#and either way I am incredibly unsure of my skills and my brain is just banging pots and pans screaming WRONG
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every time i do my physics homework I put on super Mario 64 dire dire docks theme (extended 30 minutes) in the hopes that eventually i can pavolv myself into immediately switching into physics mode whenever I hear the music. and also because its a bop
#it also isn't super distracting#like it's background music. it's chill#hngggg I cannot concentrate#like. Once I start thinking about toh and fic stuff my brain is like okay! Hyperfixation time#And refuses to slip out of hyperfixation mode for like. The rest of the day#it is so bad because I just can't focus and I can't think properly#I need all of my brainpower for this!!!#i have a shaky grasp on the topic#my main issue is just. puzzle solving it. figuring out how to apply said knowledge#and when I do a problem either it's just Way Too Simple and I'm Clearly missing something or I have No Clue Where To Even Begin#and either way I am incredibly unsure of my skills and my brain is just banging pots and pans screaming WRONG#I know that like. This part is just learning how to think that way and I can only get good with practice#but God is it Frustrating#especially since this is a summer class!! it's moving so quick!!#and I'm already behind because I didn't take general physics so I have to teach myself the concepts she assums we all know already!!#we haven't even gotten to the calc yet!! It's still basic algebra!!!#i like this class I just wish i could fucking Get It#i don't have friends I can ask for help and the tutoring center is okayish#hng#im just frustrated again. sigh#im probably getting all of these homework problems wrong#luckily she lets us do corrections and resubmit the work which like. Is very helpful#but I hate that I have to have my hand held through every fucking problem#lilac post
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>I have no idea how the fuck to format this on mobile. Also yes this is another Anisylum collab! I love doing them because the prompts are 👑. This time the prompt was Eavesdropping!
>This is the part two to “As An Object”
>Pairing: Ushijima x Reader
>1.4 k words.
>Content Warnings: Morning After, Reader has a mental breakdown, angstish, hurt-comfort, Wakatoshi says sex so I mean have fun, Tendou is a supportive best friend, not my best writing tbh but my beta reader said everything sounded fine, Mina from the last part is mentioned.
>Masterlist?: Right here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning came burning in your senses. You woke up in a bed that did not belong to you- a bed occupied by both you and-
Your left hand roughly slapped the warm figure by you. Your bedmate rolls over to reaffirm who you are as well.
Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t someone easy to process bedding the night before. There was a half-asleep Ushijima Wakatoshi. You struggled to place your feelings bubbling up like scalding broth to your unprepared chest as he sleepily blinked at you.
“Good morning,” he mumbled, moving one of his warm hands to cup the side of your face.
Your face grew hot, and you immediately bolted out of the bed, not caring how the lack of blanket left you bare. Ushijima watched your face with widened eyes, finally waking up himself.
“... sorry, (y/n),” his voice was soft. The tense grit of his jaw, perhaps the hint of a crease to his brow- something about the expression on his face echoed hurt and you felt hesitation. Unbidden, you felt some part of yourself flourish to life past your normally viscous “mean girl” mask.
“It’s… okay. Can I use your bath?” You looked away, not wanting to show vulnerability to someone you thought you hated.
“... it’s past the kitchen, opposite of the front door.”
“Thank you.”
And with that, you left the bedroom in all your naked glory, a hair less confident than you’d hope to be around Ushijima.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ushijima sat at his dining table and gazed aimlessly at his phone, fingers absentmindedly drifting over the tablecloth.
As soon as his phone jumped to life with a call, he answered it so quickly Satori on the other end had to mentally recollect himself.
“That serious, huh, Wakatoshi,” he said, trying to keep some ounce of humor in his voice.
“I had sex with (y/n).”
The coffee Tendou was sipping rocketed itself out of his sinuses like lava out of a cartoon volcano, thankfully away from any innocent civilians of Paris and significantly away from his phone he *just* finished paying off.
“D-did you now?” A small disbelieving giggle bubbled out from the redhead, “You wanted to call me so seriously because you lost your virginity?”
“... No.”
“Eh?”
“She is… upset. She said she hates me.”
“Ohh… well, Wakatoshi, I’m sure you know after years of playing beside her that she’s pretty complex, right? That’s the vibe I got right away from her. Complex… and obviously in love with you,” Tendou mused about, unconsciously wiggling with happiness in his seat from hearing his best friend look over his romantic options. He just wants the best for Wakatoshi and he thought to himself that a relationship would certainly help with some of his lacking social skills.
“I still don’t see that.”
“Eh? She has to like you! She told me!”
“That was years ago.”
And Wakatoshi was right. It *was* years ago. You would know, you’d spend every year bitterly waiting for a time when he would look less busy or maybe a moment where you thought he could see you as an equal. But you could never tell that, and it hurt much less to villainize and hate him than recognize someone you saw everything you wanted in someone just wasn’t interested in you. It was a way to protect yourself from abandonment… that’s what your high school counselor had said. You wondered, as you stood around a corner with your towel clad back to a wall, listening in to a conversation you shouldn’t be listening to, what she would say now about the situation you were in.
“Wakatoshi, you’re not being yourself. The Wakatoshi I know doesn’t beat around the bush, yet for the past few months you’ve been either avoiding confronting her or you’re avoiding how you feel,” Tendou squinted into his iced coffee, scrutinizing it for an answer.
Ushijima traced an absent-minded pattern into the tablecloth again, “I am. She hates me, she told me.”
“She’s keeping herself safe since she’s waited so long. I almost understand- it’s easier to hate someone than get rejected in her eyes, I think. Mina told me something along the lines of a personality disorder? She said it sounds like one of those.”
Of course Mina and Tendou had a little confidant powwow to discuss your private feelings. What was this, gradeschool? See if you’ll ever talk to her about anything like this again. Still… you listened in, waiting for the call to end.
“Wakatoshi, it’s still a better bet to just tell her.”
Your heart hammered in your chest. Certainly your hopes were getting up about this…
“I can’t.”
“How about you acknowledge it, then? Just acknowledge how you feel and it should feel better. I do that sometimes and it makes me feel great!”
“... I am attracted to (y/n).”
Your breath felt heavy, this couldn’t be real. He can’t feel this way.
“And?”
“And… I want her to not hate me and be my partner.”
You grip your towel harder, legs growing a bit weak hearing those words.
“So?” Tendou pushed, humor never leaving the edge of his voice.
“So… I’ll tell her… that I don’t want her to hate me,” Ushijima managed out, not hiding what hurt and emotional exhaustion he could portray in his voice.
You clapped your hand over your mouth and gently slid to the floor, guilt gripping your chest in a vice and twisting it so harshly you thought you would pass out. He *did* see you as an equal. He *did* find you attractive. And you told him you hated him and saw him as nothing more than an object.
You did your best to hide an unattractive choke of a sob behind your palm. The rest of the conversation was hard for you to focus on as burning tears trickled from your eyes and down your face. It took years to build these walls up and to make a perfect façade others found attractive and yet it was being torn down and destroyed violently before you. Your other hand knotted itself in your freshly washed hair and pulled to alleviate the yearning for some form of penance for making someone you loved so much go through enough pain that they needed advice.
The euphoria of this acceptance- this discovery- was burned into you through the unforgiving blade of your self-hatred and inability to properly understand others. You hated what you did to Wakatoshi. You hated that you made someone better than you suffer. And you hated that no matter what, you had no idea how to make it better. The thrum of blood rushing to your head is deafening and your eyes are squeezed shut to hopefully make this episode end soon. Your breathing is so heavy and shaking, you feel dizzy and like you might pass out soon…
Your lean form was tugged into a strong chest. Your eyes shot open as you realized you were caught.
“... I’m sorry. I made you cry again,” the rumble of his voice soothed the burning static of your brain. You’d do anything to make this episode stop, but when you open your mouth to tell him how sorry you are, it comes out as a hysteric sob. You grip onto his shirt as it becomes incredibly hard to get your words out.
He gently rubs your back, eyes closed in a flinch at how you responded and the fear that you may never even look his way again choked him slightly.
Finally, you managed to speak again.
“I’m sorry, I’m so-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence without hiccuping. He doesn’t stop his soothing movements.
“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he states, unsure of how he should start explaining himself.
“No… I’m glad…” you wiped your eyes and tried to pull away from him, still trembling a bit from your episode, “I’m glad you like me. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”
He makes a sound of affirmation and holds you even tighter, hiding his face in your shoulder.
“If you want me to be your girlfriend, I will,” you clarify. His movements stop.
“Ah… it would make me very happy if you were, (y/n),” he said into your bare nape. You were unfamiliar with his newfound shyness, and you attempted to soothe him back by scratching the back of his head softly.
“Then I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”
#hq#anisylum#sfw collab#ushijima x reader#as an object#collab#fanfic#wakuni mina#i mentioned her in this but click that tag for more of her
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I haven't been writing a lot lately because my recovery has been taking a wild turn and in lack of anyone to talk to or therapy, I'll be writing about it here! I'll put it under a cut. There are some descriptions of recovery going very wrong, and also explanations of things I was wrong about.
So since the pandemic started I've been deteriorating badly, first I've been processing trauma extensively, having intense breakdowns and gradually it turned into depression from lack of stimulation, I've been completely alone for months without speaking to, or seeing anyone. I thought it was the isolation getting to me, and decided I just need to endure that, indulge in whatever coping I could and wait for it to end. And then things got worse.
Even as normally I was seeing some very slow progress in recovery; now it was going backwards; I was having less and less ability to get anything done, I wasn't able to force myself to do my job for months, I kept getting stuck in bed for weeks, chronic pain got so bad I couldn't move on most days. And, it only kept going worse.
My breakdowns stared to be about the present instead of the past; I couldn't handle being in pain all the time. As in before I would recover from a breakdown within a day or two, now it took 4 days to a week, and the trauma episodes would last for hours, so intense I'd find myself hoping I would die during it.
And then, I started losing all mobility and this seriously freaked me out. Everything above I've already experienced before, without long term consequences, but now my body was losing function in a way that felt permanent; I could no longer move for more than few minutes, and without extensive pain. Sometimes I would try to get up and end up collapsing and screaming from how much it hurt, I would move my arm and my whole body would experience a shock of intense pain. I was scared, I no longer knew what was going on, I was suspecting something more than ptsd was wrong. I've forced myself into physical activity, trying to fight this, I tried stretching, exercising, running, punching, and every single one of these activities made it incredibly worse. I thought I had broken my body by laying down too much. I no longer felt anything but terror and dread, and kept spiralling into scenarios of my own death; it felt inevitable, I wasn't going to survive without ability to move, nobody would take care of me.
I tried out medicine that helps relaxing, it had minimal effect. Then, in desperation to check if this was all ptsd, I attempted self harm, to see if it erases the pain. It did. It lowered the pain significantly It was a big relief, even though I wasn't happy with resorting to that, at least I could move around for a while, and I was grateful for that. Times couldn't be more desperate, and the measure felt fitting. I was still in a very bad shape, and the pain was only somewhat lessened.
It was about that time someone sent me the Complex PTSD book; I had wanted it for a while and immediately went to read it. I felt some relief reading it, and I was struck with the realization that I have not felt any relief in more than a year. It also surprised me with some of the exact descriptions of my behaviour, that I didn't realize was a symptom. I thought it was necessary and smart of me to live in hiding, to avoid interaction and never connect to anyone; it kept me safe. It turns out it's a regular freeze response to trauma; I got very called out for it. It also explains that a freeze response is what people use when anything else doesn't work, and it's true! I had been fighting, fawning and perfecting myself desperately prior to realizing that absolutely nothing helps, and froze to survive. It also described that freeze types are capable of surviving prolonged isolation because their brains produce hormones that relax the body as if they're going thru a moment before death; also true for me, I've been aware my brain does that, only I get that way too often, and it only helps me marginally because I'm too used to it.
Another thing I was very wrong about was my concept of my inner critic; I thought I had already won that battle, because I did not allow any voice in my head to criticize me (my alters can drag me affectionately), and I generally didn't experience a lot of shame or guilt for what I was going thru. The book describes inner catastrophizer, which is an extention of the critic, and it causes you to spral into extremely negative scenarios of your own demise. Now that.. was happening to me every single day, I saw myself dead around every corner. But I always thought my fears about that were perfectly reasonable. I had been tortured into suicidal state as a kid and nobody cared, I barely escaped with my life from there, I was living illegally, in hiding, without a normal job or regular income, without close friends or any family, with ptsd i couldn't get diagnosed for, without ability to work due to ptsd, in a capitalistic society where being able to work is only thing between you and dying. I had, by that point, gained many skills of survival, but it still felt very reasonable to fear that I would die if I don't get better soon.
The book described people who had families, jobs, social circles, friends and community, who spiraled into deep fear of becoming homeless and dying on the street; somehow their spiraling was exactly the same as mine, and it made me realize that it was, in fact, a symptom, and not reflection of reality. Because I was spiraling even when laying in my bed or eating or sleeping, knowing I could still afford rent for months because I arranged my life to allow myself to lay down a lot. I kept fearing my parents were coming to end my life, even when I arranged my entire existence specifically to prevent this from happening. And even if I was sick and without a real job, I had in fact, survived for 5 years after running away, I wasn't getting worse at it. My spiraling into death scenarios was a symptom of being trapped within a flashback.
The book guided me to try to challenge these fears, I immediately went for it, had a breakdown, screamed "I can't" for like an hour, had additional few breakdowns afterwards, and miraculously, recovered from them in only few hours. And then, I woke up from my flashback.
I won't describe what the flashback was, because it's too gruesome and horiffic, but it was in fact, bad enough to warrant every single bit of that pain I was experiencing, and a very convoluted, complex trauma. I was waiting to be killed in that flashback. Whats concerning is, I've been trapped in that same flashbacks for more than a year. After I broke my way out of it, it felt like I woke up to being alive for the first time in years. I got out being frozen in bed.
For 5 amazing days, I was able to do whatever I wanted. Chronic pain? I didn't know her. It was absoluely exhilirating to get to move again, I was not getting tired either, I was out there making up for months of doing nothing and I was not collapsing at any point. I felt actual joy again, and hope, and being free from pain was so extremely good, that alone made me ecstatic. I was able to create, to be organized, to take care of myself, to follow a checklist, to focus, I was a Normal Person for those 5 days.
And then, predictably, I was getting back stuck in that flashbacks and my levels of terror and dread spiked again. I went to re-read the book, and it took me a few days to really figure it out again, I don't know exactly how the book works on me, I feel like it says just the right keywords to trigger me into realizations and causes breakdowns that set me free. I found myself able to stop some spiraling, but sometimes I can't, that flashback holds immense power over me and is actually mixed with 10 other near-death scenarios that are too extreme for me to process, so this will keep happening. I did break free again, and got to experience additional few days of movement and happiness; I also started working extensively with my child alter, who was until recently extremely suicidal and dangerous to work with.
