#this took too much of my brain it felt like I was relearning everything

[jnoll]

working through the nein very slowly

#I haven’t posted/attempted doing sketches this neat in… over two years?? #this took too much of my brain it felt like I was relearning everything #big help that I have a working stylus now #mighty nein #critical role #cr2 #critical role fanart #critical role art #jester lavorre #yasha nydoorin #caleb widogast #remembering the type of artist I wanted to be when I first joined the fandom years ago

[grapejuicestyless]

Two People

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: They still love each other, but they can not communicate it. Inspired by the song “Two People” by Gracie Abrams.

Conrad sat out on the beach, his hair blowing the way the wind took it. He wore that same red sweatshirt it seemed he always had on these days. Paired with that same lifeless black and white expression that graced his beautiful face.

A cigarette hung between his pointer and middle finger, daring to fall into the sand if he moved too suddenly. The ash already piling below him. The paper burning quickly, Conrad oblivious to it or, uncaring if he had known.

“I figured I might find you out here.” My words were soft, unsure of how he was feeling.

I used to know Conrad. Know how he was feeling based solely on his posture or the way he put effort into himself on certain days. If he breathed heavy or not, I could see right through him. Physically, I guess I still knew him. I always would. He would always be there, sitting in the sand at the summer home, distant in his mind but here none the less. Mentally, I knew nothing of him, it seemed. His interests all slipping away and his upsets unknown. Changing too quick for me to keep up.

“Here I am.” His words were just as quiet, floating off into the empty space surrounding us.

Turn around, why are you talking so slowly?

Speechless. Something that never happened between us. A conversation flowing easily between us. One that never had to be thought on as the other never took anything too seriously. Now it felt like everything was so much deeper. Like each word needed to be carefully crafted to even get a response from him.

“I see why you spend so much time down here, it’s beautiful.” The smile on my face was genuine, and heavy. The waves serving a reminder to all the time we spent down at Cousins together. My heart beating through my chest in hope that I could get something started again.

“I guess.” He shrugged, twisting the bud in his hand out in the sand. I guess that answered my question. He was always so observant so it was obvious, but he was never careless. Not until this summer.

My attempts dead on the very sand where we once laid playing around for hours. Tangled in each others limbs. Playing best friends while behind secure walls, we were so much more.

I was in love, not stupid. Even in my heartache I could see that I was not welcome here in the storm that Conrad was causing with his own actions. Sand fell as I stood. I wiped it off my skin as he had done to my attempts to try to relearn him. And left.

Why's it feel like you don't even know me?

How are you looking at me like a stranger?

I'm a radar for every deal breaker

It was the same internal fight each week. My brain finally convincing my heart that in his change of heart, it was time to erase the memories of our nonexclusive relationship. A messy summer love that was a mistake, obviously. Yet with each moving on, he was there to remind me of why it had begun in the first place.

Each date ending unsatisfactory. Each boy not able to deliver the same love that he had. Each kiss dull compared to the sparks that shocked me when his lips pressed against mine.

And each one ending in my hands pressed against my eyes, back hunched and knees bent in the stools near the island countertops. The lightest room in the dark. Each time he was there, idly passing through to grab something that could be added to the pile of mess in his once neat bedroom. Usually he was silent.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you keep trying.” Usually.

My head shot up, slower than it felt but the pounding inside of my skull from another wasted night made everything worse. If my face hadn’t fallen before, it had now.

“I don’t know Conrad, at least I’m trying.” It was meant to be a dig at his lack of presence in my life. I believe that he knew that, but I lacked all fight. Each bone in my body aching, a lingering tiredness never leaving.

“Maybe you should stop, it’s not doing you any good.”

“What, like you?” My voice on edge, my eyes shot daggers at him. He stood there, back against the counters, water bottle in hand. He shrugged. Not even trying to seem like he cared.

“You know, I loved you so hard for a time. I don’t know why I did, honestly.” Like a ghost, I had slipped from the scene almost as if I had never even been there. Like my words and my impulsive confession ceased to exist.

I've tried to ration it out all my life

We could go yellow to black overnight

I never wanted to fight her, never trying to hurt her. But I couldn’t be present in her life without bringing her down. It was my own fault for getting stuck in the head. My lack of enthusiasm was only mine to blame.

I believed by downplaying how crushed I was when the world crashed around me, I could avoid it. And in that, I pushed away the one good thing in my life, forced to watch as she searched for another to fill her heart after I’d so cruelly crushed it.

I take you for granted because you are mine. Something she no longer was. Mine. She would always be near, only just down the hall. But we weren’t what we once were. No longer together, only coexisting.

Don't know what to say

Two People can change

Don’t think we’re above

Might happen to us.

Isn’t it strange?

We’ll die anyway

Don’t think we’re above

Might happen to us, mm

Each day was worse than the next, a reminder of what was lost only feet away from me, his voice still ringing in my ears. Each shirt sentence he mumbled or sloppy action somehow resurfacing an old memory. Years of togetherness that once held me together only ripping me further apart.

How strange it was to be a stranger in your own story. Someone you couldn’t even recognize. A sour mood the only thing I felt, the only thing Conrad and I seemed to still have in common. The rest of our interests dying with his own will.

And it was all so…lonely.

Now to make sense of half of a decade

Feels like walking alone on the freeway

The quiet bedrooms, the neat couch cushions. The clean counters the still hammocks. Each suffering their own loneliness in my own. Each sharing their own memories of Conrad and I.

Of how he’d baked with me in the kitchen, throwing around the flour just to get a reaction out of me. White powder coating both of our shirts.

Of how we’d lay intertwined on the couch, his hand in mine and his heart beating in my ear. The movie unimportant as I had the most interesting thing right next to me. The most important thing.

How we’d spent each night in his room, playing cards and laughing as quietly as possible. Pillows thrown in faces and clothes scattering on the floor. Hands on my hips and skin touching skin. Feet buried in the comforter, lips pressed to mine, breath nonexistent in those moments we spent so close. Much closer than friends should be. The hammock getting our after, hairlines sweaty and faces red. Not because we were ashamed, but because it was so much more than we thought it could’ve been. His legs tangling over mine and his shirt covering my body. A routine that was so familiar it was still vivid in my mind.

His touch, his voice, how everything felt with him. Safe.

'Cause you know everything that could kill me

And you know, you know every inch of my body

Now it all felt so, fake. Something that seemed more of a distraction. His unwanted behaviors towards me hinting that in the end, he never truly cared for me. He never really wanted me. I could hold on, hoping for something that would never come but I refused to allow him to hold such power over me. Life would go on and I could move on.

I loved you so hard for a time

So why am I clawin' at you to survive?

She was all I saw, the only thing I ever wanted, needed. Her smile infectious and her voice like honey. So sweet and calming. My first love. Sometimes-no, all the time I swear she is the only girl I could ever love. The only person I could see myself with. My counterpart. My equal.

I missed her touches on my cheeks, cold hands from the pool water nice on my cheeks. She’s tell me I was cold hearted, I’d promise it was only for everyone else. How I would be warm for her, loving for her. Maybe I said it too quietly, she could’ve never heard the promise. Maybe that’s why it all ended so abruptly. My touches no longer feeling enough and my quiet body sitting by hers not nearly enough.

I had failed her, I saw it from the beginning. I wish I knew what to say, to make it all right, to convince her I still cared. How I hadn’t changed, just forgot how to show how I felt. But it was far too late, and I was sure she hated me by now.

Hate how we touched just to push things aside

When you take me for granted, I make it alright

When summer ended, it was just as quiet as it had began. Conrad’s presence distant and uncaring. His face blank and his body paler than last summer. Hair untamed and eyes red.

It was almost like someone had swapped the real Conrad for a fake, a twin that looked like him, but inside could never match the depth of him.

When I left that summer, it wasn’t drawn out like last time. It wasn’t us hiding underneath the bedsheets so Laurel and Belly would have to chase, Steven threatening to drive off without me. It was my feet cemented to the driveway, head tilted downward in each hug, not truly believing anything was real.

When Conrad and I met to say our goodbyes, it felt just as empty as our hellos, and I knew we wouldn’t be talking over the colder months.

Don't know what to say

Two people can change

Don't think we're above

Might happen to us

Oh, isn't it strange?

We'll die anyway

Don't think we're above

Might happen to us, mm

Mm, mm, mm, mm

Mm-mm, mm-mm, mm-mm, mm

Seeing her so down that morning was something I had wished I never saw. The life drained from her skin, and it was all my doing. How lively she had been in June, eager to pick up where it left off, only to be treated like dirt. Something I regretted each day.

Still, I believed she was beautiful. Even in our empty goodbye, one that held no real meaning, I promised I would try to make up for the lost time. I would try to get her back each day. Until my calls were sent straight to voicemail and my texts left dry and unread. I would hold on until I had nothing left to give. So even if I lost her, I could say I tried.

Don't know what to say

Two people can change

Don't think we're above

Might happen to us

Isn't it strange?

We'll die anyway

Don't think we're above

Might happen to us, mm

#conrad fisher #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #tsitp conrad #tsitp x reader #tsitp x y/n #team conrad #conrad x you

[globalrebrand]

Grusha Origin Headcanons

Warnings: Angst, mention of brain injury, mention of depression.

A/N: I love this man and I'm posting romance, sfw and not sfw headcanons soon. Just needed to flush out a bit of his back story for my own reference.

Grusha was a snowboarding prodigy, starting at 8, going pro at 16 and qualifying for the world games national team the same year, where he took home two silver medals plus a hard fought gold. From there he was lavished with lucrative endorsements from sportswear and even luxury brands as his career skyrocketed.

By 22 Grusha was a household name known for his seemingly infallible arrogance, freakish talent and of course pretty face. He was also known for being impatient and quick to anger, but despite his flaws he possessed an irresistible boyish charm and enviable confidence that kept him frequently in the sports world spotlight. 

His accident happened when he was 26, and came as a complete shock. He was at the top of his game and had just won big at the last global winter games. And despite nearing the older end of snowboarders, no one saw him retiring anytime soon he definitely had a good 7 to 10 years left. Grusha was so ripe with vigor and talent, known for pulling off the most risky tricks with ease, he seemed untouchable as he encroached on the number one spot.

Grusha suffered a traumatic brain injury. He hit the right side of his forehead on the halfpipe after testing out a new manuever. He was rushed to the hospital and stayed in a coma for three weeks. It took him a nearly half a year of rehabilitation as he relearned how to walk and speak. 

Amazingly, Grusha made a full recovery thanks to medical advances in the poke world. He retained full mobility and had little to no long lasting cognitive damage.

He covers the injury scar with his bangs. It's not obvious but it bothers him. He sees it as a symbol of what he's lost.

A year after being discharged he did get back to snowboarding but it was obvious that too much time had passed and he wouldn’t be able to get back to where he was any time soon.

His agent was an absolute blessing, and had negotiated all of his contracts to be paid out in the case of injury but even with his wealth, everything felt empty without having that driving passion.

Grusha still struggles with bouts of depression whether its from his brain injury or the loss of something he loved... he's not quite sure.

Being a gym leader is a start but Grusha still doesn’t feel like he’s gotten his groove back. And he’s not sure that he ever will, but he’s found contentment in raising and battling his pokemon, and thats good enough.

