#“but if this is what you want why speak of right and wrong? you still go in for the kill”

[hwajin]

☆°. — burn me | hhj

genre: smut

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 3k

cw: wax/ heat play, dacryphilia, hyunjin is insanely needy

author's note: this hyunjin is @astraystayyh 's and hers ONLY. (she holds a gun to my head forcing me to say this)

You had wanted Hyunjin to speak to you. To reach out to you, to tell you things about himself. You knew he was shy, and you liked that about him. You liked when his ears shot red because you gave him a simple compliment, to his new computer set-up, or how very eloquently he helped you out with your Statistics homework. You liked how his body jolted when you touched him, when your fingers tickled him featherlight while he was studying, head deep in a book. You liked it even more when you teased him beneath the table when you dined out, a leg of yours creeping up his trembling one, and when he looked at you as though you were crazy. As though you were doing something so very forbidden, as though he never wanted you to stop.

But you had told him that you wanted to know more. That, yes, you could often read his face, his eyes, his body as it was, that he was an open book regarding his feelings, his preferences – sexual or not – his moods; but that it wasn’t enough. You wanted him to tell you if he was having a bad day, if he was struggling with the pressure he put on himself. You wanted him to tell you if he was feeling good, when you let your fingertips dance delicately across his stomach, tracing the lines of his faint muscles, wondering where they came from with the lack of exercise and the hours spent in front of his computer. You wanted to know if there was something he wanted to do, he craved to try, dreamed of at night. What he thought about when he lay alone in his bed, on nights you couldn’t spend together, what went through his mind when he closed his eyes and touched himself. You wanted him to spell it out. To tell you. To get past his futile embarrassment and open himself up to you.

You were looking at the package in your hands as you were sitting at the edge of Hyunjin’s bed. Perplexed. Curious. The water hitting the tiles in the other room reminded you that your boyfriend would take a while to come out, always preferring long showers, always waiting for the stream to turn cold before he considered reaching for the towel; so you were left figuring out the contents of the package yourself.

Wax. Massaging wax. Wax which looked too… sensual to be put on his windowsill and lit on romantic evenings. Wax which he had ordered for different purposes, you were sure.

And you knew you were right when Hyunjin, not fifteen minutes later, stood in front of you, stuttering, flushed, the redness on his cheeks spreading all around, his glasses still fogged up from the condensation in the bathroom. It didn’t help his embarrassment that he had chosen to only throw around a towel over his waist; you liked that. You liked that he deemed clothes as nihil after his showers; you both knew that whenever he was done studying, long past midnight, clothes would discard themselves from your bodies in mere minutes, anyways. You liked that though he was shy, he granted himself to you in a certain way, gifted you a part of his vulnerability. That he wasn’t afraid to be loved by you.

“Listen, I wanted to tell you…”, he started. But he didn’t make it far. Words failed him, the heat on his face distracted him. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes; and you hadn’t even said anything. You had only watched him, knowingly, before he had sat down on the bed, next to you, face in his hands to hide his embarrassment. Mumbling apologies you giggled at, because “Why? You did nothing wrong?” You couldn’t help but tense at the sound which escaped him at that, a faked sob, a deep whimper, something between that and an embarrassed laugh before he bent his body further into his arms. Hiding himself. Exposing himself. Because the skin on his back moved with him as he did, and you wanted to touch it. Because the skin on his stomach folded into million creases, tummy soft and protruding, and you wanted to kiss it.

“No, but I feel like I should have told you, before… before I just order something you might- like- end up not being into. And…”, he looked at you then, barely. Glanced at you from beneath the confines of his arms, glasses sitting on his nose crooked. The look in his eyes when he struggled to find the bravery to speak, to admit. “I’m not even sure I’m into… wax play; heat play. Whatever. I wanted to… try it. On myself- by myself. Before we tried it together.”

You chuckled, and he closed his eyes in pained expression again. You could say you had never seen him so crimson, but that would be a lie; you saw him so crimson every day, whenever you tickled a confession out of him by kissing the lobe of his ear, or when you sighed out how good he felt when he found himself hovering over you, inside you. Quite frankly, you saw him dripping in red more than you saw his actual skin, and it made you chuckle at him again.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, love. And you don’t have to- like, know exactly what you’re into to tell me it’s something you wanna try. We can experiment together.”, you said while sliding closer to him along the mattress. You felt the heat of his body radiating over to your own, and you nudged his shoulder slightly with your head. Made him glance at you again, from the side. You smiled at the smile he granted you, giggled then, to soothe him some more. Your shy lover. Your lover who bore secrets so erotic and deep you feared to never get behind them all in this lifetime.

“And besides, it’s more fun together.”, you ended with a playful wink, and Hyunjin’s whine turned into a laugh, and it sent a shiver along your neck, behind your ears.

It’s how you found yourself over his body. Watching his limbs spread across the bed, his fingers digging into the pillow beneath his head, the knuckles white. It made his arm tense up, made his veins shine blue in the relative darkness of the room. Ignited only by candles. Smelling only of vanilla. And his body. And sex.

When the first drip of hot wax had spilled on his naked body, close to his navel and so red against his pale skin your eyes had fluttered, Hyunjin had hissed. He had jumped in his place, a big palm reaching for you and long fingers digging into your flesh. You had asked if he was okay; he had looked almost concerned, and you’d been sure he’d tell you to stop. To just try something different. That it didn’t feel like he’d imagined it to. But then he’d raise his head a little, and his eyes had searched for yours; and you knew he had loved it. You knew that a little more of this, and he’d be a puddle in his own mattress, a wet, whining, desperate puddle in your hands.

Now, his lips were as red as the dried wax all across his body. Scattered here and there, two drops on his collarbone, perky and bony whenever he moved. Three drops on his chest, dangerously close to his nipples; he had whined particularly loud at those. The drops formed a path to his sex, scattering the skin there the most. On the lines by his abdomen, the dips in his hips, pooling there. Cracking at his thighs because he moved so much, squirmed under you uncontrollably. Hyunjin had spread his legs somewhere in the process; he was so needy, so lost in chasing after his pleasure that he lost himself, found himself in your eyes and grew bashful. You had taken the opportunity, had seen the supple flesh of his inner legs, so close to his darkened erection, that you let a few drops fall there. And Hyunjin had screamed. He had bitten the back of his hand, remembering the other students in the dorm. Had forgotten all about them in a manner of seconds when you did it again, let wax meet the sensitivity of his skin, and he had cried your name. Had writhed and groaned into the pillow beneath him. Had struggled finding his glasses when he’d lay on his back again.

You watched his bent arm, the way he was digging his fist into the space between the pillow and his hair. Struggling. Whining. Constantly whining; he wasn’t ever quiet now. His eyes were shut, making his face crease and contort, his teeth fletched, so the feeling of heat on his biceps was a surprise, and he yelped at it. It trickled closer to his armpit, and when it tickled, he shivered. A moan so throaty ripped through the room that you felt your clit throb, your stomach twist. And then Hyunjin sobbed, in frustration, or in pleasure, or due to sensations even deeper, emotions even greater. He sobbed, dryly, because he seemed overwhelmed of what else to do, and it made you kiss him. You bent down to peck his chest, to nibble at his collarbones. You kissed his neck, licked it, breathed in the scent of the vanilla candle there, of his sweat. You tickled his jaw with your breath, as hot as the wax, or hotter, felt him pant, felt him whine. You kissed his chin wetly, with an open mouth, leaving traces of you everywhere, traces of spit next to the traces of wax, a body traced in love. Because his body was made for it. To be loved, adored. To be destroyed and put back together.

It was when you kissed his lips, red and puffy and spit-laced and bruised, that you noticed the wet on his pink cheeks. The tears behind his glasses, past his eyes. You halted in your tracks.

“Babe, you okay?”

Eyes shooting open, and Hyunjin caught you off guard when he looked at you; eyes flooded with desire, with you. Bloodshot, reddened. Everything was red, you saw it everywhere on his body. And he nodded. Frantically. Desperately. You didn’t need to ask if he wanted you to stop, you could read it on his face that “Please, please, whatever you do, don’t stop. Never stop.”

So you pulled back again, a smirk tugging at your lips. And Hyunjin flushed when he saw it. You took hold of the candle again, hovered it over him. He watched it. The anticipation made the man suck in a breath, and his abdomen hallowed out. You let wax drip into the dip it created, liked the way it nestled there. As if it belonged there. As if he was made to be painted, to be pleased like this.

„Does it hurt, baby?“

A whine from his mouth, and the glasses on his nose sat so deep. He was sweating, wet all around, and the piece of metal just didn’t want to stay where it belonged. You liked it. Would never, not after half a year of being with him, get tired of the way he fixed them. Though he didn’t now. Now, his glasses where the last thing on his mind. Hyunjin shook his head, then he nodded. Then he shook it again. He couldn’t look at you. He was too shy to.

“N-no… yes. I- hmm… I don’t know- fuck-“

Fingers digging into the mattress, finding your flesh then, marking you with the tips of his fingers, with the sharp of his nails. Mindlessly, he was clinging onto you without knowing he was. Because he needed you. Because his body was calling for your own.

“Why are you crying, then?”

Another tear of his fell gen his temple just as you let another droplet of wax meet his skin; it was so close to his sex, tangling with his pubes as it trickled further down that you were sure it pained, but his reaction was heavenlier than anything you could have imagined; a cry of your name and he sobbed it, every syllable, every letter. More tears were rolling past his eyes. He was calling out to you, for salvation, for more, for less, for everything. And the muscles beneath his skin were trembling; you believed you could see it. He was vibrating, he was hot. He was red all around; his erection the most aggressive tone of them all, the white precum so pearly, so white in contrast. You wanted to lick it off.

“I- I don’t know. Because- fuck, ohh my god-“, heavy breathing, heaving chest. Hyunjin knew you better than leaving the question unanswered, though. Was too eager to leave a question simply hang in the air. “Because it feels so fucking good.” He didn’t look at you when he said it. He reddened deeper when he said it. The sweat on his forehead thickened when he said it.

“Yeah? Does it?”

He nodded, nodded and nodded so hard his glasses dared to fall off. He didn’t care. He continued nodding, until you chuckled. Then he looked at you. His eyes were so clear, so shot with pleasure. They were saying everything his mouth couldn’t, was shy to. You shivered in his gaze; how could a man so beautiful be so unaware of it?

“And because- because I’m so embarrassed.”

He whispered the words. He looked at you so intently; because he knew you’d ease him off. He was aware that his shame was futile, that it was never justified. And you knew that a part of him liked it. That sometimes, a man as smart as him enjoyed to turn dumbfounded in your hold. That the lack of thoughts, the struggle to find words when he was around you, reminded Hyunjin of the effect you had on him. It reminded him how much you liked it; when he started stuttering, when he forgot what he was talking about, when his only affections, his only obsession was you.

You chuckled, face smitten, lashes batting at him. He whimpered, bit the back of his hand when he felt the wax near his erection. It was so hard. And he was so close; if you didn’t touch him soon, he thought, he would come undone without any contact at all.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about feeling good, baby. You can let go when you’re with me. Don’t be shy about feeling good when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin thought this was his demise. His hell and heaven simultaneously, that it was in your hands he would die, in your hands he would be reborn again.

He pleaded you. Silently first, then with a trembling word; he needed you. He had never needed you more than now. He put his embarrassment to the side, took to heart what you always wished of him; to tell you what he wanted. To tell you what he needed.

“You, babe. I need you, I can’t, I- fuck, please, baby, please. I need to feel you, please.”

You had never heard him beg this way. Had never seen such lust in his eyes. You had never been so wet, not for him, not for anyone. He had the ability to break you, and he wasn’t even aware of it. Laying in the nude before you, traces of wax and spit and love on his body, and he didn’t even know you were as obsessed with him as he was with you.

Your panties and shirt were discarded quicker than either of you could look. You were hovering over him, and Hyunjin swore your pussy was hotter than the wax, than the fire burning it down. Before you sank down on him, he stopped you, numb fingers caressing your waist. He whined, writhed. He couldn’t look at you, he mumbled something. It wasn’t until you put a thumb on his chin and made Hyunjin look at you that he reddened, again, always reddening. He was breathing heavy when your eyes met. So heavy that you felt the warm condensation of it on your fingers. It was shaky, he was shaking.

“I’ll come. Like, right away. I’m already coming, I think.”

The confession knocked the breath out of your lungs. For someone so shy, so bashful about the slightest touch, the most innocent contact his words were always marked with an eroticism so great, so honest. No one had ever talked to you the way he talked to you; despite his shyness, despite his hesitations.

You assured him, kissed him, pecked his lips. They were hot, wet. They were dripping with his love for you.

And then you positioned yourself above him, and when you took hold of his base to guide him against you, when you felt him slide past your wetness and into you his hands dug into your flesh, so deep into your waist it hurt, but you didn’t mind it. It was his face you were focusing on; heavenly. As though he had found heaven. He was coming, hard, jolting his trembling hips against you; he was merely grinding against your pussy, against your clit, not much penetrating even, and yet he looked as though he had never felt a pleasure bigger than this. Eyes rolling back, violently. Lip bleeding between his teeth. Spit spewing when he cursed deeply, throaty. Sweat running down his temples, your waist because his palms coated you in it. In him. His scent, his wetness.

And you watched the red traces on his body. The pale colour on his cheeks, the feverish one on his lips. The deep, sensual one on his chest and stomach and abdomen, the bit on his biceps, the dried and flaked red wax. Only memories of it remaining when you’d wash it off later in the shower, when the morning sun would almost come out again. When you’d kiss him there later, after he’d come down, in the spots the wax had been, to soothe skin, to comfort him. And the wax would stand by his nightstand, proof and witness of the past hours, of Hyunjin’s desire, of your love.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @ppiri-bahng @cherrrywon @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @junebug032 @noellllslut @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @astraystayyh

[yarnabee]

THE DOCTOR HEADCANNON — BEING HIS PLAYTHING.

harley sawyer ( the doctor ) x reader

tags/warnings: sfw (15+), light gore, torture/impact, power imbalance, degradation, abusive behaviour, posessive behaviour, kidnapping i suppose

sawyer is a HUGE jerk to everyone, including to his own little precious plaything, you. of course, such a cold, dense body made out of metal wouldn't make sense if it had a heart, wouldn't it?

besides.. your timid reactions to his sick, little experiments were what piqued his interest in the first place. what a lovely sight it is to see a flesh roaming around his prison like a helpess, pathetic rat who lost its way home. whether you writhe, yelp, whine, sob, or scream.. it's all melody to his ears.

he loves purposefully letting you escape from his lair, making you think that there's still hope to escape his hellish prison. just as you thought you were free of his grasp, he'll pin you, his beloved trophy, down—his mechanical figure hovering over you, eyes daunting as it pierces towards your cowardly ones, squeezing your neck tightly with his iron first, making sure that you knew there's no use fighting someone much stronger than you are. oh, how he loves watching the glint of hope fading from your pupils—dulling them with fear instead. he'd purposefully taunt you, mocking you with his laugh as it echoes through the hallways, "you really thought you could escape me, hmm? what an interesting thing you are, little rat."

oh, how he loves turning every single thing into a game that he knew you'd lose from the very beginning. it's amusing to see how you'd react time to time, whether you try to fight back or whimper out of fear, he feasts on it nonetheless. he'll purposefully make you play hide and seek with him, taunt you with his creaking footsteps, then having his way with you once he got his fingers wrapped tightly around you—dragging you into his lair once again as your fights and cries means nothing to him. "don't try to fight, little rat. i know you're at least smart enough to understand why."

don't get him wrong, though. just because he's able to leave cuts and bruises all over your delicate skin doesn't mean any of those filthy creatures roaming outside has the right to leave a scratch on you, not even a single one. oh, how sawyer wouldn't even think twice to rip appart the limbs off those past experiments who still roams in the area, who dares to touch you without any permission. you're his plaything, and only his. no one else.

the doctor wants you to DEPEND on him, just like how yarnaby depends on him and obeys him like a God. he wants your pathetic self to see him as YOUR lifeline, as he purposefully brings the necessities you need such as food and medicines, his mechanical joints placing them gently next to you without saying anything. afterall, he needs his little lab rat on good condition to play with, no?

at times where he's not running any 'experiments' and 'games' on you, he always kept you inside of his lab—no contact is allowed without his permission. he'd occassionally let yarnaby roam around and get used up to your presence, but he won't let you or it get too attached to each other.

he barely speaks to you, his answers are either mockery or straight degradation. you never really ask him anything about his motives too, he never liked it when you were curious. "say, little rat, i'd be amused if you hadn't learn what happens to curious little rats who gets too nosy."

a little fun fact; the doctor can easily destroy you if he wanted to. he always lets you know through his grips—how he's controlling it steadilly, letting you know that if he puts just the littlest more effort into squeezing you, you'd have your bones crushed within seconds—and he makes sure that you always remember that at all times.