I am still kinda lost in all of this, and unsure whats going on, but I do believe I wont get trapped in a flashback again for a whole year. I became so anxious and helpless due to isolation, I forgot how to fight trauma, I forgot I actually had to do it. I used to do it constantly in the beginning, but it had made me suicidal back then to face all this, so I tried to just let it heal naturally, which I believed would eventually happen; but it didn't, I got trapped and suffered without knowing how to get out. I also believed my own spiraling was a reflection of reality and not trauma, and that fueled it a lot.
It explains very eloqently in the book how inner catastrophizing comes from being massively neglected; children who are not looked after start to realize just how unprotected they are, so their own sense of danger becomes hypersensitive and starts to lock on possible dangers everywhere. This is then further aided by media that points out every possible bad thing that could happen to a person, and the child who isn't guided by adult who could actually make a reasonable distinction between real and unlikely danger, will clock it all as absolute possibilities and be on alert. It's also fueled by the line of disasters and dangers that happen to them in the context of their own home, and for me, the strongest factor was my parents constantly convincing me that I would die without them. Even though I proved this wrong, and understand they did it precisely because they knew there was a lot of survival ability in me and that's why they worked so hard to destroy it, the fact that it was brainwashed into me under circumstances of torture still makes it impossible for me to fight it.
Maybe one day I will be able to.
I'm writing this because writing things down helps to make sense of it all, and I need to find my way thru this. I also hope someone else will see themselves in what I'm describing and it will help them find a way forward. Complex ptsd is the only book I found that speaks from the point of view of a person who survived cptsd, healed from it, and had so much experience with other traumatized people they're able to draw parallels and create patterns and statistics out if it, it was that more than anything that convinced me of their words, and gave me hope. The book also warns many times of how essential it is to reduce inner critic and catastrophizer before getting other recovery work done, other therapy might only do further harm before this work is done. It was true for me.
If you wanna read this book, here's a post with the links!
#cptsd#complex ptsd#ptsd recovery#tw self harm#story of recovery#trauma#abuse recovery#trauma symptoms#chronic pain#chronic exhaustion#freeze response
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attack on titan!au, mark lee x reader
word count: 3.4k words
warnings: head injury, physical fighting (for training purposes), descriptions of death, mention of knives and cult
note: will be working through this series slowly! hope u all like this xx
nct dream aot au masterlist
The first time you laid eyes on Mark Lee was in that iconic dusty courtyard. Bearing in mind he was being ripped into by Commander Shadis.
‘And what about you, Lee?’
A twelve year old Mark Lee’s eyes shone with tears of fear. He was clearly somewhat sheltered from the horrors of this world; hailing from the town of Jinae, southern Wall Maria alongside fellow cadet Marco Bott. The two of them were the image of innocence, although they barely knew each other, both round-faced and freckly.
Mark had cowered beneath Shadis’ gaze, likely having never been spoken to in such a way, especially not by his loving family. You felt drawn to him. What was he doing here?
That night he barely said much, nibbling on stale bread. You could tell he did not want to eat, but food was scarce, so he kind of had to. He listened intently to the words of Eren Yaeger who spoke about his experiences with the Colossal Titan on that infamous day two years ago.
Days faded into weeks. You passed your own balance test with flying colours, as did Mark, who’s face would become screwed up whenever his feet left the ground.
While you formed a casual alliance with Sasha, promising to go easy on each other during combat training, Mark swapped anecdotes with Marco and sharpened his wooden knife with Reiner.
One day Commander Shadis had demanded you pair up with Mikasa (likely because he was sick of you and Sasha throwing fake punches) and you were so distracted by Mark that she easily flipped you over, an ‘oof’ escaping your mouth as you hit the ground. When your back makes contact with the sand, your head snaps back, hitting the ground hard.
‘Wait, I didn’t mean that,’ Mikasa mumbles, seemingly unsure as to what to do.
Everything goes pitch black for a split second. When your eyes do open, your head is spinning, black spots dotting the sky above you like stars. You hear Commander Shadis yelling for the first-aid specialist cadets.
Admittedly in that moment you had absolutely no clue who was part of that squad. At this point in your training years, you were especially focused on yourself, working on your own skills and specialities. But when Mark Lee comes barrelling across the training yard your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.
‘Are you alright?’ He asks you as soon as he kneels down beside you, ‘can you see?’
Mark sounds far more concerned and more urgent than you feel, which you find somewhat charming, but your head is still spinning.
‘Mark, remember the procedures,’ Thomas Wagner seems to be somewhat supervising him.
‘Oh, uh,’ Mark holds up three fingers and waves them around as if to confuse you a little, ‘how many fingers am I holding up?’
He’s peering over you, almost like a pet trying to get your attention. You feel your chest swell at how cute he looks.
You blink, trying to decide whether or not you should play up your injury for his attention or get up so you can continue training.
‘Three,’ you mutter, deciding that returning to combat training was worth more than gaining the sympathy of a cute boy.
Mark and Thomas exchange a look.
‘Do you think you can sit up?’ Mark asks, eyebrows furrowed together in concern.
‘I don’t know,’ you mumbled, ‘I’ll try…’
You prepare yourself to have to lift yourself off the dirty ground, but you jump about a mile in the air when he holds the back of your head in his hand, slowly supporting your head as you sat up.
‘I’m sorry, Y/N,’ Mikasa apologises quietly.
‘It’s okay,’ you croak, ‘it’s my fault.’
‘Come on Y/N, we’ll have to take you back to your dorm room to lay down,’ Thomas has a sharp tone of authority, so you don’t even try to argue.
‘Dude, she can’t even stand,’ Mark points out.
‘How about you carry her then,’ Thomas huffs, turning on his heel to deal with some other cadet’s grazed arm.
‘I-I-Is that okay?’ Mark stutters, hand still on the small of your back as he held you up.
You nod groggily, ‘it’s okay.’
And so he scoops you up in his arms, and you automatically cling onto his neck. Mark is incredibly gentle, hand under your leg splayed out as to not touch your thigh.
You’re sleepy at this point, so the walk back to your dorm house is slow.
Mark tilts you to the side to twist the doorknob, the door loudly creaking open.
‘Which bunk is yours?’
‘Right beside the window,’ you mumble, ‘bottom bunk.’
He walks you over slowly, almost as though you were a baby in his arms, before gently lowering you down into your bed.
‘Are you comfortable?’
You nod, shifting around under the duvet to try and get comfortable.
‘Good. I’ll send one of the girls in occasionally to check on you,’ he says, ‘I hope you feel better soon.’
And then he shuffles out, clicking the door shut as quietly as possible.
‘How’s your head?’
‘Huh?’
The cafeteria is relatively empty, it being late than the normal scheduled eating time. You had finished up with your cleaning duties a bit later than usual, hence why you were eating bread at nearly 10pm.
You had been interrupted by a certain Jinae resident.
‘Your head… have you been feeling better? I’ve been worried.’
‘You have?’ Your heart nearly skips a beat at the thought of him worrying about you, hoping that you’re alright, ‘I’m just fine Mark, all thanks to you.’
You don’t miss the way a pink blush creeps up his neck, and he avoids your gaze.
‘It’s what I’m trained to do,’ he brushes it off, ‘what kind of medic would I be if I couldn’t help?’
‘You’re incredibly selfless.’
‘Not really,’ Mark shrugs, ‘it’s the right thing to do.’
’Still selfless.’
He looks up at you then, trying to read your emotions.
‘I just mean that, in this world, people are selfish. People always care more about saving themselves than saving others. So you’re different, in that way.’
‘You think people care more about themselves than others?’
‘I-I saw a lot of things during the fall of Maria.. When my town was under attack, the titans had destroyed some of the houses, and there were people inside, who couldn’t get out. And they were shouting- screaming for someone to help them move the wood or the rubble but nobody listened. I told my dad to help them, obviously I couldn’t myself because I was only nine, but he didn’t. He told me that we had to leave ourselves, that we were responsible for ourselves. Now I know that those people died. They died because my father refused to help, because I was too weak. That’s most of the reason why I’m here, to help people if that were to happen again.’
‘I think your dad just cared about his family.’
‘In the refugee camps, I saw people steal food from other families, have knife fights over money and blankets. We were all in the same position, displaced and traumatised. I don’t know why people were so unwilling to help each other.’
‘Where are your family now?’ Mark asks innocently enough, but you feel your heart sink a bit.
‘My dad was sent out on the recapture mission, you know, when they tried to retake Wall Maria. He died.’
‘Oh I’m-‘ Mark looks at you with wide eyes, as if he had no idea how to react.
‘I don’t really feel any way about it,’ you admit, interrupting him, ‘he was comfortable letting those people trapped in the houses die terrified. I’m sure he had enough time to prepare himself for death before he left, and as he rode his horse out of Trost. I knew he was going to die when he said goodbye to me, and I was quite numb to it then too. My mother left me and my siblings alone in that camp and went to work in the interior to actually make money. I imagine she’s a prostitute or something. I don’t know. I don’t hear from her.’
‘Does she know you’re here?’
‘Maybe. My siblings may have told her. Anyway. Enough about me, what about you?’
‘My older brother is in the Military Police,’ Mark explains, ’the grand jewel of our family… I think my parents want me to follow in his footsteps. But I have no idea what I want to do yet.’
‘Do you think you’ll get in the top ten?’
‘Probably not. I’m not as fit or strong as Reiner, or even Annie. And I don’t have Armin’s brains or intellect. I’m kind of just in the middle.’
‘You have Eren’s will,’ you point out, ‘you care about helping people.’
‘You’re really comparing me to Eren?’ Mark chuckles.
‘I’m not saying you’re arrogant, just that you have the passion.’
‘I know. I just don’t think I have the passion for being a member of the Military Police. I don’t think they really help people as much as I want to.’
‘They’re very culty,’ you grimace, ‘so weird.’
Mark chuckles, ‘you’re not wrong. Every time I see my brother he’s walking around the interior with a huge gun, probably bullying some random kids.’
‘Do you know what regiment you want to go into?’ You ask.
‘I’m still weighing my options,’ he shrugs, ‘the Garrison always seemed like the easy route, just patrolling the streets and sitting around all day. But now they’re basically partners with the Survey Corps. If the walls get broken, they have to fight alongside each other. Either way, I’m fighting titans. It’s mainly just a decision of how often I want to.’
’Wall Rose hasn’t fallen,’ you point out, ‘it’s been nearly three years.’
‘As time goes on, it gets more likely,’ he remarks darkly, eyes fixed on the table, ‘by the sounds of it, this colossal titan seems intelligent. Who knows when it will decide to strike next. Our lecturer said that titan behaviour is incredibly unpredictable.’
‘Don’t you think we’ll be prepared enough to fight by then?’
‘It’s the Royal Government that comes up with the evacuation and fighting strategies. They care more about the preservation of the interior than those in the outer walls. They probably half-arsed the whole plan. As for our training, remember what Commander Shadis said on our first day. Most of us will just be titan feed in the end.’
‘You’re strong though, Mark,’ you state gently, as if he were sobbing and you were trying to console him.
‘You think so?’
‘I know you are. I watch you fight for future every single day.’
Mark stays silent, mulling over your words.
‘You really inspire me to try harder myself. And you’ll be an incredible soldier.’
When Mark continues to be silent, your eyes dart around the room. You catch the gaze of Sasha, who is stuffing her face with the tiny amount of leftovers.
She wiggles her eyebrows at you teasingly, before getting up and walking out of the cafeteria.
‘Nice one Y/N!’ Mark yells as you land a kick on Sasha’s shin, prompting her to fall to the floor clutching her leg.
‘Ow, Y/N!’ She shrieks, ‘I thought you said you would go easy on me!’
‘No titan will go easy on you, Braus,’ you hear Annie comment flatly.
Sasha huffs while Mark comes up behind you, gently turning you around by your elbow and giving you a high ten.
‘You’ve gotten so much better recently,’ Mark compliments, ‘I’m so proud of you!’
’Thanks Mark,’ you grin, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat by his words.
‘Yeah, nice going,’ Sasha grumbles, wiping down her now dusty thighs and shins, before turning on her heel and walking off to find Connie.
‘I still feel as though my fighting skills are a bit lacking to be honest,’ he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
‘Really? Who have you been practicing with?’
‘…Armin.’
‘Ah.’
‘Not to say that he’s weak or anything- he’s definitely not. There’s just a certain level you can get to where you just can’t improve anymore.’
No, I know what you mean,’ you try to empathise.
‘Maybe we can practice together? I-I mean, your usual partner is kind of… limping away, and I just think that you’re really great at this kind of stuff-‘
‘Mark,’ you giggle, reaching out and touching his shoulder, ‘it’s okay. We can fight. But just know, I’ll win.’
You take a few steps back as he laughs nervously. You drop your smile for a much more intimidating glare, raising your arms up.
‘Ready, Lee?’
Mark nods, awkwardly holding his own arms up to mirror your own.
You both stare at each other for a few seconds before either one of you strikes. You lunge forwards at him, swinging your right arm around his neck, to trap him in a headlock. He splutters in your ear, flailing his own limbs around in an attempt to wriggle out of your grip, but fails to do so when you throw out your leg and clip the side of his ankle with your foot, sending both of you to the ground.
He lands first, back impacting against the ground with a thud and a grunt from Mark.
You had imagined that he would let you go as he tumbled to the ground, but he doesn’t, clinging onto your arms and bringing you down with him.
A split second later, you’re also making contact with something, but not the ground. Your abdomens clash together, causing you to make an automatic ‘oof’ sound.
It takes you a while to adjust to the situation. You’re face to face, legs tangled together. There’s orange dust in Mark’s hair, sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes squinting while trying to get used to the sun, cheeks and nose red with the heat, lips-
There’s a few moments of silence, the two of you studying each others faces.
‘Ar-are you ok?’ You stammer, and for a few seconds he does not respond, still just staring at you.
‘Oh! I’ll get off,’ you shake your head, unraveling your twisted legs and clambering off of him, much to Mark’s silent disappointment.
‘Uh, you did good!’ You murmur, ‘just, um, try not to be caught off guard, next time.’
When you turn to walk away, you don’t fail to notice the way Krista and Mina are sitting on the steps of the watchtower, whispering frantically to each other.
You don’t see Mark for a few days after that. Training becomes infinitely more rigorous, since you were split into four groups and sent to different parts of the forest for field training.
You had spent several days trekking through the rain and snow with your backpack on, and afterwards spending a few days recuperating.