#grusha #grusha x reader #grusha pokemon #pokemon scarvio #gym leader grusha

[albatris]

wait how'd you get over your 8 year "writer's block" if you don't mind me asking?

My "writers block" stemmed from several things!

The first was.... in school, I learned to be highly perfectionist and I stopped writing for fun and only thought abt writing for approval and good grades. It really really stressed me out and often left me paralysed with indecision and fear. This perfectionism carried over into my personal writing too. I needed to get back to my roots and remember how to enjoy writing, I needed to retrain my brain to get the happy chemicals from the act of writing something I'm passionate abt rather than from others' response to what I write. How I conquered this..... it was a slow process.... the most important thing for me was to write only when I felt like writing, and stop the moment I wasn't having fun anymore. Sometimes I wouldn't write for weeks. But this allowed me to slowly build up my strength and joy again, and eventually allowed me to relearn how to push myself, this time in a Healthy Manner. There was no shortcut

The second was just depression and other mental health issues. I'm simply just in a much better place now than I used to be. Depression and psychosis come with avolition and anhedonia, n none of that has disappeared, but it certainly has improved for me over the past few years; I also don't live with my parents anymore, I'm on HRT, I'm medicated, I'm becoming a person I like a lot more. Without so much heavy weight to carry I've been able to write more and get excited about writing again! Unfortunately there's no one size fits all answer to how to feel better in your mental health, so I can only tell you to be gentle with yourself and to know that the words will come back! I was in a place for so many years where I hated everything I wrote and thought I'd never find that joy again, but that joy is always waiting for you as long as you don't give up on it c:

A lot of people say the cure for writers block is to Just Write, but that always made things worse for me. Patience and not forcing myself helped me much more and were the only way I could start writing again in a healthy way! It took a long time but I'm a stronger writer now because I took the time and kinda overhauled my whole relationship with writing. Sometimes the most productive thing u can do is rest or invest in other creative hobbies for a while!

Idk if any of that made sense!

[magicalbats]

how do you get out of a bad writers block?? and what inspired u to get back into writing after ur hiatus?

Oof, I’m ngl that’s a bit of a difficult question for me to answer xmdkxkdnd for me at least, I wanted to write pretty much the entire time during my hiatus but I just couldn’t get my brain to function through the ✨ depression fog ✨ and even just opening up a word doc to force myself to write two sentences was extremely draining. My mental headspace just was not there. So what I did a lot of was read books.

I think I’ve read something like almost 60 books this year of different genres and topics - four out of five novels for the Court of Thorns and Roses series, Carrie by Stephen King, some old (really old xmxmdnd) Harlequin romance novels, a folk horror anthology, like six entries from the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series, etc, etc - and that helped me get back into the mindset of creative thinking. I found inspiration in these works, ideas I wanted to explore, things that left me disappointed with their execution and wanting to do better, and I sort of relearned how to string a narrative together in the process. Then I started reading over some of my old WIPs. In some of them I saw real potential and was even occasionally surprised by my own writing abilities when juxtaposed against all those published novels I’ve read. I’d think to myself “oh, this actually isn’t half bad?” And that would make me want to finish that piece or rework it with things I’ve learned in the interim.

One of the very first things I wrote and completed was that Itto x reader x Gorou kinktober fic. I saw the prompt, had the inspiration and impulsively jotted everything down. When I was finished and I read it over I felt GOOD. Proud of myself for actually completing something from scratch. I thought “hey, maybe I could do another one of these” and then proceeded to write Scara’s (which I’m actually very proud of tbh cmdmxm) and from there it was really just a matter of keeping that momentum going. In particular I think writing them for myself at that point, thinking I might post them some day when I was feeling brave enough to come out of hiding and just enjoying the satisfaction of writing again in the meantime, was what really helped me find my confidence again. It kind of took some of the pressure off of having people perceive me and my work dmdmdmd and I was able to sort of let everything flow organically as a result without worrying about how terrible or messy it was. A lot of this was very spur of the moment and idk if it will actually help you anon but in my case these were the things that helped me kick my extremely uncooperative brain back into gear lol

So the TL;DR of it would probably be to read other stuff. Pay attention to what you like, what you don’t, what makes you excited, sad, horny, happy, grossed out, etc and basically expose yourself to different kinds of writing styles and topics. I’ve read some pretty terrible books over the last year and some amazing ones too, and each one taught me something, even if it was not to do a thing haha. When you revisit your own works approach it like it belongs to one of those other authors, look at it objectively and sort of remove yourself from the equation. I’d say a big part of getting over writers block is just tricking your brain out of it tbh. 🤣 Like I said idk if any of this is helpful but I believe in you, anon! I am cheering for you and I know we’ll get through this together!

#also I know buying books can get really expensive!! #but honestly my favorite thing to do is hit up different thrift stores in my area and buy books for like 50 cents a pop in some cases #I’ve found some really good stuff doing this and ofc some pretty bad too but overall I think it’s a really great way to expose yourself to #a wide variety of writing styles topics and settings without breaking the bank #I actually have a fairly impressive collection of V.C.Andrews novels just from buying them second hand xmdmdmd #currently reading Flowers in the Attic as we speak but it’s been slow going since I fell behind on kinktober orz

[violettever]

OMG!!

okay let me tell you guys about my hajime headcanons! (i say ‘you guys’ as if anyone actually sees these posts LMAO)

but anyway, hajime.

after the simulation hajime wasn’t just magically himself. sure, somewhere in there hajime existed, but he couldn’t pull himself to the surface for months. we’re led to believe that hajime and izuru now share a body, right? but after having his emotions removed and his body enhanced he couldn’t force himself to feel for the longest time.

how do i put this.. hm… some people like to think that hajime now suffers from DID or that izuru is just gone but i think they physically share a body. hajime is more in control but izuru still exists in the mind. (izuru is originally more in control but as time progressed hajime gained more authority) so not exactly like DID more like two people in one. two for one sale, that’s a hell of an offer! (sorry bad joke) i feel like his body would be more like a vessel then a person, y’know? anyway when they wake up from the simulation his hair is still long, he’s wearing the suit, all that jazz. the others are pretty terrified at first, hajime isn’t like he was in the neo program at all. he’s silent, barely talks. his eyes are a dark red, his glare is deadly. even the future foundation is hesitant. but he shows no hostility, despite his horde glare he keeps calm. while izuru shows no signs of danger or violence, hajime does. mostly out of fear. i mean how would you feel if you were trapped inside a body, unable to surface, to feel or express anything. it’s difficult for anyone to decipher who is in control for the first few months, they both show no expression. izuru doesn’t feel like it and hajime physically can’t. the only indication they have that hajime is still there is if the body either harms itself or others.

occasionally, hajime would have these freak outs. he’d harm himself in many ways in order to feel something. izuru would put no work into stopping him even though future foundation begged. he said he found no use for it, that the others actions were meaningless. once hajime had walked out to the Hotel Restaurant where they usually meet in the mornings. the others say he looked deadly pale, his eyes opened wide, blankly staring forward. it was frightening. saying nothing, he sat down at the table, motionless. not wanting to interact too much with the man, they served him breakfast while the others chatted mindlessly, hoping to free up the tension in the air. that was until hajime picked up a knife and slammed it straight through into his hand, still staring at nothing, no indication of pain on his face. the others went silent in shock for a few moments before the room erupted in screaming. mikan was still in her pod, they had been relying on izurus nurse abilities but with him out of commission they were lost with what to do.

another time, he had collapsed on the walkway due to starvation. other times due to blood loss. in conclusion, hajime was incredibly unstable.

it took months for him to express properly. he had to completely relearn emotions and feelings. he lacked empathy and proper etiquette. they were worried he would never recover..

eventually that one eye turned green again and it felt like he could finally breathe. he had been watching everything from the back, as if he watching a movie of his own life play on the big screen. but now he was there. he was actually there, it wasn’t just izuru. after that, the outbursts started to slowly stop. he started working with the future foundation directly instead of giving instruction from the sidelines. people started to wake up. first mahiru, then hiyoko, then gundham, and so on..

the ones who were able were sent out to the fight monokumas in towa city. hajime, having a completely reconstructed body was obviously sent out first. actually let’s talk about that!

the izuru kamukura project wasn’t just a simple procedure. this was months of torture. his brain was picked apart and put back together. so we’re his legs, his arms, his feet, his hands.. all were reconstructed to be better then a regular humans abilities. he was stronger, faster, trained in hand to hand combat, his reflexes were enhanced. they tried everything. (a part of me wants to say he had like psychic abilities but i feel like that would be silly. they’re talented, not magical. although that would be super cool) they didn’t care about hajime hinata, they wanted to create something inhuman. a creature able to showcase true hope. their experiments were risky, inhumane. they hadn’t killed his pain tolerance until later in the procedures, he was forced to withstand it all. he desperately hung onto his hope of obtaining a talent, it was the only thing keeping him sane. how they didn’t end up kill him is a miracle. ah, but i suppose in a way they did. hajime was erased. they had gotten rid of any trace of what hajime hinata is, of who he was. it’s not like anyone knew him, and if they did they wouldn’t care. he was a reserve course student after all. many had died or gone missing, all was covered up. he didn’t have a talent, no friends, no job, and his parents were “taken care of” by the school. it was almost like hajime hinata hadn’t existed at all.

ahaha okay, i could rant more but this is getting too long. soo ima stop it here! i love hajimes character sm, i feel like everyone ignores his trauma and story. ESPECIALLY in fanfics omg. like i get it, nagito is fucked up BUT LIKE SO IS HAJIME??? if anything, they’re both fucking insane at this point. like there’s so much to work withhh! omg okay pause i might get hate for this but does anyone know zakikos work?? you probably know him from that limbless hajime meme thing that went around for a while. i hate to say it but his stories are SO FUCKING GOOD. PLUS THE ART STYLE?!! UGHH!!! ITS AMAZING. i don’t even read it for the porn, the ideas and angst this man creates are right up my alley. i’m such a fucking whore for angst istg. I STARTED RANTING AGAIN SHIT. OKAY IM DONE IM SORRY

#danganronpa #hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #izuru kamukura project #hopes peak academy #danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa sdr2 #people probably don’t even read this idk why i try #i just really like ranting about danganronpa #it’s been my hyper fixation for 3 years kms #i’ve thought so much about it i have so many ideas #istg if i could actually write a coherent story without my adhd fucking me over all of you would be SCREWED #IM A DECENT WRITER TOO #i think.. #AUUUGH IDK #i started writing a fanfic a while back but i never posted it #i don’t think it was very good LMAO #OKAY SORRY IM DONE #if you actually read this i love you #i apologize if none of this makes sense my mind is so scrambled #i might just be going in circles lmao

[erroticaz]

OMG!!

okay let me tell you guys about my hajime headcanons! (i say ‘you guys’ as if anyone actually sees these posts LMAO)

but anyway, hajime.

after the simulation hajime wasn't just magically himself. sure, somewhere in there hajime existed, but he couldn't pull himself to the surface for months. we're led to believe that hajime and izuru now share a body, right? but after having his emotions removed and his body enhanced he couldn't force himself to feel for the longest time.