"now, little rat, go on and amuse me. let's see what else i can get out off you."

[somerandomcockroach]

*stretches, breathes fresh cold air in, waters eyes, sits down* Here we go again ~

MMMMMMMMM Prowl's birth and existence starting and being described as nothing AHAH, EVEN MORE, the way to kill him if something goes crazy. MAN, MY BOY, YOU WERE BORN COLD AND COVERED IN COLD ALREADY Wait is it like. Half Prowl's pov. I know it can be described this way but I just, loved how the "Warm hands on his head sounds", more like explaining how it feels for him than a simple fact *sudden cackle* Didn't know translation of hitherto and it sounded like a funny mispelling.

*INHALES* I listen to "Steel for Humans" and it beat SO WELL I've got shivers "He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded." NOT A NOTHING, but still not a something, void created out of will just to serve and not have a will "He became his purpose" I SO MUCH WANT TO SEE IT INSIDE HIS HEAD

G[PDFGOPFOWWJ

OH THIS IS SO TASTY. OTHER VIEW ON TAC NET, SO DAMN TASTY AHEFHJADGH. I WOULDN'T HAVE PAID ATTENTION BUT. "HE CALLED HIM PROWL" NOW THAT DOESN'T QUITE MAKE SENSE PFFFHT OF COURSE HE TOLD HIM TO DISAGREE WITH HIM. OF COURSE HE TOLD A CREATION THAT WAS BORN TO SERVE AND AGREE TO BE AND DISAGREE.

AJHEGHRESJGERS OF COURSE WHY NOT. BREAK HIM.

GOOD JOB, MY BOY, GIVE THEM HEADACHES AHAHA

I need them in one room more often, his own scientific amusement and observation Ah so his very first purpose was to help him bring a peace. YES IT IS A NANNY AHAHA

FRIENDSHIP WILL NOT GET YOU TO COUNCIL FASTER OH THERE ARE OTHER GOLEMS. I kind of was wondering if Orion is the only one who will just... make it different Naaaahhh Prowl is already a big bunch of emotions even if not the happiest ones, no wonder he isn't like them "Not allowed artifacts" *Looks at Shockwave* HGASHDGAEHGEAHG I assist Orion and help him, agree.... actually, do not agree anymore, Ratchet now looks like a good friend to help me keep Orion in place. So golems are widely spread occasion. Keeping places clean and other easy stuff. Double-bottom trap. DAMN I LIKE BODY LANGUAGE DETAILS JAHGGEA not sure if Prowl just now made a joke or stated a fact about processor.

NOW, THIS IS A DYNAMIC WITH THEM I LOVE TO SEE

EWHGFHEWFGEWH OH EHWGREHG MMM OH I LOVE HOW PROWL IS JUST. NO WAY TO GET THAT HE IS A GOLEM. NO MORE.

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZEEEEE W- WAIT. F*** YOU. YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS HIS STUDENTS ARE SAVAGES SAVED AND GOTTEN TO SHOCKWAVE YEEEEEESSSSSSS “Can read, write, speak, even makes music.” Who's that pokemon? ........Okay here comes the bits of their future destruction... and the fact that they will just. Accept it. Of course! Why not! *lies down* ....PROWL. PROWL NO. PROWL WRONG. NOT THIS WAY. NOT LIKE THIS NO.

PROWL STOP THIS IS A WRONG CHARACTER GROWTH

"When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like." lET Me just. There is no shit like "Primus' will. Primus hangs out with atheist and smiles when someone says that Primus isn't capable of everything. It is the council. AH. Council is capable of extracting the spark. CAN THEY ALSO F**KING TURN OTHERS INTO DEMONS?!? ORION THIS IS COUNCIL I DON'T BELIEVE THAT IT IS PRIMUS, ORION YOU ARE DOING RIGHT THINGS.

This bit. Prowl has done things. He has done and might be chased for it. But he doesn't have a spark. I wonder to whom he resembles with the "I hope he doesn't"...

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

___________________

Magical Golem Prowl anyone? ‘,:) This story exists in the same universe as Spellbound au. and Monster hunter au and ties them together so I highly recommend you read all of them.

The fic under the cut⤵️

He seemed to be nothing.

The emptiness that infinitely defined his nonexistent self bounced off the metal plates and glinted in the droplets of still-warm energon. He was nothing, but there was so much around him that the space was like an infinite buzz of cluttered noise. The voices above him sounded excited. The metal slab beneath him was cold and hard.

“Good. Now you need to put a piece of your armor on this. Somewhere it will be in plain sight and easily reachable.”

“Oh...wouldn't it make more sense to hide it under the armor? I mean, it's an obvious weak point.”

He idly thought, his hands felt numb.

“No no, that's the whole point. You're using an artifact you haven't fully studied and you don't know exactly how it's going to turn out. If it goes crazy and becomes dangerous, you should have an easy way to destroy it. Where's the artifact by the way?”

The tinkling of metal.

The sound of a crystal clattering against armor.

Warm hands on his head.

“Here.”

“Excellent. Now. This will be the base on which the entire spell will be held, so you want to hide this artifact very well and secure it carefully so it doesn't break by mistake.”

Did he have hands too? He was nothing, why did he have hands? It didn't make sense.

Orion took a couple steps away from the table and stood pensively.

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave, hitherto distracted by an almost invisible spot on his shoulderplate, glanced leisurely over Orion's shoulder

“Golems don't need much to function. You made a good shell. The magical structure is strong as well, I see.”

Orion hesitantly pointed to the golem's forehead, decorated with a neat sharp chevron.

“I added some things that weren't in your instructions and I think I made a mistake somewhere.”

“Golem making is a complex skill, don't give up if it doesn't work right awa...you know what, actually no, you did everything right.”

Orion shrugged in frustration.

“Then why won't it move?”

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“ Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion walked back over to the table with a quiet “oh” and nervously clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

The emptiness that forever defined his nonexistent self stammered. He wasn't nothing. He had a purpose and that purpose shaped him, put strength into his numb limbs and molded his lack of thought into naked intent.

He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded.

He stopped being just nothing. He became his purpose. And it felt so right that it was unclear how he could ever have been anything else before.

He opened his optics.

Orion, who apparently hadn't expected that the thing he'd made specifically for it to move would move, jerked back with a funny sound.

On the opposite side, Shockwave nodded proudly, returning to the spot on his armor that even in the bright lights of the workshop only he could see.

“I believed in you.”

_________

“Oh my god! How do you sneak up on me so quietly every time?”

He wasn't nothing anymore. He was a whole long list of instructions and rules. His creator sat him down at a table and meticulously listed everything he could and could not do. Handed him many books and ordered him to attend a huge number of lectures. He now knew who to bow to if he passed them in the hallway and who to avoid. He had learned hundreds of names and thousands of titles. Learned how to pretend to be a real Mech, even though he wasn't.

The world around him was complex and confusing, but he found that this complexity had its own patterns, linked together in a bizarre web of systems and sequences. It was worth pulling on the right end, and the meaningless facts organized themselves into something much more manageable.

Everything made sense. The planet revolved around a star. Mechs rejoiced when they got something that improved their quality of life. Energon burned, producing energy. Big things tended to be heavier than small things.

The world was divided into Mechs and monsters...and him.

He was inclined to be...quiet.

His creator - he'd asked to be called Orion - twitched when he found his creation standing right behind him.

He was very talented at finding Orion wherever he was. And very light compared to most things his size. Like everything else it made sense. He wasn't a Mech, he was just an empty shell. An armor summoned to life by magic. His footsteps were as quiet as a mini bot's. Whatever Orion called it, he wasn't 'sneaking' on purpose.

A few cycles later, Orion accidentally bent one of its finals when he turned around too quickly, startled by the quiet footsteps behind him.

He named him Prowl. It was...not exactly logical, but there was a certain sense to it. Prowl nodded and agreed. He always agreed with everything Orion said, even if it didn't make sense at all. Orion's opinion took a higher priority than anything else.

Until it didn't.

Until Orion gave him a focused look and told him that he should argue if he thought it was necessary.

Until Orion put the servo on his shoulder and said something along the lines of....

“You can disagree with me if you think my opinion is wrong. I'm not asking you to go against me. I'm not perfect and I can't be the one absolute point of reference for everything. You can and I'm sure will be smarter than me about many things. I want you to tell me if I'm wrong and what I should do about it.”

Like…well….like an absolute fool.

This concept was new. Prowl wasn't built to argue. He was made to obey orders and to serve a function.

Orion smiled slyly. At least it was probably a smile behind his mask that made the corners of his optics lift.

“It wouldn't be considered a disobedience of my order if I ordered you to disobey it. Don't you think?”

Prowl opened his mouth to agree out of habit, but then changed his mind mid-motion and closed it back. It...it didn't make sense. It made sense that was breaking under its own weight. It was mercilessly mixing up all of his pre-learned patterns for talking to Orion. If he agreed with that logic now, it would mean accepting its use. If he protested, it would also mean accepting it, but in a bit more embarrassing way. Just when he was thinking of simply retreating silently to the nearest shadow and banging his head against the wall, he heard a quiet chuckle and realized that Orion had been amusing himself for some time now, watching him struggle.

Prowl decided that verbal responses might be overrated and frowned his face in the most believable expression of displeasure he could portray.

Orion broke out into laughter.

________

“What exactly is my goal?”

Orion looks. Curious. He stops talking to Shockwave and leans back on the bench.

“Right now, to study these journals. I already told you.”

Prowl nods to indicate he heard him and continues

“Studying serves a future purpose. Studying for the sake of studying would be meaningless to me. What is my final goal?”

“To assist me” Orion says slightly confused. ”Within the best of your ability of course.“”

“Аh. Assist in the fulfillment of your goal.”

“Well. I'd say so, yes.”

Prowl nods

“And what is your goal?”

Shockwave, who has been sitting next to them the whole time looks like they're a couple of previously unknown to science species he's just personally discovered.

Prowl ignores him.

“I...you remember the separation between Mechs and monsters, right?” asks Orion cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Mechs...are unfair to monsters. Monsters are cruel to Mechs. It's a needlessly violent situation that I want to...try to. Fix.”

Prowl frowns to indicate that the information isn't completely clear.

“You're a member of the order of hunters. And...” he shakes his head toward the nearest window ”...you have a considerable number of hunters under your command. Your job involves destroying monsters.”

Shockwave makes some sort of quiet amused sound and props his chin up with his hand.

Prowl ignores him harder.

“My job is to bring peace.” says Orion “You don't have to kill monsters to do that. You can negotiate with them. Find a compromise. Coexist. I...I guess basically, I'm trying to make the world a little better?”

Prowl doesn't look impressed. He's actually making a special effort to not let Orion think in any way that he might be intrigued by the whole endeavor.

“You do realize that's a disproportionately large goal for just one Mech, right?”

Orion shrugs awkwardly

“That's why I made you.”

__________

Ratchet puts aside his tools and critically examines his work.

“Don't touch that and it will heal normally.”

Orion smiles gratefully

“Thank you.”

Ratchet is important to Orion. They are close and very valuable friends to each other. The two of them look peaceful now, despite the fact that Ratchet threatened Orion when he first showed up in Sick Bay, so Prowl decides it would be a socially acceptable moment to start talking

“Orion, you're wanted at the Council.”

The second half of his line is drowned helplessly in two startled exclamations at once. Orion, to his honor, calms down almost immediately, but Ratchet continues cursing for a while.

Prowl doesn't wait for him to finish. The Council meeting is earlier than usual today and Orion has already had a few occasions of misbehavior. It's in his best interest to at least show up on time this time.

“Shockwave asked me to tell you to hurry. I will add that showing up at the last minute will not be good for your reputation if you are still hoping to convince the council to let you take more units.”

Ratchet .....stares.

“Primus' rusty hinges, Orion, who's that? Did they assign a nanny to you?”

Orion twitches his finals playfully and immediately crinkles in pain, remembering that one of them should have been left to heal.

“Remember when I wanted to find an assistant? Well...”

Ratchet casts an increasingly more suspicious look at Prowl. Prowl decides that friendliness is overrated and limits his expression to a barely perceptible tilt of his head in response.

“...Shockwave recently helped me figure out how to create golems and I figured if I couldn't find anyone I could trust, I might as well...make one. So. Ratchet meet Prowl.” finishes Orion awkwardly.

Ratchet glares at Prowl for a while longer. Then he turns away and starts tidying up Sick Bay.

“I'm not buying it. I don't know where you found this guy, but you're not playing me. Nice poker face by the way.”

One of Prowl's wings twitches

“He wasn't lying.”

Ratchet snorts grumpily.

“Those...” he waves toward the next room ”...are golems.

There, behind the wall, several golems scurry around. They have medical staff symbols painted on their shoulders, and there is not a trace of thought in their eyes. Two are scrubbing the floors, another wiping the shelves and window sills clean of dust. They occasionally mumble softly under their noses or utter an inane “excuse me” every time they accidentally bump into each other. Prowl knows that if you ask any of them a question with more than one variable, they start babbling guiltily and shrugging their shoulders. They're stupid, but they themselves don't seem to care about that at all. They are their purpose. And their purpose is to keep things clean. They are pride because they are good at their job.

Prowl frowns. He's a headache. Because his "purpose" has been distracted by his conversation with Ratchet and will probably add another tardy to his list in the near future.

Orion begins (thank goodness) to move toward the door

“I've made improvements. There might have been...some not exactly allowed artifacts.”

Ratchet rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. Prowl can see that his face is already starting to wrinkle in that spot. Patient antics probably age Ratchet far more effectively than the passage of time itself.

“I...you know what...go before the Council sends a search party to look for you.”

Orion sighs and without further distraction finally walks out the door.

Prowl decides that Ratchet might be a good ally when it comes to managing Orion.

He nods politely goodbye before leaving.

______________

“I am different from them. Why?”

Orion puts down the document he's been working on and looks first at Prowl and then, over his head, at the other golems scurrying down the hallway with brooms and rags. He doesn't need to interject exactly who he thinks Prowl is different from.

“Do you want a philosophical answer or a technical one?”

Prowl reaches out and pokes somewhere in Orion's document

“ You missed a comma. Both.”

Orion obediently puts the comma in and folds up the document. His finals are twitching faintly. It could be a sign of concentration as well as distraction. Prowl has already figured out that Orion's body language is a double-bottom trap. For a Mech with this level of expressiveness, Orion is surprisingly difficult to read.

“Sometime quite a while ago during one of my expeditions, I found a unique artifact. A fascinating item, granting wisdom to anyone brave enough to use it.”

“I have a feeling a ‘but’ is coming.”

“You're right. The artifact's unique gift was also its curse. It fed so much information through the Mech's heads that it literally caused the processors of its owners to melt.”

“Oh. Good thing I don't have a processor then.”

Orion laughs quietly

“Indeed. You won't have that problem. And about the other part....Think of all the Mechs you know who are savvy enough about politics and available to work together at the moment.”

Orion gives him a moment before continuing.

“ What is the likelihood that the most trustworthy of them would betray me, for their own gain or out of fear?”

“ Twenty-eight percent,” Prowl informs.

And then hesitates a moment.

Orion is obviously a smart Mech. Not smart enough to single-handedly dominate the political arena, definitely not with his ideals and ideas of what's right. But smart enough to realize it. He knows what he wants and he also knows he can't achieve it alone.

Prowl looks at Orion, who just stands there, eyeing him, without in any way trying to continue the conversation.

Orion is idealistic, and therefore often mistaken for stupid. He isn't. Orion doesn't just know that he can't succeed alone, he knows that everyone else knows it too. He thinks this knowledge will be used against him when the opportunity arises. He's right. By Prowl's count, at least three suspiciously clever Mechs were going to sweet-talk their way into becoming Orion's assistant one way or another before... he appeared.

One of the janitor golems runs past them down the corridor. He doesn't turn around, doesn't even slow down or cast a curious glance. His only goal, his only interest is cleaning. The rest of the world might as well not exist at all.

Prowl thinks he's not that different.

Orion apparently reads the understanding from his face, because he nods contentedly and starts walking further down the hall.

“You didn't take yourself into account when you made the statistics, did you?”

Prowl follows him silently on his heels. Not close enough to be familiar, but not so far away that the conversation stops being private.

“The sampling condition was all mechs. I am not one.”

