fuck,” Ten moans aloud and you almost moan in response at how glorious he sounds—his angelic voice cursing, all soft and desperate for you.

You slid down his body and Ten hissed as your hands that were now cool because of the lube made contact with his cock. The head was flushed an angry red and you almost felt sorry at how sensitive he was already despite not even having gone as hard as you usually do.

Ten’s hands are fisted tightly, fingernails digging into his palms as you support yourself above him with both your hands on his shoulders while you kept rotating your hips over him. His eyes close as you grinded slightly against the tip, spreading your thighs and pushing a bit harder so that the head of his erection would slip inside your slick walls just the briefest fraction before you moved again.

Ten whispers curses again and you finally lower your hand again to wrap your fingers around him.

“Ah!” Ten groans as he bucks reflexively into your hand and you don’t give him a second as you start moving your hand over his length at an almost merciless speed, stroking him quickly and roughly. Ten’s eyes blow wide open at your sudden intense stimulations and lower your other hand down further, feeling his pink hole.

The lube in your fingers helps you to easily stick your finger inside and you feel your own arousal grow as he clenches tightly around your single digit while your hand still strokes him to another orgasm. Hearing his breaths grow quicker as he nears his high, you gradually decrease the speed of your hand while still fucking him open with two fingers now.

Ten is mewling and whining on the sheets now, arms slightly squirming to touch himself for relief when you denied him yet another orgasm. His thighs move under you and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Keep moving and I’ll never let you cum,” you warn and he immediately stills at your words, his entire body going still beneath you. You smile slightly in approval at his compliance and lean down to pepper his chest with kisses.

Ten’s breath echoes softly around his cosy bedroom as your mouth finds his nipple, your tongue darting out to circle the nub in quick motions timed with the pace of your one hand moving on his member and the other fucking him open. You look up to see Ten’s eyes roll back in his head at the overstimulation, back arching off the mattress and you immediately stop your ministrations on his cock, sitting up properly to not miss the reaction.

And its priceless.

Ten’s face is redder than you’d ever seen it, a delicious blush spreading over his entire cheeks, neck and down to his chest and you notice how his eyes are slightly teary and unfocused.

You lower your face to his then, pressing a reassuring kiss to his parted lips as you remove your fingers from inside his ready hole.

“Get on top of me, baby,” you mutter as you pull away and Ten nods, disoriented and dazed.

You fall to his side on the bed, grabbing the strap on and putting it around you as you rub the lube, spreading it over the surface of the cock. The thought that Ten probably fucked himself on this after a night that was less that pleasurable and satisfactory with a girl who didn’t want to fuck him the way he wanted to enticed you immeasurably.

Ten’s hands are shaky as he throws his leg over your body lying back on his bed, knees pressed against your sides. Slowly, he lowers himself down on the length of the dildo, eyes closing and lips parting with a loud moan that he couldn’t suppress as he feels it fill him up.

He opens his eyes, gaze shifting to your face and you watch the surprise that falls across his delicate features as you cross your arms behind your head, not touching him.

Understanding that you wanted him to fuck himself on top of you, Ten leaned back and you felt his hands on your lower legs as he used it to support himself up while he starting moving up and down.

Arching his back, you watched the dancer’s slender and beautiful body manifest into the most breathtaking art that you’d ever seen, more beautiful than any marble sculpture as he bounced and fucked himself on you, mouth open as he sang the most sweet-sounding curses and mewls while his angry-red cock slapped against your stomach with every bounce, dripping pre-cum onto your skin.

You raised your hand to his face then, shoving two of your fingers into his parted lips and he immediately closed his lips around your digits, choking slightly. Your own eyes grew hazy with lust as Ten fucked himself faster, thoroughly wetting your fingers with his tongue as he moaned around them while moving faster.

His grunts grew louder and hoarser—you could tell he was close so you grabbed his hip with your free hand and raised your own hips, bucking up into him. Removing your fingers from his mouth, you lowered them dripping with his saliva to his chest and tweaked his nipples that you’d kisses sensitive earlier.

Ten’s body jerks and he groans loudly as his dick twitches, shooting spurts of thick heavy cum over the length of your torso. He keeps cumming continuously, covering your belly, the valley of your breasts and even shoots all the way to your hair with his sticky white fluids.

You drag your finger over your stomach, collecting the cum and stick your finger in your mouth, humming with pleasure at the taste of Ten’s slightly salty essence mixed with his saliva from when you’d been choking him earlier.

Ten collapses down onto your body heavily, unable to hold himself up anymore and you smile as you wrap an arm around his back.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you start, unable to keep the smugness from your tone, “but did I just ruin sex with a girl for you?”

“Yes,” Ten replied, leaning up to kiss your lips and you smile in surprise at the sudden tenderness in the gesture.

He smiles tiredly, eyes still unfocused as he says, “Yes, you did.”

“We should change our concept, by the way,” you suggested. Ten blinks in confusion and you explain, “For the project. The way you looked on top of me with your back arched like that was pretty fucking divine.”

Ten let out a short laugh. “I don’t know, Y/N, a photograph of being pegged might raise some eyebrows since the concept for the project is Biblical.”

“I repeat: divine.”

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nekoabiwrites · 5 years

Text

It’s (Im)possible

So, @not-so-innocent-bi-sander and I were doing a thing where we randomly generated a couple of numbers and used those to grab a couple prompts from two different lists. It was fun to theorise about the fics we could write, and then... I wrote one :)

It’s kinda sad, but it resolves at the end!

AU: Mutant Pairing: Roceit Words: 1395 Warnings: Implication of prior sex, implication of casual sex, mention of fuckbuddies, deceit is here. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Declan (Deceit) is feeling some stuff for his “friend”, yet he knows that because of what he is... he could bring him down forever.

---

Declan sat on the edge of the bed, the sheets pooling around his waist as he listened to the sound of the shower running in the other room. He caught sight of the somewhat familiar red and white jacket hanging on the handle of his slightly ajar bedroom door and an ache punctured his heart. He was still entirely naked, deep in thought. He had barely moved since his par- friend had left to shower.

“So, I’ll see you again soon?”

A voice broke Declan out of his reverie. He looked up at the man before him, fully dressed, bag in hand, ready to leave the house once more. Declan felt tears welling up but managed to drag a smile onto his face instead.

“Yeah, of course. Just message whenever…”

Declan’s eyes dropped back down to the floor. He waited to hear the footsteps taking that all-too familiar route out of his house. He waited to hear the door shut behind the man leaving him alone once more. He didn’t expect to feel the mattress beside him dip with more weight. Declan’s eyes flicked up to his side, catching the relaxed gaze of the other man who was looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, cautiously resting his now empty hand on Declan’s covered leg in a show of comfort.

“Nothing is wrong, Roman.” Declan retorted, a little too harsh and snappy, though it was clear Roman didn’t take offense from the inflection.

Roman instead moved the hand and rested it around Declan’s bare shoulders, his fingers brushing against the scales that trailed down that side of his body. “You can tell me anything, y’know? We are still friends.” It was said playfully, but the final words had Declan’s body tensing and his body threatening to release the tears that were just about being contained.

“Everything is fine. Nothing has changed.”

“I never said anything had changed.” Roman paused and his loose arm threatened to fall from Declan’s shoulders, “Do you not want to be friends, Dee?”

“No! I do, I just-!” Declan scrambled, doing his best to assure his friend. Yes, his feelings had progressed far beyond friendship at this point, but it wasn’t worth ruining what they currently had by bringing it up. Declan was doing a damn fine job of repressing all of that until today. He was content with laying in his room after Roman left and crying for an hour before picking himself back up. It was… not ideal. But it was the best solution.

“May I be frank with you?” Roman asked suddenly. Declan warily side-eyed his friend but nodded slowly regardless in response. “Over these past few months, I have realised that our relationship has… changed in my mind.” Declan tensed and dropped his head, readying himself for the inevitable response that he’d heard so many times. He was ready to be left alone again. But Roman surprised him. “My feelings are somehow far stronger for you. I feel a connection so much deeper than anything I have felt before, and I wasn’t sure how to act upon it. I wanted to ensure that I didn’t lose you as a friend, but I feel like today is the perfect opportunity to tell you all of this. And to ask you to try dating, with me.”

The scaled man grimaced. One of his hands was now grasped between both of Roman’s and the man was looking at him with starry eyes, as if he already knew the answer Declan wanted to say. He wanted to agree and live a life with Roman… but that was not going to happen.

“What you just asked for… is impossible, Roman.” Declan muttered, tears finally welling up in his eyes.

“What do you mean? It’ll be fine, we can do this! I know it’ll be hard; your mutation isn’t exactly subtle but-”

“I can’t do this to you.”

“What?”

“I can’t put this on you, Roman.” Declan turned slightly, putting his other hand atop Roman’s and avoiding eye contact entirely by staring at the pile of them. “I can’t burden you with all of what I endure. I would not be alright with letting you drop your career and social standing just for me. It would not be fair for me to do that to you, Roman. We should… stay as we are.”

“But-”

“No buts! I would not be able to live knowing I was the reason for your downfall! You’re an up-and-coming solo artist who everyone adores! You can’t be seen dating a mu-” Declan faltered, “someone, like me.”

“That’s it? It’s all on you?”

“Roman, that’s not what I-”

“Did you ever stop to think about what I want, Declan? Did it ever cross your mind that I was okay with all of that?” Roman ripped his hands from Declan’s loose grasp and grabbed a hold of his face, bringing up so close to his own to forcibly show the scaled man every single drop of determination that was pouring from his eyes, “All of that is unimportant. I don’t care about the fame, the money, the career. I would rather have that one person I deeply care for and who care for me the same, than be surrounding by people who pretend to. Please, at least let us try.”

The pair continued to go back and forth for minutes on end, neither budging from their position on the matter. Roman was slowly getting more and more frustrated, while Declan was getting progressively more distressed and upset. It was a stalemate that was only going to be broken by…

Declan shook his head again, fighting hard to stop the tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks. “No. Roman. I can’t. It’s my final answer.”

“Fine. Then I’m done.” Roman stood sharply, grabbing a hold of his bag. He stormed through the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind him, before doing the same to the front door.

The sound echoed through the space, both of them hitting Declan like a punch to the gut. He sat, motionless, his eyes wide. Thoughts raced through his head. He was truly alone again. He had no one. Roman was the only person who he spoke to, the only one who cared. Tears silently slid down his cheeks for a moment before Declan grabbed a hold of his head and screamed in anguish.

Beyond the front door, Roman heard it. He had not left just yet. Something inside of him wasn’t letting him. A part of him truly believed that Declan would come and give in to his true feelings; both of them had been aware of the mutant’s feelings for a while now. All the talk of society and the populace’s opinions had angered Roman, but it was all slowly dripping away as the rain pelted against his skin. Roman’s own tears mixed with the rain drops as he waited, his back resting against the door.

After a few minutes of listening to the loud sobbing, Roman couldn’t bear it anymore and slowly began the walk to his car. He was lost in his thoughts, so much so that he didn’t hear the splashing of pounding footsteps approaching. It meant that when something latched onto him from behind, the man was given a shock. He turned and was surprised to find the still sobbing Declan holding onto him so tightly, as if he were his only lifeline.

Roman’s bag was dropped as he wrapped his own arms around the scaled man, who was slowly falling to his knees in the dirt beneath them. Neither cared about the mess, as Declan was busy rambling to Roman about how he was sorry, how he didn’t want to lose him, how much he loved him and how long it had been. Roman was quiet and listened, doing his best to cover Declan from the pouring rain with his body as the only thing the scaled man was wearing was his dressing gown, which – Roman knew from experience – was not all that thick. Eventually, Roman managed to quieten Declan a little, rocking the mutant very slightly to calm him the tiniest amount.

“It’s okay. We’ll work this out, alright?” Roman spoke softly into Declan’s hair, arms tightening for a moment. Declan only nodded against the other man’s chest, still sobbing violently in the pouring rain.

---

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Roceit #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Creativity Sanders #It's (Im)possible #Fuckbuddies falling in love #what a good trope #Mutant AU

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damienthepious · 4 years

Text

im. heck. this is long. tuesday???!? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. forgive typos i’m RUSHING to get this up before i have to leave for work.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 14)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [ao3] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: A homecoming.

Chapter Notes: These dang things just keep getting longer, don't they? Also I'm emotional. I'm so fucking emotional. Chapter specific warnings for an explicit threat of violence, not carried through with.

Arum insists on coming out to the front room for breakfast the next morning. Saving his strength is all well and good, but if Arum need be confined to that little bed for the entire time between now and their departure, he will certainly not make it that far. Amaryllis was right, that day he attempted escape. At least the view out there is different, and- well. He is comfortable in the room with the cot, by now, but it is far less clinical in Amaryllis' living space. It makes him feel less of a patient and more… more of a guest. Which he should not care about, of course.

Amaryllis relents rather quickly on the subject, provided that he agree to pick a spot and stick to it, until the evening. She is overly concerned with him, not quite paranoid but certainly delving into the territory of what Arum is comfortable referring to as fretting. She scowls when he calls it that, which is gratifying, but it also appears to make her more conscious of how delicate she is being with him, and she rolls her eyes at herself before she helps to lift him to his feet, shuffling slowly out to the table.

Amaryllis and Sir Damien keep their hands clasped between them throughout their breakfast together. Seems inconvenient, Arum thinks, pulling his eyes away from the easy way their fingers interlace. They do not have an overabundance of limbs to work with. Surely they should not impede themselves for such a- a pointless gesture.

They are-

Arum cannot say what, precisely, it is, but he feels as if something is strange between the pair of them. Or- or perhaps that something had been strange, and has now settled. They are sitting closer, and something about their proximity feels… easier. Sir Damien, in particular, seems more calm, though Amaryllis still has a layer of nervous energy to her.

Of course, Amaryllis is not particularly patient. She does not hold the tension inside of her for long, after they have finished eating.

"So," Amaryllis says, and Arum frowns instantly. "So… Damien is gonna be- coming with us for the trip."

Arum jerks his head to look at the knight, and Damien nods slightly.

"Wh-why?" Arum barks.

"Because… because I want to," Damien says quietly, and then he- smiles, soft and odd, and Arum remembers Damien's hand on his chin, despite himself, "and because I do not think it would be safe for only the pair of you to take that trip. Too many potential dangers, on both sides. I am certain that Rilla has discussed- ah, potential ways to disguise you, so that you will be in less danger from… knights."

Damien's voice has gone soft as well, and Arum can see some strange pain on his face, though Arum cannot say precisely what that indicates. How much separation can this creature feel from his own order?

"But of course that does not mean there will not still be some risk, if…" Damien pauses again. "I would feel better, being there. And… I have my part in this, as well."

"Your part ," Arum echoes. "What do you mean, your part in this?"

Damien pauses for a long moment, clearly considering his words.

"I want to see you home and safe as well, Arum. I have… committed this far. I will follow through."

"Committed?" Arum says. "I hardly think this counts as a commitment. You- you have allowed Amaryllis to- you have denied your duty in slaying me-"

Arum cuts himself off with a wince, then glances toward Amaryllis and away again. Damien does not rise to this statement, does not comment or deny.

It is clear, from the mild confusion on Amaryllis' face, that Damien has not told her the precise shape of what passed between the two of them, the previous day. What Arum nearly pushed Sir Damien to do.

"You…" Arum trails off. "Fine. If you should like to come, I do not see what it will hurt. I shall be curious to see how deep your treachery runs."

"Arum," Rilla warns.

Arum winces again, then sighs and looks away. "It is not as if I could stop you, anyway."

Damien tilts his head. Arum can see it, in his periphery.

"If it would… truly cause you distress, I would… I would worry rather deeply, but I would stay-"

"I said I could not stop you," Arum repeats in a sharp voice. "It is not as if you distress me, songbird, I simply- I do not understand."

"Yes," Damien says softly. "Well. That is… fair. It is a… somewhat complicated situation, is it not? But- but I will take this journey with you, if you allow me."

"I said I could not stop you, honeysuckle,” Arum growls, and judging by Amaryllis’ breath of laughter his tone must be unconvincing. “If that is your choice, that is your choice."

Damien's mouth curls slightly, a smile vague but pleasant, and Arum can't stand to keep his eyes on the pair of them together, though they keep drawing back, regardless.

"Very well. I will accompany you, then."