how do i put this. hm... some people like to think that hajime now suffers from DID or that izuru is just gone but i think they physically share a body. hajime is more in control but izuru still exists in the mind. (izuru is originally more in control but as time progressed hajime gained more authority) so not exactly like DID more like two people in one. two for one sale, that's a hell of an offer! (sorry bad joke) i feel like his body would be more like a vessel then a person, y know? anyway when they wake up from the simulation his hair is still long, he's wearing the suit, all that jazz. the others are pretty terrified at first, hajime isn't like he was in the neo program at all. he's silent, barely talks. his eyes are a dark red, his glare is deadly. even the future foundation is hesitant. but he shows no hostility, despite his horde glare he keeps calm. while izuru shows no signs of danger or violence, hajime does. mostly out of fear. i mean how would you feel if you were trapped inside a body, unable to surface, to feel or express anything. it's difficult for anyone to decipher who is in control for the first few months, they both show no expression. izuru doesn't feel like it and hajime physically can't. the only indication they have that hajime is still there is if the body either harms itself or others.

occasionally, hajime would have these freak outs. he'd harm himself in many ways in order to feel something. izuru would put no work into stopping him even though future foundation begged. he said he found no use for it, that the others actions were meaningless. once hajime had walked out to the Hotel Restaurant where they usually meet in the mornings. the others say he looked deadly pale, his eyes opened wide, blankly staring forward. it was frightening. saying nothing, he sat down at the table, motionless. not wanting to interact too much with the man, they served him breakfast while the others chatted mindlessly, hoping to free up the tension in the air. that was until hajime picked up a knife and slammed it straight through into his hand, still staring at nothing, no indication of pain on his face. the others went silent in shock for a few moments before the room erupted in screaming. mikan was still in her pod, they had been relying on izurus nurse abilities but with him out of commission they were lost with what to do.

another time, he had collapsed on the walkway due to starvation. other times due to blood loss. in conclusion, hajime was incredibly unstable.

it took months for him to express properly. he had to completely relearn emotions and feelings. he lacked empathy and proper etiquette. they were worried he would never recover..

eventually that one eye turned green again and it felt like he could finally breathe. he had been watching everything from the back, as if he watching a movie of his own life play on the big screen. but now he was there. he was actually there, it wasn't just izuru. after that, the outbursts started to slowly stop. he started working with the future foundation directly instead of giving instruction from the sidelines. people started to wake up. first mahiru, then hiyoko, then gundham, and so on.

the ones who were able were sent out to the fight monokumas in towa city. hajime, having a completely reconstructed body was obviously sent out first. actually let's talk about that!

the izuru kamukura project wasn't just a simple procedure. this was months of torture. his brain was picked apart and put back together. so we're his legs, his arms, his feet, his hands.. all were reconstructed to be better then a regular humans abilities. he was stronger, faster, trained in hand to hand combat, his reflexes were enhanced. they tried everything. (a part of me wants to say he had like psychic abilities but i feel like that would be silly. they're talented, not magical. although that would be super cool) they didn't care about hajime hinata, they wanted to create something inhuman. a creature able to showcase true hope. their experiments were risky, inhumane. they hadn't killed his pain tolerance until later in the procedures, he was forced to withstand it all. he desperately hung onto his hope of obtaining a talent, it was the only thing keeping him sane. how they didn't end up killing him is a miracle. ah, but i suppose in a way they did. hajime was erased. they had gotten rid of any trace of what hajime hinata is, of who he was. it's not like anyone knew him, and if they did they wouldn't care. he was a reserve course student after all. many had died or gone missing, all was covered up. he didn't have a talent, no friends, no job, and his parents were "taken care of" by the school. it was almost like hajime hinata hadn't existed at all.

ahaha okay, i could rant more but this is getting too long. soo ima stop it here! i love hajimes character sm, i feel like everyone ignores his trauma and story. ESPECIALLY in fanfics omg. like i get it, nagito is fucked up BUT LIKE SO IS HAJIME??? if anything, they're both fucking insane at this point. like there's so much to work withhh! omg okay pause i might get hate for this but does anyone know zakikos work?? you probably know him from that limbless hajime meme thing that went around for a while. i hate to say it but his stories are SO FUCKING GOOD. PLUS THE ART STYLE?I! UGHH ITS AMAZING. i don't even read it for the porn, the ideas and angst this man creates are right up my alley. i'm such a fucking whore for angst istg. I STARTED RANTING AGAIN SHIT. OKAY IM DONE IM SORRY

#hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #sdr2 #goodbye despair #danganronpa sdr2 #izuru kamukura project #despair arc #repost

[shinra-makonoid]

Hello. Sorry if this question is too nsfw. Ignore if you are uncomfortable.

After reading up on surgery options and waiting for 2 years, I finally got an apointment for srs. (Colpectomy and Meta). My dysphoria got better with mastectomy and hysterectomy and I do know that going that next step would help or rather be the end goal cause I do not want a phalloplasty. But the only thing that worries me is how the feeling is going to change.

If the body is going to 'miss' something or some parts psychologically. And how that affects arousal and sexuality. I've spoken with cis women too who had a hysterectomy due to different reasons and they said that they didn't. But a colpectomy and meta is completely different.

I mean of course it's going to be different.

On some forums I've read about trans men saying it is more intense and feels more 'natural and normal' but majority also said that the main feeling is now only limited to the meta phallus and not the parts around it. Which of course also makes sense when the female parts are removed (which is the goal).

I'm asking you because you've mentioned somewhere that you do contemplate meta. Have you thought about the possible changed feeling and how to deal with it?

I know that you can't give me a definitive answer because no one knows how the sensation and feeling will change for oneself and of course the physical parts are one thing but the mind also plays a huge part in this.

From what I saw, the usually brain ends up adjusting to the new body after a while. My MtF friend who got bottom surgery had phantom sensations for a while but then it subsidized. So while I cannot say whether it will end up disappearing, maybe in some cases the sensation lingers, I think there is a chance your brain adjusts to the new parts.

On a totally different scale, when I had a cyst on my ass (which I was pretty much born with) and surgically got it removed, it took me a time to adjust to it not being there anymore, and it felt like a part of me was gone. It was weirdly psychologically hurtful, but it might have also been due to the way the surgery had been planned (terribly), how I was treated, and how sudden it had been. The environment surrounding the surgery is very important to have an okay psychological experience with the surgery itself. But you're not at your first time so maybe that's a pointless point to make.

I've contemplated meta, still do to be honest, and yeah I've thought about how this would change everything. TMI: I'm very specific when I want to have a sexy time, and there are few specific ways for it to work. If it's not made the way it needs to be done, then I cannot find release. If I got meta, I'm very afraid that I'd simply not be able to ever get release anymore, only because I'd have to basically relearn how to pleasure myself from the begining, and maybe the transformation would completely prevent for it to happen. And I talk as someone who doesn't use any hole for pleasure, because it doesn't just impact those parts, even the dick would be a bit different, because positioned differently for example. Also as you read with other trans men, some parts would also lose their sensitivity, or feel differently. It's just very difficult/impossible to tell.

The questions are: are you ready to undergo heavy surgery, even if it means not getting the same sexual pleasure as you used to get with your new bits? "Not the same" doesn't mean "worse" or "better", but just "different". Because it will certainly be different. Are you ready to deal with "different" in your own body? To relearn your own body? To rediscover feelings with your own body? Are you ready to deal with the alien sensation it might be at first, until you integrate it as yourself?

I suppose it's hard to wait for two years and then ask yourself those questions close to the appointment, but do not rush things out. If at some point in your reflection you think you're not ready, if you need to take more time, it's ok. It's always ok. I've taken +5 years before beginning to take the steps to get a mastectomy because I wasn't sure and didn't feel ready, and I'm glad I did. That said, if you do the surgery, I hope it goes well and that you can enjoy the freedom it brings you with your body!

#anon #ask #long post

[god-whispers]

jan 12

used or useless

"whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?”  then i said, 'here am i!  send me.'" isa 6:8

when i used to go to church, i always sat on the right side, in the last pew, looking towards the preacher.  i think we all get used to where we sit and look upon it as our reserved parking space.  i know some will look on that as being farther away from the anointing.  when i began attending, i felt so useless i didn't think i could contribute in any way.

i remember one sunday service, i was sitting in my usual spot - not too many occupiers that far back.  i had prayed that morning, "God, please use me in some way."  well, that's all God wants - a willing vessel.  it so happens we had several visitors that day.  for some reason she had chosen to sit on my designated pew (but not in my seat, thank goodness.)

anyway, after the sermon and people were hanging out and getting prayed for and everything - i don't remember if she approached me or i discerned something troubled her - it turned out she needed prayer and agreement about something in her life.

she was a visitor and i probably would never see her again, so my timid spirit suddenly became bold as i grab her hand and began praying.  she seemed to be blessed and thankful, but not as much as me.  God had answered my prayer that very day; that very service.  that's all God asks of any of us; a willing heart.

that was many years and many tears ago.  needless to say, my prayers to "use me" have continued unabated.  in fact, my prayer has become "use me up."  if i am no longer useful to further His glory, His goodness, His mercy, His faithfulness... well i could go on indefinitely.  essential, if i am no longer useful to Him, i just want to be with Him.

okay, here comes the punch line.  after all that praying to be used, the other day the Lord kept prompting me to do this thing and it was something i really didn't want to do.  i kept "reasoning" all the reasons i shouldn't do it.  it would take so much time - it would require a lot of relearning (doing things i had forgotten how they were done) - i couldn't do it as well as someone else could - again, i could go on and on.

i guess with age, a little wisdom has come.  it just took less than a day, a few hours, for me to say "yes Lord."  so the next day i began my long, tedious, grueling task that God wanted me to do.  (i do not know if these people will either like it or want it.)  But God told me, just do it.

do you know what?  surprise, surprise!  God made it enjoyable.  my mind started running with ideas and i couldn't wait to get up and get started again on the project.  sure, i got tired and also got a few new wrinkles in my brain but i had the joy of the Lord leading me on.  and do you know what?  it doesn't matter if it's wanted or appreciated or anything.  i am being used again by God.  my prompting to do this project may well be for some other purpose He has in mind.  it may just be because He was testing me as to whether i would be obedient or not.  either way, it matters not to me.  i remained where i always want to be - in the center of His will.  "when He has tested me, i shall come forth as gold." job 23:10

just as God's people of long ago were flawed and still moved in His will, i too am knowingly flawed but evidently not beyond His use.  none of us are.  it only takes a willing heart and two words - yes Lord.  who can ever grasp the depth of His mercy, beauty and goodness?  certainly not me.  now is the time God wants a lot of yes people.  those saying, "here am i.  send me."  here am i, "use me."  use the chalk down to the stub.  use the pencil down to the eraser.  use me up Lord.

[tracyinpolaroids]

I don’t really write as often anymore, do I? I’m not sure if it’s a product of just having a lot of things to do that there’s no time to just sit down with my thoughts and write like I used to. I was about to type that maybe just not a lot is happening that’s worth writing about, but that’s just not true. I can chalk it up to being lazy, too.

I spent some time last night reading old blog entries and was pretty amazed at just how often I used to write, and how much I had to say at the time. Now it seems like I have less and less to say every time I feel like writing. Or maybe this is me now post-COVID, where my brain can no longer handle being stuck on one task for too long. Or maybe I’ve developed ADHD. I dunno.