“That's true” Orion shrugs “You have no loved ones that the Council could use to influence you. You have no desires to be bought by their fulfillment. And while I cannot say with absolute certainty that you will never be capable of going against me...” Prowl starts to open his mouth to object but Orion gestures him to stop, “...no no no no, let me finish. And while I can't be sure you'll never betray me, I at least know for sure that before you met me you had no reason to do so. Do you understand?”

Prowl understands. It makes sense. He still feels the need to argue back, because it is part of his function to do that.

“I would never betray you. I'm not capable of it.”

Orion twitches his finals. Without seeing his face Prowl assumes it is a sign of doubt.

“You are a creature of intellect, Prowl. I am a Mech of ideals. Those two things don't always combine well.”

______

“Foolish and presumptuous.”

Prowl ponders that his function could be much easier if he didn't have to constantly try to balance what is right and what is right in Orion's eyes.

“If you were spotted, the Council would have good reason to assume this isn't the first time you've done something like this.”

“No one noticed,” Orion tries, but Prowl doesn't let him finish that thought

“No one has seen you, because you're lucky. You can't count on it being a permanent occurrence! You undermine your own position by giving the Council grounds for suspicion, you...”

Prowl stops, still pointing his finger accusingly somewhere on Orion's chin. Shockwave, who has witnessed the scene, makes an impressed face and steps closer.

“I swear, you're probably the most capable golem maker I've ever had the pleasure of teaching, Orion. If I hadn't seen that guy on your assembly table, I would never know.”

Prowl takes the statement as a compliment, but doesn't feel the need to show it outwardly. Shockwave, as one of the few who knows about him not being a real Mech, doesn't take offense to it in any way.

“Did I interrupt something dramatic?”

Prowl snorts, because the gesture maintains just the right amount of judgment for his situation.

“Orion is once again harboring a monster instead of killing it or letting it escape.”

This news immediately enlivens Shockwave's posture. Prowl knows he's an even bigger fan of collecting suspicious side projects than Orion. Their friendship, frankly, will one day bury either one or both of them. Prowl just hopes his presence will be enough to sway the percentages when that happens.

Orion doesn't try to deny anything.

“One of my squads encountered a ghost near the northern border. I couldn't... listen Shockwave, he's a good guy. He just needs to be given a chance to show it.”

“Can he talk?” there's almost visible stars in Shockwave's eyes..

Prowl slumps his shoulders helplessly, already knowing what's coming next. These two have done this dance a hundred times before. One of Shockwave's favorite side projects was a school for, as they called them, magically gifted and extraordinary Mechs. In fact, it was the largest den of various monsters that Prowl had ever seen. Every time Orion's hunting squads found a monster that could even remotely resemble a normal Mech, Orion would rush with happy optics to hand it over to Shockwave for care. There, the monsters were taught everything they needed to fit into the society of normal Mechs, but more importantly, they were given documents. Precious pieces of paper that granted their holders rights, freedoms, and protections as Shockwave's apprentices.

Prowl could appreciate the noble endeavor. He could also see clearly that with each addition, this school would become more and more of an inconvenient thorn in the Council's side. Just like Orion, Shockwave was happy to paint a brighter and brighter target on his own back for many cycles.

Orion, insensitive to danger that is not immediate, cheerfully begins to recite

“Can read, write, speak, even makes music.”

Shockwave nods happily

“Introduce us?”

Prowl wonders how far Shockwave can stretch the definition of “magically gifted Mech”. One day Orion will pick up a Kraken on the street and then they'll both probably have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to make it's documents. Ugh.

When Orion had asked him to calculate the probability of betrayal, the most reliable mech he was evaluating at the time was Shockwave.

Twenty-eight percent...

Prowl wonders how many students must be on the opposite side of the scale from Orion for Shockwave to choose in their favor. Speculation is actually useless. If the Council decides to nail Shockwave, they will of course use his entire school at once.

In fact, they probably won't even have to force Shockwave to choose between the school and Orion, because Orion himself will choose a bunch of monsters over himself.

This ridiculously dangerous social construct they call friendship rests entirely on their reputation as honest and honorable mechs. Prowl stares at Shockwave's back and wonders how one mech could have so much charisma, that he gets away with keeping a huge number of Council enemies right under the noses of that same Council.

_________________

Orion gently lifts the now graying shell of what was once a monster from the ground

He doesn't even turn toward Prowl.

"Did you kill him?"

Killing...it's a stretch. Does the act of helping a murderer qualify as murder? Or the lack of action that could have saved the now murdered person? In most cultures and languages, “murder” refers to the act of ending someone else's life, but the context implies a physical act. Did you put a knife in his back? Did you push him off a cliff? Did you cut him with a sword?

By those criteria. Well. Prowl never killed anyone. Nor is he likely to, for he has neither the skill nor the strength to do so.

Did he cause death? Absolutely.

Orion's always had this heroic streak that wouldn't let him just pass by the distressed and disadvantaged. Orion has always had a great spark of kindness and principles as strong as titanium alloy as to what is right and what is wrong.

In Orion's world view, murder is wrong. And murder in conditions where it was possible to solve everything by peace is immoral and unacceptable.

Prowl's worldview tells him that Orion could do much better if he stopped wasting his potential on helping those who will only drag him down in the long run. Orion's life depends entirely on the Council's opinion of him. A Council that has been watching him closely lately. Even if Orion doesn't like it, it's Prowl's job to make sure they like what they see.

Orion turns to him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Prowl. That mech tried to escape. Past you. And now he's dead. Were you the one who killed him?"

"No," says Prowl, "he ran into one of the patrols."

That statement is missing a good half of the details. Like mentioning that the patrol wouldn't have been there in the first place if Prowl hadn't sent them an anonymous lead.

Orion doesn't need to know that. Orion lives under the idea that every life is precious and, even more inconveniently, equal.

Prowl sometimes feels like yelling at him for it. Because that shiny perfect picture is simply unsustainable outside of Orion's head. The monster, whose graying body now lies on the ground, would be of little use to society. Likely left free, he would have simply continued to attack and kill travelers.

Whereas Orion spends his life making the world a better place. This is an objective fact confirmed by numerous observations.

They are not equals. And they probably never will be. Orion's life is much. Much heavier on the imaginary scales of statistics.

Orion squints at him suspiciously. He's clearly hesitant.

"You could have just let him go instead of killing him."

The trap is honestly too obvious.

"I didn't kill him" Prowl repeats "he ran into a patrol. You can't blame the hunters for doing their job."

Orion places a hand on the dead creature's forehead in a respectful gesture of regret while simultaneously averting his gaze. It's a habit by now.

Look the other way, don't let the council know what you're doing. Sympathize but not in plain sight, help but in secret.

"They had no right to attack him.This is neutral territory. He has the right to run wherever he wants."

Prowl's mouth is twisting with the urge to argue. To say that according to existing information, this monster would have just continued the attacks if he'd stayed free.

He says nothing. Orion is clearly in no mood to argue right now, and he's already questioning Prowl's claim. It's not worth pushing any further.

Prowl only nods, showing that he's heard Orion's point of view.

__________________

He is surprisingly good at lying.

Of course the skill doesn't just come naturally, but he's been known for his straightforwardness. Mechs automatically expect him to either remain silent or tell the unpleasant truth.

All he has to do is give only certain bits and pieces instead of coherent information without changing his usual behavior in any way and the mechs won't be inclined to verify it, filling in the gaps themselves. As a golem, he can't lie, but he can get others to lie to themselves.

He exploits this a lot. Probably more often than Orion would approve, but Prowl doesn't ask him to confirm. Conversations with Orion tend to narrow down his list of options. Because Orion is a real living mech. With a spark. With feelings. And his complex moral code revolves entirely around what he feels to be right.

Prowl has no spark. Prowl has an empty armor that he considers his body and a wisdom artifact that he considers his worth. Both his and Orion's understandings of what is right...overlap...sometimes.

Not always.

______________

"I saw a demon in person for the first time today."

Prowl politely shifts his posture to show he's listening

"A …demon?"

"Demon" Orion repeats "When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like."

Prowl remains silent, waiting for a continuation that never comes. Orion seems gone in his thoughts....

"And what does it look like?" prompts Prowl.

"Creepy. It looks creepy and unnatural and terrifying. Primus' wrath has a very ugly shape..."

"Ah...I see...what did that mech do to be met with such punishment?"

Orion frowns

"I'm not sure. But what we're doing can't go against Primus' will, right? I mean, all beings are his creations! He can't condemn us for trying to make peace between mechs and monsters..."

Prowl is familiar with the concept of punishment for wrongdoing. But something about the very idea...the idea that punishment will find you no matter how well you hide because you can’t run away from your own spark...he has to admit it's disturbing.

"I hope he doesn't."

——————————

Thoughts?👁

Ahsjfjfj

This is the first half of the fic btw because I don’t have enough time to translate the whole thing in one day. I’ll try to post the second half tomorrow🤞

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

i’m obsessed with your declan fics! can we get one where the reader has to calm him down? it would be even more fun if they were mad/annoyed at each other but he can’t help but seek her out when he needs comfort 👀

Paradoxical.

you currently can’t stand the sight of each other. and yet, in this moment… yours is the only face he wants to see.

declan o’hara x female reader (nickname - lucky.)

warnings - smut. cursing. angst. unspecified age gap. yeeeeeearning.

word count - 4.6k

authors note - she’s back 💋. loooved this request, so thank you so much to whoever sent it!! i’m still on my rivals shit, so please join me in this never ending journey. never getting over this man <3

masterlist. inbox.

“How are you doing?”

You snuggle further into the pillows on the bed, popping another strawberry in your mouth to avoid the question.

“Lucky.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked how you are.”

“M’fine,” you answer as you chew, praying the subject gets changed. She clearly doesn’t believe you, so you sigh and look at her pointedly. “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Taggie.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No! I’d never think that.”

“Then why are you treating me like I’m oblivious? I can see that you’re not fine, but you keep lying to my face.”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale in resignation.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle of all of this, Tag.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. He’s your dad, I’m your friend. You are quite literally the middle man here.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she counters, perching on the edge of her bed. “If I have to be the peacekeeper, I will be.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I know, but these things happen. I just… if I knew what had happened, I could try and fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, Tag. I promise you, you can’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment, tracing the patterns on your socks as she thinks.

“What happened, Lucky? I swear that whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I just want to know how it all went so… wrong. One minute the two of you were the best of friends, and the next minute you’re packing up your office and leaving without so much as an explanation.”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur.

“So complicated that you had to quit your job?”

“Yes.”

“He’s never going to find a better assistant than you, you know. Never. He doesn’t even want to look for one, says he’d rather do all the work himself.”

“Well that’s stupid of him. He can’t do all that stuff himself.”

“Exactly. He’s willing to put himself through all of that stress so as not to replace you.”

“That’s his foolish choice, Tag.”

She sighs in frustration, leaning back against the footboard of the bed.

“Did he upset you? Did he say something stupid? You know what he’s like, he often doesn’t think before he speaks. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation here.”

“It wasn’t him, it was me. I quit by my own volition. He didn’t upset me, he didn’t offend me… I just had to do the right thing, which was to leave. I know you’re trying to help, Tag, but you can’t. Not with this.”

Taggie finally realises that she’s fighting a losing battle, choosing instead to shuffle over so she’s all cosy in the pillows next to you.

“I won’t tell him you were here,” she whispers, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you’re caught up in the middle of all of this.”

“I don’t mind, honestly. I just wish there was something I could do.”

“Give it some time. It’s meant to heal all wounds, after all.”

She chuckles, resting her head against yours affectionately.

“Will you help me make some raspberry tarts? I need at least forty of them, and I could do with an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course I will. But if your dad comes home, I’m sprinting out the back door.”

“Alright,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help with your escape, if need be.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re tempted to smash your head into the bar top.

You’ve been debating the pros and cons of it for the last forty five minutes, actually.

The gala is bustling, bodies packed into the beautiful ballroom with barely an inch between them. Everyone has a drink in hand, the light from the chandelier glinting off of the champagne and whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

You’d said yes to the event when you were still Declan’s assistant - assuming that you’d go together, just like always. And now, here you are, standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding each other like your lives depend on it.

A cool hand finds your waist, spiced aftershave hitting your senses and letting you know who it is before they even have to speak.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi, Rupert.”

He spins you around gracefully, smiling at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“You look ravishing, as always.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know. You scrub up quite nicely.”

“Oh stop, I’ll start blushing.”

You can’t help but laugh, accepting his arm as he offers it out to you.

“Come on darling, let’s socialise a bit. You can’t stand in the corner forever.”

“I can.”

“Not on my watch.”

He’s dragging you across the floor before you can process what’s happening, people passing by you in blurs of colour and sparkles.

“Dance with me.”

“Is this fun for you? Torturing me?”

“Oh, immensely,” he grins, hands finding your hips.

You reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him with a quirked brow.

“Don’t you have a thousand other women you could be dancing with, Rupert?”

He spins you playfully, laughing as you shriek.

“I do, but none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Does that line usually work?”

“Never on women as smart as you,” he chuckles, swaying you gently.

You stare at him carefully for a moment, realising you know him too well when you instantly see through his carefree facade.

“Ask it, then.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that’s what this is. You’re going to get me all soft and relaxed and tipsy, and then you’ll ask me about Declan. You might as well just cut to the chase, Rupert.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re much too intelligent to think that I believe that.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head, getting a good look at you and your unwavering expression.

“Fine, you stubborn woman. Fine. I wanted to ask you about Declan at some point tonight. But only from a place of care and concern, not because I’m going to try to wrangle the two you of back together or anything.”

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

“Forgive me for being confused, alright? You were joined at the hip, and all of a sudden you can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s just so unlike the two of you.”

You sigh deeply, dropping your head forward so it rests on his chest. Rupert’s arms tighten around you, silently letting you know he’s got your back.

“It’s complicated,” you explain, muffled by the material of the man’s shirt. “Stupidly complicated.”

“So complicated that it can never, ever be repaired? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Blimey,” he half gasps, the sound vibrating through the both of you. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, you bastard.”

Rupert laughs so loudly that people turn their heads to see why, the cadence of it completely infectious. Declan watches from across the room, unable to help himself from at least glancing at the two of you together so cosily.

“He’s currently watching you like some sort of bird of prey,” he informs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened, it hasn’t erased the fact that he cares about you. A lot. And I know for a fact you care about him.”

“Of course I do.”

“There we go then. Surely it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of good old fashioned communication.”

“You’re a terrible communicator,” you argue.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you both sway to the music once again.

“If I had a pound for every time that applied to you, Rupert, I’d be a fucking millionaire.”

He twirls you outwards quickly, watching as the skirt of your dress billows with the breeze of the action.

“And if I had a pound for every time Declan has pretended to stare interestedly around the room this evening just so he has an excuse to look at you, I’d be a millionaire too.”

You ignore the way your heartbeat picks up at his words, choosing instead to focus on the steady rhythm of the music from the piano that fills the space.

“Maybe he’s looking at you.”

“No, Lucky. He’s always looking at you.”

You sigh in resignation, fingers fiddling with Rupert’s collar as you straighten out his tie.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“You’re practically his right arm. This separation, whatever its cause, is doing both of you more harm than good. I don’t want to push you darling, because that isn’t fair - but just think about everything I’ve said, alright?”

He stares at you expectantly, brows raised in questioning.

“Alright.”

The grin on his face is almost blinding, beaming out in all directions.

“Now, you look too beautiful to stand on the fringes. I will dance with you all night if I have to, if it means showing off this stunning dress of yours.”

“So charming,” you smile, shaking your head. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”

“You’d be stupid to,” he winks, still grinning like the devil.

You let him lead you further into the middle of the dance floor, chuckling as he spins you as you go. Your hand has just slipped into Rupert’s once more when you’re both startled by a crash coming from the other side of the room.

The two of you whip your heads around towards the source of the commotion, to see two men in undoubtedly expensive suits brawling with each other. One of them is throwing punches while the other can do nothing but take them, merciless at his opponents hands. Some people are shouting and screaming, trying to physically separate them, while others turn a complete blind eye to the ruckus.

“Fuck,” Rupert mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the scene.

You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you’re pushed forwards and given a clearer view of what’s in front of you, understanding Rupert’s panic immediately.

Ginger is on the floor. Declan is standing above him with bloody knuckles.

“Fuck,” you repeat.

You want to run in the other direction, desperate to not be involved with the drama. And then you look at Declan - the way he’s falling apart at the seams, nerves ruined and adrenaline rushing through his veins, clearly on the edge of something awful… and all of a sudden you’re walking towards the brawl, logic be damned.