Arum huffs, wrinkling his snout. "I am surprised that your Citadel can spare you. I thought you creatures were rather strictly kept."

Damien purses his lips, then sighs. "We are… currently in something of a lull, I suppose. There was a thread our Investigator General intended to pull, but… well… when pulled, the pattern simply unraveled. There was a rash of monster attacks with similar stratagems, but they've dissipated like mist over the last… during the last few…" he trails off, his tone going blank. "The… the last few weeks."

Arum feels the twinge in his frill, knows perfectly well he is giving himself away, but Damien does not turn his eyes towards him, accusatory or otherwise.

The pause draws long, and Amaryllis is clearly hovering on the edge of words herself.

"Well?" Arum snaps, eventually. "Are you going to ask or aren't you? Go ahead, then. I told you I made weapons against your kind. What, precisely, were these consistent stratagems you were attempting to ferret out?"

"Arum," Rilla says gently, but Arum scowls more deeply as Sir Damien meets his eyes.

“Well, Sir Damien?”

Damien holds his gaze, for a quiet moment. "There were a number of creatures, in short time, utilizing powers of manipulation. Encouraging conflict, stoking self doubt, provoking pain. Assaulting the mind first, in order to more effectively destroy the body."

"Yes," Arum says in a hiss. "Yes, I am certain I created the creatures of which you speak. I cannot imagine any other could have managed to replicate my work."

"The mushrooms," Rilla murmurs, her brow furrowed. "It was- pain. Illusions of things we- things we were afraid of, things that hurt us."

Arum wishes he could burn the grubs a second time. The look on Amaryllis' face is unbearable, but then she looks up at him, raking her eyes over his face, her expression oddly desperate.

"Yes," he hisses again.

"I…" Damien's face goes mournful as Arum snaps his attention back to the knight. "I cannot say that no harm was done by the creatures, that none were killed. I cannot alleviate your guilt in that way-" Arum scoffs, but he cannot deny, not with the way Damien is looking at him. "But… but I can say that none are doing harm any longer."

Arum looks away, too uncomfortable to pretend otherwise. "If you say so."

"Regardless," Damien continues in a low, measured voice. "As to whether or not I may be spared by the Citadel- while the Investigator General searches for a new loose thread to worry over, the ranks await more specific direction, and-" Damien gives a very small laugh, and the corner of Rilla's mouth pulls into an answering smile. "And I very, very rarely use the time I am granted, for leave. More often than not, I am too worried over the prospect of leaving my fellow knights without assistance. So… none were troubled, that I wished to take my allotted time now, to assist my Rilla."

It is more of an answer than Arum expected. In truth, he had merely been trying to rile the knight again. He huffs out another breath, claws drumming on the table.

"Okay," Rilla says, drawing the word out into more syllables than it requires. "Okay. Uh, that seems settled enough for me, I think. This has been awkward enough for one morning. So, Arum, I, uh-"

She pauses, and Damien squeezes her hand, and Arum hears her breath come steadier, again. She sighs.

"So, I was thinking, we should leave either tomorrow or the day after." She pauses again. "Maybe the day after. You're standing better, and Damien's offered his horse, so- you'll ride, and we'll walk. It'll take longer, but even if we had three horses it probably wouldn't be safe for you to ride at speed anyway, you could jostle something open, or-" She bites her lip. "So. You on the horse, me and Damien walking, and- it'll be slow. What is it, two weeks to your swamp?"

"Something… something to that effect, yes. Though-" he clenches his teeth. "When we are close- we only need reach the border, I think, and we will not need to travel by foot any longer."

"The border. Okay. Okay, and, um, with the route we planned the other day, we should be…" her lips twitch into a smile. "We can do this. We can get you home, and then- ah… I've- I've made up a bunch of extra-"

Her voice- cracks a little, and some pain crosses her face. Arum blinks. He does not understand why she would be…

"For- um. For after I- for after we-" she pauses, inhaling sharply. "I made up a bunch of extra salves, and painkillers, and- and a replacement wrap, so your horn will- so your horn will keep together, and a new cast that should last until your wrist is healed and- so you won't have to worry… when I'm gone."

Arum stares at her, at the odd twisting of her almost-smile. "Ah."

I'm gonna miss him, is the only thing.

Amaryllis' voice on the recorder had been so keening and strange, and it had pulled on Arum's heart like his own yearning for the Keep and- and he could not help but believe her. She is … she is going to miss him. She will feel his absence. Such a terribly strange feeling-

And Arum had been honest, when he told her that he would miss her in return. Though, of course, Arum knows that had not been the whole of it. It is not the whole of it, but he will feel her absence, as well.

"Very…" he swallows. "Very forward thinking of you," he manages. "I… I had no fears, of course. And all I require is home, regardless. Seems a shame, I think, to make you waste an entire month ferrying me back and then needing to return. Certainly your other patients will be missing you, with your skill."

"Yeah, well, I may be the best doctor in the Citadel, but I'm not the only doctor in the Citadel. They'll manage." She smiles again, a little less certainly, and Damien squeezes her hand again.

"Do you feel ready enough for the trip, Lord Arum?" Damien asks.

Arum hates the way his own heart turns, slowly, like a key in a lock, every time Sir Damien calls him that. It is ridiculous. It is his name , it does not make sense , but- the way his tone curls around Lord, the way Arum seems to sit at the back of his mouth. Lord Arum. Respectful formality from a knight. It is … strange, that is all. It is still strange.

"I am… as ready as I shall be," he murmurs. "I cannot afford further delay. My swamp, my home, it… it has been…"

"Without its Lord," Damien finishes, gently.

"Yes. My swamp… and my Keep."

Rilla startles slightly, but Arum… Arum does not know why he has bothered to continue concealing the Keep's existence anyway, and Sir Damien has made it… abundantly clear, that his stance has changed. This stiff-spined little human has shifted his footing, has gained a new vantage, as incomprehensible as that seems.

Damien purses his lips, his face going questioning. "Have you… mentioned a Keep before?" He asks. "Or- no. I think- I think you have only nearly mentioned a Keep before."

"Perceptive," Arum grumbles, his tone hovering between irritated and impressed. "Yes. My home, my Keep." He pauses. "I have already explained it to Amaryllis, I do not- I do not feel-"

"You need not explain anything to me, Lord Arum. Home is…" he presses a hand over his heart. Arum hears his breath catch. "All creatures should be blessed with shelter, with home. It is…" he pauses again. "I am certain you will be glad to be returned to yours. We shall do all we can, to make that come to pass for you."

"Yes, well…" Arum glances aside, uncomfortable. "The sooner the better." He clasps his claws in front of himself, then glances towards Amaryllis. "The… the day after tomorrow, you said, Amaryllis. If you think I shall require the extra day."

Amaryllis nods, and Arum does not know what they will do in the interim. He had not been planning, truly, to make it this far. And now he has today, and tomorrow, to worry and wonder about this upcoming trip. To worry and wonder, about the softness of Sir Damien's hand on his chin. About the leaping of his own heart, at the gentleness with which the knight had lifted it. About the prospect of Amaryllis missing him. About all these strange and bitter hungers that have begun to curl within him.

Arum's eyes have found Amaryllis and Sir Damien's clasped hands again, tracking the way that Damien's thumb is brushing soft over the back of it, a slow, comforting rhythm, as Amaryllis' hand squeezes his. Arum's tongue flicks compulsively, and he buries the urge to-

He does not even know. He is not close enough to reach their hands, and what would he do even if he was? Even if he- if he reached out and wrapped his hand around both of their own (his hand is large enough to do so, his fingers longer than theirs, their stubby little mammal things with their blunt nails and their soft brown skin) (Arum knows the softness both of their hands, now), even if he were to do so-

Certainly they would not welcome his intrusion. Certainly not. They are both so eager to see him gone from their lives. And Arum is eager as well, of course, to return to his Keep, to return to his life. He is eager to close the door on this bizarre little chapter-

A lie. Too deep to stand.

He is not eager to close the door on this chapter. He is not ready. Two days. Two days- only two more days in this strange little hut, in this short-ceilinged human construction, full of herb smell and strange baubles and dangerous plants and skillful wordsmithing and a heretical, compassionate little doctor, and her knight.

Arum has never had a place outside of the Keep before, where he felt himself truly safe. Arum's mind is still… halved in a strange way, he still feels the absence of the Keep's thoughts at his edges, still feels where the Keep is meant to fit, where song should shift into… meaning, and affection, and shared memory, and home.

But if Arum could still feel the Keep here, he would be entirely unable to pretend, anymore, that he does not wish there was some way he could stay.

Arum intends to finish the translation, before they leave. It will not be difficult, all things considered. The tome is short, the material arranged in no particular order but with consistent notation for the entries, and he is familiar enough with a decent amount of the species listed that it speeds the process considerably. He needs not even attempt to scrawl the information out in his slightly more stilted attempt at human script, now that Amaryllis is in the room with him again. She simply sets her recorder beside him and he speaks as he works, occasionally drifting into conversation rather than translation, or narrowing his eyes at a particular peculiarity of the dialect, the drifting etymology of distance.

When he turns the page and sees the Moonlit Hermit, he freezes. After a moment, he drifts his claws down the page, tracing the single narrow line that depicts the flower's stem.

So small a thing, to cause so much trouble.

"The Moonlit Hermit," he murmurs, and Amaryllis drops a roll of bandages, the white ribboning off as it unrolls across her floor.

He raises an eyebrow as she scrambles to retrieve the roll, laughing awkwardly, and when she straightens she won't meet his eyes for a long moment.

"Amaryllis?"

"Just- forgot that one was in there too."

He tilts his head. "Why does it matter? What is the Hermit to you, then?" he asks, because if the Universe insists on piercing him through to make a point-

"My- my parents were researching it. It was a big part of their research, actually- the Hermit, what it could do- the potential it had-"

Arum frowns, automatically, remembering the particular results he had pulled from the potential of the Hermit in his possession.

"I've- I've been trying to… to find one," she says, her voice gone small, and Arum forces himself not to stare at her, at the longing on her face. He looks to the book, instead.

"I am afraid there is very little on the subject in this particular volume, Amaryllis," he says, gently, and she sighs.

"That… yeah, I kind of expected that. I couldn't read it, but- I could tell the entry was short. Shorter than most of the other ones, at least."

"It mentions the unnatural fragility of the stem," he murmurs, tracing his claw along the lettering. "Five pale petals, the glow of moonless night, the utter incongruity… hm," he traces the shape of the drawing on the paper again, remembering. "Volumes of this sort so rarely bother to note the sounds. It chimes, as well, at contact or in use. It is not the most beautiful song I have ever heard, but… it suits. Cool, and delicate."

He realizes, after a pause, that Amaryllis is staring at him. He pulls his eyes from the book, wary at her uncertain gaze.

"What?"

"You… you've heard it? You've- you've seen one. Arum- Arum, you've seen a Moonlit Hermit?" She sets her medical bag aside, her packing entirely forgotten. "Arum, please, you have to tell me where I can- how- I have to see it. I have to- to-"

His heart sinks, the hope in her voice too unfortunate to stand. "If it still existed, Amaryllis… I would certainly think it fair payment for the service you have provided me, but- it was destroyed." He pauses, sighs. "I destroyed it."

"You-" she looks too stunned to be properly furious, but Arum suspects that will come soon enough. " What?"

"Those who attacked me," he says softly, "desired to take it for themselves. To use it. Just as I had been using it, of course, to create weapons against your kind." He pauses, exhales. "I wish I could say, Amaryllis, that it had been a choice made of morality, but- I did not yet know you. I- there are many things I did not yet know, when I…" he traces the shape of the petals again, one, two, three, four, five, and his lip curls in an almost smile. "I ensured that our meeting occurred in daylight, as insurance. It was easy enough, when I realized I had been betrayed, to lift so fragile a thing into the light."

"Arum-"

"Spite. I destroyed the Hermit in spite, Amaryllis, because I knew they intended to kill me, and I did not want to give them the satisfaction of beating me, as well. Of taking what I rightfully found. I threw myself into the river for the sake of that same spite. I would rather drown than let them slit my throat, so…"

She is touching his shoulder, now. He does not look at her.

"I do not regret my actions. The Hermit could have… would have done some good, in your hands, of that I am certain, but… I am glad it was destroyed, rather than be misused again. Rather than being twisted to further bloodshed."

Her hand on his shoulder lifts, and she almost touches his face. Almost. He keeps his eyes safely away.

After a breath, she drops the hand, and turns, and returns to her packing. Arum feels his stomach twisting, regret and shame, fear, desire, all of it colliding together within him like a collapsing building, but still he does not look. He breathes and breathes until he is certain that his voice will not shake, and then he turns the page, and resumes his translation.

It feels as if Arum simply blinks, and two full days have passed. Sir Damien wakes before dawn, and Arum, his nerves sharp and heightened, wakes at his careful noise, at the click of the door behind him as he goes outside to run through his routine.

Amaryllis wakes not long after, throwing together a quick sort of breakfast and quietly going through a checklist of their supplies before she comes to, in theory, wake him.

She smiles, clearly unsurprised when she finds him already awake, already digging his claws into the sheets, and the smile stays as she helps him to his feet.

She wraps him in layers. A simple strategy, but simplicity is more reliable than the delicacy of complication, in Arum's experience. He keeps the cape on beneath the rest, and she smiles when she is done wrapping the rest around him. He can see the crooked shape of it through the sheer scarf covering his face.

And then, for the first time since he woke in Amaryllis’ hut, he steps outside.

Arum does not want to look back, to acknowledge the finality of walking away from this hut, of stepping up into the saddle and riding away from this shelter, riding back towards his true home.

He does not wish to look back.

Rather- he wishes that he did not want to.

He turns despite himself as Amaryllis adjusts the robes that hide his scales, ensuring that his tail is hidden as he curls it around his own ankle. He does not mean to, but he turns, and-

It looks so much smaller, from the outside. Squat and friendly and warm, with flowering vines curling familiar across trellises and a clean little herb garden and the mossy stump where Damien likes to sit and compose when he is finished with his exercises, and the curtained window Arum knows the shape of so terribly well, from the other side.

So many days. So very long, he has spent in such a small, strange space. And now-

He cannot imagine that he will ever see it again.

Arum is almost grateful for the ridiculous layers. At least neither of the humans can see the way his face twists, as his heart lurches with the grief of parting.

They travel light; there’s not much they need to take with them. Rilla keeps her medical bag, of course, in case of emergencies or in case the traveling impedes Arum’s recovery in some way, along with her bag of extra supplies she's gonna leave with him when they get him back home. Damien pretty much just has his armor, his bow, and his usual traveling supplies: bedroll, rations, canteen, et cetera. Arum has nothing to bring, obviously. Nothing except for his mended cape, which is wrapped secure around his shoulders beneath the rest of his mild disguise. Rilla covered him in strategic layers, scarves and shawls and large loose pants that collectively obscure his form and face as he sits sideways in the saddle of Damien’s horse, who only required minimal acclimating to adjust to the weight of a monster. Currently, Arum looks enough like an excessively ill person swaddled like an infant, or like a particularly old-fashioned noble, and hopefully they won’t need to do much by the way of explanation on the less-traveled roads they intend to use.

It’s slow going, of course. Anything more than the lightest movement could be a risk for Arum; jostling around on top of a horse isn’t exactly healthy for healing stab and slash wounds, obviously.

Every time they pass another group, Damien looks like he’s about to be sick, face twisting in a completely unconvincing smile and his voice going high and reedy if he tries to greet them. Rilla does most of the talking, for a change, and Arum sits tense and stiff and dignified astride the horse, and occasionally nods through his scarves at whomever happens to be passing by.

Nights are more difficult. They need to wander far from the road to set up camp, and they need to obscure the fire on one side to make it more difficult to see from where they came, to avoid other eyes, and they wait until it is safely dark every night before Arum can remove his layers of disguise and sigh in the open air again. He always keeps his cape safely draped around his shoulders after the rest has been left in a pile nearby, a claw curled along the edge of the fabric as he settles close and warm by the fire.

He’s tired , Rilla can tell. The travel on top of his recovery, and the constant strain of worry that comes from the threat of discovery- it’s no wonder, really. She wishes she could make this easier for him, wishes she could just snap her fingers and have him home to his Keep, but- this is the best she can do, for now. She’ll get him home, long way around or no.