—

A N Y W A Y it’s the first day of school again. We’re officially back onsite, at least for most of us who choose to be. But man, online just really doesn’t do it and I blame my compounded laziness on it. Ever since online schooling, I wake up later, and have gotten way less productive. It’s so much harder getting things done that I want to relearn how to be productive. I think the Intersession that just recently concluded helped since I also held those classes onsite. It was a good warm up, since I had to meet my class every Monday and Friday. Now let’s see how I do with the new class schedules the school implemented.

We’re now on a MTh/TF schedule, just like we had in UP when I was a freshman waaay back in 2006 which honestly I found rather perfect—2 days between each class day, regardless of which schedule you picked up. My current schedule for the semester is TFS, with the usual Saturday mornings for thesis. We’re back to a 9–12 time slot now, so yay? But let’s see how I do with Friday classes and then class again the next day. Ponci was onto something with the MThS schedule being the best setup, but...Thursday is my coding day, and I just didn’t want to have classes on Mondays since I’m usually out on the weekends.

I’m teaching a new elective this semester, so that should be interesting! I’ve been teaching here in Ateneo for 9 years now, and ever since my first year of teaching, I’ve always wanted to try and teach photography. I even remember writing a cover letter to the Comm department since that’s where they have Photography classes but never got a response. But here we are now, with my new elective in tow, almost a decade later. We were playing the long game, boys and girls.

I’m still teaching thesis, and I’ve gotten quite comfortable. I mean that’s not to say I no longer feel anxious about teaching every year. But looking back when I always felt I wasn’t doing enough when I was new to this role, I have to say, I’ve done a pretty good job. I’ve gotten several batches of seniors to graduate, so that’s nice. I probably have the highest rate of not passing kids during the first semester, but last year was the first time I got them all through. I’m pretty sure it was a product of them being good kids in the first place and maybe the extension of leniency during the pandemic. Not sure how good or bad that sounds, if I’m being honest, but I’m excited to be back on campus at last. It was so great doing Print & Pub onsite. I let go of it when we went online because it was being taught during intersession along with Branding which I was also teaching. I couldn’t imagine how a...print class would be purely online. Like why even. But I’m glad to see that the kids had fun. A few of them who took it just this past Intersession are in my thesis class now, so we’ll see how that goes. They seem excited. Haha.

ANYWAY I should go back to class preps. It’s 9:47 AM and I know my class is still at 11, but...I wanna go through everything and then test the stupid old projector in my room.

#work #teacher tracy #school #oh hello

[tardis--dreams]

Me: I'm gonna take Japanese next semester :)

Also me: *struggles to pass my A1 Spanish class*

#My exam is tomorrow and I don't know shit #I had 3 years of Spanish in school and am taking a course for complete beginners #And I'm still struggling #(mostly because i kept concentrating on my other seminars which took up so much time #So I felt like I didn't have enough time to study Spanish #But that's a bad excuse) #The sad thing is that i used to be top of the class in all languages i took in school #I loved french and Spanish and was praised by my teachers #And now look at me #Having forgotten literally everything (no wonder after 5 years of not using the language) and being unable to relearn it properly #(due to bad time management skills and maybe my mental health is a reason too. But it's probably just laziness lol) #(maybe it's also the fact that the entire course was self taught. I prefer learning from an actual person but well.) #I'm a bit scared i'll fail #But it's okay #I still want to learn Japanese though :') (or Arabic. Or preferably Hebrew but they don't offer that imat our university) #sorry for the rambling #I'll stop now and repeat some spanish excersises and hope my brain manages to remember some things #shut up amy

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks fluff

[imagine-lcorp]

Call You Mine (One Shot)

Request

Yay you're taking requests! Lena x reader where reader is constantly being hit on by other men and women day after day. Lena doesn't think too much of it at first but slowly it'll start to irritate her. One day Lena is fuming with jealousy"I seriously can't take you anywhere! It doesn't matter where we go there are always some idiot flirting with you!" R jokes about putting a ring on her finger to make her invisible to other single people. Lena takes the idea and decides to propose to R.

A/N: Hello my dear beans, long time i know, I know, I just hope you’re doing good and that u are taking care of yourselves. I know these are hard and complicated times, things are uncertain and the world seem in utter chaos, just know that I’m here. Try your best and reach out if u need. You’re important and I’m here for u. I know this isn’t much but pls enjoy this little piece. Love u guys. 

Lena Luthor x Fem!R//Word Count: 1,729

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There was something about you, Lena knew, that drew people like moths to the flame. It was the energy that radiated from your body every time you met someone new. It was the warmth in each on your smiles that could disarm an entire army. It was the light that was instantly conjured inside every room you stepped in. Lena had experienced this and much more and she knew she couldn't blame the others for looking at you, or approaching you, in searching for that light.

She, unfortunately, didn't expect the kind of approach that involved lingering looks and flirtatious tones some strangers used when talking to you. Like that bartender you were talking to.

She could notice it from far away as you ordered your drinks. The way he smiled at you, the way he talked making jokes trying to coax a smile from you. The lingering touch of his hand on yours as he handed you the drinks over the table. In the grand scheme of things, that was nothing, a simple exchange and interaction that would lose all meaning once you left the beach in that marvelous summer day. Lena had tried to repeat herself as much as she observed you and the bartender, with her eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

She had tried not to think too much about it, but when you were being hit on by others, once or twice or more, day after day, Lena finally had to admit it was something she didn't enjoy. What frustrated her the most was the fact that, objectively speaking, she could say nothing about it. It was not as if she could put a sign over your head that could read 'Lena Luthor's Girlfriend. Do Not Tresspass' or stop people from even looking or talking to you. But she also couldn't help the sting of possessiveness that struck her every time she had to witness that.

This time, however, she couldn't seem to hold it anymore. She left her chair and walked towards the bar as the bartender kept trying to keep the small talk going between you two.

"There you are, darling. Are our drinks taking too long?"

"Hey, babe. Sorry, I'm the one who is taking too long." You innocently apologized, unaware of the hint of annoyance in Lena's voice.

"Johnny here was telling me about this surfing event the beach is gonna be having this week. It seems like a big thing."

"Yeah, it is. I'm gonna be there too so, if you wanna see a good show, you can just come and see me." The bartender replied with a grin.

"What a shame." Lena replied before you could. The mock clear in her words. "I mean, we are leaving tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right." You said nonchalant.

"I guess it will have to be another time. Now, we should go, (Y/N). He probably has a lot of work." The mention of your name finally made you realize something was off with Lena. That and the forced a smile she was trying to pull at the bartender. "Nice meeting you, Johnny."

"Likewise." Lena saw him wink at you unaltered by the interaction, and felt herself almost losing it.

Instead, she took her cocktail from your hand and, without another word, she strode back to where you had been taking your sunbath.

You had to blink a few times before muttering your own goodbye and catching up with Lena who, by the looks of it, wasn't having any more fun.

"I seriously can't take you anywhere!" Came the exasperated response.

"Hey, what has come over you?" You asked a bit worried this time. You had never seen Lena this irritated before.

"It doesn't matter where we go there are always some idiot flirting with you!" Lena stopped and turned to look at you. Even with the sunglasses, you could see the little frown in her face.

You were slightly surprised by it but now you understood what it all was about. "Wait, are you like... jealous?"

"No, I'm-" Lena turned around with a huff and walked towards your little spot on the beach, taking a seat again. "Never mind, it's nothing."

"Babe?" You called, taking a seat next to her. "Lena?"

"Mmh?" She was trying to hide her face by drinking from her cocktail.

"Look at me." You asked softly.

Lena left her drink on the little table beside her and took off her sunglasses. A bit reluctantly, she did as you said.

You had never known Lena to suffer from jealousy but, of course, there was still a lot of things you didn't know about Lena Luthor, and not for lack of trying.

You knew that from a young age, and ever since Lena had become part of the Luthor family, she had to learn to keep her true feelings to herself. Having a heart of your own was a dangerous thing to have among the Luthors, who prided themselves on being methodical, analytical, always in control. The image she gave to the world was that of an ever composed, always calm, collected prodigy and business woman. Everything that was expected from her to be.

It was hard some times to really know what Lena was feeling when most of her life she had been conditioned to compartmentalize her feelings. Putting them in tiny boxes and shoving them to the darkest corners of her mind so they would not affect her rational thinking. It was even harder for Lena to change that and relearn how to navigate and not to hide her emotions.

There were some occasions, like this one, when you were unaware of Lena's true feelings until you noticed she wouldn't talk much, or until you started to fight over trifles and trivialities. Only then you would realize there was something bothering her and try to talk to her about it. You knew it wasn't an easy feat, for either of you, but you were making progress.

"It doesn't matter how many idiots try to flirt with me because, hear me out, they got nothing on you." You assured her in a soft voice, pulling yourself closer to the edge of your seat, so you could reach her hand with yours. "I don't even think it is possible for me to care about anyone but you."

The frown in her face dissolved as she looked at you with a little pout.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry." Lena said caressing your hand with her fingers.

"It's alright, just remember I love you and only you." You pulled yourself forward, planting a quick kiss on Lena's lips. "But if that keeps bothering you, I don't know, you can make me an invisible cape or ring to keep them at bay." You said smiling and winking at her.

Although Lena was still annoyed at the whole situation, she couldn't help but smile. Unaware of it, you had given her something to think about. "I love you too, (Y/N)."

Lena loved you with every fiber in her being and that was a matter of fact. There was no easy way for her to deal with all the attention you sometimes received. She didn't want to make you invisible to the world, as that would mean depriving it from your beauty and kindness, but she did want for it to know you were, somehow, off limits. If someone else wanted you, they would have to go through her first.

So, after your little vacation, Lena put her mind to work, to design a device that could be able to repel the people around you, particularly those who tried to make unsolicited advances on you. She knew it wasn't exactly a good idea. She wasn't sure you would agree to what she had in mind and she needed to talk to you about it, but she was already on the making.

It was almost a month before she could come up with a proper idea that was viable, practical, and with at least ninety percent changes of working. Unfortunately, she discovered this device wasn't something she could do by herself. But once she had it in her hands and was sure it was the thing to do, she didn't wait long to show it to you.

"Wait, are you serious?" You asked with raised eyebrows.

You had been in her office, seated in the couch and in conversation after lunch, when the conversation turned to the topic. When you had suggested Lena for an invisible cape, you had not expected her to actually pull it off or consider it as a real possibility.

"It's exactly an invisible cape but I'm sure it will do the work." Lena shrugged.

"But you have made, in fact, something to keep people away from me?" At that moment, you couldn't decide between being impressed or worried about it.

"Sort of. Also, I didn't make this one. I had to call someone to help me with it." She pulled a small black leathery box from the pocket of her coat, and you imagined it would be one of those nanotech devices she was very fond of lately. "Since I'm no goldsmith or jeweler, I had to leave it to the professionals."

Her words didn't make sense to you until she opened the tiny box, and even then your brain was slow trying to understand what was happening. The box held inside a silver ring with a small diamond at the center of it, accompanied by two other tiny diamonds at the sides of it, with an intricate design carved on the ring that made it look as if it was wrapped in vines.