There’s so much noise surrounding you that you can’t hear yourself think. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding against your ribcage in your sudden determination to get to the Irishman.

You’re yelling his name without even realising you’re doing it, shouting at the top of your lungs to fight over the commotion.

“Declan! Oh for fuck sake… Declan!”

Your voice somehow breaks through the noise like a sirens call, the familiar melody of it finding his ears like his favourite song. His eyes finally meet yours, and the rest of the room melts away.

You have a conversation without saying anything, so many words exchanged in such a short amount of time. The two of you have always been good at this - communicating in your own language, silently and easily.

You grab his injured hand and intertwine your fingers with his, pulling him away from the scene of the crime with determination. You cast a look back to Ginger, who remains on the floor with blood dripping from his nose, before dragging Declan through the crowd and towards the front door of the huge Manor House. You can hear Rupert trying to mitigate the situation as you leave, using his charm as he does best.

You make your way outside, yanking the man behind you in your path without so much of a glance backwards. You trudge through the gardens in your heels, ignoring the way the dewy grass brushes across the tops of your feet occasionally. Finally, after walking for what feels like hours but was actually mere minutes, you come across a bench, sheltered by an old stone wall and neatly trimmed hedges.

You shove him to sit down, still refusing to look him in the eye. Neither of you say anything, the evening breeze and two sets of lungs heaving all that can be heard.

“What happened?” you whisper eventually, reluctant to disturb the peace. “Who started it?”

Declan looks surprised that you’re speaking to him, failing to hide the shock on his face.

“Will ya sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” you half joke, sitting down anyway.

“Funny,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks at you carefully for a long moment, before continuing. “It was Ginger, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with him otherwise.”

“What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me.”

“Well it shouldn’t.”

“Right.”

You stare at your shoes, wondering why you even bothered to rescue him back in the ballroom.

“Fuck this, then,” you mutter as you stand up to leave.

A hand wraps around your wrist as quick as a flash, pulling you back to sit down where you were.

“No. You don’t get to just walk away from me, not again.”

“Tell me what Ginger said.”

“Tell me why you quit workin’ for me.”

“I already did.”

“Liar. You gave me a poor excuse that’s absolute bollocks. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“That’s your problem, then.”

“Yes, it is.”

You stare at him, completely exasperated by the events of the last hour.

“You can’t just punch people at galas, Declan. It’s a bad look for you, for Venturer, and for every member of staff that relies on you.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with both you and the situation at hand.

“He made some horrible comment about you. I fell right into his trap too, like a bull and a fuckin’ red scarf.”

“What did he say?”

He hesitates for a moment.

“Just… something crude about you sleepin’ with me to get to where you are. Called me a cradle snatcher, too.”

“You can’t be a cradle snatcher if I’m a grown woman.”

“Exactly. And it’s not true, anyway. We all know that.”

“So why did you hit him, then? If we all know it’s not true?”

Declan sighs, fatigue painting the sound.

“Because no one gets to speak about you like that with no consequence. And because I was angry.”

“At me.”

“At you. Yes.”

You fiddle with your fingers, entirely unprepared for the fact that you’re about to have the one conversation you’ve been completely avoiding.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you begin. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

“Then what did you mean to happen, Lucky? Did you think that you could just up and quit with absolutely no warning, without a problem? That I’d just let you walk out? Did ya think I’d help you pack your things?”

“Obviously not,” you whisper. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. Which is why I know that you thought about that decision long and hard. And that’s what I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, clearly desperate to resolve the issues between you.

“Please, Lucky.”

His voice is cracking just like his heart, breaking down the middle to allow all of his emotions to spill out onto the grass. You’ve never heard him sound like this. You hate it.

“I had to, Declan. For both of our sakes.”

“For fuck sake, can you cut it out?” he snaps, volume raising.

“Cut what out?”

“Speaking in these fucking riddles! I can’t even pretend that I have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. Please, whatever it is, however terrible you think it is… I just need you to say it. We’ll deal with the consequences. But I can’t keep goin’ around in circles, dancing around the subject constantly.”

You take a deep breath, bottom lip wobbling as you will yourself not to cry. You’re well and truly at the end of your tether, unsure of how much more you can take - or how much you want to. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, you exhale carefully before turning to face the man next to you.

“You’ll hate me. When I tell you.”

“I could never hate you. Never, Lucky.”

You get lost in your own head for a moment, staring off into space as you debate the best way to go about this. A large hand finds its way into your knee, comforting and grounding. His thumb rubs patterns into your skin where the slit of your dress is, warming you up from the outside in.

“I thought about it for a long time,” you begin. “A long time. Because being your assistant is the best job I have ever had, or will ever have. It was a dream, Declan. Even when we had a tough day, or week, or month, I always knew we’d be okay.”

He nods, his full attention on you.

“We were comfortable, me and you. Maybe a little too comfortable for a boss and his assistant, but in a good way, I think. I was settled, with you.”

He squeezes your thigh, urging you to continue.

“But then, I think we got too settled. People started to notice - which doesn’t matter, but they did nonetheless. I was sleeping over at your house, staying awake with you until the early hours, attending galas and events as your date. And I wasn’t sure what it was - the thing that was bothering me - until one day, it clicked.”

“Lucky…” he whispers, desperate for you to spit it out.

“I’m in love with you.”

The two of you sit the silence for a moment, listening to the breeze softly whip around you.

“That’s what clicked. And that’s why I quit. Because it felt like a conflict of interest, like a… betrayal.”

“A betrayal?”

“Yes. Like I was taking advantage, or something. And I didn’t think it was fair, for you, having me pining over you at work. I didn’t want you to feel pity for me, if you noticed eventually - I hated the idea of being treated differently by you, all through fault of my own. So I quit to get ahead of it.”

“Are ya done?”

“I, uh… yes?”

“Great.”

Declan surges forward, smashing his lips to yours with the most passion than you’ve ever experienced in your life. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other cradles your face, pulling you as close as he physically can. His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily, allowing you to taste whiskey, cigarettes and the cool night air. Eventually, when you both need to breathe, he pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on yours.

“Did you do that to make me shut up?” you murmur, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Yes and no.”

He’s grinning like the devil, chuckling as the palms of his hands find your cheeks.

“Yes and no?”

“Yes and no. I took the action needed to stop you rambling. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

“… What?”

“Why do you think we got so comfortable, Lucky? It works two ways. You were just the only one brave enough to make a change - even if it was the completely wrong thing to do.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

“The opposite,” he laughs. “I can’t remember when it happened. I woke up one day and I just knew. And I knew that you’d never feel the same way, but I love being around you so much that I was willing to make that sacrifice. So I was a coward, and I stayed silent.”

“We’ve made this complicated. Too complicated.”

“Much too complicated.”

“But… it is. You were my boss, and you’re older than me, and I’m good friends with Taggie now, and-”

Declan kisses you again, sweeter this time.

“We can figure it out, Lucky. You know we can.”

“Maybe,” you whisper.

“And I want you to come back to work.”

“Declan-”

“I’m serious. I cannot cope without you. I will never find an assistant as good as you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want you. No one else.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest, like I said earlier.”

“But it isn’t. Not anymore. Before all of this, we were two people in love working together. And when you come back, we’ll be two people in love working together.”

You can’t find it in you to argue, realising that he’s actually making a good point. If anything, it should be easier now that you’ve both communicated your feelings - no more skeletons in the closet.

“Tell me you don’t miss it,” he provokes. “Tell me you’re not even remotely tempted to come back.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

You take a deep breath, moving the hair away from his eyes tenderly.

“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll have a think when I go home.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, entirely too satisfied with the outcome of this conversation.

“I know we’re in uncharted territory here, Lucky. But we can figure it out. You know we can.”

“I know. It’ll be hard, but… I know.”

You lean up to kiss him softly, sighing as your eyes drift closed. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer, trying to plaster every inch of his body to yours.

You lose yourself in everything Declan - the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels underneath your fingertips. You want to strip him bare right here and memorise every curve of his muscles, every line in his skin, every mark on his face.

His hand slips further and further up the slit of your dress, gripping at your thigh as if he’s worried you’ll slip away. You’re half in his lap, draped over him on the bench as he still pulls you impossibly closer.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against your throat. “Every. Single. Night.”

He kisses his way along your neck, revelling in the way you squirm at the feeling of his moustache on your skin. You grab fistfuls of his white shirt, crumpling it in your hands to try and give yourself some sort of anchor.

When Declan’s fingertips slip into your underwear, all you can do is sigh, resigned to the fact that you’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted in this current moment.

“We’re in public,” you protest weakly, both of you knowing you don’t want him to stop.

“We’re at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by three hedges and a wall. If anyone sees, that’s their fault.”

You drop your head forward onto his shoulder, parting your legs to give him a better angle. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels just how aroused you are, practically vibrating with want.

“Are ya this wet f’me?”

You nod against his shirt, not trusting your voice.

“Oh, sweetheart. Well I can’t leave you like this, can I? That’d be cruel.”

He pulls your underwear to the side fully so he can slip a finger into you with ease, both of you groaning at the sensation. Sliding a second one in, you hold onto him for dear life, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

“Please,” you whisper. “Declan, please.”

“I’ll do anything to hear you say my name like that again, Lucky. Anything in the world.”

“Declan.”

He sets a steady pace, crooking his fingers as he goes to make sure you see stars. Your eyes are rolling back, lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds that threaten to escape.

“God, I wish I could hear how pretty you sound,” he groans, looking at you intently. “You can make as much noise as you want when I take you home. Promise.”

You whimper softly, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythm. The bench is cold underneath you, the air turning chilly, but neither of you pay any mind to it. You’re too far gone to care.

You grab Declan’s other hand and stick two of his fingers in your mouth, laving your tongue around them to keep you quiet. He moans at the sight, all deep and rumbled, the sound reverberating through both of you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

All you can do is look at him with big, bright eyes, pleading with him silently to finish the job at hand.

“You want me to make you come, sweetheart? That it?”

When you nod, he picks up the pace of his fingers, thumb pressing circles into your clit.

“Have ya thought about this? In bed, alone, getting yourself off in the dark?”

You whine at his words, nodding your head in answer.

“That’s a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll take you home and fuck you properly, yeah?”

You see stars as you climax, gripping onto his shirt and his hand for dear life. He works you through it, murmuring filthy promises into your ear as he does it.

Lifting his fingers from between your thighs, he pops them straight into his mouth, both of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Perfect girl.”

You shuffle sideways so you’re pressed into Declan’s side, two strong arms encircling you immediately.

“Thank you.”

“For the orgasm?”

“Yes and no,” you laugh. “For listening to me. I’ve been going insane trying to think about what I’d say to you if I got the chance to explain myself, but no words seemed to suffice.”

“I just wish you’d talked to me sooner, sweetheart. I’ve been going insane trying to get through life without you. Not to mention that office is chaos.”

You laugh gently, cuddling into him and his warmth.

“I’ll fix it on Monday.”

“Yeah? For definite?” he asks, hope colouring his voice.

“Yeah. Like I said - best job I’ve ever had.”

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, sweetheart.”

You grin as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, all soft and sugary sweet.

“Besides. Someone’s going to have to sort out the inevitable mess that’ll follow you hitting Ginger at a charity gala.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” he laughs, planting a kiss into your hair. “What would I do without ya, hmm?”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you smile, resting your head onto his shoulder. “Never again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You sit on the bench for a little while longer, both of you looking up at the stars that paint the sky in a canopy above your heads. You’re quite convinced you could stay like this forever, just the two of you in your own little universe.

There’s paperwork to be done, meetings to be had, deals to be made. But all of that can wait.

Right now, it’s just you and Declan.

The way it should be.

reblogs are gold dust, lovers!! reblog and circulate your favourite fics, and your writers will create more. simple. <3

[naehoonx]

" First Kiss " - caleb [ oneshot ]

→ SUMMARY: since you met caleb again in skyhaven many things had changed. why was your heart beating so fast whenever you were near him? why were your hands getting sweaty whenever he got closer? and why did it bother you so much that he never wanted to make the first move?

→ GENRE: fluff; awkward; innocent; shoujo like love.

→ RATING: 15+

→ NOTE: i started playing LADS last year in december while i was suffering a bad writing block. first i fell deeply in love with zayne but the moment caleb was released .. i resonated with him more? i love the childhood friends to lovers trope + the angst the both of them embodied. the losing and finding each other while still keeping secrets from another. i hope you enjoy it!

♡.°₊ˎ SONG FOR THIS ONESHOT

it was another normal day in skyhaven for you. caleb and you were fighting again, over the most dumb thing, like always. maybe that was a perk of being childhood friends for so long but it was really draining at the same time. you didnt even knew what triggered it this time. the only words which left your mouth were " maybe you shouldnt come with me to this mission." yeah, thinking back to those words, you needed to admit that it was dumb to speak them out loud. considering how caleb could be whenever it concerned your safety. another huff left his lips as he leaned against the kitchen counter, not understanding why you're not wanting him by your side. without him every mission posed as a threat to your safety in caleb's eyes and somehow it irritated you. why was he so overprotective of you and why did it bother you so much that he never spoke it out loud. is it so hard to tell you that he's worried about you?

"you act like a damn child caleb. i can take care of my own and you know that!" your voice was already strained from all the arguing as you looked over at him.

caleb wasnt facing you, instead he was staring at the kitchen counter as he clutched his hand against the smooth surface. you noticed early on that this was some kind of habit of him.

"i know that you can take care of yourself but thats not the issue here" "then what is the issue here? Caleb you never tell me whats wrong, im always .. left with some weird puzzle pieces whenever we fight"

another frustrated huff left his lips as you could see how his fingernails dig into the flesh of his palm. he would hurt himself like this again but at the same time you remembered that he really cant. thanks to that mechanical arm of his, he cant feel anything beside immense pain. so digging his nails inside his palm wont do much damage to his body.

"caleb please" another try to press him to be honest with you and still, he kept looking away from you. carefully you took a step towards him before he finally turned his head into your direction. that was the first time you could see the colour red creeping up his cheeks. was he that angry with you?

"what do you want to hear from me Y/N? Tell me? I already told you that i wont let you go alone there!" "but why not! you never give me a reason!"

frustrated you lifted your arms over your head before you turned around on your heel. before you could take one step forward, into the living room, someones arm wrapped around your waist; pushing you back. it didnt took you long until you realized that caleb stood right behind you, his broad chest pressing against your back. for a moment your breath hitched at the same time your heart nearly bursts inside your chest.

"what do you want to hear Y/N ... tell me" caleb's voice was low as he leaned down to whisper against your ear. his grip tightening more around your waist. making it impossible to escape. your body suddenly starts to mold perfectly against his own. its like the two of you were made for each other. "tell me" goosebumps appeared on your arms as calebs lips nearly brushed against your ear. your whole body freezed on the spot as his hand over from your waist to your stomach. what was happening right now?

"i- ... i just want that you are being honest with me.. you always tell me i shouldnt fight alone and that i should rely on you more but .. why? You know im strong .. " another strong tuck forced your back against his chest. you didnt knew that being this close would be even possible. carefully you put your hand on calebs arm, the arm which held you firm ... the same arm which cant feel any warmth anymore.

now you heard calebs breath hitch. what were you two doing here? once there was a time when the two of you got along well and rarely fought with each other. now the both of you sometimes didnt even knew how to behave around each other. one month ago you suddenly became hyper aware of caleb as a man. suddenly you didnt saw him as some kind of childhood friend anymore .. there was something more whenever you looked at him or stole glanzes while he was working. deep down you had hoped that caleb feels the same way but he still kept treating you like the little girl he once took care of.

as you were deep inside your thoughts, caleb spun you around so you were looking up at him now. his ears were red too now, it looked really adorable. there it was again, that look in his eyes you couldnt put a name on it. Caleb looked helpless as he just kept staring at you, his lips parting just slightly as he wanted to say something. you knew better, he was holding back. probably all the things he wanted to tell you or something else. slowly your hand reached out to touch his cheek. his skin felt hot underneath your fingertips as you slid down to his chin.

"caleb please .. we cant keep fighting like this .. tell me already why you're so scared to let me go alone" pleading was seen in your eyes and maybe thats the reason why he finally broke his silence.

for a short moment caleb closed his eyes as your fingertips still lingered on his chin.