"Sir Damien."

They are preparing to resume their travel in the morning, Damien packing the last of their supplies back up from their makeshift camp while Rilla tends to Damien's horse, and Arum is wrapped already in his layers as they wait for Rilla to return, to help Arum back into the saddle for the day. Damien glances down at the obscured monster, lips pursing nervously, but he does not think the monster is looking back at him. It is difficult to tell, with the layers, but Damien thinks that Arum is looking towards Rilla again.

"Yes, Lord Arum?"

He continues to stare for a moment, and then Arum glances away. His voice comes even quieter, then. "We are still close to your Citadel, little knight," he murmurs. "There is still time between us and my home, and many opportunities for this expedition to fall apart."

"Pessimism will not help the situation, Lord Arum," Damien says mildly.

"Perhaps not. But pragmatism-" he pauses, sighs. "If the worst is to happen, if I am discovered along this mad little journey… Amaryllis must not be seen as guilty for helping a monster. I refuse to have her suffer for this absurd kindness."

Damien pauses, his heart doing a swooping little flip, and he looks at Arum again in disbelief. "What-"

"If we are discovered, they must believe that I forced her to treat me, forced her to escort me home. They must believe that she was made to do it, that I threatened or coerced or- she must not be seen a traitor for my sake. Do you understand me, Sir Damien?"

Damien presses a hand over his heart, presses as hard as the thudding pressing out. He forces his breath to come steady enough for words, just for one sentence. "Rilla would not be happy, with that particular deception," he rasps, looking at his fiance through the rosy morning light.

"That," Arum says with a growl, "is precisely why I am asking you, and not the doctor herself. I trust that you will protect her. I know that you will."

Damien wishes so dearly that he could see the monster's face, just now. That he could see the look in his violet eyes.

"Honeysuckle," Arum says quietly, roughly. "Tell me that I am correct."

"This- this is not like the other day, is it? This is not more of the same, again, more of you trying to- to-"

"This is not an act of self destruction, honeysuckle." Arum stares up at him, or at least, Damien assumes that is the direction the monster is aiming his eyes. "But she must be safe."

Damien inhales, exhales, inhales.

"Rilla would never forgive me, if I caused you to be hurt in her stead. You must know that, Lord Arum."

The monster clenches his hands, his head ducking just slightly. "It is more important that she be alive, to forgive you or not." He turns his head a little further away, then, his voice going even quieter. "Of course she will forgive you, little fool. She loves you."

Damien's throat goes tight and hot and uncomfortable, his heart thrumming and thrumming, and the words boil within him but he cannot say-

Do you think I do not know that you love her as well? Can you not see that she loves you in return?

His lips part, he is going to say something too foolish for their unspoken understanding to survive, but-

Rilla is returning.

Arum's shoulders go stiff, and before she is in hearing distance he mutters, "I must trust that you will do what is right, Sir Damien."

Damien breathes slow, summoning tranquility as best he can, listening to the drumming of his own heart, and he knows that he will. He will do what is right, even if that is not the same as what Arum has asked of him.

Rilla is fairly bored on the road. She can't read effectively while walking, and they only have the one horse. She can only glean so much amusement out of cataloging the wildlife as they pass it by, but Damien knows her far too well to let her boredom sit. He starts reciting as they travel, spinning stories, sharing newer compositions, weaving tales in the air between them, accompanied by jungle noises and the hum of insects.

Rilla sings, as well, when Damien's poor voice needs a rest, and she pretends not to notice when she starts a song and Arum stiffens in recognition. Pretends even harder not to notice when he hums along, when he harmonizes in his low, careful voice. She pretends, poorly, not to grin in delight, the smile tipping her singing voice even brighter.

If she didn't feel like she was riding off to break her own stupid, stupid heart, this would be the most fun she's had on a trip in ages.

Unnatural quiet in the jungle dark, and Sir Damien comes awake with the fingers of one hand already gripped on his bow, a strange and familiar rushing in his ears.

He remembers where he is without strain. He can feel the dirt beneath him through the bedroll, can feel Rilla close beside him, can hear her breathing light.

He can hear little else besides. A stillness hangs in the night air, and Damien feels it. He feels attack waiting, can taste tension on the air. He can almost hear the source. Almost.

Damien breathes slow. Panic is a faraway thing, just now. A faraway thing that cannot possibly touch him. The rushing in his ears has gone slowly rhythmic, and Damien waits, Damien waits, Damien waits for the precise moment. For the strike. For his parry.

His heart. Rilla's breath. The rustle of leaf and soil. The padding, just low, of paws. Damien tenses, poised and prepared and waiting, waiting for just the right moment-

"If you take one… single… step… closer," says a low, guttural, growling voice, and Sir Damien realizes after a startled breath that he recognizes it. He recognizes the voice, because it belongs to Lord Arum, though it has been pitched dangerous as it echoes strange and placeless among the trees. "If you take just one more step… I will make a meal of your entrails while you still live."

There is a pause, a stillness deeper, even, than the one which came before it.

"Do not test me," Arum continues, dark and certain. "These creatures are not yours to hunt."

Another pause. Slowly, slowly, the sense of danger recedes. The night noises of the jungle resume in its absence, the whine of insects and the rustle of small creatures, and Damien knows they are safe again.

Damien has never heard Lord Arum sound quite like that, before. Dark. Dangerous. Protective. And Damien does not feel an ounce of fear, at that voice, though his heart is thudding hot.

Not yours to hunt.

Not yours, he said. Does that mean, then, that Arum considers them his?

Another long pause draws out in the darkness as Damien tries to shake the memory of Arum's voice, as he feels the gooseflesh shiver across his skin, and then there is a noise, shifting close by.

"You are awake, aren't you, honeysuckle?"

Arum's voice no longer sounds strange. It no longer echoes oddly, and the venom is gone from it, leaving the monster sounding only soft, murmuring through the black of night.

"Yes," Damien whispers.

"I did not intend to wake you," Arum hisses.

"You did not," Damien says, just as low. "I… I felt that something was wrong. I woke before you… scared the creature away. Will it return, do you think?"

"Certainly not," Arum drawls, gently. "We are close to my territory now, little songbird, and I know the sorts of scavengers that prowl my borders. I know a coward when I smell one," he hisses. "She expected an easy meal. That, we most certainly are not. She will not try again."

"How…" Damien needs to pause, to swallow. "How did you know I was awake?"

"Your breathing shifted… your heartbeat. I can hear them both from here."

It is difficult, for Damien, not to feel exposed, knowing that. He is certain that his heart is still beating hard. Harder, now.

"And… and did you slip into the trees, to frighten the creature away? I will be compelled to tell Rilla if you exerted yourself while she slept-"

"I did not budge an inch, honeysuckle. Don't be foolish."

Damien blinks, for all the good it does him. The bare hint of stars between the canopy above flickers, just for a moment. "But- but your voice, Arum," he murmurs, and when Arum chuckles low Damien can feel heat pooling odd in his stomach. "You sounded as if…"

"As if I could be anywhere," Arum murmurs , and his voice echoes again, placeless, but close and worrying. "Yes … I told you, honeysuckle, that I had some skill, some tricks up my sleeves…"

Even more worrying than Arum's voice itself: the way the low heat of it makes the answering heat in Damien's stomach pulse.

"A-Arum," Damien whispers, and he releases his grip on his bow, reaching into the dark instead, grasping in the direction that Arum's voice had seemed to come from, for those few words where he had sounded ordinary again. "Where… where are you?"

There is a brief pause, a more gentle laugh in the dark.

"I am close enough to pluck you, still, little honeysuckle," he says in a rumble that rolls down Damien's spine, and he cannot help the way his breath catches, his eyes darting in the darkness as he tries to pin Arum's place. "Have no fear." Another laugh, even warmer. "Unless… unless my proximity is what worries you, of course."

"Arum," Damien breathes, reaching his hand our further.

"I'm here," Arum hisses. "I forget the limitations of your senses. I can see you, blue as you are in the starlight. Can you truly not see me?"

"I…" Damien swallows roughly, feeling Rilla warm beside him, feeling the coolness of the dirt beneath him, knowing that this monster is somewhere, so close by, watching him through the dark. Damien shakes his head, testing.

"How interesting," Arum murmurs, and his voice is still bouncing strange, as if it could be coming from the whole of the jungle itself.

A pause drags out, then, and Damien grasps, feeling across the scattered leaves, towards where Arum's bedroll should be.

Arum's hand intercepts his own, and when the monster laughs soft again, he sounds only close, only ordinary again. "I told you, honeysuckle. I am here."

"Arum," Damien whispers, the texture of scales so strange against his palm, and Arum pulls his hand closer, touching it to- to his cheek, Damien imagines, and he can feel the rumbling of his throat and the rumbling of his voice as he speaks again.

"I did not budge an inch," he hisses again, and Damien can feel him speaking, even as his voice echoes in the canopy above.

Damien can barely focus on the fascination he feels at that, though, because the reality of Arum's face in his hand, again- the reality of the monster laying so close beside them in the dark- it is twisting so- so-

So pleasantly, within him. Damien's mouth has gone dry.

"Go back to sleep, honeysuckle," Arum murmurs, his voice gone quiet and normal again, and he squeezes Damien's hand as he moves it away from his face again. "Go back to sleep. We are safe, I assure you."

Damien believes him instantly. Damien believed him the first time, when he insisted the other monster would not return. He knows that they are safe, that the three of them together are more dangerous than anything the wilds could possibly assail them with.

"Are you certain?" he asks again, regardless, because his heart is racing and he knows that Arum can hear it, and certainly he requires this excuse for the pounding rhythm, and for the way he has not pulled his hand away from Arum's.

Arum has not pulled his hand away, either.

"We are safe," Arum repeats in a hiss. "I promise. Go back to sleep, Damien."

Damien squeezes his eyes shut, despite the dark, hoping that Arum is no longer looking at his face, that he cannot see Damien's expression in the dark.

Damien pretends that he has forgotten their hands, clasped together. He steadies his own breathing, pretends not to feel his own heat permeating Arum's hand, and-

And Arum does not pull his hand away, either.

Arum does not pull his hand away. Not before Damien falls back asleep in truth, at least.

The rumors are true, apparently.

They can see it in the distance when they round the crest of a hill, a gap in the canopy of trees above the road giving them a decent look towards the swamp in the distance that is apparently Arum’s home.

The swamp that is also, apparently, creeping outward.

They can see outcroppings of new-grown swamp greenery that stands out among the wider jungle, pushing past the usual border between the two, and even at this distance Rilla can see the speckling of purple from the blooms that give the swamp its name as well, and from this perspective the growth looks like curling fingers, reaching out.

Searching, Rilla thinks. A desperate hand, combing through the jungle to look for the missing ruler currently bundled up on the horse behind her. She glances back towards him, and even hidden behind the layers of cloth she can see the tension in his frame, can feel the impatient energy radiating from him.

“Almost there,” she says, and he tilts his head down towards her with a sharp breath. “Not much farther, now.”

He nods, and she sees him hesitate for only a moment before his eagerness gets the better of him.

“If one of those- those outgrowths is close enough, we should aim for it. We may be afforded a shortcut. Save further time,” he hisses quietly, and that’s pretty confusing but Rilla nods in response. He knows this place better than she does, after all.

Damien holds his own tongue for a moment before he points out one in particular, a vivid purple growth curling out, and quietly suggests a path they could take in that direction, a smaller road that should take them close.

Arum grows more and more agitated as they make their approach, and they all notice at the same moment that the outgrowths aren't the only strange thing about the swamp's border, nor are they the only new growth. She understands belatedly why the border was so easy to see from a distance-

There is a wall. The foliage on the edge is tightly packed, unnaturally so, the trees interwoven with newer saplings and quick vines, an enormous wicker boundary spotted with bright splotches of poisonous plants (Rilla can tell, even at this distance). Arum picks up a low growl, compulsive and continuous, and Rilla clenches her hands tight but she doesn't warn him against the noise. She doubts any other humans would be coming this close while the swamp is doing… whatever this is, and honestly, she can't blame him for the distress.

He's practically snarling to himself by the time they reach the border, his tail thrashing noticeably beneath his layers, and Rilla's stomach gives a sympathetic twist as Damien carefully, carefully helps Arum lower himself from the saddle.

"Okay," Rilla says. "Obviously this is… less than ideal."

"An understatement, Amaryllis. Look at- look at this! What- what could it possibly-" he gestures sharply towards the wall, then hisses in pain and draws the limb back to himself.

Damien makes a worried noise, an arm still supporting the monster as he fidgets, growling low, and then he eyes the wall with a considering look. "Hm. Perhaps I will close the borders entirely," Damien murmurs, and Rilla doesn't understand his words or his tone until he looks to Arum again. "I think you said that, when I asked what you intended to do when you returned home. It seems that others had similar thoughts, in your absence, Lord Arum."

Arum scoffs, then gently pushes himself from Damien's grip, standing straighter on his own, stiff and strained. "Foolishness. Ridiculous," he mutters as he starts to pull the layers off, unwinding scarves from his neck. "All this will do is draw undue attention-"

The sound of wings above compels Damien to draw his bow instantly, and his eyes dart to the foliage above more quickly than Rilla can follow, fixing on the source, the wide wingspan and gleaming threat of talons as they descend, and Damien's stance tightens, drawing the string more taut-

"Wait- stop-"

At Arum's choking cry Damien's poise falters, his aim going wide, the arrow finding purchase in the wicker wall instead of the quickly dropping- thing-

Arum tears the hood from his head, tears the last of the layers off beside his cape, his frill flaring and a grin curving his mouth, and he makes a strange warbling call, clear and loud and near to birdsong, and the wings above startle, fluttering sharp, and then there is an answering cry before the shape descends even faster.

"Arum-"

"Lord A-"

Arum nearly falls as the feathered shape collides with him, but he is laughing, now, as he makes more of those strange noises, and Rilla finally manages to parse exactly what the hell just happened, because there is an enormous heron shuffling from one taloned foot to the other on top of Arum's shoulders, shoving its beaked face into Arum's horns and squawking in a way that sounds both irritable and excited.

"Yes- foolish thing," Arum breaks into another laugh, and then into another strange warble as he lifts a hand to gently push the beaked face from pecking at the edge of his frill. "Obviously. Of course I did. Of course I did, you little- did you doubt? No-" he trills again, bright, and the heron ruffles up and makes a chuffing noise. "Of course I did," Arum says again, gentler, tapping the bird softly beneath the beak, and then he seems to remember Rilla and Damien, still watching.

Rilla's breathing hasn't entirely slowed from the shock, yet, but she's smiling now as she watches him, and Damien has come close beside her, stowing his bow again and pressing a hand over his mouth to bury his own smile, and Arum's frill ruffles by his neck at their observation.

"Er-"

"A friend?" Rilla asks, an eyebrow raising.

"One of my- my subjects, I suppose you could say," Arum murmurs, and he can't seem to help the smile as the bird presses its head into his horns again, trilling sternly. "Yes, I know. Hush." He gives the bird an equally stern look despite the laugh he gives, and then he lifts an arm for the creature to step to. "I know," he says quietly. "But you are frightening the horse, and I would rather not be kicked, little creature. I am nearly mended once, I would not like to suffer recovery a second time. Find your flock, spread the word if you must."

The bird squawks irritably, aiming its beak towards the humans for a moment before it turns back to Arum and flaps its wings at him.

"I said find your flock," he says in a low, fond growl. "Go on, you ridiculous thing. You need not worry for me. Go on."

The bird shifts from foot to foot on Arum's arm, chattering lightly, and then it pecks at the tip of Arum's snout and flaps before it lifts off, flying back up into the canopy again, singing something loud and joyous as it goes.

Arum sighs, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the creature is gone from him, but he clearly can't bury his smile. Damien takes Rilla's hand, and then they both come close to Arum, and Rilla lifts her other hand to touch the monster's elbow.

"Seemed excited to see you," she says, her tone only barely teasing, and his smile is so entirely warm, and Rilla and Damien's hands tighten together, each squeezing at the same moment.

"Yes, well," he makes a rattling noise low in his chest, still smiling. "I imagine they will all be quite ready for the swamp to return to normal."

"What do we do, then, about the wall?" Damien asks, gently, and Arum's smile flickers off.

He frowns, eyeing the woven greenery, and then he grumbles, "Bring me closer. It should still answer… it should still… still be able to hear."