"I know this wasn't in our plans yet, and it may seem a bit of an extreme measure from my part wanting to keep people away from you. But when people ask me, I want to tell them I'm yours." She took the ring out of the box and put it in front of you. "Will you do me the honor of calling you mine? (Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me?"

"You're unbelievable, Lena Luthor." It took some time picking your jaw from the floor.

"Is that a yes?" Lena asked hopefully, she was getting nervous.

"Yes, it is. Yes!" You launched yourself towards her, wrapping your arms around her, almost falling from the couch.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena x reader #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x female reader #fem reader #Female reader #fem!reader #call you mine #one shot #request #lena luthor x you

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Hey! I wasnt the one who requested it, but I loved your how would the Blue Lions react to killing their SO! May I ask the same but for the Golden Deer if its alright?

{That was actually one of my favorite requests to write! It’s been a long time so I might be a bit rusty, but let’s give this a shot :)} 

Claude: 

 He had accounted for the possibility of you betraying him. Your disappearance had not been something he took with ease, yet the lack of contact or declaration of death for so long had him thinking 

Emotions are fleeting...the human mind was complex. Your loyalty was never something he wanted to question but he could never put his complete faith in you 

Even when you stood at his side protecting the crests, befriended his people, treated him as a true partner...he just couldn’t completely put his faith in you. Not with so much on the line 

 He wonders if that’s where he went wrong. Heavy rain clouded his sight but the sound of your voice rang dominant across the field. As you stand at Gronder with your weapon focused on his friends- your friends; Claude could not help but momentarily reminisce over the times you instead showed him your smile. The one that temporarily alleviated the weight of his dreams and expectations from his shoulders 

He would be the one to get it back. The professor had already converted other students to their side so there was a chance 

One you didn’t want, as you aimed at their head with tears pricking your eyes. He dismounted his wyvern instantly 

“Was it all a lie? Tell me...is this what you want for your home (Y/N)? Come fight with us” He slowly begins his approach, but the words die out as you attack him this time 

 A shrill battle cry is all he hears before he watches an axe lodge into your side. He’ll never hear the answer, but he didn’t need to. It finally clicked

White hair 

You planned to die 

His brows pressed in further as Lysithea gasped at your fallen form. Before he would have killed to know more about the hidden experiments going on in the empire, but not like this. They’ll come to collect the body before Hanneman can conduct any research, but he’ll give them more. Much more 

Raphael: 

Raphael doesn’t like to think on the battlefield. It’s not that he enjoys pummeling people without a glance, but if he looks back then he won’t look foreword. He’s confided in Ignatz many times after being scolded for running ahead, but when thinking can cost you your life he prefers not to waste the effort 

 Especially because he takes longer to process complex emotions and thoughts compared to the others. He trusts them to be tactical while he uses his muscles to save the day

Back in the day he had a perfectly reliable head to think for him. He cleared their path and they took care of all the important business. The classic ‘brains and brawn’ duo that no one would expect to ever find genuine interest in one another. Aren’t they stereotypically supposed to fight and be at each other’s throats? Not in this case 

“Haha! THAT WAS GREAT! Nice Job (Y/N), I hope today’s menu has meat because you need brain food and I need to feed my muscles!” 

 You knew Raphael and how to predict his movements, and he had complete faith in your judgements. Even at the monastery you both made the most efficient team to do chores  

 Instead of trying to change him, you worked to match his pace and became his partner. On the field and in life. Raphael knew he didn’t have to second guess with you at his side, and he felt what he wanted to feel.

He loved you. Your brains, your laugh, your heart, your cooking no matter good or bad...you. It was an emotion that came easy to him.

Though sometimes he berated himself for not thinking. Sometimes you’d get in trouble if he broke equipment or did something else out of line. Yet you remained patient and calmed him down at the same time.

It was difficult to adjust to fighting without his partner. He essentially had to relearn everything through experience, but he had full hope that you’d come back 

That hope clouded his judgement when he saw you conversing with the professor at Aillel. He was so overcome with joy that he mindlessly pushed aside enemies to get to you without actually examining the scene

His fury took over when the professor’s sword went straight through your stomach.  He tackled them to the ground and it took both Lorenz AND Hilda to pry him away. 

“You idiot! They’re the enemy!” Hilda shouted at him as he settled down. He couldn’t process it. They wouldn’t hurt their family, him.

 Yet, they wore red. Red that grew darker as their blood seeped in 

 Ignatz: 

“Can you paint my portrait?” You asked him one evening long ago. After a particularly grueling training session with the rest of class he had snuck off to sketch the trees by the market. The year was young and he still wasn’t too familiar with all his classmates 

You were new and he had took to your appearance instantly. He could replay your introduction mentally over and over. Your smooth words, slight bow, and the way your feet glided effortlessly to the closest seat you could get to the window. He was of course too shy to approach a new student since he wasn’t the social sort, but luckily he did not have to do much. 

You took the liberty of following him to his painting spot. He was flustered at being found, but you merely plopped at his side and began to eat your lunch. Where you had it stashed beforehand? He still doesn’t know 

 He had never been more aware of another’s presence, and his art showed it as the paper crinkled in his grasp. Yet somehow you seemed enamored at the picture forming on the page, so much that you asked to model 

He grew anxious instantly and decided to head back for his own meal. With no given answer you had left the topic behind, and from then on he began to find you nearby often. From acquaintances to friends, and from friends to ‘lovers without definition’. No confession was ever spoken but he knew you made decisions easier, life joyful, and the rest of his peers agreed as much as he. 

He drew that portrait. He drew it over, and over, and over, and over because he refused to forget your face. He would remember you and fight twice as hard to make up for what you couldn’t give. He swore that to Claude and everyone else when you were pronounced missing in action.

 and now? His eyes glisten as a body fitted under a white tarp lays yards away. You hadn’t tried to harm him but you were healing the enemy. It was decided that you were not with the Empire, but instead travelling through and became swept in the battle. Perhaps you didn’t know? Perhaps you simply decided to help whoever needed it no matter their side? 

He clutches his bow to his chest. One arrow, and you were down. He didn’t know 

He didn’t know but the pictures would never let him forget. The pages never felt the same from then on 

Lorenz: 

Relationships should never be formed unless you have something to gain

It is a nobleman’s duty to protect the weak, the poor, the sick; yet, there must always be distance.

A nobleman must always carry themselves with a sense of professionalism. They must not display weakness, and a true leader is born of being able to separate their personal affairs from that of those they govern. 

 One day Lorenz will be the head of the Glouscer territory, and soon the Alliance as a whole if he has his way. Death must not phase him and he must be willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of his people

He follows the laws of a noble. He knows them on paper, but not in practice. 

 Only as he grew during an age of dispute and fighting did he begin to learn that actions differ from voice. All that he pledged as a young man held no meaning, because gradually he began to realize that he is not the most fit to govern Fodlan. He was incapable of completely tossing aside his personal desires or making the best decisions with certainty. Yes, he was well educated and would make a great right hand

Yet the title of leader would never be his. Why? Because he is a noble by definition 

The professor was a noble by heart. A true leader who let actions speak for them and selflessly protected the entirety of Fodlan instead of one singular portion.

 Lorenz is a noble in name, but in nature he is a man. He is a solider, a son, a friend, a politician...a human. One not immune to temptations or the grievances of loss no matter what face he may display for the public eye.

 There was a soul he once found vibrant. They were a mere commoner yet full of dedication. He placed a barrier around them immediately, one he was not allowed to cross no matter how tempted. They did not fit the criteria he sought

 Yet the night of the ball he allowed “them”  the curtesy of a dance. Their warm hand on his own, their body held tightly in his embrace, and lighthearted small talk being tossed between quips about their poor dancing skills 

They left his mouth dry as he bid them farewell to their next partner. He allowed the barrier to resurface as he went his own way

“You must rethink this (Y/N). How could siding with the empire lead to any promising future/ They will kill us all and then themselves in the process! Please, join us” 

“Spoken like a true noble, Lorenz. This social hierarchy has divided people for too long and you would realize that if you’d only look beyond Alliance borders!” 

If only he had grasped their hand longer- listened. They were the first to show him a world beyond his bubble, if only he popped it sooner. 

 Hilda:

You really annoyed her in the beginning. The way you carried yourself like some kind of prophet, or how you’d question everything the professor taught. Was it so hard to just do what was needed and move on? Even with something as simple as weeding the courtyard you always had to add your own two cents

It was like always being under analysis. She got that enough from Claude and didn’t need two people trying to read her. On many occasions she tried to gain traction over you, but somehow her efforts never bore fruit 

For a try-hard you were very accepting of her shortcomings. So long as what you were tasked with got done, the performance of others was never a secondary priority 

If only she could be that carefree about other people’s opinions. Maybe then living would be easier? 

Perhaps you were what she wanted to be? Satisfied with who you were enough to question the world around you while remaining secure with what you had 

Someone with the ability to step beyond your comfort zone and make your own decisions. Respected, knowledgeable...loved for who you are. Maybe that’s what drew her to you and lead to her envy forming into adoration 

and that adoration being trampled by sorrow 

“I still love you so no hard feelings, okay? I can’t back down” is what she told you. It was a taunt, but she did not expect your smile 

“Of course. I’m glad you’ve decided to show your backbone, just think of this as a spar like old times”

The casual talk did not fit the clash of blades that followed. Nor did it suit the battle roaring nearby 

A spar- just like old times. It was a familiar battle but this time her axe did not halt before delivering the deciding blow. 

Her hands shook as your body fell, yet you still appeared at peace despite the gash adorning your back. Perhaps you knew this would be the outcome before the day even began

Hilda did not cry, but asked for you to be buried on alliance soil. If anything she owed you that curtesy

Leonie: 

She would never forgive you. Not today, not ever. 

How dare you choose to side with the people who killed the captain? He never did anything to anybody, and if you chose to betray everyone than Leonie would return the favor

She decided that any history between you two was nonexistent the moment you lifted your weapon. Mercy was a word you forgone long ago when instead of defending Garreg Mache, you slaughtered it’s inhabitants 

She thought you felt the same as well. Yet, fate always liked to twist in ways to hinder justice 

She watched from a distance as the professor approached your fallen form. They had insisted on trying to sway her old classmates, but she scoffed at the mere thought 

What made them think traitors would be good allies? Did they want to be stabbed in the back like their father?...like the captain 

She ignored the sting in her chest as you swatted their hand away. You had some nerve to reject their kindness and it pissed her off. She wanted this entire situation to simply end but- 

Her feet moved on their own

“Why are you such an idiot? Were you always this irresponsible?” her words cut deep, clearly shown by how you turned away. She could only grit her teeth at the stubbornness and reach for her lance 

You made your choice, and clearly it was up to her to deliver justice if no one else would 

So she did what she’s always had to do, the brunt work. With one swing it was over and you were just another count among the others 

She doesn’t know if the captain would praise her for remaining strong or scold her for remaining indifferent 

Lysithea: 

Everything always boils down to one thing: people cannot be trusted. Each and every time Lysithea has allowed someone close it has blown up in her face 

and somewhere deep down, she knew this situation wouldn’t have ended any differently. The world always found new ways to crush what she cared for 

The only question that remains is how much longer will she have to endure? How much longer did she have to fight? 

because now she had to fight for two. She had to find a cure or die trying 

During the battle for Garreg Mache many had been taken prisoner. She hadn’t the empire to conduct unethical experiments; maybe torture, but nothing like what she was witnessing. 