"its hard to put all the things i feel into words .. I- i want you to rely on me more because if you doesnt .. i feel like you will let go of me and walk away ... at the same time i dont want to lock you up here ... knowing damn well you are your own person. dont look at me like that Y/N ... i know you are strong and probably dont need me for anything but .. whenever i think about it .. you not needing me it feels like .. a knife pierces through my heart and i- "

before he could continue with his rambling you put a finger against his lips. all those words were enough for you. he literally opened his heart for you even if it was just a tiny little bit. caleb needed you, he was scared of losing you .. so it was fine to hope right?

biting down on your lip you put both hands against his cheeks. the confused look in his eyes was something you learned to adore. caleb always looked so cute whenever he didnt knew what you were up to now. slowly you got on your tip toes just to be a bit closer to him. your noses nearly touched as caleb took another shaky breath but he didnt dared to speak. if he was too scared to take the next step in your relationship you would do it. even if your heart is nearly bursting at the moment.

another hitched breath as your lips finally got in contact with his own, from that moment on everything was just a blurr. calebs arms wrapped tightly around your body as he captured your lips in a desperate manner. it felt like he was starving all those years and finally got to eat something again. from time to time he broke the kiss for a short moment, just to look at you with those eyes. eyes which were full of yearning, yes yearning. all those years he had looked at you like this and you never noticed it before. the world around you two didnt mattered anymore as caleb, once more, pressed his lips against yours. his own breathing was shaky as his body forced you near the sofa. even if you were stumbling a bit his strong arms were ready to catch you.

the moment the back of your knees touched the sofa, your butt fell onto the soft fabric. this time you got a better look at calebs face as he was hovering over you. one of his arms was placed beside your head against the sofa, so he wouldnt crash on top of you.

"who thought .. you could be this bold y/n .. "

a smirk formed on your face as you wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him closer again "well ... you took too long caleb. a hunter wont wait forever for its prey."

the last thing you saw was a smiling caleb before he dived back in to capture your lips. this time in a much softer and tender kiss.

[muhlsworld]

WHAT ARE WE?

synopsis: bumping into nika at that party did not go the way you expected.

WARNINGS: this is a part two to my previous fic, suggestive themes (no smut), cussing, italics are flashbacks, one use of y/n (sorry), yet again bad writing

it had been 3 weeks since the party. and you didn’t know why you did what you did. it was all such a blur.

“nika?” you asked.

she looked at you and her eyes went wide.

“y/n?” “what are you doing here?” nika asked in complete shock. you were in complete shock as well to even register her questions. your mind was in a frenzy. you couldn’t believe that she was in front of you. your nika. “are you okay?” nika asked, with what someone could confuse with genuine concern, again. and with that question something in you snapped.

“am i okay?” you repeated. “are you fucking kidding me nika?” you asked, your tone laced with anger and disbelief. nika looked at you wide eyed never hearing you speak to her like that.

“hey, are you ready for practice?” lily asked ripping you from your thoughts. lily had become somewhat of your rock these past few weeks. bonding during practice and spending most of your free time with her. although she doesn’t really know what happened that night or why you’ve been acting “off”.

“yeah. just need to grab my racquets.” you replied. “great, let’s get this practice over with so we can go eat.” lily said. you laughed slightly thinking how such a small girl could eat so much. “okay okay i’m going” you replied.

practice was over, it went okay. your shots weren’t as accurate as they normally are. your shots not having the normal amount of power. you weren’t surprised.. your mind was else where. the memory replaying through the whole practice.

“why nika?” you asked after her not answering you beforehand. she stayed silent yet again. your frustration bubbling every passing second. after a few moments of silence you grew tired of her not speaking. “fine i don’t need this right now nika. don’t bother talking to me” you exclaimed.

right as you were turning around to walk away back to your friends, you felt her grab your wrist. you turn around to tell her off but she cuts you off. “wait please, just let me explain” she sighs. “just not here.” she says and you look at her confused. but before you could say anything shes dragging you by the wrist throughout the frat house. “nika where the hell are you taking me” you asked her not wanting to be around her for any longer. without answering you she pulled you into an empty bedroom.

“look i know i have a lot to explain to you and i will just please hear me out” she pleaded. you look at her with a harsh look. a look you’ve never given her. fed up with everything about the night you say “you have 5 minutes muhl, better start talking.”

“i know what i did was wrong, just ghosting and completely cutting you out of my life like that. i regretted it every day. i still do” nika explained. there was something in her eyes that made it seem like she was telling the truth. but you just couldn’t believe her.

“then why nika?” you asked sounding more defeated this time. “did i really mean nothing to you, for you to cut me out like that.” all the emotion being evident in your voice. nikas heart was breaking at the sight that she caused. “i panicked.” nika answered. “what could have been so bad that you couldn’t tell your so call best friend.” you exclaimed. “you know i would’ve helped you through whatever it was.” you said while looking at her straight in the eyes. however she didn’t look at you, she was twiddling her thumbs around one another. something she used to do many years ago when she was nervous.

“because then i would’ve had to face my feelings for you.” nika whispered. almost quiet enough for you to not hear her.

almost.

you’re snapped out of your thoughts yet again but by your coach this time. “what’s going on kid?” he asked you. “you looked off out there today. is there something i should know about?” he asked immediately after the first question. “no i’m good coach.” you said with confidence.. or so you thought but he looked at you skeptically. “i’m just tired, i swear.” you said. and apparently that was convincing enough for him to leave you alone.

after that somewhat annoying conversation with your coach you opted to going to lunch with your teammates. you all had unanimously decided on chipotle, your guys favorite. you all enjoyed your meal talking about nonsense. and for a moment you felt back to normal. your normal without nika clouding your thoughts.

once your lunch was over every one had split up stating how they each had their own things to do for the rest of the day. you only had a self workout and some homework to finish for a class. so you went back to your dorm room, deciding to work out later on in the day.

the whole afternoon had gone by, it was around 8:30 pm, you were in your dorm finishing your homework. scratch that, you were trying to finish your homework. but a certain burnett kept sneaking back into your thoughts.

“your feelings for me?” you repeated almost sounding hopeful. “yes.” nika replied simply. “what do you mean?”you asked instantly. with a deep sigh nika replied “i loved you. and i didn’t know what to do with those feelings. so i did what i could and i ran from you.” you stared at her with a blank expression. your mind running at a thousand miles per minute. you stayed silent for a few minutes. the tension in the room growing. “please say someth-“ nika way saying until you cut her off, placing your lips on hers for a brief second. “you dumbass i loved you too” you stated like it was obvious.

and with those words it was like something switched within nika. she closed the distance between you two again but this time the kiss was more meaningful and deeper, you replied instantly kissing her back. but the kiss grew hungrier. you both grew hungrier for each other. your tongues dancing with each other and saliva mixing together.

nikas hands rested on your waist and you were getting impatient. so you removed your hands from around her neck and placed atop hers, slowly guiding them to your ass and slightly squeezing over her hands. you moaned softly into her mouth and that was music to her ears. she wanted to hear you even more. so with that she moved you two to the bed.

the sound of skin slapping together echoed throughout the whole room. both of you without a single worry in this moment. it was what you had always wanted with nika. your bodies tangled together.

you snap out of your own thoughts not wanting to relive the rest of the memory of that night.

since homework seemed to be out of the window. you decided to finally go do your workout. so with that you decided to get ready. it didn’t take you long to get ready, you opted for a simpler and comfier outfit. and with that you leave your dorm.

you make it to the gym and start your workout. with the music blasting in your ears you didn’t even hear someone walk into the gym. continuing to mind your own business you go on with your workout. but you feel someone staring at you so you take your headphones out and turn around. and that same feeling from years ago and the same one from the party hits you again.

there she is again. staring right at you.

you guys hadn’t talked about what happened that night. so you thought now would be a good a time as any. seeing as you two were alone. you walk up to her “hi.” you said. “hey” she replied coldly. you looked confused as you why she was being this way after what happened. but you let it slide as you were about to talk to her about it anyway.

right as you were about to speak the door to the gym opens and this guy walks in and starts approaching you guys. you were confused as ever, but what you didn’t see was nikas panicked face. he comes up right beside nika and places an arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. you were completely dumbfounded at what was going on. and then he spoke. “hey babe, did you start without me?” he asked.

and then it clicked. why you guys hadn’t spoken about what happened 3 weeks ago.

nika had a boyfriend.

and you had no idea.

A/N: okay so i really don’t know where im going with this or if im even making a part 3 to this but if you guys want it then ill post it.

[yogsandchaos]

Been a bit and definitely nothing has happened so I'm gonna...

7. Mental health should be taken seriously, but be wary of when it's used to distract from real issues. The fact someone did a bad thing should not be forgotten even if the results have hurt them. Instead facts like "no one deserves an internet witch hunt and death threats" along with "even still you did a really bad thing" can and should both be taken equally. At the same time though, give people at least some grace when it's brought up and don't immediately assume it's a distraction. It very likely feels important to the person bringing it up and like it's worth mentioning especially when in those headspaces. TLDR Don't be guilted, don't let guilting go unchecked, but don't inherently assume guilting was intentional and not just a poor decision made earnestly

8. People are inherently biased towards their own favor and view of events. If someone genuinely believes themselves to not have done something wrong, insisting on that is not gaslighting or anything, it's simply a different perception. Someone can be wrong without doing it on purpose, in fact this can be rather common. Don't take defensiveness and reframing as a sign of guilt, that's just how humans work.

9. Everyone involved has more information then you, random person on tumblr, it's good to get both sides, but do not presume you know everything, no one is ever 100% completely right about everything on a developing situation. You do not know these people's, you do not know the full extent of whats going on, they are not your friends. I understand the defensiveness, but you gotta remember this isn't your beef. Form your own opinion yes, but be aware that facts can change and that the truth is usually a bit more complicated then you might hope.

10. Cancel Culture is much more complex then just "100% good" or "100% bad" it's a hard to control tool that can have severe consequences, but like all tools it depends on the use and applications. Be careful on how you use it, and be understanding when people speak out about how dangerous and potentially life threatening it can be. Don't feed flames that don't need to be fed and especially don't misuse it as an excuse to be vicious towards whoever is on the weekly chopping block.

11. People can be wrong and support someone they shouldn't, this isn't a reason to immediately condemn them and cut them away as helpless, but a reason to learn more about why and their own opinions. It's an invitation for discussion, not an immediately burned bridge. Nuance good! Especially don't expect people to immediately cut off people they were close friends with for long periods of time, even if it turns out they were wrong about them, people wanna defend their friends and family, especially with how violent cancel culture can get.

12. The best thing you can do about an unfolding situation like this is to let the actual people involved settle things and do the arguing and fighting and stuff, and to simply stay somewhat informed and double checking that the information is correct. Like, make memes and jokes, but don't take it upon yourself to try and get actually involved, you'll just make things messier and more confusing with how fast disinformation can spread. Screenshots can be faked, deepfaking is a lot easier these days, I'm not saying to not believe everything ever, just, remember to further check things.

13. SENDING DEATH THREATS IS ILLEGAL, DO NOT SEND THREATS, YOU'RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE IF YOU SEND ANYONE DEATH THREATS OR JUST THREATS, ESPECIALLY IF THEY ALREADY HAVE LAWYERS INVOLVED IM CHOOSING TO BELIEVE MOST PEOPLE WOULD NOT DO THIS, BUT FOR THAT LIKE 2% THINKING ABOUT HOW FUNNY IT WOULD BE, YOU CAN GET IN A LOT OF TROUBLE DO N O T .

14. Don't call people narcissists or psycho, or anything, I know that's asking a lot, but at least try not to be ableist about this. The word you want is not narcissist, it's "manipulator." It's scummy to immediately assume anyone who does anything bad has to have "bad person disorder" something that does not, and never has existed.

15. Remember people who hurt others or do bad things are very rarely giant supervillains pulling the strings with dozens of scripts and plans to manipulate and twist everything. They're just a person, a person likely with some sense of entitlement. That's it. You don't gotta be a smart Machiavellian master villain to hurt someone or do something scummy. You just have to feel like you're owed something, you have been wronged somehow, or that you are an exception to something. Anyone can do that. It's basically never a big grand chessmaster plan, it's just a person who likely genuinely does not believe they did do anything wrong, or that whatever wrong they did wasn't actually what people are taking it as.

16. Continue to be nice and patient! Just, be nice, I cannot stress enough how much being nice and patient can make things easier to deal with when it comes to discourse. Like, do it for your own sanity at least, don't get in fights, or yell at people, or stay up to 3 am putting up a red string board. Be nice and patient.

17. Almost forgot, but just because one person is worse doesn't mean you shouldn't call out when the other is going too far. You're allowed to go "this person is bad, but i find this reaction or statement about it to be uneasy or uncomfortable" that's allowed, nuance nuance nuance. Someone can do something wrong about or to someone who has done harm, and the fact that they have done harm does not inherently mean you have to turn a blind eye to it.

The hermit community is pretty old so I probably don’t have to say this, but I know a lot of people in the fandom are young; but here’s a few tips from an old school yog fan

1. just because someone has left or did a bad thing, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for enjoying the content, along with still wanting to watch that old content they did or were a part of

2. Just because someone has left or did a bad thing does not mean you cannot continue to make fan content. While it’s understandable if you don’t make more or remove art you have made, you are also not bad if you don’t. YouTube is all about collaboration and transformation. Fanart? Fanfic? Cosplay? That’s all transformative, you don’t have to stop making a new thing from the old thing. It’s fully in your right to do so, but it’s not required.

3. Do not harass people about whether they do or don’t make art or delete art, it’s transformative works and personal choice, the most you should do is ask for it to be tagged so it can be filtered.

4. Don’t harass the creators either, it’s clearly been handled and handled well. If this was a case of it being ignored for years by the company or group (COUGH SJIN YOGSCAST COUGH) then it would be more complicated, but it’s a solved issue. Don’t harass iskall or stress either

5. You are allowed to hold off on making a value judgment until you have more information. We don’t have a lot of information and things around kids media tend to be a lot more stricter then adults for what’s appropriate. so it could be a lot of different things of highly varying morality ranging from assault to a bad case of public intoxication that didn’t fit the child friendly brand of the Hermits. We don’t know. Especially about Stress her resignation and how it relates is a near total mystery right now.

6. Be kind to each other, and remember the people you watch are people, and people do dumb or fucked shit sometimes, it sucks, but these are just people, hopefully it’s something to be grown from by Iskall and not something life ruining, but let this remind everyone to not put people on pedestals as unproblematic. Every hermit has probably held an opinion or been a part of something you’d find distasteful, that’s just what it means to be human. It’s up to you to decide where your personal line is and your comfort levels on that stuff, and no one can make that choice for you.

[greynatomy]

the space between us

ingrid engen x reader

hi, it’s been a while

———

You met in the strangest way—one of those encounters that should have been fleeting but instead rearranges the entire landscape of your life. It wasn’t a grand romance at first, just a quiet unfolding, a slow realization that her presence fits into the empty spaces of your days. In hindsight, you realize it was never small. It was everything.

At the time, you didn’t know how brief it would be.

You met on one fateful day, losing your grip on your dog’s leash, he rushes to a person sitting at a cafe.

“Oh, hello little one.” She reaches down to pet the dog’s head.

“Benny!” You chase after him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to let go of his leash.”

She looks up to meet your eyes and you swear time stopped.

“Well I’m glad you did.”

“Y/N.” You reach your hand out. She gives you a smile, taking your hand in hers.

“Ingrid.”

It starts with a text. A ridiculous, unfiltered thought they send late at night that somehow finds you in the middle of your sleepiness.

“Did you know that your brain blends out a lot of noises your body makes?”

“Huh?” You reply, squinting your eyes from the brightness of your phone.

“If you were able to hear it, you would slowly drive yourself insane.”

You smile in the dark, the glow of your screen paints soft shadows on the wall.

“That would absolutely drive me insane.”

And just like that, a door is opened.

That night, you talk for hours. About anything, everything and nothing all at once. About her childhood fears. About the way you pick at your nails when your nervous. About how some songs feel like home even if you don’t know why.

“You ever feel like you’ve met someone before even when you haven’t?”

“Like déjà vu?” she replies, her voice drowsy through the phone.

“No. Like…fate.”

She didn’t reply after that, you heard the way her breathing evened out, knowing she fell asleep.

“Goodnight.”

The days that followed are filled with stolen moments, with messages slipped into the space of obligations.

You were on call again late at night. You knew she was half asleep but you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Anything.”

There was a moment of silence as you find the courage to speak.

“I think I’m scared.”

You can hear her bedsheets rustling. “Of what?”

“Of how much I feel this. How I don’t wanna lose you.”

There was another moment of silence.

“You won’t lose me.” she whispers.

You don’t reply right away, but when you do, your voice is barely there, your vulnerability can be heard.

“Promise?”

Ingrid promises, but sometimes promises aren’t enough.

The unraveling happens so slowly that you don’t notice at first. Maybe neither of you wanted to.