Rilla doesn't exactly understand what that means, but- she figures he knows what to do in this situation better than she does, anyway, so she helps him. After a step or two Damien steps up on his other side, supporting him further.

"Thank you," Arum murmurs when they are close enough, and then he very gently pulls away from their hands. He lifts his own hand, and just barely touches the tangle of foliage, and then he swallows, chest rumbling. "Keep?"

Rilla barely manages to stop herself from reaching for him again. He sounds so- so desperate, and the urge to help him is-

"Keep. Can you hear me?" He pauses, and Rilla can see that he's trying not to cringe as he runs his hand along the vines. "Keep, I'm here, I- I need you to let me in."

Nothing changes, for a long moment. Beside her, Damien reaches a hand out, gripping Rilla's hand tight again, his nerves mirroring her own.

"Keep," he says again, keening clear in his voice. "Keep, please-"

Arum stumbles back as vines burst from the ground, new and accompanied by harmonious song, overtaking the wall and forming an archway that fills with magic, with- with a door, leading somewhere quite different from the swamp they could see past the wall.

Arum chokes a breath, warbles in further harmony with the song, and on shaking legs he bolts through the archway.

The Keep winds its vines around him so quickly that he is in the air before his feet even touch the floor of his home, before he has time to even breathe a syllable. It sings bright and clear and joyful, and it slots its mind soft against his again, precisely as their minds are meant to fit, in tune again so instantly that the vines don’t even come close to accidentally brushing any of the healing wounds that might still suffer from the pressure, and Arum can’t help the way he chokes, the way his throat goes tight and his eyes go hot, because-

He has missed his Keep so, so unbearably much.

He was never meant to be away for this long. His limbs are shaking with the relief of it even as he clings to its supportive vines, as he brushes his palms over the new bursts of flowers it is gleefully blooming around him. He’s so tightly enmeshed, so thoroughly cocooned, he wouldn’t have even noticed Amaryllis and Damien following through the portal if he could not feel the precise moment the Keep notices them.

The Keep notices them, and it is filled instantly with terror.

The humans are wound tight in vines nearly as quickly as Arum himself was, though these new vines are substantially less friendly as they pin Amaryllis and Damien against the wall with a discordant trill.

Arum feels the wash of terror pulse through with confusion, fury, protectiveness, and the vines around the humans continue to tighten. Arum’s heart skips, and he scrambles, reaching a hand through the bramble around him towards his- his- whatever, precisely, they are to him.

“Stop-” he snarls, the full force of his denial pushing out into his home, compelling the Keep to pause. The vines cease tightening, though they do not release. “Don’t hurt- don’t hurt them. They did not harm me, Keep, of that I can assure you,” he says in a breathless rush. “They did not harm me. They- they-”

The Keep stills, feeling his thoughts, and the grip it has upon the humans is already loosening. Arum needs not say more; the Keep understands him. It understands, and it loves him, and he needs not say a single word more.

He will say it anyway. It is true.

“They brought me back to you,” he says, his voice ragged and too full, and the both of them stare at him as they are lowered gently back to the floor. “They brought me home.”

[->]

#elle's fanfic #scattered on my shore #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #YELLIN AND YELLING I BEG U TO TELL ME FEEDBACK

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sol-korolevas · 5 years

Text

—my virtues uncounted

pairing: pro hero!bakugou x sidekick!reader

words: 3.5k+

a/n: im a clown so have this fic with boom boom boi. it can be read romantically or platonically! please look forward to more fics in the future <3 unedited, we go out like beasts

ground zero agency is situated in a populated area. and yet, it isn’t any grander than ochako’s hero agency or as big as midoriya’s. certainly it lacks the attractiveness of todoroki’s hero agency and the modern sleekness of ingenium’s. but you like that–because being a hero isn’t about luxury and fame.

when you step up the stairs, a tall wiry man walks out of the automatic doors and grabs you by your wrist. “you’re [name] eh? new sidekick?” he talked in a hurried tone.

you manage to collect yourself from stumbling, before replying with a nod.

“good, come with me.”

as if you have any other choice.

the man drags you through an empty reception room and down a hallway. there, behind the glass walls, you think you see him. no, wait, it must be him. he’s practically in his hero costume minus his eye mask. your heart’s beating hard against your ribcage and you feel sweat form on the palm of your hands as the man opens the door.

the man almost throws you into the spacious office, before slamming the door shut behind you. thank goodness he doesn’t follow, you think you already had enough of him.

bakugou doesn’t look up from his laptop. he’s tapping his fingers on the wooden desk. you notice indents littered across the surface. you know who was responsible for those.

“stop smirking, it’s impolite,” bakugou said an irritated voice. his red eyes glared at you so intently that you feel a creeping coldness running down the back of your neck. immediately, you press your arms against your side and bow.

“my name is [name]; nice to meet you, ground zero...sir!”

there is a pause–you couldn’t find it in yourself to look up-and you inwardly wonder if you should have said something else. your lower lip begins to tremble until you gently bite into it.

bakugou laughs, a raucous sound that spills into every corner of the office room. timidly, you look up, wondering what he’s laughing for. however, you can already guess, knowing that he’s looking at the reason why–you.

he’s standing up and leaning down, one hand flat on top of the desk as the other slaps at the surface. he finally stops himself and says, “this is why being a pro hero is so damn fun. you get people who are both terrified and awestruck by you.”

you frown, but you don’t say anything before you look elsewhere, at the empty desk with the name tag ‘mori’ on it. you then notice that there are people here, too absorbed in their work that they don’t even acknowledge you.

“hey newbie, let me see your quirk.”

“excuse me?”

he’s leaning forward in his seat with a glint of excitement in his eyes. you’re reminded suddenly of the group of older kids from your childhood who would always force you to–

“if you want this fucking job then do as i say,” came his response, words thick with absolute authority.

you gulp, feeling stress bubble within your stomach as you repeat his demand in your mind. “o-okay but, um, it’s not-it’s not really that great.” the last of your words came out in clumps, but bakugou doesn’t seem to acknowledge it. really, he’s not even listening, instead he’s staring intently at your body.

the extremity of his attention causes your cheeks to heat up as you turn around and begin unbuttoning your shirt. you let the shirt cling against your hips as you close your eyes and focus. eight fuzzy appendages slide out of your back, lethal and spiderlike, creating a trail of wet noise as they move. a slimy white liquid, thicker than water, clings to each leg as they extend out.

“is this okay?” you asked in a small voice. your cheeks are still too hot and your chest feels too tight. you’re not proud of what you just did, especially when it’s under broad daylight and directly in front of a pro hero you admire.

you look at him, hoping he’s sated, but instead you notice one corner of his mouth pull into a wide smirk. “gross,” he said, laughing a little, “i’ve never seen something so fucking weird.”

you quickly retract the legs and button up your shirt. perhaps this isn’t the best place for you after all.

“you’re hired.”

his admission causes you to freeze and turn around. the top button of your shirt is still undone but you ignore it. you’re not sure what you feel first, relief or shock, as you watch him intently from your spot. there’s a look of satisfaction on bakugou’s face as he relaxes against his chair. he’s still smiling, but this time there’s no air of mockery clinging to him.

you think back to what he did and wonder if this was just a test. he sounded so natural. but you remember what people said about him. that this was what he’s always like, or that sometimes he will only do this to people that want to work under him.

you couldn’t just leave, not when you worked so hard to be here.

you suck in a breath and slowly exhale. “thank you, sir.”

over the next few weeks, you learn that bakugou doesn’t like doing things in his office. he would, as he put it, rather be out hunting villains. he lives and breathes battles that wage for hours, with an open field where he can use any of his moves without discretion.

you also learn that he would rather you take care of his office for him. apparently, the man you met when you first came was quitting and you were his replacement in addition to being a future sidekick.

though you’re content with doing the paperwork for bakugou, you have still yet to properly distinguish yourself as a soon-to-be hero.

“if you want to be a hero you’ll have to deal with other issues too, so get to work.” bakugou tosses you the files of all the villains he apprehended for the week and storms away. one of the interns said he’s like this with everyone, but you seem to get the worse of it.

those are some of his good days.

during the second month of your employment in his agency, bakugou asks you to go with him on patrol. the interns-those who still manages to stay-silently congratulates you.

there’s a noticeable beat to your steps as you follow bakugou out of his hero agency. he’s walking slow, and you think it’s because you’re following him. a dozen questions surface but you could only think of none that will fit right in your mouth.

finally, bakugou catches you staring at him. “i look awesome don’t i? this hero costume always catches a lot of attention.” he sounds proud and even happy. for the first time, you smile and agree.

just as you finally find the courage to talk to him, bakugou makes a sharp stop. his hands are limp at his side as he gazes at something plastered onto the walls. your eyes linger on the thick ‘x’ painted over a hero poster of ground zero. some of them even had their eyes cut out while others were mutilated by weapons of all design.

“sir?”

he doesn’t respond, but you notice his grenade gauntlets shaking. at first, you think bakugou’s going to attack the posters and rip them off. instead, he continues walking, but now there’s an air of tension clinging to him. so you move forward and begin tearing the posters down. you don’t know why, but seeing them reminds you of the troublesome moments from your past. except the victim isn’t you, but bakugou.

“forget about it [name],” came bakugou’s voice from afar. you pause as you turn to look at him. he still has his back to you, but the tension is gone. “they’ll just put up more.” there’s a calmness to his voice that you never anticipated.

you nod, mouthing an ‘okay’ before catching up to him.

“doesn’t it bother you in any way?” you then asked, trying to keep your pace besides bakugou, who has stopped walking slow. there are crude words drawn onto some of the posters, all telling the hero on them to die or go to hell. just like how you were told in the past.

“we tolerate and go on with our work, that’s how pro heroes are,” bakugou replied. it soon occurs to you that he’s not looking anywhere. he’s supposed to be patrolling but he’s keeping his attention ahead. suddenly, bakugou stops again and you catch yourself from bumping into him.

“you may fight with me in the future.” he’s turned his gaze away so you couldn’t see what’s on his face. but you could guess; it’s with an air of attempted indifference except with a slight smirk on his face. regardless, you feel excitement bubbling in your chest.

“thank you, sir!” you told him, standing straighter as you try to decide whether to bow or not. you still remember bakugou telling you off for being too formal with him. ‘it makes me feel itchy’ he said. still, the drunken feeling of happiness spills into your mind and a small laugh slips out of your mouth.

there’s silence again, except there’s no tension and bakugou seems to be gazing at you from the corner of his eye.

suddenly, he turns to fully look at you. “shouldn’t you be patrolling elsewhere? i never said you’re supposed to follow all the time, that’s now how it works.”

you’re about to say that he was rather vague about his instructions. but then you decide not to. at the very least, bakugou’s in his usual demeanor again. except, you would rather see this side of him.

“die! die! and you too!” the air trembles and the ground shakes with each explosion bakugou sets off. what’s even louder, however, are the plethora of words that he tosses to the villains. by the time the police arrives, all of them are battered and bruised, too tired to need to be tied up.

you watch as your legs cling to the side of the building as the police escort the villains away. bakugou’s chest is heaving up and down, but you notice his face more. his smile is a touch too wide and gleeful and his eyes a vibrant hue of crimson.

he enjoys the violence and chaos, you know, and it inspires you to do more with your own battles. you did your fair share of damage, although they were little more than wrist slaps compared to what bakugou did.

“fuck i wanna go for some drinks,” bakugou said, letting out a breathless laughter as he turns to look at you. “you wanna come? it’s all on me.” he points to himself with his thumb, looking more proud of himself than anyone else could.

“sure,” came your response as you dust off your hero costume.

“and listen, keep those legs out because i want people to see how great my sidekick is.”

your cheeks immediately heat up with embarrassment at his words. bakugou doesn’t lie–he’s always honest, brutally so. you couldn’t bare to look at him lest he sees your face.

“uh, thanks,” you said, turning away.

you wonder if bakugou even needs to pay. people always like it when pro heroes of his caliber appear. it’s good publicity and they would rather let them drink and eat free than see them go anywhere else.

still, you’re glad bakugou’s becoming kinder. not just from his invitation but to those words. you shouldn’t feel any more happier than the usual but something light is bursting in your chest.

“what’re you smiling for?” bakugou’s question cuts into your train of thought. he’s watching you with narrowed eyes, but his mouth is curled into a smug smile. “you’re not thinking of something pervy, aren’t you?”

“what? no! i’m just happy about the last fight!” you told him, waving your hands in front in defense.

but bakugou doesn’t buy it. he cuts you off and presses one hand on your shoulder. “do you have a crush on me, [name]?”

you feel your heart beat faster at his question.

“w-why would i have a crush on you?”

“you do, don’t you? c’mon, say it.” he’s smiling, with the same gleefulness as before. “it’s not like i’ll tell anyone, that my sidekick has a stupid crush on me.”

your spider legs extend and push you back and to the side. “th-that’s classified!” you feel the color drain from your face as bakugou’s laughter spills into the quiet air.

“damn right you do.”

so for the next ten minutes, you allow your body to hang in the air as your spidery limbs do the walking. a part of you couldn’t believe what bakugou just said. yet, you also don’t know what he’s thinking deep inside.

it could be anything.

anything really.

and to think that you could have a crush on him, someone as crude and violent as him. sure you want to be his sidekick but...that’s it.

really, that’s it.

you watch him from side to side, walking with a swagger as if he owns the street. before you left your internship at ochako’s agency, she mentioned the way bakugou rubs off on people.

“you either like him or you don’t” she said, “there’s no in-between and both are extremities.”

for most of your life as bakugou’s sidekick, you would continue to ponder over ochaco’s words and your feelings. it’s not until later that you realize you both are all wrong.

actually, there’s no time to even think about anything.

you’re not sure how physically broken you are until you smell the iron of your blood and register the stickiness of it clinging to your body and pooling around your form. there’s no distress or terror or anything, you’re too weak to even profess emotions as simple as those.

the villain’s voices drift weakly into your ears as you stare up into the night sky. shit, where’s bakugou? where are the police?

did you even press the speed-dial button?

but then, you feel it, a faint rumble and the next thing you know the air shivers and vibrates as several explosive noises erupt around you. they’re so close that you could almost feel the smoldering heat and smell the flesh catching on fire.

there’s screaming. lots of them. but you can make out one.

bakugou.

he’s here and he’s ripping apart those villains, not capturing them. you can sense it before you even saw it. a part of you is relieved and another part is–

“what the fuck’s wrong with you?” bakugou’s voice rips apart the quiet after the destruction. his form crowds your vision, eyes feral with anger and teeth grating against each other. “did you listen to me when i told you that you’re supposed to fight when only i’m with you?” he’s speaking as if you couldn’t hear, loud and slow, but with purposeful anger that intensifies the viciousness on his face.

for the first time, you feel fear and terror and disappointment.

and bakugou’s not done yet. his face is red with untethered rage and his form shaking with visible tension.

“you don’t listen to me, don’t you? if you get hurt and die, then that’s all on me. it’ll be the single greatest fucking failure because i am responsible for you. so don’t fucking look at me with those eyes, [name]. i’ll strip you of your role if you hurt yourself.”

still, try as you might, you couldn’t respond. instead, you watch as bakugou bends down and brushes a thumb against your cheek. you don’t know what happens next.

there are many things that you come to find out in the next few weeks. first, several of your appendages have been broken beyond repair, save for just two on your left side. therefore, it’s highly suggested that you give up your hero work until something can replace the missing legs–if something can be done at all. second, bakugou’s friends are much different than him. midoriya, ingenium (who you come to learn goes by iida as his real name), and ochako visits you, ochako more so than any. thirdly, you’ll be confined to the hospital for another week.

it’s not until the third to last day of your hospitalization that bakugou visits you. when he comes, he’s dressed in a civilian outfit, with his hands shoved in his pockets.

the usual demeanor, you see.

but there’s a noticeable tension that feels familiar. you watch him, half-nervous and half-hopeful. but most of all, you’re happy to see he’s still doing well.

he sits on the stool and doesn’t say anything, nor does he look at you.

you feel a rising need to speak first, so you do and said, “i’m sorry.” you let your words linger as your fingers curl into the white sheets. that night is still fresh on your mind, almost as if you never left it.

your back aches sometimes, but it aches even worse tonight.