Mark was in a different group than you, hence why you did not see him. It feels weird that he’s not there, like there’s a part of you missing, but overall you somewhat enjoy your few days away.
It also gives you the perfect opportunity to completely forget about your weird moment during your fight, and focus on building relationships with other cadets.
‘You don’t think Marco is cute?’ Mina exclaims with wide eyes.
‘No, I mean he’s ok-‘
‘Just okay?’ Hannah Diamant replies, absolutely stunned at your indifference.
‘She only says so because she has her eyes on Lee,’ Sasha teases, sticking her tongue out when you turn to glare at her.
‘Do not!’ You argue.
‘Do too!’ Sasha is in fits of giggles, ‘and he clearly likes you too.’
‘I doubt it,’ you mumble, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed.
’Nah, he definitely likes you,’ Mina chimes in.
Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde had been paying a bit of extra attention to your conversation.
Hence why you were here now, violently stabbing at your dinner with a fork, glaring holes into Krista Lenz’s back while she whispered to Mark Lee.
‘I thought she was going out with that Ymir girl?’ You don’t have a clue who’s speaking to you. Your brain is swimming with anger, so fuzzy you can hardly think straight.
When Krista goes to whisper in Mark’s ear again, she places a hand on his shoulder, after which you’re plotting ways in which you could cut her fingers off.
’I wouldn’t worry,’ Sasha shrugs, ‘we know, and I mean we all know he’s in love with you.’
‘Even if you’re right, which you are not, I’m not her.’
‘Don’t be so worried you idiot,’ Mina half snaps half chuckles, ‘you’re gorgeous. And a total catch, obviously. Mark Lee would be dumb to not want you.’
Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.
‘What the actual fuck,’ you mutter, sitting straight up in your bottom bunk bed, coming centimetres from smacking your head.
You whip your head in the direction of the source of the noise.
And there he stands, Mark Lee, in the purple night at your window.
‘What the hell?’ You mouth.
He beckons, asking you to come outside.
You give him an incredulous look, trying to be as quiet as physically possible while getting out of bed and putting on your jacket and boots.
‘What sort of time do you call this?’ You exclaim, exasperated.
‘The best time to go to the lake.’
You can’t help but notice the smirk on his face as he turns on his heel, walking down the gravel path.
You quickly look around for possible bystanders, before following him.
His lantern lights the way as you walk down the hill in a comfortable silence, arms swinging at every bump and skip in your step.
The lake is glittering at this time of night, especially because of how high and bright the moon is in the sky.
‘I like to sit and have picnics in the moon rather than the sun. The food doesn’t melt and I don’t get sunburned.’
‘We’re having a picnic?’ You practically squeak, eyes widening to basically the same size as the moon above.
‘Well, uh, no, we are in a food shortage,’ Mark stammers, ‘but I did swipe some bread from Armin. Well I mean, he gave it to me, said he would take one for the team or whatever…’
’Thank you Mark,’ you interrupt him, grinning uncontrollably, ‘this is really sweet.’
‘But if it’s any constellation, I would’ve loved to have made you a picnic. When they take back the wall I promise I’ll make up a nice spread of food.’
‘Where’s all this come from, Mark?’ You wonder aloud.
‘I’ve just had a realisation recently,’ he admits, gulping.
‘What is it?’
‘I really like you, Y/N,’ he confesses, taking both of your hands in his and rubbing them with his thumbs, ‘and I know that you probably don’t feel the same, and that we definitely have much bigger things to focus on, but-‘
You cut him off by practically launching yourself at him, kissing him.
For a moment he is stiff as a board underneath you with his surprise, before relaxing and reciprocating your kiss.
For a while you sit there, under the watchful eye of the moon, eventually peeling away from each other when you become breathless.
‘I like you too, Mark. Being with you takes me away from this horrible reality. And I don’t know what the future will be like, but I know that I want you in it.’
‘I feel exactly the same way,’ he whispers, still holding your hands.
‘We have to pick our regiments really soon. I think that I might join the survey corps,’ you say, staring out into the lake.
‘I’ll go wherever you go,’ Mark murmurs, rubbing your cheek with his hand, which you lean into.
You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, your head resting on his shoulder, Mark occasionally turning his head to kiss your hair.
‘What made you decide to tell me this now?’ You ask.
‘Well, let’s just say I got some encouragement from Krista and Sasha.’
’I should’ve known,’ you chuckle, ‘I’ll get them back later.’
Mark laughs, perking up slightly as though he had remembered something.
‘Ready to crack open the bread, baby?’
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Oh, no no it's not an issue at all! I don't mind it's alright! Focus and take care of yourself first and foremost! :>
And yes! I'll be doing her template once I actually find the time to draw her in her outfit and also for the mini scenes! Also I've actually ended up changing her name to Yaren instead since I was told by some people that Yuren sounded like another english word for something else (unfortunate :'D), I don't think that should change the kanji all that much but ahh I'm unsure.
Anyway sorry for the very long blabber, I did want to say what Yaren's quirk is! Her hero name is a WIP between Waterdog, Waterpuppy, Lottie or something else entirely.
Her quirk is called Axolotl, which gives her the humanoid appearance of an axolotl and is able to do anything an axolotl can do. Having gills to breathe underwater, but also lungs to live on land, a tail to swim really fast and also incredibly fast regeneration! She's usually better suited to fight underwater. She can heal almost any part of her body, minor cuts, severed limbs and even internal organs and brain! The latter however take days to weeks to heal, everything else can take seconds or minutes depending how much blood she's willing to lose to heal quicker.
Drawbacks however include her skin being irritable and sore if she's not in water long enough so she carries a water spray to help deal with it if it starts getting sore, she's very sensitive to toxins and pollution and if she overdoes her regeneration she'll get permanent scars on those areas and will be harder to heal properly next time. Plus if she overdoes it in any part of her body, she can lose too much blood and become paralyzed or pass out from blood loss.
Extra tid bits include how her skin is naturally a light pink but if she's in water long enough it turns darker and black like a wild axolotl which helps with camouflage and much much later probably in second year or third, she finds out her saliva or blood has regenerative abilities on others if they consume it or if it's placed on a wound!
I am so so sorry that was incredibly long, her quirk is pretty detailed as I've thought and researched about it a lot! I do have issue with trying to find a way to make her able to battle, and the only idea I got is that when she gets injured she can force her body to react to it to have an adrenaline rush which makes her strong enough for a while. That and also in water, due to her high speed and better suited environment she's able to sneakily attack enemies with quick powerful punches or kicks added to her quick swim speed! Thank you for reading and I am so sorry it's so long, please please don't rush yourself replying to this! As I said take care of yourself and thank you for your help! :D
Hi!
Sorry for the late reply again! (Life is busy.)
Yeah I didn't realize the english word thing either. But like I said in my original post, there are other readings to use, or the option of rearranging the name. ("ya", like has been mentioned before, is not a reading for that kanji, so it'd be a kirakira reading if anything. Unlike in English, changing one letter of a name to make it more unique doesn't work the same way in Japanese since it changes the meaning entirely in normal cases.) One of my previous suggestions in the first post were "Yujin/Yuzin" because the kanji for "ren" could be read that way in Japanese (as previously mentioned, "ren" is not a Japanese reading, but a Chinese one), but if you're set on using "ren" you could always rearrange it to "Renyu", or use the other readings for the "yu" kanji and make "Renie" or "Reniya" or something. Or you could still change "ren" and get "Jinie" or "Jiniya" or "Jinyu", among other things.
As for the quirk, it's already really well-thought-out and thorough! I don't know if you actually need to expand on it because that's already a lot of skills (I like the bit about the camouflage, and the later-in-school-years leaning how to heal others). I think it's a careful balance between being realistic and being overpowered (which can lead to potential mary-sue moments if you're being wary about that, but it's your character and if you have fun with it you can do whatever you want--besides, in canon Izuku's got that going on himself lol). You don't really need the bit about "when she's injured she can force her blood to give her an adrenaline rush and make her super strong", that feels like too much tbh.
I think the thing about trying to give her quirk so many applications is that you're trying to wield her powers over too many fields. You want her to be a battler but also good at sneaking/surprise attack tactics but also good at rescue (which is what I thought her powers would fit! Being good at being underwater and also healing? Rescuing people seems perfect for her!) but there IS such as thing as being spread too thin. Even in-universe or in-story or wherever you're planning to use her, if you have her try to do EVERYTHING, realistically she's going to burn out. It's good to have ambition, but even most characters in MHA don't have that many focuses.
I forget which characters canonically have certain career goals, but I know for certain there are several characters whose quirks and personalities are geared more toward being disaster/rescue heroes (like the Wild Wild Pussycats) or support heroes (like Nighteye) than toward reaction/responsive heroes (like All Might) or stealth heroes (like Eraserhead, but I think his type of hero work is also arguable and fits under multiple umbrellas). It's like in the very first arc where there's a bunch of heroes standing around not helping Bakugou when he was caught in that slimy villain because they knew their quirks weren't suited to that situation--it's not cowardly, but it's realistic, when they know their quirks can do more harm than good in certain situations, even if they wanted to help.
I think that's what applies here, with your character. Yes, I understand wanting her to be able to adapt to any situation, but I think there's a point where you have to give her a goal and set her toward it. Does she want to be on the frontline reacting to villain attacks as they come and going out to apprehend them first-hand, or does she want to pre-emptively stop villains before they can rise by doing investigation and stealth work, or does she want to use her incredibly fit biology to help others when disaster strikes and there's no villain involved at all? Sure she can have ambition like Bakugou or Izuku who want to be the best #1 hero, but even they have their focuses (both are reactive striker types!) and while Izuku is adaptive (ie. he's strategic and well-prepared for a raid strike to surprise attack the base Nighteye found, or he rescued people stuck under buildings and whatnot during that exam and had good "bedside manner" for lack of a better term when dealing with rescuees) most of his actual quirk training has gone toward being brute force and quick response toward emergencies and villainous plots.
You can have her be strong but also give her vulnerabilities and that's okay. Like giving her the regeneration powers but also making them necessary because her skin or bone structure is weak like a real axolotl's, which would make her not very suited to brute force situations but that's fine because if she were perfect for speed and stealth and also brute force then it wouldn't give room for conflict or growth in your story. Forcing her to work around her weaknesses is one of those things that could make her stronger--make her more aware of herself or her surroundings or her limits or what she's willing to sacrifice (like Izuku in the entrance exam--can she afford to break her bones if it meant saving someone?) but it doesn't make the weaknesses go away, and working past those weaknesses isn't going to invalidate that they exist. She's not going to win every time--that would be boring wouldn't it?--and you need to give her ways to lose as well as ways she can triumph.
(A good example of this, and this is the first thing that popped into my mind even though it's not MHA, is Edward Elric from FMA. He's the main character so of course he wins a lot and he's tough and cool and seems like he's so strong. But the most prominent moments in the story are when his prosthetic arm/leg don't work, or he loses them, and he still fights but he's disabled but he's fully aware of this, and having abilities to work through the fights when he's missing an arm doesn't mean he's forgotten that he's missing an arm or that he never needed it to win. It means he found a way to work around those weaknesses and still achieve his goal.)
I kinda lost track of the original question/thought here, but to round back to it--when your character is injured, the adrenaline rush to fight longer or get to safety? That should be all her, that's character traits and determination and strength of will, not part of her quirk. She doesn't need some superpowered adrenaline rush to be part of her quirk, and you don't need to make her "able to battle" if she's not suited for it, unless that's one of her goals (while foregoing the other potentials her powers have--if she's aiming to fight villains face to face, then she's probably not focused on rescuing people or rounding around for a sneak attack, and in that kind of situation she should leave that up to real rescue/response heroes while she's playing distraction and keeping the villains' focus on her!) and if being able to battle ISN'T her main focus, then in a situation where she HAS to, you can make her struggle and that just makes her all the more real and interesting. You can make her get help from her classmates, or you can make her fight and lose and realize she's not suited for battle and switch focus (if it was her original focus) or realize she needs a plan to deal with that in the future while still staying true to her actual goal (if she wanted to focus on rescue for example, and she had to fight a front-line battle and she realizes she's not great at it, then maybe her strategy can just be to run and get a strike in here or there but the ultimate goal is to wait for help and backup to arrive in that case).
That was a lot so I hope it was useful and not too rambly but remember that these are just suggestions! I was just talking ^_^;;
#leafychaotic#asks#replies#archivist#(not directed at you but) general reminder that if you like getting my help please consider donating! thanks <3
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sun shower
description: you happen to be spending your training year in adjacent villages with a certain kim seungmin member: seungmin genre: fluff, witch/wizard au (kiki’s delivery service, a little snow fairy sugar-inspired) word count: 4k note: ‘magical people’ just doesn’t sound awesome enough to be the official gender-neutral term i therefore declare that both the words witch & wizard are gender-neutral choose ur fighter ppl
Seungmin has always had a fascination with the heavens since he was a young boy. His mother specialized in potions but his father was an astronomer, inviting him to stargaze after potion lessons until he had to leave for his training as an independent wizard some 6 months ago. He never vocally said it to his parents but when they received a letter from him in the mail informing them that he has chosen to train in the quaint countrysides of Italy a month into his training, they correctly inferred that he wanted to be specialize in astrology.
For this reason, he finds it bothersome, for a lack of a better word, whenever you, a neighboring witch, would conjure up clouds of rain until the early hours of the night. In your defense, it always happens unconsciously, most often when you’re frustrated because you couldn’t conjure up enough clouds when the sun is still out or when you untimely create clouds right as a storm passes over the countryside.
“Excuse me!” He called to you from the skies on his fifth night in the neighboring town. This was when you first met. You look up at him curiously, surprised at finding a fellow magical person. “Are you causing this?”
He gestures over the thin veils of clouds looming over the full moon. He could tell you were a witch by the runes you read to your root crops.
“Yes, why?”
“I study astrology, you see.” He shows you a familiar book, the standard guide to astrology—you knew because your own mother was an astrologer. “And I can’t really study if it’s too cloudy.”
“O-Oh, sorry.” You stand up from squatting next to your green sprouts, scratching the back of your neck. “It takes me a long time to make them disappear, you see. I swear I’m also working on them!”
“Well, it’s already late and I still have business to attend to later on so it’d be really helpful if you get your clouds out of the way quickly.” He points out, intimidating you a bit.
Because of his dry and rather stern tone, you managed to clear out the sky faster than you’ve ever done at the time. Suffice to say, Seungmin was impressed.
“Thanks! I’m Seungmin, by the way.” “Y/N, nice to meet you and sorry again!”
Now at present, you only have a month left until your training ends yet somehow you can’t seem to master the art of controlling the rain for sun showers, which frustrates Seungmin as much as it frustrates you.