She signed with Barcelona, promising that nothing will change and distance is just a small obstacle.

But the texts become less frequent. The calls grow shorter. The easy and effortless way she once reached out to you becomes hesitant, uncertain. You tell yourself that she’s just been busy. That nothing is wrong.

But something is.

“Are we okay?” you ask one night, after yet another day of silence.

She hesitates.

“Yeah. I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

You want to believe them. But there’s a distance in their words now, something slipping through the cracks.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.”

But they don’t. Not in the way they used to.

And then one day, they just… stop.

Not in a dramatic and catastrophic way. Not with a fight, not with a storm of angry words. Just a slow fading, like ink dissolving in water.

At first you make excuses. They’re busy. They’re tired. They had a long day. Everything will go back to normal again.

But it doesn’t.

You try once more, sending her a short message.

“Goodnight, sleep well. I love you ❤️”

It sits there, unread.

And you know.

The absence settles into you like a ghost. You still catch yourself reaching for you phone, expecting their name to light up your screen. Some nights you find yourself scrolling through old messages, rereading conversations that once felt infinite, listening to the many voice notes she used to send.

You tell yourself that it was brief. That it shouldn’t hurt this much. But it does.

Because it was real. Even if it was short.

Even if it’s over.

One night, much later, you find yourself looking up at the moon, remembering a moment a few days into her move to Barcelona.

“Oh wow, the moon is beautiful tonight. Not as beautiful as you, but still beautiful.” you tell her as you stand outside, earphones in your ears.

“Thank you.”

“How’s your moon looking like?”

“Beautiful.”

“Do we have the same moon? Wait. Duh. There’s only one moon.”

She laughs. “You’re so cute.”

As you look at the moon, you wonder if she’s thinking of you too.

If somewhere in the quiet of her own loneliness, she remembers the sound of your laughter.

If she ever misses you the way you miss her.

If she ever looked at her phone, just for a second, and almost reach out.

But she does’t.

And you don’t.

So, instead, you whisper a goodbye to the sky.

And let her go.

[bwat5-blog]

Continuing The Cycle

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Let me say to begin with, that nothing in this post is to downplay or brush off Piltover's oppression of Zaun. There will be some who read that and still scream at me, that's okay. I just want to be clear.

Many people on here more insightful and intelligent than I have spoken on this already, but it has been sticking with me lately so I wanted to get my thoughts out.

I have been quite free with dismantling some of the inane attempts at criticism of Arcane in this space. But, I promise I do actually understand everyone is entitled to their opinion. After all, how we connect with and understand art on an individual level is one of the things that make it so special. I have never, and will never come for someone who is simply stating their honest opinion based on the actual content in a respectful manner.

Where my issues come in, have to do with these wide-spread critiques/takes/stances that so directly undermine the meaning of the narrative they are best ignorant and at worst malicious. And more often than not rely on omission of details that negates their stance, or fabrication of details to support them. To that end, what I am discussing today is the black and white thinking that has permeated the fandom, poisoning understanding and appreciation of all corners of that narrative.

LET'S JUST GET IT OUT OF THE WAY:

*Before we get into the Arcane content, we need to discuss where a lot of this is coming from. I am just gonna get this out here right now, and there are some people who are gonna keel over reading it but if you are one of those folks I might as well not waste your time*

Arcane is not the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.

It could not be more clear that this is where a lot of this is coming from. Let me be explicitly clear, this is NOT a deep-dive or analysis of this conflict. This thing is immensely complicated . If you comment here with a "IT IS NOT COMPLICATED ITS" sort of comment I'm sorry to tell you but you are wrong. The modern phase of this has origins as far back as the late nineteenth century and there is more going back even further. I don't care if its a straight fucking line. Something going back that far has more to it than the average nerd like me is qualified to speak on. Now, that being said, I do understand to a degree why this is happening. Not like this conflict has ever really been settled but in the last few years especially things have really been active and generating a degree of media content I don't remember seeing this level of in my short 32 years. So in a world where everyone (myself included) is so plugged in and enveloped by social media, a lot of us are getting a more direct look at this than we really ever have. And we analyze and connect with art through the lens of the world around us to a point. But we CANNOT do so exclusively. Trying to force a narrative into a one-to-one comparison robs it of a tremendous amount of meaning. Because no matter how complex and intricate this story actually can be. IT IS NOT REALITY. I'm not getting into it here, that would be pages and pages of writing and I'm here to talk about Arcane. But I'm going to say this because it applies to real life and the show both and will take us into my actual point today.

The idea that anyone on one side must always be good and justified simply because they are the oppressed, while the other must always be evil, is juvenile, naïve, and fails to grasp even a fraction of the complexity of human nature

Some of you are going to have an absolute seizure reading me say that that statement applies to real life as well. I don't care. It takes time, maturity, and meeting people from all walks of life to understand things are not so simple.

BACK TO ARCANE:

But, that being said time to get back to business. How does this all apply to Arcane?

"The show should have ended with a civil war between Zaun and Piltover!"

"When Zaun arrived during the last battle Jinx should have unloaded on the Enforcers and the Noxians both!"

"They ruined Jinx's character! WTF do you mean she apologized for killing Caitlyn's mother? Her mom was part of the oppressive system that ruined Jinx's life and brought it on herself!"

"Silco did bad things but it was all to gain power to protect Zaun!"

"Poor little rich girl lost her mom and acts like it's a reason to punish an entire city with warcrimes. The people of Zaun have been suffering worse for their entire history"

"Rebel Vi I miss you! How dare they make you care about people in Piltover!"

"The coward show runners made Zaunites into boot-lickers fighting for Piltover wearing Enforcer armor at the end!"

You get the idea. I have seen variations of these and many more time and time again. Zaun should have let Piltover fall or even attacked themselves. Caitlyn deserved everything done to her because she's of the Piltovan elite. Every terrible thing Jinx or Silco did was totally and completely justified because of Piltovan oppression.

Now there are many angles I could come at this from. My usual one is simply addressing the astounding lack of logic in most of these sorts of arguments. For example, I can rope all of the people saying Zaun should have let Piltover fall into one category. People who forgot about this guy:

Like he was just gonna "evolve" Piltover than call it a day and zoot off into space with his new buddies. Obviously not and the idea that he wouldn't immediately take Zaun as well then keep moving is completely laughable. But this sort of thing isn't my issue today. My issue is that those so zealously insisting the the show should have continued on a path of hate, death and destruction are completely missing the point.

I titled this continuing the cycle for a reason. So much of this show, revolves around this concept of the cycle of violence. Those who keep it going, those who suffer from it, and those who break it. And the issue I'm finding is that a tremendous amount of people have seemingly decided that anything people from Zaun do is justified, and anything people from Piltover do is not. When in fact, where they are born is irrelevant in this context. Because each and everyone of them has the choice to further the cycle, or to walk away.

Silco & Vander:

Vander continued the cycle when instead of forgiving Silco for his part (whatever it may have been, we never really get the whole story) in Felicia's death he tried to kill him. And Silco did the same when he took his revenge instead of walking away ending not only the life of the man who wronged him, but causing the deaths of two teenage boys, trying to have Vi killed and causing her imprisonment altering her life forever, and taking Powder as his own after obliterating her second family altering her life and the lives of all those she would hurt through her actions as well.

Caitlyn:

In Caitlyn we see all three. She was an admittedly naïve but well-meaning young woman who was victimized terribly by cycle of violence around all for thinking she could help. We then watch her heart-breaking transformation into being a part of it allowing her hate and pain to warp her into someone dark and vengeful. Then finally we see her laying down the hate for her mothers killer in favor of her love for the woman who means everything to her. Stepping outside of it and turning her back on that violence.

There are of course other examples. Jinx walking away, Ambessa choosing to continue the bloodshed even with her last child begging her to stop. the list goes on. My point in discussing this is that it doesn't matter where they come from. Characters from all over this story play a part both good and bad in the events that occur. And to properly appreciate and understand this tale and what it is saying we MUST recognize that.

Yes Silco was a Zaunite. No Silco was not justified in unleashing Shimmer on his own people. He was a revolutionary once, but he lost his way. In the end he died a violent drug lord who exploited his people for his own gain. He was not a hero.

Yes Jinx is a Zaunite. No, Jinx attacking the council was not a noble strike for her people against oppression. She was a terrified, mentally ill, grieving and angry young woman who lashed out in a moment of awful pain. And in doing guaranteed Piltovan oppression against her people. .

Yes, Heimerdinger was the father of Piltover and his neglect caused terrible problems for everyone. He also gave his life for a Zaunite rebel commander to help get him home. (I understand in the lore he's probably alive but we haven't seen that yet and they have for sure diverged so it isn't a guarantee)

Yes, Caitlyn Kiramman is the daughter of one of the high houses of Piltover, and played a part of the people of Zaun suffering under Ambessa's manipulations and cruelty. She also gave the leader of the Firelights the gemstone she was so determined to return, stood side-by-side with Vi and told the council to their faces they failed Zaun, and put her own body on the line to make things right against Ambessa.

And that isn't to say that any of those characters were all good or all bad. It's to say that they all are capable of both. Just like every character. To slap a Zaun sticker on Silco and a Piltover (or cop as so many of you are fond of) sticker on Caitlyn and give them a pass or not for everything they do based on that is simplistic and ignorant. These characters have so much to them that to reduce them to these easily digestible bite-sized pieces is to deprive yourself of that true weight of this story.

All that said, lets take another look at a few items from that list from earlier:

"The show should have ended with a civil war between Zaun and Piltover!"// At the moment where all of humanity was at stake, people came together and fought side by side to quite literally save the world

"They ruined Jinx's character! WTF do you mean she apologized for killing Caitlyn's mother? Her mom was part of the oppressive system that ruined Jinx's life and brought it on herself!"// In a moment of pain and clarity Jinx found herself speaking to someone she realized she horribly wronged. Someone who had been twisted into something dark and violent by pain and grief, a feeling Jinx knew all too well. So she said the most she could, it isn't a direct apology. But her remorse is clear. "

"When Zaun arrived during the last battle Jinx should have unloaded on the Enforcers and the Noxians both!"// Jinx went from someone hated and feared, who felt like she had nothing to offer anyone, who felt like she had failed or killed everyone who loved her, to riding into battle leading her people and bearing symbols of her loved ones into the war for all mankind. And although I and most agree she's alive, the last act we know she for sure that she took was to save the life of the older sister who loved her so much in her most dire moment. If she did die, Jinx died a hero.

CLOSING WORDS:

Arcane is many things. But it's humanity is its heart. I've said it many times and many ways, but good stories... in this case great stories matter. They stick with us. Because long after the giant battles, the wolf monsters, and shiny blue magic rocks have faded, its the humanity you remember. The sisters fighting desperately to hold on to each-other in a world determined to rip them apart. The lovers from different worlds finding hope in each-others arms. Brothers betraying one another, a daughter having to take her mothers life, the list goes on. But when we rob these characters and this story of all of that, when the flash is gone, what's left?

I haven't done a long one in a bit and I feel like this is a bit rambling so I apologize. To those who take time out of their day to read anything I have to say I appreciate you more than you know. Feel free to share your thoughts! I love discussing this show. And in closing will leave you with one of my favorite quotes.

“It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad has happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. I know now folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something. That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for"

- JRR Tolkien

[great-septimus]

Hey, so I don't want to be that guy, but when are we going to acknowledge that Akechi was right?

No, I obviously don't mean about the things he was very clearly wrong about. I'm referring to the things he says in interviews about the Phantom Thieves. I hate how many people switch up after playing through his betrayal who previously agreed with his views, because nothing he said is wrong and nothing he did changes that fact. He speaks in the TV Station on the objective facts that he should know about, and with or without the context of his form of justice those facts stay true. It's a fallacy to claim that his form of justice being universally less approved of makes the Phantom Thieves better by comparison, or discredits anything he said. I don't think the Phantom Thieves are evil, or that they should necessarily be imprisoned, but I do think that they are not morally sound. They're kids. Prior to his betrayal I think he served his purpose well, but it's easy to disregard the validity of his words when you find out that he's a murderer. With the knowledge he SHOULD have had (and that many DID have), everything he says is true. And honestly? It still can be true for basically the entire plot of the game. Mishima's confidant tests the thieves in that way. They could have changed the hearts of anyone who's not a persona user, for any personal reason. It's a slippery slope.

I'll use these three options as an example for why he's right:

"They're justice itself" is just subjective and incorrect, because justice as a concept is individualized and given how each Phantom Thief has different reasons for being one it's ridiculous for even them to say. Their first target was before they even formed a group, and Ann was ready to kill Kamoshida. The others were not even going to step in, and they were going to respect her choice either way. All the members are so different, so this is an insane claim to make.

"They're necessary" is wrong because to say they are necessary is pretty disingenuous to all "justice" that has ever happened BEFORE they existed. I don't believe that the Thieves were a necessity per say, and personally I think their actions can only be judged on a case by case basis. Some Mementos targets for example have issues that stem beyond what they have done. Now they have their desires stolen but still have the issue that pushed them to immortality in the first place, plus a shitton of guilty baggage. The Thieves only help with the atonement, but not the push. How many of those people didn't just go right back to their past behaviors? How many of them got worse in other ways? Think about Futaba, she felt so guilty for something she thought she did, she formed a palace to condemn herself to die alone. To claim the Thieves are necessary to reform society implies that their method is the most effective, and I think that's a lot to claim for something they don't understand.

"They do more than the cops" I almost agree with. Legally the police in Japan in this game anyway (yes I'm aware it extends to reality in many ways, but I'm referring to just the game right now) are corrupt and flawed for the most part, but the thing I don't agree with is that this makes the Thieves a better alternative. They're not. For the same reason Yoshizawa says later, the Thieves can only do so much as vigilantes, and to imply that society should rely on these faceless nameless flawed people to fix society is not any better than what they have now. Especially with the method being unknown, potentially unsafe, and easily exploitable. I cannot be the only one who if the Phantom Thieves were real, would be extremely alarmed by the prospect of a group of vigilantes "changing hearts" right? It's so vague, and the pattern is dystopian. At least police methods are familiar

What I'm saying is that they're kids, and it's kind of insane that this game places Akechi as the narrative foil for the Thieves in their message and then makes it so easy to disregard because "he's an assassin so how could he know anything about justice". The Thieves don't either, and Ann was nearly a murderer. If the bar is "don't commit murder when you're infiltrating someone's mind" then it's far too low. I wouldn't trust a group of adults with this power to reform society, even less a group of teenage vigilantes. I'm 19, and I find this odd. And Strikers frames them as even more righteous, and it bugs me even more in that game. At least Royal has the third semester to give a bit more nuance to how big of a responsibility Ren was given, but that's also very frequently misinterpreted.

I love this game, and I love this fandom, and I have thoughts that get weird and ranty. I apologize, but I hope you all found this as interesting as I did.

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

Interesting that you bring that up, because I think it ties into a different Jason post I made once. You don't have to read all of that, the important part is this:

i think thats my favorite thing about the red hood. he pulls people out of the abyss. he never steps entirely out of the shadows himself, but he will extend a hand to someone else, until they can get their own grip and climb past him. he did it with roy and kori, and with the random pyg minion in batman reborn, and with duela dent, and suzie su, and bunker, and ma gunn, and in a way even his own father. he does it all the time, and i love him for that.

That post is in regards to the (eventual) conclusion to the Duela Dent arc, where Jason helps her unjokerfy and go back home. Because it really is a theme we see! I don't think DC did it intentionally, especially since half of these happened during Scott Lobdell's runs and I don't think the man did anything except throw spaghetti at a wall in the hopes that it would stick, but it's become a theme. (....Scott Lobdell also had the Generation Outlaw storyline that he didn't fucking land or conclude in any satisfying way, but that's a rant for a different day).

Anyway, the point is that yeah, in some ways Jason DOES still have to choose. A lot of the storylines he has are with people who do, eventually, decide to be less morally gray. And that's just something he doesn't do. Or, if he somehow did, if he TRULY came back into the light, he would ABSOLUTELY lose the ideological purity that drove him in the UTRH era. I'm not saying it's not possible for someone to stay with him in his moral gray zone or even in his True Villain Zone, but there is actually an interesting tragedy in the fact that no one does, because it kind of highlights the point of his character--which is that he KNOWS BOTH SIDES and he CHOOSES to stay somewhere between them. He wavers sometimes in canon, moves more toward one side or the other, but so far he always returns to that gray zone, consistently, every single time.