“it’s you, why is it you of all fucking people on this earth?” bakugou’s soft words forces you to fully turn your attention to him.

you watch as he grips the knee of his legs tightly in his hands. his shoulders are shaking and his head lowered. you feel your voice catching in the back of your throat so you remain silent.

but still, one of you must break it again. “if it’s better, i can go, i can lea–”

“the hell you are!” this time, his words are loud, yet there’s a fine tremble to it that makes you believe he’s holding back another emotion.

he moves and suddenly he’s straddling you, his form so close that you could smell the faint caramel of his scent. he places his hands on your shoulders, gripping in the same bruising way that makes you wince.

“back there when i saw you, when i fucking saw you laying in your own blood, i–i thought i truly did lose you for a moment. i could yell and mock you and anyone else all i want, but if you die–if you really die, then i don’t know what i will do. i need you so much, it drives me crazy, you know? you’re the only person in this damn city that’ll willingly go to hell for me. so don’t die, this city needs you and i need you.”

he pauses and takes a deep breath.

you are left stunned, mind replaying his words over and over. you hear the crack in his voice and notice the wet trail of tears rolling down his cheeks. he suddenly leans his face down, placing his forehead on your shoulder as his hands grip at your shirt.

“stay, and i’ll show you more than just being a hero, okay?”

“but i can’t–i don’t even have a useful quirk anymore.” you feel your own eyes prick with tears. you want to jump into a hole all of a sudden.

“who the fuck cares? you can do other things,” was bakugou’s immediate response. “you damn idiot, thinking you can leave me just because you don’t have a quirk? i’ll kill you.” but there’s a gentleness to his words, something that only the bakugou could say and you’d be fine with it.

and with no boundaries nor professionalism to uphold, you wrap your arms around him and pull him close to you.

days after you were released, bakugou sends you the documents he needs you to look through.

it’s not until ochako’s visit that you notice something else too.

“he signed it with ‘yours’! oh my gosh, he likes you!” she said, red dusting her cheeks.

you immediately close your laptop and pushes it under your bed. “no he doesn’t, he just figured out how to be polite in emails.” but still, you understand the implications. you already figured out, too, that bakugou’s feelings toward you have changed. it’s been changed ever since the accident, and perhaps even later than that.

three days later, you receive an official letter from ground zero’s hero agency, asking you to come back to work full-time.

once again you find yourself on the steps to bakugou’s hero agency. it’s still the same, simple and normal.

but you are different than the you who was just a newbie.

the door suddenly opens and bakugou steps out. he’s dressed in his hero costume and you notice the visible irritation crawling on his face.

“you’re late, you know,” he said, hands clenching into fists. he doesn’t come and drag you up the stairs, instead he waits, albeit with impatience dancing in his eyes.

“yeah i know,” you told him, mouth spreading into a soft smile, before laughing a little at the way he looks to the side.

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“i know that too, sir.”

a/n: okay so bakugou’s surprisingly hard to write down, especially his dialogues. he’s older here, so i imagine he would have matured in other ways as well. this is definitely a challenge but it’s fun to write! let me know what you think.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #mha x reader

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bliindinglights · 4 years

Text

⧼ kathryn newton, cisfemale, she/her / maybe idk - jon bellion + cancelled plans at the last minute , forgotten about wilted, yellow tulips in a mason jar , a worn in, oversized denim jacket that gets thrown into every outfit regardless of formality ⧽ ━━ let me tell you a thing or two about ASTRID GALE VIDARSDOTTIR. the TWENTY THREE year old daughter of VIDAR BJORK-THORSON is a POSTGRAD student at paragon academy, and has sometimes been referred to as THE PARADOX. they’ve always seemed very CURIOUS & COLORFUL, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty FLIGHTY & WEAK-WILLED, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power / ability of WATER MANIPULATION & PARTIAL ASGARDIAN PHYSIOLOGY ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?

first off, hello ! i’m lex ! i’m 24, use she/her pronouns and im located in the est timezone ! i am v excited to be here, feel free to slide into my dms to plot !

cute & fun headcanons :

a lil bit of a crust of a gal !

calls herself baby

can b an asshole

vegetarian !

very sleepy gal - for no reason at all. napping is a ~hobby~

quotes tik toks and definitely went through a heelys phase in 2019

very,, flighty. queen of ‘i wasn’t going to go but i wanted to be invited’. is notorious for trying to bail out of plans so she often has to be dragged to outings

she’s aware of her flakiness - it’s not something she likes and has made small strides to combat. she joined a sorority to make new friends, but also to give her some structure that she HAD to abide by.

has five tattoos and will contest that two of them were a good idea at the time but ultimately,,, regrets them ( s/o to the YOLO lip tattoo she got four years ago and it STILL hasn’t faded, despite being promised it would ). the other she regrets is simply because it is so cliche - it was her first, a simple wave beneath and to the side of her right breast. she’s also got a conure perched on a half moon on her back left shoulder, this on the back of her upper right arm, and ‘vis ta vie’ on her inner left leg, just above the ankle.

she’s very smart when she puts her mind to something, it’s just the matter of staying invested in whatever she’s working on. fortunately, she does pick up on things quickly. for example, she learned how to sufficiently play piano in about three months before she ditched the hobby all together. played every sport under the sun for a year before eventually ditching it ( with the exception of swimming ).

that being said - despite being 23 this is her first year of graduate school at paragon academy, due to the fact that she changed her major three times in undergrad.

has a blue crowned conure named paulie, yes - just like the movie. it was her favorite growing up !

is a swim instructor and lifegaurd ( during the summer ) at the local swim club! loves working with kiddos ! has travelled to a lot of really cool places in the world doing different missions with nonprofits and or/research working on tagging sharks and studying their populations !

some *history* :

born august 2, 1996. she’s one of five children of vidar thorson ! is the ( older ) irish twin of tova, which is cute n funky n fresh

she has. . . always been flighty. when she was younger, it was more so with her emotions - they would turn on a dime. she felt things very vibrantly. when she was happy, she was overwhelmingly so. when something even mildly set her off, you knew. very much a realist growing up. saw things for how they were, and it often upset her.

her childhood was good. she loved her parents, loved her siblings. she valued the time where they ALL were together, but she made it. . . very known she was unhappy when her dad would leave. large tantrums and screaming fits when she was younger. acting out when she got older ( she’s mellowed out though, now she’s just. dumb ).

she has a pretty good relationship with her mom. by no means is she the closest to her out of the lot, but they get on well. maybe not so much in her teens when astrid was busy acting out, but really. . . that’s ANY teen and their parents, isn’t it?

rly clung to tova after the incident at the shops. she mourned for her aunt, she did, as much as a thirteen year old girl could, but tova was her highest concern. she didn’t know how, per se, to comfort someone in tova’s situation aside from being there when needed ( even when her presence wasn’t asked for i.e sleeping on the floor beside her bed ).

she has a . . . tricky relationship with her dad and goes back and forth, often, about whether or not she wants a better relationship with him. when she was younger she just wanted his consistent, undivided attention. wanted him to be around. she knows his absence does not come with an easy answer, but that’s never changed how she felt. there’s a lot of. . . undealt with animosity, for lack of better wording, on her part. the damage was done, and being nearer to him has thrown her through a loop. it’s not uncommon for her to agree to plans to see him and then cancel on them at the last minute. also not uncommon to reach out at the last minute, too. fickle chick.

i’ll likely add onto this as i build onto astrid and work out where she fits in the grand scheme of things !

wanted connections ! i’ll send these to the main in a more. . . formal format, eventually, but ! :

a squad that rly b drinking,,, the stupid bitch juice ~ people she just does dumb shit with. admittedly they have probably. . . matured, a bit, since their rly dumb days considering i’d imagine most of them to be grad students or well, graduated but i think that is a good foundation, of sorts, to build off of. like any young adults finding time for each other after undergrad could always be. . . a time. these are also likely her tried and true best friends. her constants. could rly b anyone, i think this could be cool if they’re all polar opposites, but they should be around her age !i’d imagine it’s a group of four, maybe three, i’m not rly picky.

astrid has likely had one or two exes. she floats both ways, so this would be open to anyone. it was likely her that led to their demise. she’s flighty in all things. plans. feelings. maybe she was just a straight up lousy girlfriend. didn’t allot enough time to the relationship to make it work. maybe her feelings sizzled quickly after the two became a thing. it does not HAVE to be that way, just some options, as astrid’s STILL really figuring herself out and i really doubt she was a perfect opposite in the past. but, hey ! if you have something else in mind, i’m not picky.

mentors !!! people that have tried to help her get her shit together. professors wise, maybe they helped her freshman/sophomore year settle on selecting an actual major that worked. i imagine that sort of connection would have stuck for her, and she often would turn to them for advice or help. it could come in the form of a faux-big sibling, too. i am always a sucker for. that shit.

if your character would have ANYTHING to do with the ocean, that’s something cool to build off ! i imagine she’s done lots of educational trips and internships, apprenticeships and what not, whether it is tagging marine life, studying coastal ecosystems/shore erosion. a few summers during undergrad she often helped with rehab & release !

coworkers ! she works at the local swim club so that could be ! fun ! people she did dumb shit with while drunk ( maybe your char was there when she got one of the stupid tattoos ? and they never spoke again ? this could b funny ) ! friends that she was friends with for the hottest minute but lost interest ! or maybe they just grew apart ! i imagine she was never part of a solid friend group for a while, just kind of. . . hopped from one to the other, so if that would fit somewhere, that would be cool ! someone she always runs into at the pet store ?? who knows ! previous hook-ups ! if your character teaches something, she could have been a former student of theirs before she gave up the interest ! i’d also love for some connects where people just. . . don’t like her for whatever reason. could be enemies, doesn’t have to be. maybe just animosity. maybe its her behavior. who she hangs out with. something else we could plot out, idk.

#sidekick.intro #decided to post this after. overthinking it for a week

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feel199x · 5 years

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚apple of my eye ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Chapter V

gang!au, gang member!han jisung, underground band!au, florist!reader

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X

a/n: this chapter is written a little differently, most of the action will be happening in the upcoming chapters. okay stays im the writer and I Am: Anxious

masterlist

warnings: alludes to drugs (selling), blood bruise mention, gun mention, and themes of stalking and abuse

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Minho had always been the head between the two of them. Jisung had always been much too emotional. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart- Jisung had a showcase of talents, a variety of things that he was incredibly good at. It never used to be a big deal, not before they had started the ‘band.’ The nine of them had always been best friends, growing up the same block in a not so great area of the city? They knew, even as children, that they needed each other. Their chances as a group were far better than their chances as individuals. When they were younger, Jisung always got crushes easily. And it wasn’t the kind of thing was he would get one and then leave when someone else caught his eye. No, he fell in love with the strangest things. At least, what Minho considered strange. Jisung had gotten crushes on the little things that people did. Minho remembered that once, he had ended up confessing to someone in high school because of how they laughed. Because Jisung adored making them laugh. Within this same field, he had always been the more empathetic of the group. One day, while the rest of the boys played tag around the playground, Jisung came crying over. A bird’s mother had dropped the baby bird, and in its weak attempt to fly- it died. And Jisung was crying, sobbing over the fact that there was nothing he could do to save the bird. No one but Chan knew how to comfort Jisung properly, and even then it would take a while.

It had always been endearing, a charismatic character trait until their band. It started sophomore year of high school. Really, it turned out they were all inclined to the arts when they had taken a music and dance class in middle school. But that wasn’t the sort of thing you could be proud of, not around here. Eventually, the school pulled the funding for the class anyway. But their passion hadn’t died, and instead of meeting up to play rough or cause trouble in some public places, they san, dance, rapped. It felt transformative, and when they got their first gig- an underground club agreed to let them perform their music, they were over the moon. It was all the group of boys could talk about, becoming the conversation topic sooner or later.

Minho had known that the club would’ve been sketchy- every underground club around here only had one to be underground. And even if the rest of the boys pretended not to be aware, he was. Their performance was lively in the beginning, everyone pouring their soul into the performance but even when they realized that there was not-so-discreet deals, the passing of handshakes, angel dust crumbs still lingering on people’s nose. Maybe it was because they had nothing to compare it to at the time, but the crowd was nothing they’ve ever seen before. They were dancing, shouting, screaming the lyrics. Maybe it was wrong, they all knew there was something immoral about this- but they had never felt so accomplished. Misguided as they were, they all had an idea about what they were getting themselves into.

Jisung had mixed feelings, after the performance he was crying again. Both out of happiness, the thrill of singing, rapping, dancing- performing with an audience. But he felt as if he had wronged them somehow. As if he was the one selling them the packets, and soon, too soon, he would be. Jisung was the only one on the fence about doing so, even after the entirety of the group had decided: it was wrong, but necessary. There were worse they could do. Even the youngest had come to that conclusion in a matter of a few weeks. It wasn’t that they tried going it by the traditional way, uploading it online- seeking companies. But if they didn’t reject them altogether, producers would want to cut members of the group out. And it was nine or none. Chan, who was usually composed, would cry after they had gotten rejected- or if someone had said that a group member ‘just didn’t have it.’ It felt as though it was a failure on his part.

Until one day they just had enough.

Jisung had come around eventually. And quickly, very quickly, they had risen in popularity. They were a regular at NOT!, an underground club that had become exclusive when they didn’t have enough room to house all their fans. Stray kids, their self given name, were still giving their all within each and every performance. But behind the scenes, there they were moving and selling packages like there was no way they could be caught. But, this life was missing its flaws. One night, an incident occurred- it had to happen sometime. They were just lucky that no one had died. Shots were fired in NOT!, and although no one had died, it was enough to rupture chaos within the mix of sober and high people.

Jisung had cried that night.

It was only later that they learned that members of N/S had found their way into the club. The boys weren’t stupid, they knew it was risky to sell in their vicinity- but what they weren’t aware of, was how risky. As their popularity with the locals and city folk arose, so did the competition against N/S. And N/S didn’t appreciate it, not one bit. That night, everyone had looked over to Chan and Woojin, hoping they would have some type of answer.

But they didn’t.

The club owner made a suggestion to them, an offer. That night, each boy, regardless of license- left with a gun. They had reached the point of irreversible change. They were in it for the long run now, and there was no backing out. Tensions grew and grew between the two gangs, even though Woojin and Chan refuse to call it that. To them, Stray Kids was a band, and it was just a band. But they had collected fans, ones that could relate to their cause and because of that, they considered the tension between Stray Kids and N/S their fight to win, too. But they refused to stop making music, stop trying to be successful within their own realm. The boys began to leave behind the dealings, reduced the number of packages they moved. But the tension in the city was growing until it smothered everyone. But N/S didn’t care, and one day the unpredictable happened. A black car drove by and ended up hitting Jisung in the side of his thigh. Everyone was livid then, even after Jisung had fully recovered. Now, it was decided, that it was shoot on sight.

Jisung didn’t cry that night.

So, when Jisung talked about ____ so dreamily, the group had some major concerns.

“I understand, I know you really like them,” Chan was staring at his laptop, composing a new song as Woojin played some notes for him on the piano, “But it’s risky, you should wait until things die down.” Woojin played a melody and nodded his head. “I agree, this isn’t something you should be considering right now,” Woojin added, “We can still meet them ___, but you’ll have to distance yourself after that.” As if the last part hadn’t quite registered, Jisung immediately became hyper-active again, scrambling notes for lyrics in a notebook, all about ___.

It wasn’t that Minho didn’t like ___, they were a good person. They were kind and mellowed Jisung out. It was good to see a little more emotional ever since the drive-by. But Minho always thought when Jisung didn’t.

“You shouldn’t get ___ involved,” Minho sat Jisung down, “It’s already dangerous for you. You’re always talking about how anxious and careful they are, how much they care about you. You can’t involve them.”

“But I’m not,” Jisung said curtly, “I’m going to be careful.”

“You can’t promise anything, not when you know what we do.”

Minho felt like he was the only one willing to face reality, aware of both the damage and good they were doing. The good and evil they were capable of. He was the only one of the few who had come to terms with his mortality, the others opting to live in a dreamscape.

But nightmares would soon trespass.

The night of the flower shop incident, things had gone to shit real fast. The number of gunshots had increased exponentially, the feds cracking down on everybody. But somehow, never being able to find enough, the truth hidden somewhere in angel dust. The boys had chosen to go off the grid and warned Jisung if he didn’t, then ___ wouldn’t just be missing Jisung, they would be mourning over him. So he chose the lesser of two evils, disappearing in the dead of night.