“Maybe you’re overthinking it. Have you tried relaxing?” In the few months you’ve spent being sort of neighbors, you know that Seungmin never means anything malicious, he simply has a sarcastic tone by default.
“I am relaxed.” You insist, puffing out air that resembles smoke in the cold weather. It’s nearing the end of November and you can already feel the snow coming, signalling your impending departure. You try again, concentrating and thinking about how Seungmin’s watching you, “Oh hey, look, I did it!”
To compromise over your clashing work schedules, on the 2nd month of Seungmin’s stay, the two of you came to an agreement that you alternate between your towns, so that Seungmin can monitor you practicing with the weather and make sure that he gets to see the night sky when you’re done. Undeniably, you’ve grown closer from helping each other out (and maybe you’ve even developed a small crush on the side, but you wouldn’t tell him that).
He sits behind you on your rooftop on this particular Sunday, reading a thick book on the movement of constellations, while you levitate over your vegetable garden, eyes trained to the cloudy sky that slowly clears.
“Is this the last thing you need to accomplish?” He asks after a while, having decided after a while to halt reading and observe the sky. You’re halfway through clearing the sky, some hints of sunlight starting to peek through from the remaining clouds. Though he doesn’t show it, he’s proud (and a bit jealous) that you’re almost done with your training.
Without sparing him a glance, you shake your head no. “I still need to perfect my own song to conjure up a sun showers.” You correct as a frown settles on your face.
You control the weather with music. You use a flute for snow and sleet, a harp for the rain, a triangle for thunder and winds, and your own voice to call for the sun and clear skies. The problem with creating a sun shower is that you can’t come up with your own last verse—the one that is supposedly unique to every conjurer, according to your aunt who gave you the sheet music.
“Maybe you need another instrument.” Seungmin suggests but you both know that if there was another instrument for sun showers, your aunt would tell you as a witch who controls the weather herself. “Or the music sheet’s wrong.”
“If it’s wrong, then I would’ve conjured up something else entirely the last time I tried it.” You point out. The last time meaning just a few weeks ago when you tried out your latest revision and conjured up enough clouds but too much rain. “I’m just missing a few measures but my brain’s already too fried to come up with any!”
“Can I see?”
You impatiently hum in approval, finally turning around to briefly look at him and gesture over to your rucksack. “It’s in my bag, knock yourself out.”
You have an idea of Seungmin’s musical ability. He tends to hum to himself while he’s busy with work, you’ve heard in the events you’ve stayed in his place longer to help him see the stars better, and he plays the piano well, especially when he was asked to in his town’s festival. You’ve wondered yourself before why he chose studying astrology over taking control of the weather until he mentioned his home life before going off on his own.
“It does sound hard to complete, especially with what you already have.” He agrees with you after a while. At this point, you’ve managed to clear the skies of heavy rain clouds so you levitate towards him, sitting across from him after penetrating the shield he’s made for himself from the rain that’s passed. “But I think you’re getting there.”
He hums the main melody under his breath, occasionally stopping to brainstorm ideas on what could possibly be missing on your sheet music. To his right, you lay down tiredly on your back, rucksack serving as a makeshift pillow, and turn your body to face him, listening intently to the little notes and comments he makes under his breath. “I just need a balance with the sun and the rain.” You sigh. “The sun is already enough, the rain’s just a little too much.”
“Hm, sounds strangely poetic.” He points out with the same dry tone you’ve grown accustomed to, making you chuckle. “You going through something or what?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it that.” You then turn your body up towards the sky. Now that your clouds were gone, you then realize that the sky’s started turning pink and orange in sunset. “It’s just that, there are some things and people I’m unsure of, I guess.”
He wanted to ask you what, or rather, who exactly you were unsure of. You’re not exactly known for being a social butterfly but you’re not anti-social, either, but if bothered you so much, whatever or whoever you’re referring to must be someone incredibly special to you.
“Hey, can I keep a copy of this?” He opts to ask instead, gaining your attention again.
You nod. “You can take the music sheets, I have it memorized by heart already, anyway.”
“If I can come up with something, I’ll let you know.” He carefully tucks your music sheet between the pages of his book. “You don’t have some kind of deadline, do you?”
“No, it’s okay.” You smile before turning back to the incoming sunset. “Anyway, I’ve had enough of thinking about it for today, let’s just enjoy the sunset before you go back to studying! Ah, what a day.”
Seungmin is evidently surprised, often you mind each other’s businesses and only talk when one needs help or when one is about to leave, but you missed such a rare expression across his face “Okay.” You only hear him say as he closes his book and lays down next to you, using his own messenger bag as a pillow.
Later that night, Seungmin decides to study on your rooftop later than usual, and you hear him singing until you fell asleep.
In the following days, Seungmin kept on humming the final measures of your song along with experimental measures to try and fill in the missing gap. He sings it while gathering (or stealing, depends on who you ask) herbs from your garden, cleaning the room he rents above a dusty bookstore, and even while writing a cohesive prediction for someone in his side business.
It would drive you crazy if only his voice isn’t that great.
“You know, when your training ends, you should also try picking up at least one skill related to music.” You suggest to him a week later while pacing around in his room. You’re supposed to be outside but complained because of the intense heat you can’t seem to tone down. “I highly recommend singing for sunshine.”
“But you do it better.” He’s making you a reading on this particular day since business is slow recently. “You sing and play well.”
Internally, the butterflies already present in your stomach multiply greatly. “So? Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t too?” You manage to counter while trying to recover. “I bet wherever you’re going after your training, they’ll have extraordinarily warmer sun.”
He chuckles nervously. He’s more than halfway through his training already but he doesn’t want to think about that just yet (mostly because he finds it weird thinking about a new place without you in it, but he wouldn’t tell you that). “Really? You think so?”
You nod. “Yeah, I feel—well, I believe you will.” Placing a hand outside a nearby open window, the sun still feels scorching hot on your skin. You didn’t like bringing umbrellas or wearing hats while practicing, it distracts you too much. “Aish, it’s still too hot out!”
“If I do pick up music, I might turn out even better than you.” He teases, stealing a glance over to you and softening up by following with, “But who knows, maybe we’ll bump into each other a few years from now, you’ll probably already settled with somewhere and I’m still looking for a place to call home, then you can teach me.”
Seungmin can’t actually imagine you permanently staying in one place, with your adventurous streak and passion for the outdoors, much less finding someone who makes you stay in one place forever but he forces himself to consider for the sake of theory.
Whoever will catch their eye would truly be exceptional.
You, on the other hand, show evident confusion in your expression while you retract your hand back from the window. “I wouldn’t count myself on the settling down part but sure, I guess, I can teach you a few years from now.”
“Why?” Seungmin looks up at you again and even stops humming, showing you genuine curiosity. It suddenly felt strangely serious.
At this, you simply shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t think it’s a priority for me. I want to see the world! Can you picture me staying in one place forever?”
“No?” He chuckles. “What if you fall in love?”
“If I do, whoever I fall in love with should probably start practicing flying well then.”
When the two of you go out to the farmland behind Seungmin’s lodging later on, you conjure up an almost-perfect sun shower with only a handful of extra clouds left that needs to disappear.
“Seungmin, you’re going to catch a cold, come over here!” When you turn around to show Seungmin your work, you see him flying circles over the empty farmlands instead.
Drenched in light rain, he grows self-conscious of how you think of his flying skilles—all the while debating on whether he should give the last measure of your song to you now, when he’s definitely sure that he enjoys your company, or during Christmas, when it’s the cruelest holiday to leave.
Seungmin eventually gives in after 2 weeks, not that you’d notice anyway since you didn’t know that he wanted to keep you around longer. The sky is already getting cloudy, reminding the two of you of snow, making it harder to practice during the day—Seungmin had to give in while you can still manage to clear the sky before practicing.
“This is it, Seungmin.” You breathe out dramatically through the chilly December breeze. It’s early morning, just a little after the break of dawn, because you were so excited practicing the song with Seungmin last night. “If this last measure makes my perfect sun shower, my last week here would be the best! I’d be the happiest, I swear.”
There was also the fact that you planned on leaving right after the first snow. Sometimes you’re just too cruel, Seungmin thinks.
“I’m sure this is it, I decoded it.” He says as coolly and as confidently as he can.
You say nothing more, proceeding to sing and play the harp according to your sheet music. The song is only 2 minutes long, barely providing any room to feel nervous as you slowly approached the final verse which is supposed to be different for every witch / wizard, hence why it was hard to decode.
As you play, Seungmin watches the clouds form over the pale yellow sunrise, a small smile unconsciously forming on his face that then grows into a wide grin when they stop at just the right amount and started drizzling the vast expanse of houses ahead in light rain. “Y/N, you did it! You did it!”
You didn’t even realize that you’ve had your eyes closed the entire time you sang and played, opening them only when you felt Seungmin spinning around next to you to feel the rain just as the droplets of rain started to dampen your own hair. “I—I did it!”
“You did!” Seungmin turns to you, not even hiding his happiness this time as he then instinctively pulls you into a warm hug. “I’m so proud of you!”
You hug him back tighter, his coat cold and damp against yours. “Thank you, Seungmin.” You catch your breath as you rest your chin against his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
Seungmin only hums, speechless in being so close to you. This was the first time you hugged.
Without his face in your view, you miss the way he momentarily frowns at the thought that you’re now certain and confident to leave—a thought he expertly hides when he pulls away later on and says, “So, will you still practice or do you just leave it at that until you leave?”
You frown at him in annoyance, you really were irked he brought it up, especially since several days have passed since you’ve avoided mentioning it. “Why are you thinking of me leaving already? I have to practice a couple more times before I go, of course!”
“I’m just making sure so in case you stay outside overtime again.” He defends himself, suddenly feeling colder that you’re far away again. “Okay, now try making it stop, it’s getting really cold!”
“Alright, alright!” You roll your eyes, making the clouds disappear. You manage to dry yourselves even with a gush of warmer winds to compensate the two of you getting wet with rain. “Jeez, Seungmin, I thought we were having a moment there!”
Though you said it in a joking manner, of course he didn’t miss the way you showed the slightest hint of being hurt. Seungmin feels his heart drop to his stomach at the thought.
You continue practicing in the days that follow, both early in the mornings and late in the afternoons. Though you keep it cool in front of Seungmin, you notice how quiet he’s suddenly become, how he would hum your song less and literally cover his face with his book whenever you glance over at him for small talk.
“Are you mad?” “No.” “Do you feel awkward too?” “...A bit, yeah.” Would always be your conversation-ender. You know he meant it sincerely because he didn’t use his default dry tone on you but somehow it felt awkward.
What changed?
On your last day, you invited him to dinner.
“I told the landlord you can take this house if you want to.” You mention as the two of you ate strawberry cake. Earlier that day, some of the villagers surprised you with a going-away party since you leave at midnight—the cake was from one of the farmers you helped grow crops faster. “I still have some root crops in the garden, that should last you for a month.”
“It’s fine.” He reassures you for the 2nd time since you started eating. “I want the vegetables, though.”
For a while, it seemed like the awkwardness was gone and you laugh. “If you’re not taking the house, then you might have to have a talk with Mrs. Ross over the vegetables.”
“Then I’ll swipe them later when you go.” And then the awkwardness was back.
“Won’t you see me off later?” You ask, nervously playing with your food as you steal a glance at him.
Across the table, the lone strawberry on Seungmin’s plate suddenly seems interesting even when your gaze pokes on his newly dyed blonde hair. “I’m...I’m helping a villager’s sick child, it might take a while.” He bluffs, a heavy feeling looming over him.
“Oh...” He doesn’t see the frown before you muster up a smile. “That’s alright, I guess.”
“Where do you plan on going?” He finally gathers the courage to look up at you, searching for any sign in your eyes that you’d suddenly stay.
You ponder over the question longer than you usually would, your eyes trailing to the window behind Seungmin as you do so. “It’s snowing.” You mutter absentmindedly.
When Seungmin turns around, your windowsill already has a thin layer of snow.
“It is.” He agrees, eyes suddenly stinging. Am I crying? “It’s the first snow.”
You swore you saw faint hints of tears on Seungmin’s face when you escorted him out later that night but you chose to ignore it, diverting your attention instead to the sky—and for the first time you understood why Seungmin hated night skies wherein the stars aren’t visible.
“A bit dull, I get it now.” You comment as you walk him with him to the main road. When he gives you a questioning gaze, the dry trails of tears shining under the faint street lights, you gesture to the sky. “The starless sky, I mean.”
He follows you, frowning at the lack of stars. The sky seems to radiate off of the two of you. “Yeah, it’s so vague, you could barely read anything.”
Seungmin wakes up the following morning to a sun shower. There’s a thick layer of snow outside his window, even more when he steps out of his lodging later on, yes, but it’s the lone droplet of rain that falls on his cheek as he closes the door behind him on his way out that catches his utmost attention, casting his eyes up to the sky as it begins to drizzle.
At that moment, it fully dawns on him that you never told him exactly where you were going.
Still, he flies to your house, in hopes of any clue somehow. Only, when he arrived, he only saw the landlady, Mrs. Ross there, tending to your garden.
“Oh, Seungmin!” She greets the evidently distressed wizard. “Do you want to take some of the vegetables?”
“N-No, I just thought that—nevermind.”
“If you’re looking for Y/N, they already left last night.” Mrs. Ross says sympathethically to Seungmin. “They didn’t say where they were going.”
Seungmin walks home afterwards, dejected.
It felt wrong, spending an entire day without you afterwards, especially when the sun was out later in the afternoon yet it felt horrifyingly cold.
The week passes by too slowly for Seungmin, even when he decides on devoting half of his day to resuming correspondence with his parents and some friends—away in their own towns. He rarely leaves the house, wandering only as far as the bookstore downstairs, utilizing the never-ending snow as an excuse to his landlord. Your landlady. Mrs. Ross, is probably the only person from outside his building that he sees whenever she drops by to hand him the produce from your garden.
His textbooks have started to blur in front of him whenever he studies and the weather has started feeling dull and repetitive for him.
And so it felt years have already passed when a knock comes to his door beyond the usual time Mrs. Ross would come by. It’s already afternoon, just as Seungmin is about to take a nap.
“Who is it?” He asks as loudly as he can in his drowsy state, almost stumbling over an umbrella stand in the process, but the knock continues, annoyingly chirpy at that.
When he opens the door, you give him no time to prepare himself as you tackle him in a hug. “Kim Seungmin!” You exclaim, throwing your arms to his shoulder.