Comics are, in a lot of ways, black and white. Questions of morality are almost always framed in what is right and what is wrong. Characters are good or bad. Things are mutually exclusive. I don't think it's impossible to find the balance, but IMO it would be much trickier to make it work, especially in canon. To find that balance and make it truly compelling would need some significant skill. We would need someone who was truly okay to live in that gray zone, but whose values wouldn't turn out to be incompatible (which is often, I think, why he and Rose don't usually work out when they're put together. Rose WOULD be that character, but I just don't think they're sustainable, generally speaking).

With that in mind, I can see why it's usually the Batfam that he returns to in search of family. He doesn't want things that are fleeting. He doesn't want "well, we can put Joker in Arkham until his next breakout", he wants the Joker DEAD. And he really doesn't want the people in his life to give up on him!! He WANTS both. NEEDS it, maybe. Even as far back as UTRH we saw this tension. Jason is holding VERY tightly to his ideals in that comic, and still he all but begs Bruce to join him so that he can have both. His origins will always be most deeply rooted in the Batfam. But maybe that brings a different sort of tension to the question--one having to do with whether a fan wants Jason to keep hold of his history, his roots, and find the permanence that Bruce promised when he took Jason in... or if they want him to give that up and forge a new future with a new family.

Jason really is, IMO, about tension. Not just in the conflict sense, though he does tend to bring tension and conflict to interactions. But thematically, his character and his arcs are filled with themes that constantly pull him in opposing directions. Even the dichotomy of the poverty he faced as a child versus the abundance of living with a millionaire is like that. In a lot of ways, canon tells us that he really just can't have everything he wants. So the question is... what does he have to give up?

i’m starting to realize there are at least two camps of jason todd fans. 

there are the ideological campers, who took under the red hood and ran with it.  the ones who believe whole-heartedly that jason todd is a character with a moral stance–counter, perhaps, to the man who raised him and the monsters that shaped him, but extant, all the same.  these people see jason shucking his ideals in canon and scoff, saying that it is a loss of integrity and a tragedy of what was good characterization. 

and then there are the emotional campers.  the ones who saw jason todd’s pain, his desire for a family who loved him enough to act as executioner.  it wasn’t an ideological purity that drove him–it was the emotional one, the familial one, and these people see jason struggling to mend bridges once burned and cheer him onward.  the ones who desperately want to see him shed his lone wolf persona and really, truly, become a part of the family.

in some sense, it ends up being a question of how faithful to the original characterization you want to be.  when jason is the villain and often when he’s the outlaw, he is antithetical to batman by nature.  he grips his pain and grief in his hands and uses it to act, same as batman, but in a diametrically opposed way.  in order to hang onto this, to keep this opposition in place, he cannot have his family.  but in order to have his family, to change from what he once became, he cannot have his ideals.

and i think it’s neat, because both of these camps want jay to succeed, you know?  but the question lies in whether they want that success to be in ‘cleansing gotham’/‘ridding the world of that which hurt him so no one else can be hurt’, so that he might save the world…

…or if they want it to be just him, reaching out a hand to someone and asking to be lifted up, so that he might save himself.

[thewistlingbadger]

In the law, there is a difference between being innocent and being not guilty. In the law, just because you are not guilty does not mean you are innocent. And I honestly can't think of a better way to describe Silco.

Silco is not an innocent man, but that does not mean he is a guilty man. I'll say that again: Silco is not an innocent man but that doesn't mean he's a guilty man. I believe Silco is a not guilty man and let me briefly explain why.

Silco has done bad things. Silco has done things some deem unforgivable and scornful. Silco has done things that have harmed people and have given many reason to hate him. But I don't think he is a guilty man. Because every action that Silco has ever committed has had a justified, logical, dare I say valid reason attached to it.

The narrative of arcane is interesting because it is a show that aims for "moral grayness" while also being a show that still commits to classic story structure. We're supposed to think of everyone as nuanced, quote "there are no innocents in arcane everyone does good and bad things"...but at the same time silco and ambessa bad vi and Caitlyn good. Blindly good. So good that we don't HAVE to examine their flaws that's not what the writers want and they also don't want us to examine the goods of Silco and ambessa.

Silco from the jump IS the antagonist IS the villain. With his menacing appearance, threatening dialogue, menacing behavior, etc etc. I'm currently fascinated with Silco's cold open flashback for E3 s1 because it is directly showing us that Silco is a Victim but it isn't framed like that and it doesn't feel like that at all when we watch it, even though that's exactly what it is. There's never a moment where we feel like Silco is a victim in the show, or even a moment where we as a whole are particularly meant to feel bad for him. Even in his death, the audience is more worried about Jinx than they are about Silco, who literally has blood dripping out of his mouth as he speaks his last words.

We're never supposed to see the "good" in Silco like how we're meant to see the "good" in Jinx, even though she's committed crimes on the same level as he has arguably. The only moments where our perception of him changes are those moments where he's with Jinx and he acts fatherly towards her.

But now that we have season two I want you to stop and genuinely ask yourself the following. Is Silco really wrong for wanting Vander dead? Is Silco really wrong for doing whatever it takes to achieve independence? Was Silco wrong to be cold and brutal? Silco did things that were wrong, but that doesn't mean he was wrong. In fact, I'm saying I think he wasn't wrong.

I watched this Silco video essay last year that was really enlightening and I want to share a quote that came out of that video essay.

"Terrorism is a poor man's war."

And man, ain't that the truth. Only people who have nothing else to resort to resort to terrorism and crime and all these other terrible things. Oftentimes I see people who genuinely hate silco. I must remind each and every one of you that Silco wouldn't have done the things he did had it not been for the council. Had the council done their jobs, supported the Undercity, ensured it was a livable place, then Silco would have never had any motive to do the things he did. Silco's misdeeds are an extension of the council's crimes. If the council did what they were supposed to do, Silco would have never gotten to power, let alone used it at the expense of others. Silco's actions are the result of Piltover's inaction. Everything could have been easily avoided had they just taken care of their own citizens or gave them independence THE FIRST TIME THEY ASKED FOR IT. Because THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME IT HAS BEEN ASKED FOR. THERE WAS A ZAUN LIBERATION MOVEMENT YEARS BEFORE ARCANE. And what was Piltover's response? They broke the movement apart by violence. They killed people left right and center. Silco had every right to react that way he did after everything Piltover has put him through.

And Vander? Vander, the man who betrayed his own brother for the world's shittiest reason and gave no valid apology? Vander, the coward who refused to fight for his people even when he saw the way piltover was impacting them, the man who gave up on independence the moment they received heavy losses? The fate Vander received was nothing short of justice. He deserved what he got, dare I say he deserved worse. Not only did he give up on the movement but he gave up on Silco. He drowned him in a river of toxic waste and cut his face so bad that Silco became unrecognizable. MIND YOU, when Silco reunited with him, he wanted to be his BROTHER again. Silco's plan wasn't to get rid of Vander, it was to join him again, for them to fight for freedom one last time. Vander knew what the consequences would be for denying Silco and he chose to deny him anyway.

Is this a silco defense post? Yeah, but not in the "Silco did nothing wrong" way. Silco did horrible things for solid reasons. Everything he did had purpose and reason behind it. Not only that but his actions yielded results that he wanted, results that no one else was able to achieve. And everyday I want you to remember that without Silco, Sevika would have never gotten that council seat.

[ncity-agere]

could you please write with a little reader who picks their skin for comfort + when they're nervous? preferably with hao, woozi, or dk ( ◠‿◠ ) thank you!!

Yes! As someone who also nervous picks, I like this ask a lot! I chose Hao for the prompt, I hope you like it!!

slight warning: unintentional self-harm. no icky things, just skin picking. if that makes you uncomfortable even a little bit, i advise that you find another drabble of mine to read, little ones! <3

“Babe.” Caregiver!Minghao’s voice was stern and testing, making you look up at him in surprise.

“Hm, Hao? What’s wrong?” You asked unknowingly from the other side of the table.

Minghao leaned over to grab your wrist softly and pull it away from your face. You weren’t even aware that you were picking at the skin there.

“You’re picking again.” He lightly chided, letting go of your hand. Your cheeks blushed faintly and you put your hands both in your lap.

“Sorry, Hao.” You huffed, frowning. To be honest, your mind was wandering and not in a good way.

“Are you feeling little, baby? We can go home if you need to.” Minghao whispered so that nobody could hear. He eyed you with worry but you shrugged it off.

“I’m fine.” You started, fidgeting with your hands on your lap. Admittedly, you were feeling small tonight and the loud sounds and chattering of people in the restaurant were stressing you out, but Minghao didn’t need to know that. You were on a lovely dinner out and could ignore it for his sake until you got home.

You started to look at the people around you nervously, eyeing the most formidable patrons. A both of women with judgmental eyes peered at the two of you and you could have sworn they were talking about you. And you couldn’t prove it -really, there was no logical reason to think so- but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

“You’re doing it again, honey.” Minghao all but hissed.

Your hands were picking at the peeling skin on your arm now, leaving Minghao to frown at you.

“Goodness. Why are you so nervous, darling?” He asks, holding both of your hands and resting them on the table. He knew better than anyone how you got around crowds and new people.

“I… I dunno. I just got tummy butterflies again.” You admitted, slinking down lower in your seat. “There’s lots of people here an’ I don’t like it.” You started to feel littler and littler the longer you sat here around all of these people. And you wouldn’t admit it to Minghao right then, but you were somehow convinced that they’re all meanies who hate you.

“Hm.” Minghao thought for a moment, letting your hands go. “Then we can leave. Let’s get dessert and go home and then we can cuddle in a less stressful place. How does that sound?” He asked and you did a little happy wiggle -an adorable thing to see as you were still in your big, formal clothes and coat.

And so, Minghao bought you the bestest, fanciest dessert that you could possibly have! It was your favorite, of course.

The two of you left the restaurant soon after dessert and Minghao was happy to see a little more pep in your step as the two of you found your way onto the desolate, snowy street.

“Hold my hand, love?” He asked. You didn’t argue, holding his hand and smiling when you felt the warmth. You hadn’t realized, but he wanted to hold your hand right to make sure that you didn’t fidget with your jacket and sneak a hand into the sleeve to pick at the skin on your shoulder again.

It was cold outside and the winter wind hit your face as the two of you walked back home. You thought of all of those people in the restaurant and how none of them had to deal with such a bad habit. You thought about their unscarred arms and face and hid your face in one of your hands, suddenly feeling ashamed of yourself. Minghao looked over in surprised, stopping where his feet tracked in the snow and turning to face you.

He crouched down to speak to you, letting go of your other hand to cup your face. “Baby… what’s wrong?”

You sniffled, nose becoming red and bright. “Baba won’ like me ‘cause I got all these stupid, ugly dumb scars on my face.” You pointed at the dots and blemishes left from picking on your cheeks. “An’ my arms an’ my legs too!”

Minghao cooed, cocking his head to the side. “Love, Baba will always like you. Scars are very cool, they mean that you’re brave. Did you know that?” He asked, voice soft and low. You shook your head, not wanting him to see you right now.

He stood up and nuzzled his forehead into yours. “You’re a very brave little one, y/n.”

“Thank you Baba.” You giggled as he leaned down and kissed your fading scars. His long hair tucked your face and neck and after a while, you playfully pushed him away. “Baba! Stop, we gotta get home!” You gasped through giggles.

The corners of Minghao’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Alright, alright. I think it’s time to go home, love.”

He took your hands again and you didn’t hide your face as much, the two of you walking back home in the snowy, snowy street.

[98onlyboo]

big baby - k.mg

>> part 2 of: treat you better - k.mg

genre: fluff; wc: 1,3k

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

..."You know, I could treat you so much better than him..."

The next morning you woke up, Mingyu's arms still wrapped around you. You tried getting out of his grasp but his grip only tightened. "Gyuuu I want to get up" you whined. "Just a little longer" he said and pulled you on top of him. Now there is no way you can get out so you just accepted your fate.

Until you had an idea. You almost felt a little bad, especially since he was sleeping so peacefully but you had to get up. You started tickling him until he let go of you. "That is SO unfair" he said laughing. He grabbed a pillow and hit you, which just escalated the situation.

You were having a pillow fight, frequently landing some hits but also receiving some. You tackled him and started tickling him again. "STOP I CAN'T ANYMORE" he said laughing histerically. You stopped and looked at him, realising you were sitting on top of your shirtless best friend.

"What's wrong?" he asked grinning at you. He knew exactly what was "wrong". In a swift motion he flipped you around so he was on top of you. Your cheeks were burning at this point and he could see that. His face slowly moved towards yours. His eyes never leaving your lips. You were mentally preparing for what was about to happen next.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep a steady breath when you felt Mingyu's breath tickle your ears. "Don't start something you can't finish" he whispered seductively. Then he hit you with a suprise attack and tickled you without showing any mercy. You laughed until your sides hurt and tears formed in your eyes.

Mingyu then stopped and got up. "Come on, let's make breakfast" he suggested. You jumped up running towards the kitchen, Mingyu following close behind you. You opened the fridge and took out some yoghurt you had. "What do you want?" you asked. "I don't know..What are you eating?" "Some yoghurt. Want some too?" "Sure"

As you guys were eating, the room fell quiet. "How do you feel?" he asked all of a sudden. You knew why he was asking that. "Right now I'm okay I guess. Maybe I'm a little hurt that he would do that, but...maybe it was a sign. A sign that he wasn't the right one you know? I certainly think the right one wouldn't cheat" you chuckled saying the last part.

"I would never cheat on you..." Mingyu whispered as quietly as he could. You heard it but pretended you didn't. "What did you say??" you asked. "Oh nothing I just agreed with you" he smiled and continued eating his yoghurt.

-3 months later-

The thing with Brian didn't bother you much anymore. More or less it still hurt your ego a bit, but other than that you were finally okay again. It happened faster than you thought it would. Maybe because Mingyu was a great help in distracting you from it, but also helping you talk about it. It seemed like all of this made your friendship even stronger than before.

You were sitting at home, wondering what to do with your life. You decided to call Mingyu to see what he was up to.

"Hello?" someone answered, someone that wasn't Mingyu "Uhm hello? Is Mingyu there?" "He's not here right now, this is Minghao speaking. Do you want me to tell him something?" the voice said. You never talked to any of his friends before. "Uhm I just wanted to know what he was up to since I'm bored" you laughed nervously. "Well, you could come visit us at practice if you want. Then we can finally get to know you better, especially since you're Mingyus girlfriend" Minghao said. "Girlfriend..?" You asked "Well, you're saved under ___ with a million hearts so I thought you're his girlfriend" Minghao said, sounding a bit embarrassed "Oh no it's okay haha, we're just best friends. Would you send me the address though?? Then I'll come visit you guys" you smiled. "Of course!! See you later then" Minghao said and shortly after sent you the address over Mingyu's phone.

You got ready, trying to look at least a bit presentable to meet the guys for the first time. I hope he tells him that I'm coming. After you got to the company you were greeted by who seems to be one of his friends . "Hey!! I'm Minghao, the one you talked to on the phone" he said and kindly greeted you. "Mingyu has been talking so much about you, we're happy we finally get to actually meet you" he happily exclaimed. "Talked about me..?" you asked with a confused look.

"I may shouldn't have said that.." he whispered and laughed. You just laughed with him until you were infront of a door. You can hear music and some people inside. "Let me go in first" he said and motioned for you to hide behind him.

"Mingyu I have a surprise for you!!" Minghao said. "Really??" you heard your best friend say before running up towards you guys. Minghao stepped out of the way and revealed you as the "suprise". "___!" Mingyu screamed and picked you up. "I'm so happy you're here" he said after you told him to let you down. "Guys this is ___ my best friend!!" he said while you just stood there awkwardly.

You sat down with some of the guys and just started talking to them. You got along with them really really well. You laughed a lot with them and came to find out that all of them are so nice. When you started talking to Seungcheol, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked around and saw Mingyu glaring at you and Seungcheol.

You went back to talking and laughing with Seungcheol, talking about everything possible. Suddenly Mingyu came up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder. You turned to look at him and asked him if he was okay. "Could we maybe go out just for a second?" he asked.

You agreed and left the room. "What's wrong??" you asked. "Do you like Seungcheol?" he bursted out. "What? I've known him for literally the past 20 minutes. He seems nice but that is way too early to say you like someone" you laughed. He apologised and you guys went back in. Why would he ask me that? And why would he care?

After some more very interesting and different conversations with his friends and spending the whole day with them you decided to go home. Mingyu accompanied you on your walk. "Thanks for walking me home" you said and hugged him. "No problem" he smiled, "also uhm, I hope this isn't too weird to ask but I've been thinking about this thing for some time now.." "What thing?" you asked a bit concerned. For whatever reason your first thought was that he wanted to end the friendship. "Us. I've been thinking about us.." he started", "I thought about how happy you make me, about my feelings in general and.." he looked down, almost acting a bit embarrassed to actually say what he wanted to say. "Please Gyu, tell me what's bothering you. What are you trying to tell me??" you said and took his hands in yours. "You know you can tell me everything right?" you assured him. 