Minho wasn’t usually one to act outside of the group’s decision, believing that for everyone to be able to get along- cooperation is key. But he thought it was strange, each member experiencing some sort of life-threatening event once leaving the karaoke bar? And ___’s shop getting the worst of it? So, before the boys woke up, Minho made his way to the flower shop.

He hadn’t expected to see you though, and he most definitely didn’t expect to have you caught in the crossfires. And once Minho had told the group what happened, there was no stopping Jisung from returning to the shop.

Very few times had Minho seen Jisung angry, and never, never had he seen Jisung as enraged as he was that night. Jisung was nearly fuming, Minho could imagine steam coming off of him. And as Jisung found the ex, sleeping in your bed, after obviously going through your stuff- being an awful, disgusting creep. Jisung had nearly killed him and would have if the guy wasn’t a good fighter. Jisung dragged him out of your room, and he toppled down the stairs like a bag of bricks. He had finally decided to run off, and Jisung was too angry to be relieved that the guy didn’t have a gun, or any weapon to fight back. This feeling in Jisung was primal, but the adrenaline had to come down sometime, and then, and only then did Jisung feel the pain of each cut and bruise that he had gotten, but not earned.

But he wanted to see you, he wanted to see you more than anyone he had ever wanted to see before. It was all he could think about as he toppled down in the guest room, hearing your cries. Even after he left that morning, he traced his fingers on his lips still thinking about you. He decided that he’d rather be beaten up several more times than ever have to see you in that state again. It became his mission, his life’s goal to take down N/S. It wasn’t easy, and after hearing that you were going to return to your beloved shop. He knew it was in vain, but he had to attempt to stop you- he couldn’t live with himself if he hadn’t at least tried, but that was before this. He would’ve never thought about this, not even in his nightmares could this have been happening.

You were in his arm, caught in a chokehold. Tears streaming down your face, gasping for air. The gun digging into the side of your head as Jisung pulled out his gun, pointing it at him.

“Go ahead,” he was laughing, face bright and happy, “But I’m not leaving without ___. To love and to hold, in sickness and in health. Up in heaven, or down on this hellish earth.”

Jisung didn’t know what to do, tears in his eyes as he shook, arms and beloved biceps trembling. He brought it down, face contorted with anger. And he watched, angry tears pouring out of his eyes as he watched you be taken away

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #skz imagines #skz fic #skz han jisung #skz fluff #skz angst #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung imagine #han jisung imagines

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vixenfur · 6 years

Note

Tag at least 5 people you love and give a few words on why!

OH MY GOODNESS!!!

Since there was so much BS in the fandom today, time to share some love! :)

- @zeta-jane is an absolute godsend of a friend. They are sassy, funny, talkative, energetic and so full of amazing ideas!!! Zeta is always there for me when I need someone to lean on. They’re such a kind friend and they will not hesitate, baitch to fight people who hurt me- probably because they know I’d do the same for them! They’re such good company both online and IRL, and I am blessed to have met them! I am even more blessed to be writing City of Dust and Shadows with them, which has become the longest fic either of us has ever written! We may or may not surpass it with our future collabs, however ;) They are just the coolest person ever and they deserve all the love in the world. I adore them so much!!! TUT

- @mikayu-chan is such a got damn SWEETHEART. They are trying to see the positive side of things, especially after so much fandom drama in the past, and I’m so so proud of them for trying their hardest to live their best life. They have it way too hard and I want to give them a big ole hug and many days of fun!!! They always make me laugh and we have a great time on calls! I’m glad that we see eye-to-eye on so many things and that we continue to teach each other new things all the time!! They are really an irreplaceable friend and such a joy to talk with, to write with, and to laugh with. I love you Chan

- @crazyloststar deserves the entire world and more!!!! oMg I cannot express how much I love Alex!!!!! Alex is just a big bundle of happiness and fun and she makes me so so so so so so so happy. I love calling with her and talking, I love writing with her and everything else!! We always have so much fun, I swear I can’t talk to her without laughing my ass off at least once XD we’re always DJDJDHDHDHDJD’ing at each other because we just can’t find the right words to express how hard we’re agreeing with each other/laughing omfg. I adore her and I cant WAIT to cosplay KimiYoi and RyuuTenn with her hopefully at next year’s Yaoi Con WOOT WOOT :D!!!!

- @yuudefensesquad is sUCH A GOOD BEAN who deals with SO MUCH and she just needs a big ole hug and lots of Yuuchan i stg. Caydence is such a funny funky lil nugget and I protecc her with my life okay. Her art? Flawless. Her shitposts? FUCKIN HILARIOUS. Her meta? Super engaging and intriguing! Her bravery? ABOVE US ALL LOL. She is just awesome and I’m glad I forcefully adopted her into my lil family of mikayuu nerds bc it just wouldn’t be the same without her. Caydence ily never stop being you. A lot of shit challenges her irl and everywhere else, but she still keeps her head up and man I really respect her.

- @mikaisatop is MY FRICKIN RIGHT HAND MAN. My SOULMATE. SARAHHH I ADORE YOU. You might be busy rn but I love you so much girl ;__; even though she’s busy I always bother her bc I want her to know I wouldn’t ever forget about her!! I’m so happy we got to collab so much and will continue doing so!! Winter’s Waltz is so much fun to write and I’m so happy she is writing it with me anyways despite such a busy schedule. If it weren’t for Sarah we wouldn’t have so much good MikaYuu content and I applaud her for it!!

- @6lilystrings9 IS JUST THE BOMB DOT FUCKIN COM. Lily and I didn’t super duper connect until more recently but omg talking with her is just a freakin BLAST. We always get so hype with each other, even over each other’s fandoms that we aren’t even in!!! Something about the energy in her pulls out the energy in me and we just get GOING lmao. She is so very talented and amazing and a fascinating person all around! I’m so glad we got to hang a bit at KatsuCon in 2017 but I hope we can do that again in the future! I miss her all the time!

- @weirdfairytales is the MAN. THE MYTH. THE LEGEND. Anna is just the biggest definition of a meme I can think of and I LOVE her for it. I’m so glad that we met way back when MikaYuuHell Skype existed and that she thought of the masterpiece that is Cherry Boy one wild night. I’m so glad we continued to be great friends and talk about so many things. I love when our messages get super long cause we just have so many things to say XD Cosplaying Victuuri with her at Katsu was so lit, and I can’t express how much I love her Victuuri fic too!!!

- @hannaadi88 is such. a. sweetheart. I can’t say it enough. Hanna does so much and gets so little I stfg yall need to APPRECIATE HER MORE. Her writing is STUNNING and the projects she makes for this fandom are just outstanding!!! From gift exchanges (I SAID ONS REMIX BEFORE IM SORRY i was wrong XD) to 365 Days of Mika and Yuu, she has put in so much for us constantly! She has also granted us with the lovely fic Scented, and not to mention one of my favorite fics of ALL TIME, Eye of Horus- the Ancient Egypt take on Unwritten!!! And she named it that without knowing my first tattoo is literally the eye of horus! XD I was shook lmfao and I still am. Meeting Hanna was amazing and the day I spent with her and @ihavetobenkyou (who is also a-freaking-MAZING and a big bundle of goodness!!!!!!) is one I’ll never forget. She’s so chill and just gives off this ‘wise’ aura idk why but I just look up to Hanna so much. No matter what she writes I will always support her and you all should too!!!

- @just-another-dream-about-yuu is ONE OF MY FAVORITE HUMANS TO EVER HUMAN. Julia omfg I cannot express how much I love you. TwT Julia is not only one of the most talented artists I have ever seen, but she is so sweet and fun and so full of energy and excitement!! She’s super busy with adulting so she’s not around in the fandom a whole lot but I always make sure to include her bc I won’t let her leave XD JULIA YOU CANNOT ESCAPE…. lmfao I will always drag you back… I won’t ever forget the day I got a twitter notification that someone drew me Unwritten fanart and the croaking sound I made was insane LMAO my friend who was with me was like WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED XD I was so excited!!! I still adore every piece of fanart she’s given me and I always will. Thank you, Julia, for bringing my imagination to life so many times, for showing me what you saw when you read my writing. It means more than I can say.

- @coleglend is the most underappreciated person in this fandom I swear. Or, who was in this fandom- Cole is off doing other things besides OnS, but regardless, she is so very amazing and beyond talented. I can’t even express how beautiful her art is and the emotions each piece sparks in me. Even her new Marvel artworks are just breathtaking and I truly admire them!!! I don’t know anyone who can make such detailed, visually engaging art- everything she creates belongs in a museum I swear. I want to print them and frame them for my walls!!! I look at her art all the time!!! Now that I’ve established how gorgeous her art is, talk about Cole as a person! She’s so sweet and kind and I love seeing her little posts on Instagram and such, even though I can’t understand most of them, I like seeing that she’s with friends and having a good time.

- @linnpuzzle is one of the coolest most amazing people in this fandom!!! Her art is STUNNING and as she knows, I will drop everything to commission her and buy her merch because I just am addicted to her gorgeous art!!! I am so honored to have some of her art as part of my collection of OnS things and I am forever going to treasure the commissions I’ve purchased from her!! Besides being a great artist, I love talking with Linn, too! I’m so glad we have things in common outside of MikaYuu, like Voltron and Kyo Kara Maoh :D Linn is truly too good for this world and she deserves everything okokok.

- @zilleniose-chu is truly an ICON of this fandom. We don’t talk alot outside of business stuff lolol but they are just freakin amazing!!! I adore their art so much- I always have, ever since I first saw their page!!- and I LOVE their AU’s and headcanons!! They are full of such great ideas and humor and they can share those ideas through really stunning and captivating artwork

- @absolute-exclusivity IS AN AMAZIN. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING BEAN OH MY GOODNESS i cANT TELL YOU ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE LYSIA. AAAAAAAAHHHH THIS GIRL IS GONNA SPEND MY BIRTHDAY WITH ME OUT IN LONDON LESSGO GIRL!!! I’m so excited you have NO IDEA. Lysia is so so so energetic and cute and overall such an amazing friend!! She’s so caring and always willing to listen even when things are busy for her!! She’s full of hilarious, tragic, and heart-pounding ideas and AU’s. We always get lit together talking about fics and headcanons and I wouldn’t trade those moments for the world. I can’t wait to meet her and I can’t wait to collab with her and Zeta soon, too!!

- @rindartist is absolutely one of my favorite artists of ALL TIME no doubt about it. Rin is so amazing, always making so many beautiful artworks of MikaYuu, and now of other lovely series aswelll! I may not be into GBF but her art of it is just lovely and I suggest everyone to commission Rin if they have the means!!

- @p0isonpez is someone I’ve only seen from afar but I absolutely love her art and posts!! I am so happy to see someone new in the fandom sharing such lovely things and interacting with the rest of us!! you seem so friendly and kind and I hope we can talk more sometime! :D

- @temesasu is such a sweetheart!! We’re just starting to talk a little more, but I am soso happy!! They are such an amazing cosplayer and their ONS cosplayers bring such a big smile to my face. They are beautiful and able to make themselves look like so many different characters!!! They are so talented with makeup, I am in awe!! :D And they are so kind and fun to talk to, and I hope we talk more! Thank you for sharing your cosplays with us, you are amazing! Don’t stop!

- @seraph-star is such a good precious person who makes endless good content!! Omg, their edits are just so awesome!! they always have me bouncing my head along, or completely enraptured and breathless, or laughing!! They are so good at evoking different emotions through video editing and as a very casual video editor myself, I am so impressed with their work!! I also love their memes and art and everything else that they share!!!

- @angeru-artist is a precious PRECIOUS ANGEL who deserves the entire world!!!! Omg, Angeru makes such amazing art, with such expressive characters and cute little attributes!!! I love it when I see their art and I’m so glad that we share a few fandoms together rather than just one. Angeru is really bighearted and she goes through way too much hard times, and I wish I could just take her away to somewhere better!!! One day my friend we will forget about the world and just have fun!!

- @maqui-chan iS ONE OF THE BEST ARTISTS I’VE EVER KNOWN OMFG. her art is iconic and unforgettable!!!! Maqui’s art has always been one of my favorites of all time and I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve commissioned her LOL!! I JUST LOVE HER ART SO MUCH OKAY!?? ITS SO GOOD GO LOOK AT ALL OF HER GLORIOUS CREATIONS! she is so talented and she can create anything, from angst to smut to humor, leave it to Maqui to create amazing things!! And omg Maqui ignited the fire in all of our ShuuNaru hearts amiright!??? GOD her art inspired me so much to the point to where I wrote a ShuuNaru fic and it was so much fun!!! Maqui, thank you for drawing so many awesome things and creating so much for the fandom!! Even if you’ve mostly fallen out of it, your creations are always going to be treasured by me and many other people- you’ve impacted people way more than you know! Thank you for always making me laugh on twitter aswell XD you’re amazing and ily!!!

OK OK I;M OUT OF STEAM I’VE BEEN TYPING THIS FOREVER OK i could go ON AND ON about even MORE people in this fandom but that would take me literal ages LMAO

TO EVERYONE ELSE, WHO I DIDN’T MENTION BC MY BRAIN IS JUMBLED AND I AM EXHAUSTED: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. DONT STOP CREATING. THE FANDOM IS A FLAMING GARBAGE HEAP SOMETIMES LIKE IT WAS TODAY. But DON’T LET THAT STOP YOU from having a good time, doing what you love, and creating things that you are proud to share!!! And if your heart leads you elsewhere, to a different brand new fandom, I hope you always remember the people you inspired with your work!! I hope you forget the bad memories and always treasure the good ones. I hope that we can be friends and/or that I can continue supporting you no matter where we all end up in the years to come. And if you decide to support me too, I give you my biggest, most heartfelt thanks.

No matter how ridiculous this fandom can get and how much stupid discourse can dampen the mood and disappoint me, I will never let it stop me from loving MikaYuu and OnS and what I do. I will never let it stop me from writing all that my crazy little heart wants. I will continue to write until my passion dies, and when that day comes I will probably cry as I say goodbye and resort to watching from the sidelines as everyone else carries on. I will never forget the fun I had here. These past 3 years have been so impactful already, and I know the future ones will continue to be- with the old friends, with the new friends, and with friends to be made!!

Let’s spread love more often rather than hate. I encourage anyone who feels inclined to make posts (maybe not as long as mine if you dont want XDD) talking about your favorite creators and friends in the fandom, too! Or, if that seems too corny to you, just continue to draw, write, edit, and cosplay! Continue to make people laugh and smile and cry and swoon! Continue to support creators by leaving comments and kudos, by liking and reblogging, by following and commissioning, and sharing and crediting their work wherever you can! Continue to make a difference!

I love you all so much!