There’s a slight delay on his part, partly because the sun is shining too warmly and too bright outside but mostly because he instantly recognizes your warmth as you squeeze him tighter. “Wha—? How—?” He stutters, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. Nevertheless, he wraps his arms around your waist, quickly gathering his thoughts together to coherently ask, “Where have you been?!”
“Oh, here and there. I went home to my parents then wandered off aimlessly to some beaches in the South since it’s really cold up here.” You explain as you try and pull away from him but Seungmin uncharacteristically keeps you in place, making you laugh. “Hey, you missed me.”
At this, he buries his face on your shoulder, mumbling a muffled, “Of course I did.” that almost completely melted your heart if it weren’t for him following it with, “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Well, I needed time to think.” When you pull away, he lets you this time, allowing you to step inside his place. It looked the same since you were last here, you notice.
“Of what?”
“Of how I feel for you.” You make sure to say it in the sincerest way you know, feeling light-headed afterwards.
Oh, Seungmin thinks, cheeks flushed, so it’s me?
Seungmin stands there gaping, completely dazed at your short confession until your face is completely red from the heat that you immediately speak again. “Seungmin, say something.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know if you liked me or not.”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
You knit your eyebrows in confusion. “No? If you were, I would’ve actually stayed longer.”
“R-Really?” Now, Seungmin just feels dumb for not being more clear with his feelings.
You nod with a hum, continuing, “I kept dropping hints as best as I can but you just keep mentioning me leaving whenever you can.”
In front of you, you can clearly see Seungmin’s frustration with himself. “I’m sorry, I should’ve still been considerate of how you felt about me mentioning your leave then and I definitely should’ve asked you to stay even when your training did end.” He frowns, more to himself than to you. “B-because I...I really like you too but I also thought that you’d want to go and explore the moment you’re allowed to leave—I didn’t want to keep you waiting if you like me too.”
You shake your head no, a small smile now forming on your lips. “It’s not like the world outside’s going to change.” You take a brave step closer to Seungmin now, cupping his cheeks in your warm hands. “So, what’s—how many months do you have left? Four?—what’s 4 months more of waiting?”
#stray kids#skz#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids au#stray kids oneshot#skz imagines#stray kids oneshots#stray kids scenario#skz imagine#skz scenario#skz au#skz fluff#skz scenarios#kim seungmin#seungmin#stray kids seungmin imagine#stray kids seungmin scenario#stray kids seungmin au#skz seungmin imagines#skz seungmin scenarios#stray kids seungmin scenarios#skz seungmin fluff#stray kids seungmin fluff#seungmin imagine#stray kids imagine#stray kids fluff
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Oooooh Tiiiiinnnnnaaaaa! I have an ask for youuuu~ Could I pwease get some Sammy Wescott? You haven't written for him yet and I reallllly want to see what you could do with him! I have some dialogue prompts for you too! We got - "Are you wearing my shirt?" - "Take it off. Slowly." - "If you keep making those sounds I'm not going to be able to stop myself." Thank you, bless you, I love you! AND most importantly have FUN with this one eh? ❤❤❤ You the best!
Bex! You big-brained and big meat having QUEEN!
I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND YOUR AMAZING PROMPTS!
And as always, I love these boys and I am very happy to finally have written something for Sammy,
He deserves so much love and praise.
I now know that I am addicted to writing for these boys and I will never stop, especially since I need to practice for the collab we got going!
I hope it meets your expectations and I hope you vibe and DIE HAPPY with how it turned out!
Love ya, girl!
❤❤❤
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*
Rating: Explicit
Length: 3.6k
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“Just A Reminder”
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Nothing beat sitting by the fire when the chill in the air was a bit too much and you wouldn’t trade those evenings for the world.
When you weren’t at camp, your family would have bonfires almost every weekend, it was such a relaxing time and it always brought you back to the good memories of camping as a kid. So whenever the counselors wanted to have a bonfire, you were more than willing to attend, even though they tend to get a tad rowdy after a few cold beers.
Sam was a bit reluctant to attend since he figured he’d be the babysitter of the adults, but when he would out you were excited about it, he laughed it off and agreed to accept your invitation. You had asked him late afternoon after chatting a bit with Kizzy and Tori about it, the girls convincing you easily enough to come around and have a good time as they blasted some good tunes and enjoyed the last week with no kids present, it would be one of the best nights for the fire! It didn’t take much to get you to agree.
You were getting ready for the hangout as you changed out of your sweaty counselor clothes and hopped into the shower, but you weren’t sure what you were going to wear so you rummaged through your luggage and found an unfamiliar tee shirt. It was a bit larger than your usual ones, definitely smelled more masculine, like a hint of cologne and woodsy, maybe some smoke. It was Sam’s, that’s right! He borrowed it to you when you were pushed into the lake near the boathouse, you had neglected to return it since your days had been so busy, your thoughts weren’t really focused on the shirt.
Your thoughts then drifted to Sam and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you smiled, the memories you made this year would be unforgettable and you were more than thankful to have met him, and knowing he was actually coming to the fire was a blessing since he rarely liked to be in the group due to the fact he played the parent to the group. When you promised him it wouldn’t be like that this time, he did that little smirk you adored so much and scoffed, still unsure if he made the right decision, but you would be there and it would be worth it.
The time came and you had slipped into a pair of faded cut off jean shorts, his tee shirt draped over your frame, then you finished it off as you shrugged into an oversized flannel long sleeve. It was only a few minutes past the time the group had suggested for the bonfire to start so you were making good time as you trekked across the large grassy field, the small cooler draped over your shoulder that you decided to bring last-minute, packed with some goodies for the group to share if they desired.
You spotted the roaring flames from a couple of hundred feet away, the sound of music echoing in the area and the apparent sound of laughter only grew when you had gotten close enough. You saw Sam sitting on one of the picnic tables and sipping gingerly at the beer in his hand, his eyes looking around and making sure everything was going smoothly. His eyes scanned over the small group again and saw you just walking onto the concrete area, your eyes locked and you couldn’t help but smile shyly as you walked next to him, the breeze in the air causing you to shiver.
“Hey Sam,” you greeted cheerfully, setting down the cooler onto the table, “you guys been here long?”
“Nah, I just got here about three or four minutes ago, the rest of them maybe about ten minutes,” he explained. He reached down beside the table and grabbed a bottle from the half-melted ice, then he handed it to you. “Made it just in time for the ghost stories.” He didn’t sound very thrilled about it.
Last time he told a ‘spooky story’, shit hit the fan really quickly.
He shook the negative thoughts from his mind and tried his best to occupy them with something else. The music playing on the radio was enough to help if only a little.
You smiled and thanked him for the drink, your eyes following his and watched as the crowd had sat in a circle around the firepit, their attention focused on Jason, who was talking about his time at an old camp that was hundreds of miles from this one, something so cleverly nicknamed ‘Camp Blood’. You were intrigued by the story but immediately could tell Sam wasn’t having the best time right now. You took a breath and sat down next to him on the bench, looking at him with a concerned expression, but before you could speak, he cut you off.
“Are you wearing my shirt?” he asked curiously, beer still against his lips as he was blatantly staring at your chest. “Wait, are you not wearing a bra either?” His voice was lower this time, almost a whisper. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass you in front of these goofs.
You blushed in response and took a large sip at your beer. “Yes and yes, happy?”
Sam smirked and looked at you with a gleam in his eyes. “I mean, yeah, of course. You’re here.”
The comment made you want to bite your finger to quiet the squeal that almost surfaced, it was so incredibly cute. Sam was like that, always so sweet and thoughtful of what he said when you were around. Timid and introverted were the best ways to describe him, but what could he say, you brought out the fun side of him.
You cleared your throat and smiled awkwardly. “Hope they haven’t got too out of hand so soon,” you mentioned casually, hoping to take attention from the lack of underclothes and focus it anywhere else right now.
Sam’s attention was back on the counselors and he scoffed again as he watched how the flames behind them roared higher as Gerald added more firewood to it. “Yeah, they’ve been good for the time being, but it’s still early. I just don’t wanna end up scolding them again like I always do.”
“I notice Buddy isn’t here, he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s just not one to join in on the drunken festivities either. I invited him, said we’d be there, but you know him. He wants to get a head start on packing everything up before the week is out. He said he’ll be happy to make tomorrow night’s fire though.”
You nodded in response and smiled, hoping Buddy didn’t just say that to make you feel better. Either way, you knew he wasn’t exactly the most social creature, so you would make it up to him by throwing him a little fire of his own with just the three of you. For tonight, you figured hanging out with the rest of the crew would be good for you guys.
“Hey Sam, you got any scary stories?” Gerald asked a few minutes later.
Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, not this time, guys.”
“What about you, Y/N?” Gerald directed his attention to you.
“Nope, out of luck tonight, Ger,” you giggled and nodded your head to the song that began to play. “What about karaoke?” you offered instead.
“Aw hell yeah!” Kizzy shouted.
A few others reacted with positive sounds while only a few groaned and shook their heads. Either way, the night’s activities were divided up amongst the group, but you and Sam sat at the table and chatted away about the plans you both had for when you went back to your normal lives. You had scooted a little closer to him and leaned your head against his shoulder as he talked, listening while your eyes focused on the fire.
That’s when the group had all collectively yelled when a certain song came on, the amount of beer in their guts already sloshing around and impairing their motor skills. Sam groaned and was about to stand up and stop them from acting up too much, but you placed your hand on his wrist, grabbing his attention.
“Come on, let’s let them have some fun,” you offered as you stood up and stretched your arms.
His eyes were on you again, grazing over your chest as he could see your breasts so easily when your arms lifted high above your head. He wondered if you did this on purpose, just for him to see and to take notice, to think of you in such dirty ways while everyone around them was clueless to your actions.
Sam stood beside you and walked alongside you as you both grabbed one more drink, silently sneaking off when the others weren’t paying much attention. The counselor breathed a sigh of relief when you were both hidden amongst the trees, the sounds of shouting and laughter fading.
"Thanks for the distraction, Y/N, I always get a little weird near the end of the season. Always feel bummed, I miss this place when I'm gone." Sam looked up at the dark Louisiana sky and sighed, his mind elsewhere as you both walked the well-known side trail.
You looked over at him and knew exactly what he meant because you always felt the same way. It was work, sure, but it really didn't feel that way when you and the kids would all enjoy swimming or canoeing together, it was a wonderful experience. You smiled and reached out for his hand, slipping your fingers in between his. "I get it, Sam, I'm just glad I have a new camp to attend every year."
Of course, it was because of the boys, they were the reason you didn't want to leave, the reason you had felt the best you ever felt in the longest time.
Your eyes darted up to the sky as soon as you stepped onto the hill, the one Sam told you about that was best for stargazing, and he wasn't wrong; it was incredible. You both looked up and just silently enjoyed the sights and each other's company, the late-night summer's breeze picking up only a little.
Sam was the first to sit down and he patted the grass beside him. "I remember telling you about this place, my little getaway from everything," he began to ramble, "and I came up here the first night I knew I started to feel something for you."
"Sam, I came out here to have a good time, not to cry and feel emotional," you groaned and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his surprisingly firm muscles under the thicker fabric of his sleeve.
He laughed and bumped his head against yours, his way of showing affection. "Oh, I'm sorry miss co-counselor, I forgot you like to be the happy one, right?" He teased as he ruffled your hair. That led to you both pushing one another until the mood became too heavy to ignore and you pushed for a kiss.
It started off light and soft, his skin causing yours to bristle with excitement as his hand reached out and slid to the back of your neck. Anytime Sam would allow his fingers to glide across your skin, your immediate reaction was to release a content sigh, which he always took notice of. It happened so quickly that you ended up sliding into his lap, your legs on either side of him and you straddled him as your kisses never stopped.
It was Sam who pulled back first and smiled up at you. "I gotta say Y/N, you look pretty good in that shirt. Almost makes me regret not leaving it with you sooner."
You smirked and ran your hands through his hair, the softness tickled your fingertips as you leaned in to kiss him again, indulging yourself in the overwhelming feelings that began to bubble up within you, the same feelings you were dealing with back in your cabin. The heat began to grow as your mouth on his became hungry and needy, your tongue grazing his lips as your hands slid from the back of his neck and drifted down to his collarbone, your fingers smoothed against his chest. He let out a satisfied hum and pushed further into your kisses, fighting as much as he could against the hardness that began to form in his jeans from your touch. His eyes were closed and he was so focused on just feeling you beneath his touch as if you were going to disappear from him forever like he needed to memorize the way you smelled and the way you felt.
His breathing was heavy when you pulled away from him to adjust yourself, and that’s when Sam had changed on a dime completely; he wrapped both arms around your waist and rolled you over where he was now on top of you, his body between your spread legs as he looked down at you with an animalistic expression that almost made you rethink your choice of getting him worked up in the first place. Wordless, he worked on the button of your jean shorts and quickly tugged them from you, placing them off to the side where he also quickly abandoned his shirt. Your hands instinctively made their way to his chest rubbing against the hair that covered him there, his breaths now becoming close to panting while he lifted one of your legs onto his shoulder and placed his hand just shy of your ankle, his other hand rubbing on the front of your panties, teasing you with his light, feathery touches. You let out a needy whine and wiggled under him, thrusting your hips upward to signal you wanted more than just a gentle touch.
“Sa-am,” you moaned as you reached up to cup his cheek, rubbing against the little stubble that started to grow in.
He smirked and kissed your thumb as an incentive, but he had plans for you and you just needed to be patient. He quickly freed himself from his own jeans and groaned when his hand grazed himself, the mere thought of you around him already filling him with excitement. Sam’s thumb slowly started to work against the bundle of nerves that was aching to be touched without even moving your underwear aside. You cried out his name and groaned as he would rub circles against it and not even on your bare skin, it was torture!
“C’mon Sam, take ‘em off, please?” you whined, your eyes meeting his momentarily, the strain in your voice was apparent that you wanted him so badly you could barely contain your muffled sounds.
“You ask so nicely, Y/N,” he commented as he leaned down again and gave you a lingering kiss, “but I feel like I should take my time with you tonight.”
You were about to protest until you suddenly felt his fingers slip beneath the hem of your panties and slide against your folds, making sure you were prepped for him, but you were already soaking wet from the intense makeout you both shared. He smiled, satisfied with the outcome, and then pulled the thin article of clothing down your legs, removing your leg from his shoulder to dispose of them completely. You were eager for him to continue since you knew how well he’d perform with his fingers and his mouth, his gift, as you playfully called it. He always begged you to not refer to it like that, but secretly, he loved it.
Again, your leg was placed onto his shoulder as he laid on his stomach in the grass, his mouth finally making contact with where you needed it most. A sigh a little louder than you anticipated escaped your lips and you didn’t care, your fingers in his hair and yanking at it firmly, begging him to go faster. He didn’t oblige though you trembled beneath him, he was keeping his word and using his tongue in long, slow strokes against your heat. Every so often, he would circle it around your clit, which would cause you to arch your back and hold your breath.