It was a fever dream one couldn’t fathom, but the mindless husk killing without remorse kept her in reality. What had they done to you?

She noticed the white hair in an instant. One of her worst fears had come to life seeing you at the death knight’s side, but the way you hadn’t even flinched when she called your name made her terrified 

Not even a whack of thoron could snap you out of it. She began to lose hope...were you even there anymore? Is this what they had planned for her if she didn’t flee?

“Say something you jerk! Don’t tell me you’re letting some petty magic keep you grounded, fight it!” 

No matter what anyone said it did nothing. When moral dwindled the only solution left was to free you through other means 

The death knight escaped after you fell. Next time...next time he would die at her hand. 

Lysithea instantaneously moved to further her research after your burial. Not for herself, but to find out if you were gone long before they found you. She needed to know if your death was peaceful, if you could see that she tried 

If you would forgive her 

Marianne: 

“This is Nova. I have to leave for a mission, would you watch him for me Marianne?”

 Bright blue eyes bored into hers as she gingerly took hold of the bunny. It’s fur was soft, well groomed. She took notice of how it snuggled into her arms as if it feared no human. Marianne knew instantly that the animal was well loved and cherished. The though made her almost refuse the favor in fear of hurting it, but her classmate’s insistence wasn’t something to fight. 

  Despite her warnings (Y/N) never listened, and at some point Marianne gave up on pushing them away. Their company was appreciated yet she would never say it, and the cuddly creature in her arms truly proved their trust in her 

 She could only nod in agreement as they skipped off to prepare the bunny’s necessities to bring to her room. Marianne hoped she could care for the animal properly, and that nothing would happen to it

She worried for the wrong reasons, as (Y/N) never returned home. They were sent to face Solon and avenge the death of the Professor’s father. Marianne was asked to remain and help in healing injured soldiers from the most previous confrontation. 

·If she knew that would have been the last time (Y/N) would show up in her room, she--no, she wouldn’t have done anything. She may have tried to convince them to stay home but Marianne knows she would have not confessed anything

  Not that she valued their friendship or that she worried for their wellbeing. Not that she was grateful they trusted her with Nova, or that they help her care for her horses. She wouldn’t have even thought it. 

 She didn’t think of it afterwards either. Her fondness for her deceased friend wouldn’t have been noticeable at all if not for the bunny. Despite everything she cared for it as if it were (Y/N) themselves. 

When she sees a familiar figure take charge at Gronder, time freezes. She remembers the bunny sitting in her dorm without an owner. She wonders how abandoned it must have felt to never see it’s best friend again. She feels for the bunny because it’s how she felt.

Without thinking she shoots a blast of magic their way and watches them crumple on the floor 

Why did they abandon their precious bunny? Did they give up on it? Did they give up on her? 

Did you...finally realize you had befriended a monster?

#fe3h #fe3h imagine #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem: three houses #Claude von Riegan #claude x reader #raphael x reader #raphael kirsten #lorenz hellman gloucester #lorenz x reader #ignatz victor #ignatz x reader #marianne x reader #marianne von edmund #hilda von goneril #hilda x reader #hilda valentine goneril #leonie pinelli #leonie x reader #lysithea x reader #lysithea von ordelia #fire emblem #fire emblem x reader

[petri808]

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Inukag AU

As Inuyasha and Kagome cut through a park on their way back to the Higurashi home, they chatted casually, just winding down after a hearty lunch at a nearby cafe. The couple stayed to the pathways traversing the manicured park. It would be shorter to cut through the grass, but why the rush? It was a beautiful location, with a several different kinds of trees dotting the landscape to provide shade and lots of open space for all kinds of activities. Some picnicked, flew kites or played frisbee, they’d even passed a group doing Tai Chi. There were young families to older citizens enjoying the scenery. The couples conjoined hands and twined fingers swayed lazily back and forth between them. Despite the summer heat starting to rise in Tokyo, with blue skies and a gentle breeze brought in from the Pacific Ocean, it was a perfect day for a stroll.

While this journey towards normalcy hasn’t always been an easy one, the past couple of months have been the happiest so far. Ever since leaving the hospital Kagome’s felt better and better. There were even moments she’d made peace with the idea she may not regain her memories. Was it saddening yes, because she wouldn’t remember her job, friends, and other precious moments. But at the same time, she could always make new ones. Sango’s twins were still young. She could relearn her job, and best of all she had Inuyasha who’d she’d become attached to. Their steadily growing relationship was a budding romance regardless of their past history. Think about? Kagome had a chance to re-experience everything in a new way, through a new lens. Well… that’s what she told herself to justify the idea, and so far, it was working.

But there were strange moments starting to occur. Sometimes they were dreams of scenes Kagome didn’t recognize. That in of itself weren’t unusual because how often do dreams ever make complete sense? No, it was in the emotions that came with them. On several occasions Kagome would wake up with the distinct feeling these were not merely dreams but memories trying to break through. At other times, she couldn’t remember the dream, only the emotions she’d felt during them. Sometimes they were so intense, she’d wake up in tears or completely happy for no other reason. According to her neurologist, this was normal during the healing process, but unfortunately there was no true way to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

“Did I tell you I reached out to Ms. Tanaka the other day?” Kagome asked Inuyasha.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“I called the office and spoke to her briefly about maybe getting lunch one day so she could tell me how things have been there. I may not know exactly what she’s talking about, but maybe it’ll jog my memories.”

Inuyasha lifted their conjoined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I think that’s a really good idea. You guys will have fun talking.”

“I think so too, she seemed very nic—…” Kagome’s voice trailed away as stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes shifted towards one of the parks trees. “Um, c-could we check out that tree?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Inuyasha smiled knowingly.

It was like her feet gained a mind of their own as they carried her towards a large Sakura tree in the middle of a field. Just from looking at, there wasn’t anything special about the tree. Spring had long since passed and the blooms were no more. But Kagome felt a pull towards this one in particular as if she remembered something about it. What that was she had no idea. She let go of Inuyasha’s hand and reached out, touching the bark of the tree, and staring up at its massive girth. It looked old. Maybe there long before the park existed… maybe older than even the Edo period, who knew? It was just another green leafed tree, yet why was it stirring up a rush of emotions? Happy ones with butterflies dancing in her soul.

Slowly, she moved around the base of the tree like a surveyor mapping it out or searching for secrets only it could provide. And that’s when she saw it. Kagome’s breathing hitched as her eyes fell upon a carving in the wood, approximately five feet above the ground. There, a bit worn nonetheless was a heart encircling two names. “Kagome…” She read aloud, “& Inuyasha—

Oh, my Kami!” She gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth in shock. “H-How? When?”

At that moment, Inuyasha walked over, gazing at the words and running his hand over the carving while he spoke. “We carved this about two years ago.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, and growing moist as if reminiscing. “It was a late Saturday afternoon and after eating an early dinner at Genki Sukiyaki, we cut through this park to get to your house. But it started to rain, not very heavy, so we took shelter under this tree.” Inuyasha chuckled lightly. “I remember you being upset about your hair getting wet.” He finally looked to Kagome, placing a hand on her cheek. “You looked so beautiful and even though the weather was miserable, there was just something magical about it all. That’s when you asked me to carve this into the tree.”

“But how did I know to look for it?” Kagome was so confused. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I have no idea how. But part of you must. Maybe, it’s a sign your memories are fighting to come through.”

The tears gathering in Kagome’s eyes, trickle down her cheeks as a blend of happiness and sadness. She wanted to be happy for such a beautiful memory but devastated that she couldn’t remember it. She wanted to be excited that maybe, just maybe it could be true that her memories were returning, yet she didn’t want to take the chance of a let-down. Inuyasha pulled her into a tight hug as she let go of the angsty emotions. “It’s not fair that I can’t remember! I want to remember!”

“Shhh,” Inuyasha who’s own tears begun to spill, did his best to soothe her with softened tones. “I want that too. It’s gonna get better baby. I think this really is your memories returning, we just have to believe.”

“It’s hard to do that sometimes…”

Inuyasha lifted her chin and swept his thumbs over her cheeks to dry them. “And if you don’t, we’re creating a whole new memory of this tree right now, an even more special one.”

Kagome sniffled. “You think so?”

He nodded his head and placed a gentle kiss on her whetted lips. “What do you think?” Inuyasha questioned with a soft smile. “How can we add to this memory?”

Kagome paused for a moment in thought. “We could add something beneath our names… like… mmm, forever in time?”

“Is that what you want?” She nodded yes. “Okay,” Inuyasha obliged.

He kissed her again then used his claw to slowly, meticulously carve the new words into the bark. It took a few minutes because he wanted to make sure it was easy to read and would last a long time. “I think this is definitely will better than the original memory.”

“Mmhmm, it’s a good one,” Kagome agreed. She felt a lot better now. “Thank you, Inuyasha for being so patient with me. It must be so frustrating.”

Inuyasha shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m not glad about the accident, but I’m cherishing all this time I’m spending with you. Kagome, I truly mean it when I say, this moment right here,” he took her hand. “It’s now one of the happiest moments you’ve ever given me. No matter what,” he smiled, “I’ll always love you, forever in time.”

She giggled. “Forever… I like the sound of that…”

After the incident at the park, Kagome brought it up with the neuropsychologist assigned to her case. The woman patiently sat in her chair as Kagome told her every little detail. What she felt, the emotions, her thoughts, and reactions. She also brought up the dreams she’d been having as well as small incidents that caused her to feel like it might be memories trying to come through.

“Like, just the other day,” Kagome explained. “Sango accompanied me to the hospital for my last physical check-up, but as we passed by the nursery, we decided to stop to look at the cute babies. Then out of nowhere I started to feel emotional, nothing bad, just happy as she talked about the birth of her twins. I mean, yeah it makes sense to feel happy at the time because we were having a good time, but it just felt different. I almost felt like crying. Why is that??”

The woman finished jotting down her notes before speaking. “It’s been about 5 months, correct, since you lost your memories?” Kagome nodded yes. “And according to your latest evaluations, your brain has healed quite nicely. It’s not uncommon at this point for triggers to manifest themselves.”

“I don’t understand…”

“The way long term memory retention works, our brains must process information and create new neurocircuitry, storage if you will once the information has been deemed necessary to keep in the long term. If not, our short term memories are discarded quickly. Of course, this is just a basic explanation and there’s more to it, but what studies have found is memories attached to an emotional event have a higher likelihood of being retained and will evoke a stronger response from us. Think of it like, these emotional memories are much more deeply attached to our psyches.”

“Oh— I think I understand.”

“Mmm,” the doctor hummed. “The park incident was attached to a very emotional moment in your life. So even though you couldn’t remember the event itself, the part of you that remembered the emotions surrounding it did and pushed you towards the tree. Also, the hospital, you mentioned being with your friend Sango and looking at babies. This is just a guess, but perhaps you were feeling the emotions you felt from the time she gave birth.”