"I love you yn" he blurted out. You didn't say anything at first. Seeing the lack of reaction, tears started welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry.." he whispered, "I shouldn't hav-" you shush him, cupping his face with your hands. "Don't be sorry Gyu. There is no reason to cry, I haven't rejected you have I?" you smiled at him. Slowly you closed the gap between you two and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. It didn't last long, but it made obvious how you felt about his confession. 

"I love you too, my big baby" you chuckled.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Forty-Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“Cloudpaw?”

Of course Fireheart had to wake up to that.

“Cloudpaw!” Aspenpaw’s increasingly frightened voice, pitching further up with every word. “Cloudpaw, where are you?”

Fireheart started getting to his feet before his eyes opened. Half of him wanted to keep them squeezed shut forever, as if that would help avoid this situation.

Goldenflower’s voice came now. “What’s going on, dove?”

“Cloudpaw’s not in his nest!” Aspenpaw didn’t sound like she cared if she woke up the rest of camp. “An– and I checked the dirtplace, and he’s not there!”

Fireheart fought back uttering a curse as the cats deeper into the warrior’s den started mumbling and shifting, waking up at the terrified apprentice’s cries. Before anyone else could pass him, he stepped out of the den, shaking his fur of stray dead moss. His eyes opened just as Aspenpaw skidded to a stop in front of him, her own bulging with panic.

“Did you know where Cloudpaw is?” she asked desperately.

Fireheart barely kept his tone in check when he said quietly, “I have an inkling.”

“He didn’t go after the dogs, did he?” Aspenpaw twisted around, pacing between Fireheart and Goldenflower. “Oh, stars, what if he did, an– and they found him, and—”

“They didn’t.” Fireheart felt curious eyes on him as more cats came out of their dens at the noise. “He’s fine.”

“Then where is he?!” Aspenpaw cried. Her legs splayed out as she turned to face Fireheart again, her claws sinking into the moist sand.

“Fireheart?” Whitecloud’s soft voice came up beside him. Fireheart only turned with his eyes to see the concern on the deputy’s face. “Is something wrong?”

You’ve got to tell them, his logical side said, gentle but firm. He’s pushed his luck too many times now. And you made it clear that he’d get in trouble if he ran off again. Don’t hide this anymore. Now is the time to be an adult and tell the truth.

How he hated that this side was right. With a deep inhale that came back out as a much heavier sigh than he intended, Fireheart looked properly over at Whitecloud and asked, “Is it okay if I call a meeting?”

Whitecloud blinked, his yellow eyes pale with confusion. “Is it important?”

Fireheart nodded. “It’s something I think everyone should have a voice in.”

More confusion, and a bit of disturbance, but Whitecloud flicked a paw at the stump. “Go ahead.”

By this time, the entire Clan was awake, all either leaving their dens or poking their heads out and speaking to each other. The general tone wavered with worry, not helped by Aspenpaw’s fur sticking out in all directions as she looked around desperately for her brother. Fireheart wasted no time, striding for the stump just as Yellowfang and Cinderpaw came to its base out of the remains of ferns behind it. As he passed them, Yellowfang grunted knowingly.

He stopped right below the stump, exposed roots beneath his feet. He wondered why it was only now that he hesitated to stand above his Clanmates, when he was to command their attention all on his own. He hadn’t felt this apprehension the last two times he had jumped onto it, and the most recent time was far worse than the topic he had to broach now.

“What’s he doing?” someone whispered close by.

Fireheart clenched his jaw as tight as he could, releasing some of his tension when he relaxed. He didn’t give himself any more time to hesitate—he simply bunched up and leaped, landing on the top with ease (shorter than a fence, he thought, but still harder) and turning to face his Clanmates. Most of them stared at him in bafflement, but they slowly clustered in as Whitecloud came to stand on one side of the stump.

Fireheart gathered his courage, sent a quick prayer to the Three for help, and spoke, attempting to speak as loudly and clearly as his leader and deputies always had.

“I know where Cloudpaw is,” he started. “I know where he’s been going. I wanted to handle this privately, and keep it between me and him, but he’s disobeyed too many times now, and put himself in too much danger. It’s time for me to tell you all so, hopefully, we can find a solution together.”

The cats on the ground exchanged puzzled faces, but a few of them seemed to have an idea of where this was going, judging by their narrowed eyes and turned-back ears.

With a faint flame of boldness in his chest, Fireheart continued. “He’s been sneaking off to see his birth-mother in the Houses.”

The air burst with shouts of shock and anger—even the apprentices looked outraged, Thornpaw especially. Ravenwing sat by Snowpaw, signing to him with a troubled face. Greystripe, Fireheart noticed, had an expression of something like sympathy; he was the only cat that didn’t look scandalized.

“You never told any of us about this?” Willowpelt asked sharply.

“Only Yellowfang,” Fireheart replied.

“And why didn’t you say anything, then?” Sandstorm growled at the old seer.

Yellowfang stuck her jaw out. “Would that it were my business. The boy’s the one to handle it.”

“Then he should have handled it sooner!” Darkstripe shouted. “He’s been betraying us all, letting his stupid apprentice break the law! I bet he’s been eating kittypet food and letting those humans touch him!”

Fireheart was not ruffled by this; really, he’d been expecting someone to say it. It might as well be the cat he could disregard entirely. He instead kept his attention on the rest of the Clan, who were slowly quieting down so he could speak.

“I brought him to meet her once myself, once we returned home from the Barn,” he said, and waited for another round of outrage to pass before continuing. “Since then, he’s been seeing her for the comfort of having a mother who lives in a safe place that he doesn’t have to look around in to avoid being eaten by dogs.”

Dustpelt glared up at him. “And you let—”

“I am not finished talking,” Fireheart said coolly. 

To his surprise, the last of the mutters and growls cut themselves off, everyone’s eyes back on him. He took the opportunity presented while he had it.

“I can understand his reasoning, but I don’t agree with it.” Fireheart’s ears folded back of their own accord. “I’ve told him repeatedly that he was only going to see her if I went with him—yes, I’m aware that’d be me breaking the law too, but family is family, as you all know better than anyone else.” By the uncomfortable shifting of paws and twitching of mouths, he had them pinned for that, at least. “The last time he went, I warned him that I would properly punish him if he did it again. And, well, he’s done it again. He doesn’t have any other reason to have completely disappeared this early in the night.” He looked down at Cloudpaw’s anxious sister. “When you looked for him outside, you didn’t smell any dogs nearby, did you?”

Aspenpaw shook her head, but she didn’t look any more relieved.

“He’s got a knack for getting through the territory without facing any trouble,” Fireheart said to the rest. “I could probably head to the Houses right now and bring him back.” He paused, a gnarled little root of negativity coiling around the flame of boldness. “Truthfully, though, I’m probably just going to let him come home on his own and face all of us as a Clan.” He drew in another breath, hoping for the ideal answer to his question. “So, I’m up here because I want to ask you all: what should be done to ensure he doesn’t do this again?”

“Exile, I say,” Darkstripe snapped. “He was a mistake to bring in from the beginning. He should’ve stayed a kittypet, like—”

“Oh, shut up,” Greystripe said casually, then raised his voice to be heard by everyone. “I get where Cloudpaw is coming from—I mean, he shouldn’t be doing this, but I get it. I think he should be properly punished once he gets home, just not too hard.”

“Has he been eating kittypet food?” Frostfur asked, her tone icy. Fireheart nodded and she spat. “Then maybe he could eat it for the rest of his life. We don’t need a traitor in our Clan.”

“He’s an apprentice!” Ravenwing said to her, surprisingly angry. “And a very young one at that! This is a stressful time for us adults, let alone a young cat who was made an apprentice too early and lost half of his family out here. I don’t blame him at all for wanting comfort, even when he knows he shouldn’t be doing it. He doesn’t need to be kicked out like he killed one of us.”

A lump formed in Fireheart’s throat. He swallowed it, noting that the aura radiating from Ravenwing outward cooled down the surrounding cats significantly.

“I mean…” Mousefur grimaced. “He’s definitely in trouble, but… maybe punishing him too hard would cause him to leave anyway.”

“It’s easier to run to safety than face an entire Clan,” Goldenflower agreed. She spoke to Fireheart now. “He’s just an apprentice. He still has the capacity to learn and grow. You were barely his age when you came to us.”

“He needs to stop regardless,” Halftail retorted curtly. “He’s betraying the code, no matter how old he is.”

Mutters of agreement followed this. Dustpelt and Whitecloud whispered something to each other before Whitecloud looked back up at Fireheart.

“He’s already restricted to camp when he’s alone,” he said. “And he enjoys his apprentice duties. What can you offer that will ensure he understands?”

Fireheart’s eyes unfocused as he thought. An idea he really didn’t like was forming in his head.

“He’ll already have to face all of us,” he said slowly. “It’d be as close to isolation as he could get without actually living outside. But…”

“He needs something stronger to set it in stone,” Willowpelt said, more contemplative than angry.

“He’ll have it.” Fireheart breathed in again, bracing himself for his own ruling. “He won’t be allowed to visit her again, whether or not I’m with him.”

“And if he does anyway?” Lizardtail asked.

Fireheart’s claws unconsciously dug into the stump. Even when forcing it out, his voice was soft. “Then I’ll personally ensure he stays there for the rest of his life.”

This was met with complete, stunned silence. Even Darkstripe stared at him in surprise.

Ravenwing hesitantly broke the quiet. “Are you positive you can do that?”

“More than I’d like to be,” Fireheart sighed out, grateful that the breath wasn’t as shaky as his innards were feeling. He looked down. “Whitecloud, Dustpelt, does that sound fair?”

Dustpelt blinked at the sudden attention, but recovered quickly. “It does to me.”

“That will solve the issue either way,” Whitecloud concurred. He gestured for Fireheart to move, then jumped onto the stump, standing by the young tom’s side as he spoke to the Clan. “We need to remember that Cloudpaw is very young and very misguided. Fireheart has done his best for him, and he has the chance to change, like Goldenflower said.” His eyes went to Fireheart. “But we can’t afford to have a cat with us who proves himself disloyal and selfish. If his uncle and mentor decrees it, he’ll be sent to live as a kittypet. Our task is to encourage him to stay with us, not give him more reason to run away. Speak sternly, but don’t scream and threaten. Let him know this is his home for as long as he’s loyal to it.”

The Clan gave spotted nods and murmurs of agreement. Whitecloud turned to Fireheart fully.

“We’ll wait for him to come home on his own tonight,” he said. “If he’s late by morning, you can go get him yourself. He can have this last meeting with his mother.”

“She didn’t even raise him,” someone grumbled. “Why should she be rewarded for giving him up?”

“This will be as much a loss for her as it is for him,” Whitecloud said calmly. “She will suffer the consequences of never seeing him again.” He added to Fireheart, “And you need to stay away from there, too. Let her understand how Clan society works.”

Fireheart said nothing. He simply nodded, a slithering unhappiness in his gut.

---

Cloudpaw did not come back in the morning.

Fireheart was allowed to go out and search for a bit, just to make sure there were no dead ginger-pointed apprentices sprawled out in the fading snow. He found nothing—no scent of dog, no scent of Cloudpaw, not even a piece of prey making itself known. Despite his protests, Whitecloud had him come back to camp and wait with the rest.

Cloudpaw did not return by the next evening.

Two patrols were sent out to try and find his trail, or him himself. The damp and cold smothered what little was on the way to the Houses. Fireheart led one of the patrols into the northern forest, just in case his nephew was hiding. He was not.

The morning came. Cloudpaw still wasn’t home.

Even the cats angry with the little apprentice began peering out of the camp entrance, coming back in with concerned headshakes. Another patrol, this time in the south, produced nothing of note besides the scent of dog.

Aspenpaw, by this point, hadn’t stopped shaking since she woke up, muttering about Cloudpaw’s disappearance as Goldenflower tried to soothe her. Brightpaw wasn’t much better, staring down at the ground with trembling whiskers, like she was imagining what state Cloudpaw’s body was in.

When the night finally arrived, Fireheart went to Whitecloud, very aware of all the anxious eyes on him.

“I’d like permission to search for him in the Houses,” he said. “With a patrol.”

Whitecloud simply nodded. “Take who you want.”

Fireheart only had to glance behind himself to see Greystripe and Ravenwing trotting up to him, eyes determined, if worried. “I’ll take them.”  

“You’ve got us,” Greystripe said.

Ravenwing turned to Snowpaw, who had started following him, and signed for him to stay home. Snowpaw looked downcast, but he agreeably blinked and returned to his sister’s side. Aspenpaw hurried up to Fireheart just as he was about to leave and pawed at his leg to get his attention.

“Please,” she whispered, “please bring him home.”

Fireheart met her eyes with a kind, reassuring gaze. “I’ll do my best. I know I’ll find him alive.”

Aspenpaw moved her mouth, but she said nothing in return and stepped back, watching the trio trot out of camp in silence. Fireheart could feel her eyes on him even outside in the woods.

He paused for a moment, just to look at his friends. They caught up to him, both resting their tails on his sides in silent companionship. Fireheart managed a purr, turned for the Houses, and started running.

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Hedgehog, porcupine, it's the same thing (pt.5)"

or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt.5"

Shadow the Hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I finally have connection again!!! This part feels a little of to me but anyway, leave a comment if you want to be in the taglist or leave a comment if you liked it! ENJOY!

Part 4.

It happened so fast that you could barely process it, the creature looked at the room, then at you, then at the window and in a red flash it disappeared.

For only a fraction of a second, because as soon as it disappeared it appeared right back, but now besides your bedroom's window.

It fell to the floor with a thud and you swore you heard it say something.

But that would be ridiculous, animals don't talk.

"What the fu-?" You didn't even finished your question when the thing turned around to look at you.

The room was silent. Everything felt like it was made of very thin glass, and any sudden move coul shatter it all.

You crouched.

You didn´t know if you wanted to make yourself less intimidating or if you just wanted to be able to protect your hole body in case it tried to move again.

And so, you both just looked at each other. It was really the first time you had stopped to look at the creature so closely.

It´s eyes were red, but not just any red, they were crimson like blood on the outer part of the iris with a warmer fire-like red on the center. It had fur which looked super soft covering all of it´s body, but there was something like spikes coming out of it´s head.

Yeahhh, you knew what animal it reminded you of...

"Hey there" you said softly as not to scare it.

"Who are you and where am I?" the creature demanded more than asked.

"Holy shit, you can TALK!!??"

"Where am I? Did G.U.N sent you?" It had now started to get on it´s feet and speak louder, though it still seemed as in pain.

Everything about what was happening felt kind of surreal to you, one thing a little more than anything else.

"Why do you sound like Keanu Reeves?"

"Is that another agent? I will kill you in seconds if you don´t answer my questions" It furrowed something that you assumed were his eyebrows.

But between everything that was happening you suddenly lost balance in your crouching position, and fell on your back. When you managed to sit on the floor you found yourself with the sight of the alienish creature which had also fallen flat on it´s bottom, presumably trying to protect itself from you.

So then you were both sitting in the ground.

"I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot" you started to say, as calmly as you could. "I´m not here to hurt you, you were the one who crashed on my backyard".

It kept on looking at you as if you were going to attack it at any moment, so you decided to give him something more, you told him your name.

"Shadow" It... He answered back, though it felt more as an attempt to get you to shut up than anything. More time passed in silence.

And so you got up, and left.

Shadow just sat there, slightly confused, but soon enough he weakly got on his feet and turned towards the window. He tried to give a step, but all of his muscles ached at it. He felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless, it reminded him of the cryo tube he was kept in for fifty years.

His efforts did not last too long either, as he felt two warm hands pick him up from under his armpits and sit him back down on the bed. Even though he slightly hissed at the pain and tried to fight back his efforts were usless and he found himself comfortably sat against the cushions.

You smiled at him and apologized for any discomfort that you may had caused, then you offered him a pastry (your aunt Maddie had brought them for tea).

He picked one up, and after a troughout examination, which to you kind of looked as a cat smelling something to see if it was food or not, he actually took a bite.

It was actually nice, and it had a slight bitter taste to it.

"So... are you some kind of porcupine?"

"I´m a hedghog and the ultimate life form" He answered back with still looking angry, but his voice had slightly less bite to it. You smiled kindly back as you held back a laugh.

"Hedghog, porcupine, it´s the same thing."

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