Sam had finally finished teasing you, edging you to the point that he stopped mid lick and pulled away from you, licking his lips with an impish grin plastered on his face. You pouted and looked up at him, resting against your elbows as you propped yourself up.
“Sammy, why’d you stop?” you complained.
He sat upon his knees and wiped the little bit of juices from his chin. “I told you, babe, I’m taking my time with you. Now sit up for me?” His voice was lighter this time, sweetly said as he looked you over. You did as he asked and sat up for him, eager to do whatever he asked of you. “I think you need to be out of that shirt, so take it off. Slowly.”
Sam’s new attitude was one that was unexpected but so very welcomed, but for some reason, you had been feeling rather shy about his request, your hands hesitantly resting at the bottom of the shirt. Once you swallowed the lump in your throat, you looked directly into his eyes and smiled while you slowly pulled the shirt up, revealing your stomach. Painfully slowly. You could see even Sam was getting restless as he watched you reveal every inch of skin until you got to your torso, revealing the lack of coverage you flaunted this evening. He scoffed and reached out to you, his hand grazing your breast as his thumb rubbed over your nipple ever so slightly as he gauged your reactions.
When you finally lifted the shirt over your head, you threw it behind him and practically tackled him to the ground with your bare form over him, one hand placed in the grass beside his head as your other hand slowly made its way down and gave him a single stroke. A hushed moan of your name left his lips as you moved your wrist in such a way that wanted him to come already, your hand still stroking him tortuously slowly, his strained groans dragged out in the night.
“Aww Sammy, if you keep making those sounds, I’m not going to be able to stop myself,” you warned softly.
He laughed and reached his hand up to cup your cheek. “And if I don’t want you to stop?”
That was all you really needed to answer your question, so with a smile, you crawled on top of him and straddled his hips, slowly placing his length against your throbbing sex, not allowing him to enter just yet, but letting him slide it against you, which made you moan you his name, the need so very palpable in the moment. It was a wonder you had lasted as long as you did with the teasing, but the way he spoke to you was so fucking hot, you needed to show him what he did to you.
After a few times of rocking your hips back and forth against him, his cock so hard against you as you teased him, he finally lifted his hips, which surprised you and caught you so off guard that you fell forward, but Sam caught you in time with both arms tightly wrapped around you. His face was buried in the side of your neck as he suddenly plunged within you mercilessly, his hips slapping against yours and the sound of wetness sticking to you both made you lose yourself almost as soon as Sam began to fuck you.
He was merciless as he lifted you just right where you didn’t have to do a thing, you just allowed him to hold onto you as he slammed into you repeatedly, your cries only growing with each deep thrust, and his mouth had been on yours, the exchange of sloppy kisses almost ending as quickly as it started when you both felt the other starting to tense up or clench down. Sam threw his head back and groaned out your name, again and again, your voice already so taken that you could barely manage to speak let alone take a breath to cry out his name in return. Sam was the first to come and his orgasm only fueled yours to happen soon after, and it took you a moment to roll off of him and catch your breath beside him in the grass. You didn’t care that you had been feeling all sorts of stickiness drip down your thighs, but you could care less as you lay there beside him, you hand found his and you held onto it and gave it a squeeze.
“Well, that was something else,” you commented after a few moments of silence.
“Good I hope,” Sam replied with a small chuckle, “but remind me to leave a shirt at your cabin again if this is gonna be a regular outcome.” He turned to look at you and you both laughed, his forehead gently touched yours and you sighed happily.
At least you were able to stargaze after all.
#tinalbion writings#slasher request#slashers x reader#slashers imagines#slashers headcanons#citrus slashers#sam wescott#sam wescott x reader#sam wescott headcanons#sam wescott imagines#You Might Be the Killer#SMUT#thirst
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willow
Summary: Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind (inspiration from “willow” by taylor swift)
genre: angst with a happy ending
warnings: swearing
Sometimes, Dan just wishes he tried harder. Other times, he’s just happy he’s still loved by Phil.
There was a time when it was just them against the world. They were scary times but, in a way, Dan had felt the safest during them. Every single risk was taken together and somehow they all paid off. Phil was an anchor, solid to the ground and Dan just clung on for dear life, unable to sway every which way. They were a team, initially fuelled by admiration and love, later fuelled by passion and creativity.
It wasn’t that Dan fell out of love, quite the opposite actually. It was more that he fell so in love that he was scared of how deep he could go. There was a time when he couldn’t do anything without Phil being by his side and that was well and truly terrifying because he was a grown man, so co-dependant that thoughts of how he’d cope alone kept him up at night. The conversation hadn’t gone well, Phil was left hurt and broken down. Dan was left empty.
But they grew; like a willow tree. Strong and beautiful, using their roots to bloom. Their fans were loyal, sticking by them through the awkwardness and turmoil. They never really understood, though.
Dan had thought something was wrong with Phil for a while. He was...happy. And not in his usual Phil way, but something much deeper. His smile was wider, his tongue peeking out the corner more often. He was fresh and ready to work on his projects, never letting the strenuous hours of work he was doing per day get him down.
Dan was happy for him of course, happy that he didn’t dwell on the past. Phil still loved him, though in a much different way to what he once did. Dan told himself that was fine, though.
“Hey...” Phil started, wandering into the living room. It was 10am. Dan hadn’t slept, but he could tell from the way that Phil sat opposite him, his leg not pulled up beneath him, that it was serious.
Dan stopped his typing, peering over the top of his laptop. Phil was looking at him expectantly, his face pulled into an unreadable expression.
“Um, hi?” Dan said, raising an eyebrow.
“Dan, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen, okay?” he said, lip worried between his teeth.
“Phil...”
“I’m seeing someone. He’s really incredible,” Phil whispered, head down turned.
The pain wasn’t instant, rather a numbness. It took over Dan’s brain like fire, his fingers tingling. He pulled his lips into a smile, what did he expect?
“That’s wonderful, I’m very happy for you,” Dan lied. Phil rolled his eyes at him.
“You’re a terrible liar, but thanks for trying.”
“I’m sorry,” Dan whispered. “I really am happy for you, Phil.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though, right?” Phil said sadly, his hand grabbing hold of Dan’s. “This doesn’t change us, okay?”
“Phil, don’t worry. I’m not a child,” Dan smiled, squeezing Phil’s hand. The sentiment was nicer than Dan would admit.
It wasn’t true, though. Everything did change and Dan had to pretend it was okay. Even worse, Owen was lovely. He was tall and poised, hair a curly mop atop his head, not unlike Dan’s, with kind green eyes that quite literally twinkled, even under the dim light of Dan and Phil’s living room light. Dan had to sit in the living room and watch a film with them as they giggled, curled up on the one person armchair as if there wasn’t a whole sofa.
“I think I’m gonna retire,” Dan said halfway through the film, when the sound of smacking lips was almost too much for his heart to handle; on the precipice of shattering. He was heartbroken in a way he never had been before.
He stood up, muttering a goodnight in Phil’s direction.
When he was in his bed, he didn’t cry like he wanted to. He just scrolled through depressing quotes on Tumblr, liking a few and leaving the detecting skills up to the fans. He was hurting so badly. He realised he never had really gotten out of that pit. He was falling deeper, but this time he didn’t have Phil’s chest to soften his fall, or his hand to hold when he got a little too close to the end.
Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in
He could see people already speculating, but it just hurt his heart even more to see the theories.
There was a knock at the door at 12:07am.
“Dan?” Phil’s voice drifted to him.
“Phil,” Dan replied, his voice was much more cracked then he would’ve liked.
“I’m sorry,” Phil whispered. Dan heard him shuffling, confused until the corner of his duvet lifted up and Phil slipped in beside him, their faces inches away.
“What are y-” Dan started.
“I’m trying to apologise to you, you stubborn bitch,” Phil joked, eyes half-lidded.
“You don’t need to apologise, Phil. You deserve to be happy,” Dan promised. Phil’s hand emerged from under the duvet, cradling Dan’s cheek. He felt Phil swipe under his eyes. When did he start to cry?
“So do you,” Phil mumbled, tilting his head.
“I already fucked it up. Don’t let me do it again,” Dan said.
“I love you, idiot,” Phil said, his voice sounded sad now. “But I love Owen, too.”
“I love you, too, Phil,” Dan whispered, choking on a sob.
Phil cradled Dan, pulling him into his chest with an arm around him.
“Well what are we going to do?” Phil asked. He sounded so fucking tired; almost as tired as Dan felt.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
The more that you say, the less I know
Dan was lost. He woke up the morning after, his bed empty and freezing cold. He wasn’t thriving anymore. He couldn’t go on Tumblr or twitter without seeing his face and he couldn’t go into his own kitchen without seeing his face either.
That's why he was at Reading train station, his mouth dry as he recited his family home address.
His mum didn’t ask too many questions when he called. As soon as he told her, she told him to come to her.
Going back home was positive in ways, but really negative in others. Especially when he’d spent a Christmas with the Lester's once. His childhood home was cold and filled with terrifying things, mental demons and sign posts of things that made him feel nauseous.
“Sweetheart, I made tea,” his mum said, unsure on how to react.
Dan was already crying by the time they’d sat down at the table, telling his mum everything. She probably struggled to follow, but she nodded along and reached out a hand to hold Dan’s when he started clenching his fist, unsure on what to do with his muscles.
“Dan,” she said slowly, her eyes were kind. “You love Phil.”
“That’s the problem,” he whispered, using the heel of his hand to wipe his eyes. “That’s the fucking problem. Because he loves me, too.”
“And I love you, too,” she said. “I know it’s not the same, Daniel, but we’re strong, yeah? We’re here together. I know it’s weird for you, but I’m really happy. You’ve grown into everything I wanted for my child. You’re capable and wise and so so intelligent, Dan. Phil is your best friend, don’t let this ruin you.”
“I’m trying,” he breathed.
“I know, love.”
-
Dan had been ‘home’ for 5 days. It had only been him and his mum. They’d bonded and done things together that they should’ve done before he was 29 years old, but they did them. He felt..happy?
He was woken in the night though, his phone vibrating on the table rousing him from an actually peaceful sleep.
“Phiw?” Dan slurred, eyes squinted at the clock 12:07am
“Dan, come home.”
Phil was sobbing down the phone, actual painful sobs that tore Dan’s heart out.
“Phil, fuck, are you okay?” Dan panicked, jumping out of bed. He was topless, exposed to the cold air, but he didn’t really care.
“Dan, please,” was all Phil cried.
Show me the places where the others gave you scars
“Mum, I have to go,” Dan heard himself saying, knocking on the door to his mums room.
“Why? Are you okay?” she asked groggily. A mothers instinct.
“It’s Phil,” Dan stuttered. “He just called. He’s sobbing down the phone to me, he won’t tell me what's wrong.”
-
Dan’s mum had helped him pack his stuff and gathered him up into her car.
“Mum, it’s like a 90-minute drive.”
“Darling,” was all she said with a shake of her head. “Some things are more important than an extra 90 minutes in bed.”
The ride was tense though, Dan was constantly texting Phil telling him he was on his way,
5 minutes
was the last thing he sent before he was clambering out of his mums car and getting his bags out the boot.
“Bye, mum, thankyou for everything,” Dan said as she stepped out the car to wrap him in a hug, somehow managing despite her tiny frame.
“I love you, look after him.”
“I love you, too. And I will.”
He waved her off, jittering anxiously to get to Phil. Once she was off in the distance, he went up to their apartment, opening the door.
“Phil?” Dan called, dropping his bags down. He was about to go looking before he was pushed up against a wall, lips covering his own. Dan could still taste the salt of his tears.
“Dan,” Phil whimpered as they pulled away briefly for air before reconnecting their lips.
“I’ve got you, bub,” Dan mumbled, pulling Phil even closer to him, two large hands covering his lower back till they were pushed flushed together from head to toe.
They just kept kissing, but their hands stayed where they were. Phil’s embracing around Dan’s neck and Dan rubbing gentle circles into Phil’s back.
When they finally pulled away, Phil rested his forehead against Dan’s, sniffling slightly.
“Dan, I love you.”
“I love you.”
-
When Phil had calmed down, Dan had managed to get him to settle down in his bed to have a bit of extra sleep, clinging to Dan like a koala. Dan would never let him go again if he could help it.
“Dan,” Phil mumbled before he slept, yawning.
“Hmm?” Dan whispered.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realise. It’s always been you. I really didn’t want it to be, but it is.”
“It’s always been us, Phil,” Dan promised, kissing the top of his head.
“Dan and Phil vs the world,” Phil muttered, nestling more into Dan’s chest.
I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man
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Could an autistic burnout display the same way as swappers soon to someone who might not know the difference? I want you to know that your account is very helpful and all of your kind words and the time to take to answer questions is appreciated. :)
Okay friend, So i am really unsure if you meant to type swappers or not but I can’t find anything related to autism that is called swap(ing/ers) or anything near that. So i am going to answer with the only logical solution I have manged to find, a commonly asked question.
Can burnout display like a shutdown?
The short answer; absolutely positively yes. It can totally seem like a shutdown especially to someone less familiar or skilled in differentiation. Even for people who are it can be deceptive.
Long answer; Burnouts and Shutdowns and why they can be similar
Shutdowns and burnouts can be caused by the same or similar issues. Sensory overload, emotional overload, trying to do too much, stress, changes, and not getting enough allocated relaxing time. etc.
Sometimes at the start of a burnout you might experience a shutdown, but when it carries on for days or longer you might realize somethings wrong.
The beginning stages of burn out and shutdowns are also incredibly similar, especially in my experience.
-It can become harder to speak until you may be completely unable. -You may feel its difficult to move whether from a sense of tired, heaviness in limbs, or just the act of connecting you brain to your body. -You may have difficulty thinking, planning actions, processing information, focusing, etc.
The difference? A shutdown is like a fail safe for a computer; it senses that it’s hitting capacity and shuts down the windows and may even power down. A burn out is what happens when you force the computer to run anyways and end up frying it.
My personal differentiation:
- A shutdown should not last longer than a day. Burnouts by nature are longer. - A shutdown feels more similar to anxiety paralysis or dissociation while burnout feels like ADHD lethargy or depression dysfunction. -A burnout makes everything tiring, exhausting and overwhelming. Simple tasks that you otherwise could do suddenly feel like climbing a mountain. - A shutdown is a mental blockage. Parental control on every “site” you try to open. Cleaning? denied. complete task? denied. Talk? denied. - A burnout makes you more sensitive and likely to over-react or meltdown while a shutdown turns off the ability to react for a period. It’s the darkside of the moon/meltdown. -A shutdown results in a default monotone face thats typically unresponsive, while burnouts result on more overt autistic mannerisms, stimming, language etc.