As the doctors words were processed, moisture began to pool in Kagome’s eyes. Could it really be true?! Should she really allow herself to hope?! When Kagome finally responded, her voice cracked as it held back the tears. “D-Does this mean… I’m starting to get my memories back?”

“I would say, yes. Again, I cannot say one hundred percent certain, but what you are experiencing is a common one. Those that suffered from acute memory loss, don’t just wake up one day and suddenly they’ve all returned. It’s a gradual process, but once it begins it typically continues at a steady pace.”

“I-I don’t know what to say!” A few happy tears joined the smile on Kagome’s face.

“I suggest that you start writing down the times you feel something or think you’re remembering something and check them with your family and friends. If they confirm it, talk about it. That could help as well to bring more information and memories to the forefront— give your brain a little help to jog itself.”

“Thank you so much, doctor! I’ll definitely do that!”

The woman smiled, reaching over to pat Kagome’s hand before giving it a small squeeze. “You’re very welcome. I wish you all the luck in the world!”

#inukag #inuyasha #inukag au #kagome higurashi #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha x kagome #missing memories #ch 8 #petri808

[whumpcollector]

Lucas Pt.8: The gladiator and the Captain

Hey everyone. Here I am, back at it again with Lucas. There’s a bit of character introduction and set up coming so hopefully ya’ll don’t mind the slower pace. Hope you all enjoy.

CW: Mentions of vomiting

Lucas knelt over a bucket, dry heaving and choking as his stomach churned. Sweat poured down his forehead, his body shaking as another wave of nausea washed over him.

“I am so sorry Lucas,” Jawad said, kneeling beside the boy and patting his back. “I didn’t think you would take to the tincture this poorly...”

Lucas tried to respond, but any attempt at speaking was shut down as another dry heave hit him. Nothing came up, what little food Lucas had in his stomach had long since been expelled. All he could do now was wait for things to pass. 

Jawad signed, walking over to his desk and picking up his journal. He scribbled in the pages, shaking his head slightly. He turned back to Lucas. “Do you at least feel like your magic has returned?”

Lucas took his head out of the bucket, holding up a shaky hand and trying to bring forth a flame. Nothing manifested and Lucas had to abandon his attempt as another wave hit him.

“I suppose that's a no then.”

It had been a couple of days since Lucas had first awoken. He had not left Jawad’s tent, the doctor insisting that Lucas remain so he could monitor his recovery. There had been no issues, by all accounts he was healing like any normal person would. Lucas didn’t know how he felt about that. It was good that nothing bad was happening, but it was also...strange. He was used to any injuries he had healing in a few hours at most. The need for bandages, the bleeding, the soreness that came from healing muscle, it all felt unnatural. 

He didn’t care to think about whether or not he would need to get used to it.

At last the nausea faded and Lucas was able to pull himself to his feet. He was still shaky, having to brace himself against the table to avoid falling over. Jawad gently grabbed onto his arm, guiding him over to the bed and letting him sit down. He handed Lucas a bowl of water, letting him rinse out his mouth. 

“Thank you.” Lucas said, bowing his head slightly. Jawad had so far not been partial to the more overt displays of submission that Captain Edwin had drilled into Lucas. Anything more than an appreciative thanks was dismissed as being ‘unnecessary’. Lucas was grateful that so far these mistakes had gone unpunished.

“No thanks needed Lucas, least of all because I just poisoned you…” Jawad trailed, flipping through his journal some more. “Hmmm, perhaps another potion might work...if only I had something more reliable than my old mentor’s theories.” He turned to Lucas. “Are you certain there is nothing you might know that could lead us in the right direction?”

Lucas thought for a moment, racking his brain before a memory stuck out. “When I was with my old masters I was given a sort of potion once. It, um, it sort of helped my magic after I had used it a lot.”

Jawad’s eyes lit up and he walked over to Lucas, sitting down next to him and focusing on him intently. “What do you remember about it? Taste, texture, smell.” 

Lucas tried to recall what he could. Everything before his time with Captain Edwin felt fuzzy, like he was trying to look at it through thick fog. “Um, it was thick...I think? Yes it was a thick liquid and…” Lucas trailed off, trying to remember anything else. “I think...it burned when I drank it.”

Jawad nodded, writing in his journal before responding. “Do you know what it was called? Or where your...old master,” he frowned at the word, “purchased it?” 

Lucas shook his head. “No.”

“Any specific taste, any...side effects of the potion?”

“N-no.”

“Do you remember what color it was?”

“It...no.”

“Did it have a particular smell?”

“It...it smelled...sweet?”

Jawad hummed to himself, flipping through the pages of his journal rapidly. After a seemingly unsuccessful search he stood up and walked over to his table, sifting through several thick tomes and other journals. Lucas watched apprehensively, shrinking back as the doctor became more and more frustrated with his search. After what must have been at least half an hour Jawad slammed the book he was holding onto the table, causing Lucas to flinch.

“Well, there are at least a dozen theoretical,” he spat the word out like it tasted of ash, “concoctions and tinctures that help restore the use of magic and share some similarities with what you described, but without any more details I can’t determine which, if any, of the ones in my records match the one you were given.” He pinched his forehead. “Much less if any of them work.”

Lucas bowed his head. “I-I’m sorry for not being of any help, a-and for wasting your time.”

Jawad sighed, walking back over to Lucas, patting the boy on his shoulder. “It's not your fault.” He turned away, crossing his arms and placing a hand on his chin. “Perhaps it's time you introduce yourself to the others in camp. From what I can tell your recovery is coming along fine, and I imagine you’d want to get out of this tent by now.”

Lucas swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. He had been dreading this, being forced to serve the others in the camp. Jawad had been easy to satisfy so far, and he was just getting used to how to address and act around him. Now he would have to learn all over again, with people likely far less forgiving than Jawad was. 

Still, it wasn’t up to him who he did and did not serve.

Jawad must have taken Lucas’s silence as agreement, which it was in a way, and beckoned Lucas to follow him out of the tent. Lucas complied, walking out from under the tent flaps and into the camp itself. He squinted at the sun, the bright light hurting his eyes after so long in relatively dim conditions. 

“Ah, Lucas. I see you are on your feet now. That is good news.”

Lucas turned to see Mehrzad approaching him, saber slung over his shoulder and helmet held at his side. He was the only person Lucas had really seen over the past few days, often bringing Jawad food or supplies he requested. He didn’t really talk to Lucas, usually only staying around long enough to drop off what he needed to and say a few parting words to his husband. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking Lucas up and down.”You seem a bit pale.”

“I am afraid that would be my fault.” Jawad said. “The solution I made had some...unfortunate side effects.”

Mehrzad let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, I see you’ve been on the receiving end of my dear husband’s ‘experiments’. I remember one time when he tried to brew something for stomach pain. I wa-”

“I’M certain Lucas doesn’t wish to hear the, well, gory details of that...” Jawad trailed off with a chuckle. “Why don’t you show Lucas around the camp? I need to convince Jon to let me acquire another batch of ingredients. I’m not sure what they are yet, but I don’t imagine they will be cheap.”

Jawad walked off, healing towards a large tent towards the center of camp. Lucas guessed that was where Captain Jonathon was. Lucas hoped he wouldn’t get too mad at Jawad’s request. Jawad shouldn’t have to get in trouble for his sake.

And Lucas didn’t want the doctor to have any reason to vent his frustrations. 

Mehrzad clapped Lucas on the back, causing the boy to flinch slightly.“Well, looks like you are stuck with me for a while. Come, give you the tour.”

Lucas followed dutifully behind Mehrzad as he was led through the camp, head bowed and trailing by a couple of feet. The camp was large, with close to two dozen tents standing and numerous people milling around.

“Most of the people here are temporary hires, we call them ‘temps’. They usually only stick around for a few contracts or long enough to make it to a major city before leaving. You don’t need to worry too much about getting to know them, they’ll be replaced before you can get to remembering their names.”

Lucas grimaced at that. So many different people to get used to serving properly and he’d just have to relearn everything again later. Avoiding mistakes would be impossible. He looked around at some of the passing people. All of them looked imposing. Well built, big (or at least bigger than him), and...violent. A beating from any one of them wouldn’t be fun.

He decided not to think about what it would be like if they chose to gang up.

Lucas was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Mehrzad had stopped walking. The two bumped into each other and Lucas sprung back, shying away and waiting for the reprimand. Mehrzad simply stared at him, confusion on his face. After a few moments of awkward silence, Mehrzad finally spoke.

“Are you alright Lucas?”

Lucas looked up meekly, scanning Merhzad’s face for any sign of displeasure. “Um...yes I am sir. S-sorry sir.”

“Apology accepted?” He cocked his head, studying Lucas before humming to himself. “Perhaps we should rest for a moment, come sit with me.”

Mehrzad sat on a nearby fallen log, gesturing for Lucas to join him. Lucas obeyed and took a seat on the log, just close enough that he wasn’t being disrespectful but not too close for his own comfort. Mehrzad had seemed merciful thus far and Lucas felt like the man would be willing to give this one liberty. The lack of any reprimand confirmed his guess and Lucas let himself relax just a tad.

“So, Lucas, how are you feeling? You seem to be in much better shape, my husband’s experiments aside.”

“Oh. I’m feeling alright. Jawad says that my healing is going normally.” 

“That is good news.” Mehrzad reached into one of his greaves and pulled out a small dagger. Lucas tensed, eyeing the weapon warily, but the man simply began to use the tip to clean beneath his fingernails. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you traveling with that caravan for? From what I can tell you weren’t exactly there of your own desire.” He turned to Lucas, a playful smile on his face. “Am I in the presence of some dangerous killer?”

Lucas looked down at his hands, memories of the attack flooding mind. Scenes of bloody fields and butchered corpses. He felt his throat tighten and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The bloodstained face of Harold flashed in his eyes and Lucas shook his head harshly, banishing the image before he had the chance to think about it. 

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.” Mehrzad said softly. 

Lucas’ head snapped up at Mehrzad’s words. The man had a concerned look on his face, eyebrows narrowed and lips formed into a small frown. Lucas swallowed thickly. “I was a performer for, for two of the men at the caravan.”

“A performer eh?” Mehrzad raised an eyebrow at the answer. “It's a difficult job, pleasing a crowd, isn’t it? You run yourself ragged putting on a show, put everything you have into it only for the slightest mistake to turn everyone against you.”

Lucas looked at the man taken somewhat aback. “Y-yes. It was difficult. My master Harold always made me do better after each performance.”

“Ah, yes. Always have to make it bigger, flashier, more impressive. First you’re fighting a single man, then you’re shoved into a pit filled with a dozen hyenas and given nothing more than a broken spear.” He shook his head, almost as if reminiscing. “I was a gladiator back in my homeland, a rather good one if I may say. Sometimes I can still hear the roar of the crowd in my ears.”

Lucas didn’t know if he should say anything. The two lapsed into an awkward silence as Lucas contemplated possible responses. Mehrzad coughed, fiddling with his dagger before placing it back into his greave. 

“What's it like, using magic?” 

Lucas started slightly, looking at Mehrzad and frowning. How would he describe it? 