#mikayuu #long post #personal #anon #spreading love w people i love

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dekiiru · 6 years

Text

okay sorry it took so long for me to write and post this, but im home now and in the silence to be able to gather my thoughts and the peace to be able to write them down. a lot of this is me working through my own thoughts as i write it so im sorry its so long, but im still a little bit confused on how to feel about this, largely, i think, due to shock.

i had no clue about almost any of the stuff julie did or said to people. i knew of the miles thing to some extent (i didnt know why miles was uncomfortable with him, i only knew about the aftereffects) and i knew about the vague story surrounding why maddy, jay and marina didnt like him, although i had never actually spoken to them before.

my initial reaction to the callout was to get defensive, because that was someone i considered my friend and although somewhere i think i knew or had some inkling that he was like this, i chalked it up to mistakes and people jealous of his popularity because i wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. but the more i read the callout (i never finished it, partially because i had to take screencaps of the posts and painstakingly slowly read through them because the nature of my work makes it very difficult to focus on things for more than a few seconds at a time and partially because by the time i stopped, i had already made my decision regarding him) the more i realized that defending his actions isnt something i can, should, or would do.

and regarding the “sc/hool sho/oter” post, i live in america. in fact, i lived about 5-15 minutes away from where one of these sc/hool sho/otings happened (i lived for several years in roseburg, oregon, and the sh/ooting at u.c.c. happened a year or two after i moved to where i live now). i knew people who went there. i knew one person who died. the day it happened i broke down in the middle of marching band because i had no idea whether or not the friends i knew for three years were alive or dead and that fucking terrified me. and when it happened, i told julie over discord (because i was working when i heard about it) that i did not condone his actions or words and that it was wrong of him to say, but (and i still stand by this), it is not the place of anyone who was not even indirectly affected by a shooting to decide whether or not someone is worthy of redemption. no, julie should not have reblogged that post and while it is totally fine for you to be uncomfortable to interact with him because of it, i think only people who have been directly affected by sc/hool shoo/tings have the right to decide if he is worthy of forgiveness - for that. the rest of it is a different matter.

a few months ago i actually went through this with someone else. i wrote a callout post for daisy, a mercy blog in the overwatch fandom who deleted shortly after i wrote it. (if any of you want to see that callout, let me know and ill send it to you. i will admit here and now that there was something i shouldnt have added in there, but it was added with good intentions, but regardless, daisy’s callout really has nothing to do with the situation with julie and nothing to do with what is happening now. shes gone. im just making a connection to this situation.) it was a very similar situation; manipulation, hypocrisy, turning people against others, saving face and caring more about reputation than anything else. and while i was absolutely terrified of daisy’s situation happening again, where i get really really close with someone and then find out they manipulated the fuck out of me, i was also scared to lose friends, and i think thats a big part of why i wanted so badly to match or whatever, because i really really really wanted a place to belong, where i felt special and unique and yet part of a group and in the end that really fucked me over and made me blind to what was happening. i defended him (albeit not for long, ive only spoken to him for a few months now) for things i shouldnt have defended him for because i was terrified of losing people and im so sorry about that.

as for the callout itself: i will say that i do think there are two sides to every story. im not saying julie is a victim in this or that he is to be sympathized with, because at the end of the day, he hurt a lot of people and its good that the word was spread before more people got hurt. i dont agree that it is “a cis persons responsibility to make sure people know they are cis” because that kind of mindset will only lead to a witch hunt, but im not going to make a fuss about this because i know some other genderqueer people are more uncomfortable about cis people than i am and at the end of the day that is a personal opinion. i think some of the callout was worded with bias which probably, in some situations, did slightly twist the truth, ONLY because it is a callout and it is really difficult not to twist the truth in them even when they are written as formally as possible, HOWEVER while most of the time i disregard callouts (because a lot of them are written entirely based on personal bias because someone doesnt like someone else rather than on an actual need for people to be warned), this one was written very eloquently and very well. as someone who has been on that side of things, im really really proud of the people who contributed to it, especially those that werent afraid of giving their names out, because that is a really really hard thing to do, especially when its for someone really popular. i remember when i wrote one for daisy, i was almost sick to my stomach with the anxiety, and really pleasantly surprised when it was received much better than i expected. i am really proud of you guys, and thank you for letting me and everyone else know the truth of what happened.

however, that callout was not an attack, nor was it intended to be, and by people sending julie hate, youre just making the situation worse. i believe, in my personal opinion, that the best thing to do is to block and move on. we can come together as a community, and while julies actions wont go away, hopefully we can heal and understand from them. and i really want to thank manny for that post, because similarly to daisy, it is the people closest to the person in question who are left most in the dark. as julies friend, i had no idea about almost anything that was there and honestly, im glad now that i do. thank you for understanding that the people who associated with him are not always aware of what he did.

anyway this is really disorganized and im sorry, thats just my thoughts on the matter (as much as i can think anyway), and i hope it makes some sort of sense. i will be hardblocking julie on all of my blogs and changing the urls to both my izuku blog and my ouma blog and my icon for this blog. if you choose to continue to interact with julie, thats on you and i wont reprimand you, block you or unfollow you for it. please do not associate me with him anymore, though, add me to any groups anywhere with him, or tag me and him in the same posts.

and, as i said before, because i really want to get this point across, if you are uncomfortable with me because i interacted with him so much and so intimately and wish to hard or softblock or unfollow me, that is perfectly fine and i understand completely. i only ask if you softblock me that you let me know so that i dont accidentally follow you again, because i dont want to make anyone uncomfortable with my presence.

#⥺ ⥼ ❛ toes ? toes ? toes ? t ( ooc. )#long post //

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amoristt · 7 years

Text

Watching Angels II | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

Anonymous asked: Could you write the 2nd part of Watching Angels? It's amazing + From the Drabble list... Could you write Fluff 5 for Nathan? :D

sorry this one turned out so much shorter than the rest! for some reason i had an issue writing it... i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 the preview looks kinda bad but i swear this is some sort of fluff!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language

Nathan’s phone shattered the second it hit the ground, and you watched in silence. He was fuming now, shoulders squared, jaw tensed, hands balled tight into fists. Though you weren’t yet sure what had happened you could guess what it was: his father. Normally you’d refuse to be around someone who’s entire personality could shift in just seconds but with Nathan it was different. He had no grip on his anger and you knew this, but he did too, because when you took a step back he saw the uncertainty in your expression and instead of punching a wall like he so obviously wanted to he roughly sat down on the futon across from his bed. He gripped at his hair and seethed, body nearly quaking in anger.

“Nathan,” You called, voice soft and hesitant. It felt like just a second ago you were both laughing. “Was it your da-”

“Yeah.” He interrupted you. He covered his face with his hands and you could hear him trying to manage his breathing. That’s good, learn to control yourself. You moved to sit on the bed across from him, leaning forward and trying to see any expression you could make out beneath his thin fingers.

“What happened?” You asked. He just shook his head, and you knew he’d rather not talk about it. At this point, though you didn’t even need to know. His father probably bitched at him for getting into trouble, had his sister work as some sort of pacifier to try and get him back inline, and it had backfired.

My entire fucking family hates me, he’d once screamed at you. Kristine thinks dads just some big bully, she doesn’t fucking get it! No one does!

But, you did. Of course you didn’t know every last dark ‘Prescott’ secret, but you’d known enough. You knew his sister was just trying her best to help Nathan, make him feel less traumatized than he was, but in turn it never worked. She talked to him like she was talking to a child who’d gotten into an argument with a friend, but Nathan wasn’t a child, and Sean most certain was not a friend.

Sometimes it made you upset how he was treated. Nathan was troubled, and he needed help, but he wasn’t… Evil. He had his moments, yes, where you’d wonder if there were sides to him that you’d never known but he’d always come back to you, apologize. He was such an angry soul but along with all the hate there was good, he just needed the right person to bring it out. There were so many people that would use Nathan for bad just because he was easy, because he was always looking for some sort of validation, and it was a scary thought to realize that.

“No one understands.” Nathan said into his hands. “Everyone hates me.”

Your brows knit in worry, and before you could stop yourself you were up and bounding for the futon. It would have been easy for him to shove you away, yell at you to get out, but he grew quiet as you sat down beside him. When you ran your hands from his shoulders, down to the small of his back, he leaned to the side against you. It was a great improvement when you compared it to the times he’d refused any help from you. He said it was because he didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not from you, but you knew it was all a ruse. He hated being seen as weak, so you learned to not take his fury-induced words personally.

“I don’t hate you,” You murmured. “I could never hate you.”

“You could,” He argued, though it was a losing war. He was already giving up. “You will.”

“I won’t.” Softly you made circles at the small of his back, watching him carefully. From the minute Nathan had picked up the phone you knew this was coming. It was jarring to see him stand up and whip his phone at the floor, and it was even scarier to see the screen break apart at the blunt force, but you stayed, and you waited for this moment. In his bouts of anger there was always this moment.

It was small and quick, barely there if you blinked twice, but you’d learned to harbor the few seconds when he’d lean against you. Sometimes he would just sit there in silence, and sometimes… Sometimes he would cry. And then you would cry, and you would tell him one day this would all be over, and it would just be the two of you with the big open world. He’d nod, wipe his eyes in frustration, and say he knew, but in some ways you knew these things were just… words.

You wanted nothing more than to ditch Arcadia Bay, and ever since you’d brought it up with him it was a constant thought, but deep in your heart you knew you would likely be tied to Arcadia Bay forever. Plus, even after everything, Nathan still seeked the approval of his father. He could yell, curse, break things and swear up and down that he hated his father's guts, wanted nothing but to break away from the Prescott name, but in the end you knew he wanted to do right by his father. It saddened you to think about how he was chained like that, stuck between hating his father and needing to live up to his expectations. It fucked him up beyond belief.

So, for now, the only thing shoved into a suitcase was the thoughts and plans of leaving the city. You’d leave a note attached to the zipper that read, “For the future”, and you’d shove it into the back of your mind.

Your eyes found their way to the floor, catching on his broken phone. The first time you saw him destroy his cellphone you were worried you wouldn't be able to call or message him anymore, and then it turned out the next day he’d gotten a brand new one. After that you lost count of how many he went through.

“Can we go?” Nathan suddenly spoke, and you looked at the digital clock by the wall. The dorms would be locking up soon but you nodded anyways.

“Yeah,” You said. “Where do you wanna’ go?” Nathan shrugged, and you leaned your head back in thought. “Beach?”

Even though it was cold out, summer still being months away, he agreed.

When you stood up he followed, rolling his shoulders and taking in a much needed deep breath. He inspected the broken phone on the floor and you were scared for a second he would get mad all over again, but instead of restarting his cycle he just shook his head in irritation and grabbed his varsity jacket from the top of his bed. You in turn leaned down, grabbed your shoes and slipped them on before throwing on a light jacket.

Outside was much colder than you’d initially thought it would have been. Your breath was visible every time you breathed out, and even though there was no snow on the ground there was some soft frost lining over the grass. As much as you hated goosebumps and shivering, you were grateful that this was the worst winters could be in Arcadia Bay. You’d rather have this than 3 feet of snow and icy roads.

You tried to maintain yourself in front of Nathan, fingers subconsciously gripping your forearms as you fought the urge to shake. Nathan would give you his jacket rather you’d want it or not if he found out you were cold, and even though you did like wearing it you’d rather he kept it for himself today.

The thought made you smile, though. Big bad Nathan Prescott would totally give you his only jacket in order to make sure that you were feeling okay. People would go nuts if they’d learned that little tidbit, but then again maybe they wouldn’t. They’d ignore anything that could potentially make Nathan seem like he was human.

“Ugh, he’s only doing that because ‘he's got possessive issues,” someone would say. “Yeah, he’s a total freak.” Another would add. You frowned bitterly at knowing how some people treated him.

“What is it?” Nathan suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he was looking down at you, probably wondering why you were looking so crossed for no apparent reason.

You shook your head. “Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“Whatever you say.”

As he turned his gaze back down the ground, you looked up at him. He obviously wasn’t nearly as upset as he had previously been, but there was still something swimming beneath his skin. You could see it in the way he didn’t shiver in the cold like he normally did. He hated colder temperatures, and whenever it was even slightly chillier out he’d shake even with the aid of his jacket. This time, however, he didn’t, which led you believe his mind was still racing with whatever his father had said to him earlier. How could he think about how cold he was when he was remembering his father's shitty words?

Worried, you wondered if you should try to hold his hand, remind him that you’re there for him. When you two were alone he wasn’t against it, but maybe right now wasn’t the best time. He scared you, but not in a frightening way. You weren’t scared of what he could do to you, no, you were scared of what he could do to himself. Should he blow up at you, cross some sort of line you’d made in the imaginary sand, he’d always mellow out at some point and try to make it up to you. However when it came to himself he owed no apologies. He liked to pretend nothing could cut him, that words were only sticks and stones that would bounce clean off, but you knew better. You knew better than anyone else that words could fuck him up just as easily as a fist could, but those marks were much harder to see than bruises.

He was so reckless with himself, doing all these drugs, getting into trouble. He didn’t care whatsoever what happened to him and it worried you so bad. At one point you’d accidentally started an argument about it with him- and even though you hated fights it turned out pushing your relationship further than it was before.

You can’t do this to yourself, you’d cried at him, and when he asked why you said, It’s not fair to me.

You told him it scared you. You told him with tears in your eyes, a shaky voice, and tight fists that you loved him so much and you couldn’t handle the thought of one day learning you were found dead in some ditch.

It was in that moment that Nathan learned someone loved him, and he had no idea how to handle it.

At first he was pissed. He stormed away and for the first time you almost gave into your anger and put a hole in your wall.

But then, hours later and without a word, he came back. He pressed you to your mattress and told you he was sorry, and you believed every word.

He’d gotten just a little bitter after that entire ordeal. Finally he started answering you when you called, and along with that he stopped turning his back on you when you tried to help him. It was a hard journey to where you were now but you earned it, and you were going to keep it.

Arriving at the beach and finding a spot in front of the coast, you two sat beside each other but kept some sort of distance. You didn’t force yourself closer, knowing that at first he needed space before gradually making his way closer to you. Even though you wanted nothing more than to grab him, hold him close, you taught yourself to wait. Being patient with him was rewarding.

Thanks to the shorter days the moon was well out by the time he started scooting closer to you. The stars were beautiful, as was the ocean, and feeling his fingers tentatively tug at your arms made it all the better. He found a spot right behind you, holding your back to his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist. He would only cuddle you in the dark but that was okay, you’d accept it. However, outside in the cold, you forgot to stop yourself from shivering when a gust of wind cut through you. Without a word Nathan pulled back for a moment and you sighed knowingly, already about to argue with him to keep his jacket on, but he took it off too quickly and shoved it over the top of your shoulders like a makeshift blanket.

“And they say romance is dead.” You mumbled to yourself in defeat, slumping your shoulders but tugging it closer to you nonetheless. Finally you stopped shivering.

“Be quiet,” He breathed, finding his way back against you. “Are you warm enough?”

A smile found it’s way to your lips. If you ever happened to tell anyone that Nathan, the dangerous, asshole-rich-kid gave you the jacket off his back, affectionately asking if you were warm enough, they’d laugh at you. Even you yourself would have been shaking your head in disbelief at the scene, but now you’d learned enough about him to know that even though he was an asshole he still had some good in him. It all came back around to people not knowing who he truly was, but you stopped yourself from thinking about it all before you got angry again. Right now you were safe with Nathan, and so you were more than content.

“Are you feeling better?” you asked softly. Nathan shrugged behind you, and you bit at your cheek, daring to take a leap. “You know.. You shouldn’t care what he thinks.”

Nathan bristled against you and you almost groaned at your own stupidity. Way to ruin a nice moment.

“I don't.” He managed quietly, but you knew better.

“Nathan I’m serious. If he doesn’t care enough to get to know you then you shouldn’t care enough t-”

“I said I don’t fucking care what he thinks.” He snapped, and you went silent. You heard him give a deep breath before speaking, quieter this time, taking the time to sound calmer. “I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You watched the moon. “What changed your mind?”

His chin rested atop your head, and when no answer came you smiled.

When his anger subsided Nathan was always a tired soul. In the heat of the moment he had enough power to bend the world around him it felt like, and despite knowing him you sometimes feared you would get in the crossfires of his meltdowns. But, it never stopped you. You’d step right into his hurricane, mollify him, ease him into a softer state of mind. It took so much out of him mentally and physically, and often when his fire faded from the edges you could see how burnt out he was. He was a melting candle that hid behind an impressive flame, and in order to stop him from completely falling to pieces you had to douse it.

This, sitting with him at the beach as though it was summer all over again, is how you doused him. The sand was soft beneath your legs, fingers drifting through the particles that fell atop one another. Neither of you cared that sand would be stuck in your clothes for the rest of the evening. Sitting with him, watching the stars and the slowly pulling tide... Sand didn’t matter.

You looked out to the dark horizon, finding where the water met the sky. Under the moonlight, resting atop buoys, you noticed two ducks perched side by side. You smiled.

“Those birds,.” You started, blinking slowly at the scene in front of you, “They’re us.”

Nathan breathed a laugh and you imagined him rolling his eyes. “Shut up.” He said.

“Wouldn’t it be nice, though?” You ran your fingers through the sand again, sighing. “Not having to worry about anything, just kinda relaxing together.”

For a moment Nathan was quiet, then he spoke again. “Remember what you said, the whole ‘we could run away after Blackwell’ thing?”

His voice was strangely fragile and you swallowed, nodding. “Yeah?”

There was another pause.

“Let’s do it.”