Thats a basic guide for now. If you search burnout on my tumblr there is a post I shared about identifying autistic burnout and caring for it. Learning about both helps you to identify either fairly well if you have decent self-awareness and assessment skills.
Don’t feel bad if you can’t though cause truly, I don’t believe anyone definitively knows if its a burnout or shutdown or any other matter of emotional/mental responses. There isn’t a test that tells you yes or no it’s just getting to know yourself and making the call.
I’m sorry if this isn’t the question you asked feel free to ask again if you are still looking for answers.
And thank you so much friend I am glad my blog can help you! It makes my day to hear people tell me that. Also the kind thing, because all I ever wanted to be in life is kind. <3
It is honestly my absolute pleasure to answer asks. I feel so honored that people would choose me to ask questions to or chat with. I will always try to live up to it!
I hope you have a fantastic day!!
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Follow the Beacon Qrow—Now Your Real Training Begins
[Link to Masterpost]
[What’s this? Fluff?? In MY fic???]
The next few days passed in a haze of exhaustion—the process of forging was just as demanding as combat training, but in ways Qrow wasn't used to. Raven continued to hunt with Professor Mesánychta and Port, apparently lacking success in finding the one Grimm they were trying to study.
The two of them weren't speaking much.
But tiring as it was, it was thrilling to see the scythe take shape—intricate, elegant, the weapon of a Huntsman. And then it was finished, and he could hold it in his hands, feel the weight and reality of it. It wasn't much like the Grimm Reaper's kamas, but it was his, and that was so much cooler.
"What do you think?" Carmine asked as he took a few awkward swings.
"It's amazing," he said, sweeping it down in a huge arc before letting the head rest on the ground. Similar enough to a halberd if you ignored the bizarre balance. And shape. And weight.
"Now you just gotta figure out how to use it," she said, flicking the trigger so it shrank back down to the familiar broadsword shape. "The weight distribution isn't too different from a polearm warhammer, so I'd start there for the basics."
"Professor Mesánychta uses a hammer like that, right?" he asked, clipping it behind his back.
"Yes, and she'd probably be willing to help. Miss Rose might be able to teach you a thing or two, having had that spear of hers for so long, but not all of it will translate. You'll need to be observant and pull from many different disciplines."
Well, if there was one thing Bones had taught him...
She turned back to the workbench, starting to tidy up, and he hurried to help. Tossing the extra leather from the handle back into the bin, she continued, "Hopefully we won't have to do any major redesigns before the next break, but keep me posted on any new developments."
"Redesign?"
"Oh, you'll think of something, I'm sure," she laughed. "Hold on to the Mk. I for now, at least until you're used to doing the Mk. II's maintenance. The last thing you want to do is sit out of Grimm Studies because it's broken down."
"Right." He hung a pair of pliers back on the rack.
"Have you thought of a name yet?"
"Uh…not really."
"I'm sure you'll dream up something suitably imposing." She dragged out one of the metal stools and jumped up on it, stretching gratefully. "Make sure you take tomorrow off, all right? It's good to have another set of hands over in casting, but tired brains make more mistakes. I don't want any accidents."
Plenty of students complained about Carmine's almost pathological safety rules, but Qrow was just amazed at how effective they were in the face of his Semblance. "Raven and I are meeting Summer and Tai in Vale."
"Ah! Excellent. You can come back on Monday." She grinned up at him, and then the smile slid into a faint scowl as her eyes focused past his shoulder. A woman stood in the doorway, wearing a Mistrali robe in white and gold silk—she could easily have been from Anima, but did she know she was dressed for a funeral?
"Carmine," the newcomer cooed, light and soft as silk, "that may be the most magnificent weapon I've ever seen."
"Professor Eitri," she corrected flatly. Qrow blinked in surprise— nobody called her by last name.
The stranger held out her hand. "May I?"
Unsure what else to do, he offered out the hilt. She took it smoothly and tested the balance with a few confident strokes before shifting it to scythe form. "...Breathtaking."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Blanc. What do you need this time?"
Blanc—like the company building Mountain Glenn? So that's why Carmine didn't like her.
"I came to pick up the custom ammunition," she folded the weapon back down, staring at the gears, and then handed it back to Qrow, "and see if you had considered my offer."
"Not since the last time I turned you down, no."
"Carmine, how can you believe that this is all you're meant to do? You have a gift. You have a higher calling. " It was kind of weird to hear someone half the professor's age speak to her the same way Professor Mesánychta spoke to Tai after he covered her chalk with glue, and Carmine seemed to agree.
"I happen to think what I do is a higher calling than spit-polishing turrets for engineers with more money than sense."
She laughed, charmingly, and Carmine's eyes narrowed further. "But that's why I need you, Forgemaster. All I have is funding. You have the gif—"
"Oh, get your ammo and get out." The professor turned back to the workbench and continued tidying up. Qrow glanced between the two of them. Was he supposed to leave now?
"...I can see my offer has undervalued your skill. I meant no offense—I am prepared to double it."
Carmine swore, viciously, rounding on the woman and hissing up at her like a small red cat threatening a thoroughbred white horse. Blanc backed off the same way too.
"I'M ALREADY WORKING FOR YOU FULL TIME ON TOP OF MY ACTUAL DUTIES AS A TEACHER AND FORGEMASTER. AND SO FAR, I MUST SAY, I AM INCREDIBLY DISSATISFIED WITH THE COMPENSATION! YOU ARE GOING TO GET PEOPLE KILLED THE WAY YOU'RE RUNNING THIS LITTLE PR STUNT, AND YOU HAVE VALE FOOTING THE BILL!"
The woman's serene expression darkened. "I see Ozpin has swayed you."
"You never had a chance."
"Loyal to a fault… Remnant's population has expanded at an unprecedented rate since the end of the Great War—"
"Expanded , not has expanded, it's leveling off—"
"If we don't act there will be overcrowding, starvatio—"
"Oh my gods get out or I'm calling campus security."
Blanc squared her shoulders, drawing herself to her full height, staring down at the Forgemaster. "We cannot survive if we only fight to defend ourselves," she declared passionately. "Humanity must take the offensive, or one day we will be wiped out."
Carmine leaned forward with a sly smile exactly like Summer's. "...Or, we could end up in stuck in the desert and getting beaten around the head by a child with a stick. "
Blanc turned a grayish-purple, turned on her heel, and stormed from the room. The door rattled as she slammed it closed behind her.
"...Huh?" Qrow asked, turning his attention back to the professor.
"Lady Blanc's mother was from Vale, hence her name. Her father, on the other hand, was Emperor of Mistral during the Great War. The King of Vale was half his age during his defeat at Vacuo." She set the last hammer on the rack before leaning toward him with that same conspiratorial grin. "It's a bit of a sore spot for the family."
He nodded, stomach twisting. Thank the gods she didn't notice my wrist. Even going back to Vanta would be safer than getting spotted by an Imperial.
* * *
Qrow reached the docks while the hunting party were unloading their specimens, and quickly fell in with Raven and a third-year pushing a crate up toward the Grimm studies building. "Find anything good?"
"Just Beowolves." she grunted. The thing in the crate snarled, and the whole thing rattled as it slammed into one of the walls. "Did you finish your little project? That sword looks just like your old one."
"It's new."
The crate rattled again, and the cart's handle wrenched from their hands as it toppled to the side. Everyone sprang back at the noise, drawing weapons, but by some miracle the crate didn't bust open. Misfortune was in a forgiving mood today.
"Why don't you just go back to the dorms?" Raven snapped, shoving past him as she sheathed her sword.
"Miss Taupe!" Port chided. "Your brother was trying to help."
Raven glared at him. The crate hissed, scooting an inch closer to her as the thing inside lunged at the closest source of negativity.
"…You, er, seem to have some difficulty handling live Grimm," Port continued. "I would recommend taking up meditation." Another snarl, and the crate lurched again. "Perhaps knitting."
Qrow shrank back. They were attracting a lot of attention from the rest of the party, Professor Mesánychta included. Raven either didn't notice or care, just turned heel and headed for the dorms.
"That's your sister?" the third-year asked somewhat pityingly, bracing his shoulder against the fallen crate. Qrow just nodded, mirroring him, and together they shoved it back onto its wheels. He seemed to regret his question, hastily adding "She's, uh, great in a fight."
"Is she all right?" Port demanded, resting his fists on his hips. "She's been quite the Grimm magnet this week. Er, more than usual. While it did make the enemy easier to locate, it can't be good for her health."
"She's fine," he said quickly, returning to the handle. Port's moustache twitched, but he didn't push the issue, just the cart.
It only took them a few minutes to get the specimens wheeled into lockdown, and then Qrow hung back as the other students dispersed, waiting for the professor to finish whatever paperwork she was doing on her scroll.
"Professor Mesánychta?"
"Yes, Mister Taupe? I'm afraid there's not going to be an expedition tomorrow, if that's what you came to ask."
"No, that's not—I, uh, built—I'm trying to learn to use a scythe, and its weight distribution is kind of like a polearm warhammer—would you be willing to give me some pointers?"
She smiled, collapsing her scroll and tucking it into her pocket. "I'm certainly willing to try. Do you have it with you?"
He nodded, stepping back so he could draw his sword and trigger its transformation. Carefully setting the blade on the floor, he offered the handle to her.
"Goodness. Carmine's outdone herself on this one," she muttered, rotating the blade and shotguns experimentally. "I've only seen a few transforming weapons that are more complex. The free range of motion on the barrels is a nice touch."
Qrow beamed. "That was my idea."
Mesánychta's eyebrows shot up. "Was it? Well, it's perfectly suited for this. Most hammers and axes have the guns mounted opposing the head, so the recoil feeds into the swing," she said, swinging the scythe's head around so it curved behind a metal stool. "But the way the blade is turned on this, you'll also want to be able to fire in line with the handle, to draw it toward yourself quickly."
She jerked back on the handle, pulling it in toward the stool, and her finger brushed the trigger by mistake. The shotguns fired with a roar of thunder, cleaving the stool in two and vaporizing the Beowolf in the cage next to them. "Oh. Goodness. Are you all right?"
"Y-yeah." Well, third time's the harm. Good luck never lasted long.
"You're right, the weight distribution is more like a hammer than an axe," she continued, giving it a few careful, experimental swings. Her movements were far more fluid than his own, easily switching from hand to hand and almost weaving the blade around herself like a protective cage. "What an interesting project. I'd be happy to help."
He accepted it back, still grinning broadly. "Thanks, Professor."
"Although…" she frowned, glancing at her bow and quiver leaning against the little desk, "I don't think I've ever used Spring Tide's hammer form in class."
Qrow froze, smile instantly strained. She was right—he only knew from Queen of the Hunt. But she'd taught at Signal, right? "Uh, Summer mentioned it," he blurted.
"Hmm, yes. Well, I'd be happy to meet with you the week after next. You'll still be on campus?"
He nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Professor."
Next Chapter: Taiyang—Herbicide
#rwby#qrow branwen#raven branwen#strq#team strq#carmine eitri#lady blanc#rwby fanfiction#follow the beacon
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Overworked
Prompts: Exhaustion, Collapse. Cast: Unfair Lives (Jin and Reg) Word count: 2.2k
* * *
"Jin."
The teenager didn't move, head resting on top of his crossed arms over the keyboard of his computer. A string of f's was still growing across the screen because he'd fallen asleep while working and Reg hadn't had the heart to wake him earlier. Jin was usually so alert that it surprised Reg when he obtained no reaction from speaking aloud. Not a single strand of black hair moved and there wasn't even a tiny little twitch that indicated he was rousing.
"Jin, wake up..."
Still nothing. Unsure, the older man fruitlessly looked around before his gaze settled back on the sleeping shape and he cautiously reached out to nudge its thin shoulder. Jin immediately sprang back to life.
"I'm awake, fuck off," he snapped in Reg's general direction before his dark eyes had even come completely into focus.
Reg wasn't surprised by his instantaneous anger but he hastily retrieved his big hand and took a step back. "Sorry, you told me to wake you up if I had to."
Jin scowled at him and rubbed at his face and mussed-up hair. "I know what I said, you can still fuck off. God, I haven't slept in days. Do you even know what that's like?"
His words were blurred together which really wasn't like him at all. Jin's diction was supposed to be simultaneously sharp and easy, and even his voice which usually held the soft quality of velvet was a bit scratchy. Reg was worried. The boy really looked much too tired to go to the meeting he'd planned in an hour.
Jin glared at him and rolled his sunken eyes. "Of course you wouldn't, staying home all day and all."
Reg shrugged.
"Fait chier," groaned Jin.
He only reverted to his language when he was upset, which gave Reg a fair indication of how much Jin was done with all of this. The boy pushed himself up and wavered for just a second, features suddenly going slack and face paling. He blinked rapidly a few times and clenched the edge of the table to ground himself, and then finally stepped away from the table completely. Reg stood close in case he stumbled but didn't dare say or do anything that would annoy Jin even further when he was already so worked up.
Jin's steps were heavy instead of nimble. They'd become that way over the last week; his awareness and caution were waning under the weight of fatigue. Jin hadn't been sleeping enough and hadn't taken a single break ever since the prospects had started flooding in. Lack of rest wasn't the only thing wrong with him either judging from the way he held his stomach, but he hadn't spoken about that out loud and Reg knew not to pry when Jin wasn't willing to share. Reg watched him trudge across the room to get his things in another and thought again that it really was uncanny for Jin to have been so difficult to wake. Obviously his brain hadn't completely shut off for the nap since he'd woken up sparking like a live wire, but the needs of his body had definitely pulled him deeper into sleep than it usually did. Jin's arm suddenly shot out as he was about to walk through the door and he leaned against the frame. He was breathing fast and shallow.
"...Jin?" softly questioned Reg.
"Shut up," he muttered. "Spinning."
Reg decided he definitely couldn't just let Jin go to work like this and walked up to him, slowly enough that he wouldn't get hit for trying to tower over the boy. "Jin, I don't think you should go."
"I don't give a fuck what you think," retorted Jin, and he quickly pulled himself back together before walking off.
Reg hesitated, and then followed Jin around the house. "But you're really tired."
"You think I don't know that?"
Jin’s lithe frame was swaying. It was light and almost unnoticeable which meant it was probably pretty bad for him to be unable to hide it completely. He took a few steps down the hall on his own before he reached out for support again and held himself up against the wall.
"You can't even walk on your own, you know you can't show up like that," reasoned Reg. "They'll eat you alive."