“It...hurts.” Merhzad raised an eyebrow but didn’t commnet. “It hurts when I try to use it, like, like I'm lighting a fire inside of my body that burns me. The more I try to do, the hotter it is and if I do too much it...it hurts a lot more.” He paused, looking down at his hands and running his fingers along the leylines. “But, it also feels natural, like it's something I’m supposed to do. Without I...I feel wrong. Like, like I can’t blink or, or move my fingers.” 

Lucas sniffled. “I don’t like it.”

Lucas was crying. He hadn’t realized he was until a tear landed on the back of his hand. A shaky breath left him and he wiped at his eyes, trying to regain his composure as best he could. An arm wrapped around his shoulders and he turned to see Mehrzad looking at him sympathetically.

“I can’t imagine what that feels like, losing something so...integral to who you are.” He handed Lucas a small piece of cloth and let home clean off his face. “But don’t worry. You will get your magic back. Jawad, for all of his eccentricities, is brilliant. Whatever the solution is to your problem, he will find it. I assure you.”

Lucas nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The pair sat together as Lucas gathered himself. Close to an hour passed and Mehrzad stood up, stretching his back and gathering his gear.

“I must go, Lucas. I have a contract soon and I am to meet the others for a briefing. You take care of yourself alright?”

With that Mehrzad left, and Lucas was left alone. A sense of unease filled him. What should he do? He wasn’t given any orders or instructions. Was he just supposed to...wander around until someone told him to do something? 

Lucas stood in place for a few moments before deciding to do just that. He looked around and decided to walk towards the center of the camp. As he moved he took in his surroundings trying to notice any major landmarks he might be told to go to. As he searched he noticed a woman working at what looked like a giant cauldron. She was busy skinning what looked like a deer. A cook perhaps. 

Lucas decided to ask if she was in need of help. Kitchen work was easy and he was decent at it. He probably wouldn’t do anything that warranted punishment. 

Not that she would need a reason if she wanted to hurt him. 

He started walking towards the woman when he heard someone call out to him.

“HEY! Who the hell are you?”

Lucas turned to see a lean man walking towards him. He stood straight, bowing his head as the man approached. “Haven’t seen you around before. You a new hire?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes sir, my name is Lucas. I am here to serve at your command.”

The man released an eyebrow. “What, really?” He fiddled with the scabbard on his hip before producing a dirtied sword. “You uh, you gonna clean this then?”

Lucas deflated, so much for kitchen work. Still, an order was an order. “Of course sir, if that is what you desire.”

“Shit, well, have at it then.” He dropped the sword into Lucas’s arms. 

Lucas grasped the sword carefully, making sure to avoid the blade. He noticed the man walking away and called out after him. “Um, sir, do you know where I could find a rag?”

“Fuck if I know kid, you figure it out.”

Oh. Lucas looked down at the sword, and then at his surroundings. He didn’t see anywhere that might have something to clean with. Maybe he could ask someone. He noticed a woman walking by and tried to talk to her.

“Excuse me ma’am cou-”

“Piss off asshole, I'm not in the mood for chatter.”

She didn’t even look at him as she walked away. Lucas deflated further, looking down at the sword. He needed to get it cleaned soon. If he took too long the owner might get angry. Moving to a nearby fallen log to sit on Lucas began to rub at the sword with his shirt.

The work was slow, with most of the grime coating the blade taking considerable effort to work out. His shirt quickly became stained, with black and brown splotches dotting the area he used to wipe the blade. Just as he was about to finish a group of three other people walked up to him, dirty equipment in hand.

“Hey you, you the kid whose cleaning kit?”

Lucas looked up and nodded meekly. “Yes sir, I am here to serve at your command.”

“Damn, well here, clean this would ya?”

All three of them dumped their equipment at Lucas’ feet before walking off, leaving Lucas with a much larger workload. He sighed, his shoulder slumping at the sight of the pile. Dejectedly he placed the sword against the log he was sitting on and got to work cleaning off a breastplate.

News about his services spread throughout the camp, and before long Lucas had a barrack’s worth of arms and armor waiting for him to clean. After a few pieces Lucas just decided to strip his shirt off, using as much of the fabric as he could. It was long and exhausting work, with the last pieces being cleaned close to sundown. His arms ached from the rubbing and sweat poured down his face. As he hunched over the particularly filthy spear a shadow loomed over him. He sighed internally, something else to clean.

“Um, Lucas. What are you doing?”

Lucas looked up to see Captain Jonathon standing in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I am cleaning this equipment, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huh. Why exactly?”

“Because I was told to, Captain Jonathan.”

“Did you...want to clean all this equipment?”

“I am more than happy to serve, Captain Jonathan.”

“Uh-huuuhhh. And you are using your shirt to clean because…?

“I could not find a rag, Captain Jonathon.”

The captain looked down at him like he had sprouted a second head. Lucas squirmed under his gaze, unsure if he had done something to upset the man. 

“How...how long have you been cleaning this stuff kid?”

“Um...since midday I believe Captain Jonathon.”

The captain exhaled, placing a hand on his face and shaking his head. “Ok. For the record, don’t go around cleaning everyone's kit alright? Don’t need any of these bastards getting lazier.”

Lucas nodded, quickly dropping the weapon and starting to pull his shirt back on.

“Don’t put that thing on!” Lucas’ eyes shot up to see Jonathon staring at him like he had just stuck his hand into a fire. “It’s covered in dirt and grease, what th- Cathrai above, what's wrong with you?”

Lucas inhaled sharply, dropping the shirt and then falling to his knees, head bowed. “Im-I’m sorry Captain Jonathan. I-I did not mean to upset you.”

Lucas waited, trembling as he heard the man approach. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a blow to land. Instead he felt a hand lay gently on his shoulder, and looked up to see the captain kneeling down to look at him.

“Hey kid, it's alright. Didn’t mean to snap at you. It's been a long day for both of us. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” He pointed towards a nearby river. “Go take a bath. I’ll get you some new clothes and make sure Annya saves you some stew.”

Lucas paused for a moment before nodding eagerly. “Yes, Captain Jonathon. Th-thank you for your kindness.”

 “No problem kid.” Jonathan stood up, taking the shirt with him and walking away. After a few steps he turned. “Oh and uh, don’t call me ‘Captain Jonathon’, all the time. I imagine it gets a bit tiring .”

“Yes Ca-, yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Jonathan nodded and walked away. Lucas watched him for a few moments before making his way towards the river. It was a fair way away from any of the tents, far enough to give some privacy. Lucas undressed himself and walked into the water. It was cold, but once he was able to wash away the muck and grime that had built up on his skin he felt much better. 

After he finished cleaning himself Lucas sank down into the water slightly, letting himself relax. When was the last time he had been allowed to bathe in private? Or without a time limit? He honestly couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, he was allowed to now. He sank lower, resting his chin just above the waterline. He shouldn’t stay too long. He didn’t want Jonathon to think he was lazy or taking advantage of the man’s generosity. He let himself languish for another minute before pulling himself from the water. The air was cold against his wet skin but he didn’t mind. He hadn't felt this clean in...years probably.

Jonathon was sitting on a tree stump a short distance from the river. His back was to the water, a gesture that Lucas appreciated greatly. The man was carving at a piece of wood with a small knife, whistling a tune that Lucas didn’t recognize. He stopped when he heard Lucas’ footsteps, turning around and picking up a shirt he had laid across his lap. 

“You look better kid, here, new shirt for you.”

Lucas took the shirt and pulled it on. It was big, the fabric hung loosely off of his body, but it was clean and warm. “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem kid. I’ll see about getting you some nicer pants too, those things look a little thin.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

Jonathan nodded and gestured for Lucas to follow him. The two walked back to the camp, heading towards the center. Several small groups of mercenaries were sitting around a large bonfire, talking and laughing over bowls of food. Lucas saw the lady from earlier, Annya he figured, doling out stew from the cauldron, a small line forming in front of her. 

“Take a seat Lucas, I’ll go get us dinner.”

Lucas nodded and sat down on a box placed towards the fringes of the bonfire. Jonathan walked towards the lady, nodding to a few of the mercenaries he passed. Some nodded back, others offered salutes, one asked for the captain to join him and his friends at a game of dice. Jonathon declined and walked up to the cauldron, taking his place in line behind the others. 

Lucas watched him, trying to get a read on the man. He seemed well liked by most of the people in the camp. That was a good sign, well liked people don’t tend to dish out beatings for no reason. He fiddled with the collar of his shirt. It was well made, probably the nicest piece of clothing Lucas had ever worn. He was surprised it was wasted on him.  

The captain returned with two large bowls of stew, sitting next to Lucas and handing him one of them. “I had Annya give us the big bowls. Perks of being captain.” He pulled a spoon from one of his pockets and handed it to Lucas. “Eat up, you did a lot of work today. More than your share.”

Lucas took the spoon and dug into the meal. It was as good as always. He had been fortunate enough to be allowed meals every day so far, probably to help along his recovery. He hoped that things wouldn’t change too soon, though he had a sinking feeling that they would once he finished healing. 

“Annyas a blessing. Before we picked her up we didn’t have anyone who could cook. We ate what preserved crap we could carry and whatever we managed to hunt or forage.” Jonathan shook his head. “Once when we were low on supplies all we had to eat was raw grain and mushrooms for days. I don’t think I've come closer to being killed by my own men.”

The captain tilted his head back, draining the last of the broth from his bowl and placing it on the ground. He turned to Lucas, a serious expression on his face. Lucas paused, placing the bowl in his lap and waiting for the captain to speak.

Jonathan pulled out a small metal medallion shaped like a crown. “You see this? This is the emblem of the Crownsmen - that's the name of our company if you didn’t guess. Everyone who works for me has one, and it serves as a symbol of our unity and camaraderie, of our code. One very important tenant of that code is fairness, everyone pulls their fair share, no more no less.” He pocketed the medallion. “Now you aren’t a crownsman, but you are a guest in our camp, which means that applies to you too.”

Lucas gulped and bowed his head. “O-of course sir. I am more than willing to do whatever you order.”

Jonathan shook his head. “No, no. Probably could have phrased that better...” He muttered to himself quietly before turning his attention back to Lucas. “Anyways that's not what I meant. It's been less than a week since we pulled you half dead from the site of a massacre and today you spent the better part of 10 hours cleaning a barrack’s worth of kit. That is far and away beyond what I consider a fair share of work. You’re on your feet now so I’ll probably have you help around the camp a bit but any work you do comes from me. Anyone else tries to order you around you tell them to fuck off alright?”

Lucas nodded, it made sense that the captain of the camp would be the only one allowed to give him orders. At least that meant he would only need to learn how to please one person now.

“Good, now get some sleep. It’s late and you must be exhausted.” Jonathan stood up and began to walk away before turning around. “Oh, and if anyone tries to give you too much shit you let me know. I don’t tolerate infighting.”

“Yes sir, of course.”

Jonathan nodded and left. Lucas watched him for a moment before picking his bowl back up. Fatigue was starting to hit him hard and he could barely muster the energy to finish his food and walk back to Jawad's tent. It was empty, the doctor was likely taking care of something. Lucas was too tired to wonder what. He crawled into the cot he had been using and let himself drift away. 

So far, this place didn’t seem too bad.

Tags: @haro-whumps @ladygwennn @dramaticcollapse @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @inpainandsuffering

#whump #magical whump #lucas #mehrzad #jonathon #fantasy whump