You didn’t turn to look up at him, staring forward at the seemingly endless ocean. In the silence his arms came to wrap tighter around you, squeezing you to him, and you felt your heart pick up. You were so entirely afraid, your stomach was churning, anxiety holding you tight. But, your fingers came up, held gently on his bony arms. Everything seemed to come to a stop, as if the world had ceased turning. The coast didn’t even seem to be moving anymore. The entire world teetered on the edge, waiting for your fateful answer, but Nathan already knew what it was. You said it anyways.

“Okay.”

Beneath the moonlight, the ducks flew away.

#life is strange #nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #imaginefictionals #LIS

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[OT] Going on a whim.

So here i am. Sad. Depressed. Poor. Unhappy. There are a lot of ways to describe my feelings. However they all have the same root issue. I'm doing nothing to change them. Now i'm describing old issues with new terms to compare my issues to others and really confusing myself thinking my problems are much worse than they really are, and i go down this spiral why? And the day I asked myself that question “why?” is the day things started to change. No it wasn't immediate, but everytime i asked myself why i was feeling or doing something i was not pleased with, It was a reminder of hatred of the life I was living. We humans have a unique ability to rationalize our thoughts however only if we actually think to do it. And there lies problem number one. We choose to ignore our dissatisfaction because that was “easier” than thinking and doing things differently. We are victims of our own minds, addicted to routine and scared to veer off course even though nothing we are doing is making our problems go away or get any better, and the fear we have only gets masked by the fact nothing will change and everything will be okay because we survived today. Sound like you?

So what do we do? We change. And yes it is that simple. Of Course there are some exceptions to the rule, and this is in no way meant to tackle your diagnosed depression or any form of medical issue, please listen to the advice of your doctor.

If you want to be better nothing should stop you from achieving that, especially you. Yes there are problems that don't have solutions, but if youre reading this, youre reading to better yourself. Not to pick apart the small details that you're going to try to rationalize and make yourself think this is all a load of bullshit. If you're telling yourself you can't solve a problem you gave up too soon. There doesn't need to be a perfect solution written in stone, nor does the solution even need to exist yet, if it doesn't exist, create it. Am i starting to sound like a dad now? Fun fact. I am, however i have seen this thought process work. Not just with myself. But with my family and amongst the few living in this society who found their sweet spot. I have seen solutions to problems create themselves out of sheer will of wanting them to work. Have you ever considered the reason you can't google your problems and find simple fixes is because everyone googling that same question and writing on forums...also hasn't gone above and beyond to find the solution? You give up and wait to let others solve your problems another fun fact, you're going to be waiting awhile. And when that magical fix all that describes all your problems and claims to have the perfect solution know what else is attached to that? A price tag. see, The people who are creating solutions to problems are not doing it for nothing. They wanted to change, they changed. And they found a way to make money in the process. So in no way am i talking down on that mentality because it's great! Props to all those people who figured out that we don't need to have a path paved… to pave a path. You just need to want it, and you need to keep telling yourself that every day. Every. Day.

So what gives me the credentials to tell you all this? Nothing. What education do I have on the subject? Well years of failure but besides that, not much. What skills do I possess on the subject? Pretty much nothing except common sense. So Why listen to me? Im not making you, i don't even know if you made it this far in the read. Think of this read as “my plan” cause lets be honest here, i am writing this to better myself, because over all the years of telling myself i don't have any writing capabilities i said fuck that, now here i am writing whatever you want to call this.

This read will consist of everything I hate about the way our society lives. From the suing companies out of sheer stupidity to shitting on people for trying to do a good thing regardless of the negative or positive publicity that comes with it and people taking simple jokes as personal attacks.

People are too opinionated and thanks to social media everyone for some reason needs to care. I haven't quite figured this part out yet. Why do so many people care about dick and jane? What are they doing that's so important that it affects your emotions and causes people to act like assholes in disagreement. Now i'm not talking about anything political or in the terms of a way a country should run, you should always care about this stuff because it is your home. Make it your home, but choose the things to care about based off education, not emotion when it comes to this stuff emotion leads you to making the wrong choice which will entice disagreements which in turn has people attacking your character because you based your facts on emotion, not education, now you're backpedaling trying to make sense of what you originally thought and then that harsh reality hits.

What would happen if instead of looking at peoples positives in a negative light… you just stopped caring about it all together because let's face it, the energy you're wasting fuming at a problem that has nothing to do with you… even if its a subject you are extremely passionate about… is what your thinking and wanting to do … rational? Or is the emotion you feel the exact reaction the writer/commenter/speaker wanted to draw out? Families are a different struggle, what if i disagree with my Spouse? Child? Sibling? Parents? If I just stop caring they will just get up and leave. You're not wrong my friend, you certainly need to choose your battles, maybe a better approach to family related issues is seeing it from their perspective, agreeing with them and moving on even when you don't truthfully see it in their eyes. if it's merely a hypothetical your life will be easier to agree and move on, but also seek the education in their opinion, because frankly the “crazy” ideas often bear the most fruit and two minds can usually polish a crazy idea and turn it into a practical one. If it's something they are extremely passionate about you should be supportive, not an asshole. This is a category i struggle with myself but who am i to tell my family what they think is stupid? They probably think me writing this is stupid and that's 100% fine, i know i am bad at this, and a role model to no one, but what am i going to do about it? I'm going to start caring when it's hard to care i will subconsciously remind myself to care in situations like this, again its that unique ability humans have to think about their own thoughts, so what negative implications will i have from caring more about my family? None if you don't look for them however if you search you will find, stop wasting energy looking for problems. Here's the grey area we operate in, we don't need to care about the small stuff. What family wants is support, not criticism, they are going to get criticism everywhere else, they don't need that shit at home too. If it's not detrimental to life, find balance and move on. people try to draw out emotion all the time, it's very profitable to do so. But what you choose to have emotions about is completely your choice. Don't let people influence your emotion. This read is not meant to influence your emotion, i'm merely telling you it's possible to not be an asshole when you disagree with someone, and that you're capable of doing what dick and jane do, if you stop caring so much about them. And care about what they are achieving. And put the same effort of your dissatisfaction into obtaining what they have. Did they say something that stuck a nerve? Why? Why does it affect you so much? It doesn't. They want you to think it involves you but it doesn't, never has, never will, end of story. Stop beating yourself up about the thoughts of another just because they don't align with your own theory, instead seek to understand their perspective, and if you don't see it yourself that's fine too, but keep it to yourself, that's how you avoid conflict based on emotion. There is no point in arguing with someone about something they are passionate about, you won't win, and that will lead to anger and saying irrational stuff not even pertaining to the subject. Has this ever happened to you? It sure does with me. All the time.

Here stems problem number 2. Why do i always need to feel “right” when there is nothing wrong about being wrong. Being wrong is great, it allows you to learn and not make the same mistakes again. But sometimes when people hear no, they get offended. Why? Why get offended because someone disagrees with you. You in fact may be right, however changing the other person's mind is going to take more than a quick back and forth argument, is that really worth the time and effort? And what do you gain? One person who sides with you? Or maybe even a larger group of people. But what does that gain you. Does everyone agreeing with you give you more than just an ego? Be honest with yourself and ask. If i change Jane’s mind what do i gain...other than someone agreeing with me. So what am i doing about this problem for myself? I'm constantly reminding myself that only i can see the direction i want to go, the path i want to follow, and the things i want to do or see. I don't need anyone to agree with my principles. They are not public principles which require the community to vote where im allowed to travel, or what i'm allowed to wear say or do. They are mine. So if i had any advice here, its let your principles be yours, they don't need to be a public dick measuring contest, you don't need approval from society. Stop thinking you do.

Were growing up in a society of inclusion which i also think is great. However the way inclusion is exercised in reality makes me scratch my head. Rewarding people for simply showing up builds egos at such a young age, they are miserable later on. Always wanting stuff given to them and not actually willing to put in the effort. How do i know? Im of that generation, and i was that dickhead prior to discovering who i wanted to be. However i must say it's driving business. Never before have you had the ability to spend $25 hard earned dollars on a $10 meal, simply due to laziness or lack of time. New companies are solving issues that are created because of our lifestyles and they are the ones making all the money, while we look at our massive piles of debt that grow because everything you see is an ad for something that wants your money.

So who am i and why am i saying all this? Let's say my name is Rhonin Oaks, i'm a youngin on paper, but my life experiences make up my resume. Currently i reside on the east coast of canada, in a small annoying town of about 10k. I have a young daughter and an amazing spouse, they are why i am writing this. I am bettering myself for them. Nobody else. Nobody else matters to me. I grew up in the same town i currently reside, but i've lived in many different provinces with plans to be mobile again soon, not to run from problems but to stop living in fear of change. Currently i'm working in the financial sector, but i've worked in telecommunications, call centers, fast food, labour, oil industry and retail. So besides healthcare, i think i've worked for every type of industry the general public loves to hate. Every morning i wake up and read the news while im taking my morning shit, just to always be reminded of how people actually felt about the industries i just so happen to work in. and it didn't happen just once, i worked for a bank...cbc marketplace video goes viral about how banks were operating, also i may add everything in that news segment was true at the time, however i cannot speak on that currently. Then it was telecommunications and the evil rise of their thousands of employees reaching out to cbc marketplace and that goes viral too. I actually thought this gray cloud was following me. So how does that play on my mental health? It sucks. Having crippling anxiety every morning not knowing what customer was going to reem into you because they are upset about something. Or you made a mistake and feel like you're going to be a news story yourself. I honestly felt that this cloud of bullshit was following me, and soon. I was going to be the target. Ridiculous right? Well i didn't think so for many years. It caused me so many health issues...and for what? I’ve gained nothing. Nothing except the experiences i'm writing to you today. But i did come to one conclusion, when people can't solve their problems, they play bully to someone who can. Reaching out to media about the affairs of a business doing business, just because you don't like your $2000.00 overage fees for something that was completely in their control to avoid. They reach out to the media to see if the pressure comes down hard enough on the company that they bend and do a refund. How is that fair to anyone at all? Own your mistakes people. Im owning mine to a degree that i will have this published somewhere as a constant reminder of what i once was and what i will become, and you know what they say… once on the internet always on the internet. I'm not running anymore. I'm not suppressing these negative feelings im working to get rid of them forever and ever. Do i consider myself successful? Currently no, i haven't achieved my level of what i consider success. However, i'm on the right path.It was not streamlined nor written in a book. I've read dozens of self help books, and i've taken something from each and every one of them. I mean i'm here writing my own in a way. I had to take all the pieces of the puzzle and put myself together. There is no one shoe fits all solution to life i used to think that was called marijuana, i was wrong, more on that later. So what do i define as my own success? Success to me isn't how much money i make, the car i drive, where i live or anything materialistic. It's how i feel when i wake up. Success is waking up and already knowing what my day will consist of, sure there will be surprises but i will be prepared to handle them. Success to me is being prepared enough to for every day life to the point it no longer affects my mental health which turns into anger and aggression towards my loved ones. My loved ones mean more to my success than anything else. I'm a provider, being able to provide for my family is my success. And this is why i say i have not achieved the level of success that i want to. How am i getting there? Well i'm glad you asked. Once i discovered that providing for my family was something i would stop at no end to achieve i opened the book of problems that would all need to be solved.

This is where the fun begins, once i had my vision of success in my head it was time to get it on paper. I had to dissect my flaws. But rhonin what if i can't see my flaws? If you can't see your personal flaws, look at the problematic parts of your life, what do you stress about and why are you stressing over it, search for your flaws there. Let me give you a personal example, i want to provide for my family so we don't need to worry what tomorrow will bring, i know i make enough money to do so however i'm still not hitting my goals. Now it's time to dig out the bank and credit card statements, where is my money going? I made $48k before tax in the year of 2018, my total expenses for living came to just under $30k so where is that other $18k? What do i have to show for it? But to make matters worse. Not only did that $18k disappear, i added an additional 6k of credit card debt. So i made $48k, spent $54k, so here lies flaw one that i have discovered in myself. I suck with money and its causing financial stress on my family which is not allowing me to feel successful (ironic i work for a banking institution and i suck with my own money) So rhonin, where did your money go? Well, McDonalds and Tim Hortons got a nice chunk. My drug dealer got the other chunk. When i looked back i discovered i was spending $1000 a month on take out and just as much on marijuana. So what now? Clearly i have a problem that is going to take more than just knowing about it to fix. How am i fixing it? Pain is the answer. Because everything comes with some degree of pain. My pain comes from eating foods i dislike because they are what i can afford. My pain is coming from the withdrawal of not smoking, not being able to sleep, and when i do, waking up like i just got out of the shower and have to change my bed sheets every night, let me tell ya, i have nothing but respect for anyone going through this pain.

Pain is the trade off for success, how much pain are you willing to absorb to accomplish your goals? this is where most people fail, they don't realize there are compromises to be made when you want to achieve something, that or they feel like they are strong enough to complete their task but only to the point that it gets hard, then they give up and lose interest. But this can also be a good thing and people put themselves down all the time because this repeated philosophy of not succeeding at something makes you a failure, but just because you lose interest in something and don't complete it doesn't make you a failure, it opens you up to new opportunities, clearly if you lose interest, you weren't that passionate to begin with and your success in that field would be limited to the pain you're willing to take to get there, why settle for a plan that's going to bottleneck your success. Pursuing something to feel successful is a great first step, just understand the first idea you get, may not work. You may get to idea 100 before something sticks. With social media pushing all these fun and exciting things in your face, it skews people's ability to find what truly makes them happy, they see what makes other people happy and they generalize that happiness thinking it will make them happy to. This is how successful marketing works and that's why you should never pay attention to it. I haven't used social media in terms of facebook, instagram, snapchat or whatever else floats your boat in many years. Do you really know 400 people or more? Do you actually care about 400+ people? If you don't and are just being nosey into the lives. Why do you care about their life if you aren't close to them? Are you comparing dicks? Delete their stress from your life. You don't need people to compare yourself too. Compare yourself to your previous self that is what you should be doing to feel happy. Dont be better than dick and jane, be better than you!

Currently i am in the process of quitting smoking marijuana as i mentioned earlier, it's hard. It sucks. But im doing it. Why? Because the person i am now is not the same person my spouse fell in love with. I changed, and not for the better. I was a frequent smoker for the last three years, however i did not smoke anything when i met my spouse and she fell in love with my character, years of smoking and living in a rut, smoking more to compensate for bigger problems in our lives, i became a shitty person. To my family. And to myself. I just so luckily managed to also get a rare illness THC induced pancreatitis is my life now, and no, there isn't a lot of research to go off of for this illness. However it only flares up when i am smoking. Pancreatitis in just its regular form is a pain in the ass so having a version that flares up when i'm doing something i enjoyed was just a slap in the face, and in case you weren't aware, pancreatitis unless taken care of very well not just temporarily but permanently will become cancerous, being my dumb ass self tho, i didn't care, i continued to smoke for another year before im taking the initiative to quit. I tortured my body and potentially reduced my life span because i was too stupid to open my eyes and do something about my problems. No more. No i don't think marijuana is bad for everyone it's gotten me through a lot of hard times but when i look back, i would have made it though those problems anyways and i realized this only recently.

I was one lazy son of a bitch, dishes might have gotten done once a month. Laundry hamper overflowing floors unswept and garbage that smells like shitty baby diapers and rotten food, and the fruit flies, holy shit the fruit flies. I couldn't even make a meal without getting bugs in it. What the hell am i doing? Why would i want my child to grow up in this mess. What example am i setting for her? A terrible one. My daughter is amazing, she's always smiling and she's slept through the night since 4 weeks old. I can't really say i had the “tired dad” look all the time, because i slept great. She was amazing, she was the daughter i needed because she was the daughter i was able to take care of. I truly feel for the parents who were up every 2 hours or more with their child. I didn't have these struggles but i know if i did, my daughter may not even be in my possession. So what am i doing? I cleaned up my act. Im doing chores daily (work in progress) but i'm getting there. I'm quitting smoking. Im being there for my family when they need me and all these steps towards a better life is making me happier in the progress and when i finally can say i have this shit under control. I will feel successful.

Having a game plan is very important because you don't want to tackle every issue at once, for instance when im quitting smoking, other chores will piss me off and make me think i need to smoke. Seems counterproductive eh? Have stages, but make your stages known to the people you're close too. Once they see what you're willing to do, but want to do it smart and not all at once with a higher rate of success. You will get support, if you dont are they really worth keeping around? Family or not, choose those to be in your life that propel you forward. Not hold you back.

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