"This is important," hissed Jin without looking at him, and when he turned to his right to enter the bedroom Reg saw that his fine features were taut. He knew Jin was perfectly aware of his limits and that as such he was also perfectly aware that he was really pushing them.
"I know, but you look like you might pass out."
"I do not."
"You do."
"Oh shut up, you big oaf. I've got to meet this Nicole girl and I've gotta meet her today-" Jin broke off mid-sentence to stifle a yawn- "or someone else will snatch her instead."
"Nikos," quietly said Reg.
"What?" snapped Jin.
"Her name is Nikos. Not Nicole."
Black eyes flickered towards him, gauging to see if the man was serious or not, and then Jin let out a short, dry snicker. "Where the fuck did I get Nicole from?"
"You're exhausted, Jin."
"It's fine, just make me coffee or something."
"You..." Reg frowned. "You don't drink coffee."
"Yeah, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It's at the top of the cupboard on the very left, trust me, it should still be there. It's the same as tea, just boil the water and add one dose."
Reg hesitated, but he ended up complying. He was always hesitating and complying. Hesitating because he cared for Jin and found that the boy often made unreasonable choices for his health. Complying because their relationship was very close to that of pet and master, and Reg didn't mind that hewas expected to obey the person he owed his life to. Reg went to prepare coffee the way Jin had instructed him to. There were a lot of things Jin had to tell him how to do because he'd either forgotten or never known them but although he'd shown annoyance about it, he'd never reproached it to Reg. The man tried to listen for the noises Jin was making while he rummaged in the cupboard for the rumored coffee but it was difficult to do over the sound of the water boiling, and his senses only told him what he already knew: that Jin was weary, dimmed, a flame that was flickering instead of blazing. It was very concerning.
The water finished boiling, Reg prepared a mug and dumped a dose inside, watched the powder dissolve with deep fascination and then supposed that it would probably be a good idea to mix it with a spoon before he went back out of the kitchen to give the drink to Jin. The boy had sat down on the bed with his head in his hands and was immobile again. Reg walked up to him.
"I have your coffee."
Jin just reached out a hand without a word. Reg went to give the mug but then stopped in his tracks when he saw the tremors on the thin fingers.
"You're shaking."
"Wow, Reg, thank you so much for sharing your incredible observation skills with me," snarkily said Jin. "Give me the damn coffee."
Reg didn't obey right away but he did, eventually, and Jin brought the mug to his pale lips with trembling hands. Reg crouched in front of him and insisted: "You can't go."
"Big guy, look, I like you, I do, but you're really getting on my last nerve and I don't have a lot of it to spare because as you so justly pointed out multiple times, I am tired. Get off my ass."
Reg watched Jin take another swig of coffee. He didn't know if he'd dare say what was on his mind, trepidation was rising inside of him, but if he made the right point maybe Jin would see reason.
"Would you even be able to defend yourself in your state?" he said in a whisper, daring but not quite.
Too late. The words were out in the air between them and Jin had a very sharp sense of hearing.
The boy's slanted eyes flashed and he warningly ground over the edge of his mug: "What."
Reg felt a shudder course along his spine but didn't back down. "You can't fight like this. You can't even hold a mug, how do you intend to hold a weapon?"
Jin's fingers tightened around the ear of the mug so hard that his knuckles whitened. His voice was deathly soft. "Are you implying that I'm weak, Reg?"
"You're human."
"Answer the question."
“Like this..." Reg cautiously nodded. "You are."
The black irises flashed like glittering onyx. Jin slowly lowered the steaming mug to the ground and then straightened again, and in a very even voice said: "Of all the things you'd have the balls to call me, Reg, weak is very high on the list of things that can get you fucked up."
"You need to acknowledge it," Reg insisted. "There's no way you can make it there safely, much less lead the-"
Jin moved in a blur. He'd always been fast and although Reg knew no one else but the boy he could tell that this speed was way above average. Even tired as Jin was his movement was too quick for Reg to dodge or block and the edge of the boy's slender hand caught the older man in the throat. Reg's trachea seized up and he doubled over to hack and wheeze.
"Weak, really?" smugly said Jin. "You know that would have easily killed you if I'd wanted it to."
Reg looked up at him through teary eyes. "You- You know that's not what I meant."
Jin raised a foot and shoved Reg’s shoulder, throwing him to the ground. "I think that's exactly what you meant, you ungrateful mutt."
"No," Reg managed between coughs as he pushed himself back up.
"Shut up. You're lucky I like you," muttered Jin. They both knew he'd killed for much less.
Having cleared the way in front of him, Jin picked up his mug and stood up to leave. Again, he wavered and paled at the change of position. Without warning, the mug slipped out of his fingers and crashed to the floor and Jin's knees buckled. Reg was still trying to breathe properly but he saw the fuzzy quality that overtook Jin's shape and he was up to his knees in a second to catch the falling body, heedless of the hot liquid that his pants soaked up at the knees. The boy was limp in his arms and his eyes were wide open.
"Jin? Jin," Reg quickly said, snapping his fingers over the white face.
Jin slowly blinked after a few seconds of utter stillness and squinted at Reg. "...Why the fuck are we on the floor?"
"You just fainted," bluntly stated Reg. Now he was feeling annoyed, not just concerned. "I know you hate listening to people but right now your ability to make decisions is definitely impaired so you should probably listen to me when I say you really need to sleep."
"I can't-"
Reg lowered a hand on top of his narrow chest to stop him from getting up. "Jin, no. You just fainted. You know you can't go like this, not when you could faint again."
Jin let his head fall back in the crook of Reg's elbow and muttered: "What the hell do I do, then?"
"Call it off. Say something came up."
Jin's lips pressed together in a tight line and his eyes narrowed. Reg stared back sternly. Then, exasperated, the teenager groaned: "Fine!"
He fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly looked through his most recent calls to quickly expedite a message to the recruit he'd had his eye on and then let his arm and the phone fall back to the ground.
"Done."
Reg nodded in approval. "Okay, let's get you to bed."
"Reg."
"Yes?"
Jin let go of his phone and grabbed the man's white shirt as he rolled over, pushing his face up against Reg's bicep. "I'm so fucking tired."
Reg smiled, taking advantage of the fact that Jin couldn't see him doing so and consequently couldn't snark him for it. "I can see that."
He gathered the slender body in his arms and turned far around enough to pull back the sheets on the bed behind him while disturbing Jin a minimal amount, and then he lifted up the boy and lowered him on the wide mattress. He almost pulled the blanket over Jin's shape but a thin hand sluggishly batted at his gray hair to make him go away, and so he let Jin do it himself. Reg kneeled next to the bed instead and asked: "Should I stay?"
"I'm cold," said Jin. "Get up here, big guy."
Reg diligently nodded. It wasn't that often Jin accepted his presence for comfort and he was more than happy to provide. The man walked around the bed and climbed over the sheets from the other side before lying down and settling curled around Jin's blanketed shape. Reg didn't reach out to hug him, wouldn't ever dare to allow physical contact between them that Jin hadn't asked for, but just laid next to him and waited for the warmth of his body to ebb towards the inside of the cotton coccoon. Jin was asleep in seconds.
#tnkntwrites#whump#whump prompt fill#exhaustion#collapse#unfair lives#ul jin#ul reg#oneshot prompts challenge#whump time#ul tale#tnktwrites whump#verbal abuse
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I Hate Everything About You - Part 1 (Noah Centineo)
She’s the daughter of Robert Downey Jr., struggling to find her own name in the industry, while he’s the internet’s collective crush, learning how to deal with his new-found fame. What happens when they get cast together in a TV adaptation of her favourite book series?
Word Count: 2.6 K
Pairings: Noah Centineo X Reader
Warnings: None as far as I’m aware, bit of love/hate if you're not into that, bit of drinking, spray tans, paparazzi
There is just something incredibly satisfying about kicking back, putting your feet up and lying in the sun, doing nothing at all. The sound of the waves crashing, little kids squealing all around and the sultry rays of the sun beating down on you, warming you up from within – it’s summer at its absolute best. Which is why, I’m sprawled out on a deck chair on Santa Monica Beach, California, sipping a Piña Colada – I’m only seventeen but here with my very lenient mother – With a pair of shades shielding my eyes and the rest of my bikini-clad body exposed, so as to work up a tan. Hard work, I know, since I’ve been at it for nearly four hours now and there isn’t even a toasty hint on my skin to show for it. My complexion is pasty and uneven, which I have no idea how because I’ve been in California all my life. The least I should have is beautiful, evenly bronzed skin.
Ugh, I think in frustration, I should’ve just gotten one of those terrible, orange, spray tans to match the president. At least they’re easy to get.
Correction to my earlier statement, then – There is just something incredibly satisfying about kicking back, putting your feet up and lying in the sun, doing nothing at all, when you’re capable of tanning! My back is stiff and I’m sweating like a pig, as there is hardly any wind today. The humidity has resulted in my hair going beyond frizzy and I’m completely unrecognizable, so at least there is no chance of any paparazzi getting candid shots of me and making them viral with headlines like- ‘Y/N Downey shows off sexy bikini bod!’ Or something equally ridiculous.
Now, I said ‘unrecognizable’ and ‘paparazzi’ so you must be wondering what the hell that’s about. No, no, I’m not some narcissistic bitch with an absurdly high opinion of herself. Although, you aren’t that far off. Let me explain.
My name is Y/N Downey. I’m an up-and-coming actress although people hardly refer to me as that. Generally, people know me as the only daughter of Robert Downey Jr., one of America’s most successful and famous movie actors, and I’m not just saying this cause he’s my father. You might also know him as Iron Man but to me, he’s just dad.
Obviously, since my father is ‘the great Robert Downey Jr.’ everyone just naturally expects me to be a stuck-up, spoilt brat who gets everything handed to her on a silver platter. They think it’s all a piece of cake for me, that I don’t have to work for making a name for myself since my father has so conveniently made it for me.
Wrong.
To this day, my father has never pulled any strings or called in favours to get me a part. In fact, that was his one and only condition when I expressed that I wanted to take up acting as a profession. He made me promise that I’d never use his name to get my way and work hard on my own to achieve something. Luckily, and not to be too full of myself or anything, but I’m a good actor. I suppose it has something to do with being in my dad’s company, since it can’t be genes. That’s because I’m adopted, and the Downeys are the only family I have ever known.
Anyway, every single role that I have done until now, I’ve got it through legit auditions in stinky and badly lit rooms. Mr. Downey has never influenced any aspect of my career. So, you see, I’m just another teenaged girl with a big dream. Okay, that might be an exaggeration. But except for the fact that my dad is a big movie star and I live in an unreasonably large house, and have more cars than I could possibly want to drive and I’ve never been to a public school – whaddup, homeschooling! – Really, I’m just the same as your typical teenaged girl.
So that’s my story. Now let’s get back to the present day. It was all my mother’s stupid idea.
“We never spend any quality time together.” She’d cooed the night before. “How about we head to the beach tomorrow? You could sunbathe.” She’d added temptingly and like the idiot that I am, I was sold by the allure of a tan.
Hence, my discomfort now. Hell, last night I’d even thought I’d go for a nice little swim down here.
My brain wanders off on its own trail – Is this day ever going to end?! And what the heck is up with the sun? Move a bit dude, go shine your bright face in someplace they need it.
I groan in irritation.
My mother snaps her head to me. She pushes up her sunglasses to her head and glares at me.
“If you’re so annoyed, you shouldn’t have come.” She growls.
“You made me.” I mutter quietly.
“I didn’t make you do anything.”
“Of course you did. You held up tanning like a bait and you knew I’ve always wanted to –” I’m cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. I fish it out of my bag.
“Ava!” I’m met with a shrill but pleasant greeting from my agent, Joanna.
“Hey Jo!”
“So guess the best thing that could’ve possibly happened?”
That’s how Joanna Preston always talked. Whatever you wanted to find out, you guessed. I think she’s incapable of forming non-interrogative sentences. It gets annoying a lot of the times.
“Um, everything in the world is made of chocolate?” I ask, unsure.
Joanna laughs. “No. Hint – it has something to do with Colors.”
My heart stops. There’s only one reason Joanna’s calling me about Colors.
“Someone’s making a movie about it?” I breathe in disbelief.“Better.”
What’s better than a movie?
“Someone’s making two movies about it?” I question dubiously.
“Someone’s making a TV Series about it.” She states firmly. Oh, non-interrogative! Perhaps there is hope for her yet.
A little gasp escapes my lips.
The Colors trilogy is my favourite book series in the world!
“And guess who the best agent in the whole wide world is?” She’s back, ugh, never mind.
“You, obviously.” I say rolling my eyes.
“That’s right!” She exclaims. “And guess who landed the lead?”
My jaw pops open.
“Me? They just gave it to me? No auditions or screen tests?” I ask, disbelieving.
“Yeah!” She squeals.
I furrow my brows, not quite understanding where this was all going. Joanna must’ve been able to sense my apprehension because she promptly launches into an explanation.
“Apparently they loved you on Teen Wolf and they wanted a new and fresh face, so they decided you’d be perfect. I’ve managed to find out that they’ve practically finalised you but of course, they’d still like you to show up and read some lines but that’s purely formal. The part is yours!”
I did a two-episode cameo in the third season of Teen Wolf and it was received very well. More importantly, it resulted in me becoming friends with Tyler Posey. He is pure perfection.
A dumbass grin spreads over my entire face.
“Do you know who’s playing Mason yet?”
Mason is my almost-character, Ali’s love interest in the books.
“Yeah, but he’s in the same condition as you. In fact, I suppose they’ll be asking both of you to go down there together.”
“Who is it, though?” I can’t contain my excitement.
“Noah Centineo.”
I almost fall out of my deck chair.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s been nearly two weeks since I found out I’m almost playing Alison in the TV Series adaptation of Colors and today, I’m going to be finalized. Or I’m hoping to be, since I’ve been called down today for my ‘audition’ and I’m absolutely thrilled and raring to just go down there and bag it. A couple of days ago, the producers contacted my agent, Joanna, and gave them the final dates for the trial. Also, just as Joanna had predicted, Noah Centineo, is being called in to audition for Mason and we’re auditioning together. I must say, that, I’m not thrilled about.
I’m not exactly sure why I get hostile at just the thought of this guy and somewhere in my head, a rational voice answers that it’s because of how much I love this character. Mason Scott is my favourite fictional character and if some douchebag with cool hair messes it up, then as a loyal fan, I have every right to have a vendetta against him. It could be that he’s the biggest actor at the moment, answers the rational voice again but I ignore it. Of course it had to be him. I am sick of seeing him everywhere, and how everyone is obsessed with him. Honestly, how is it that someone who literally just blew up overnight, lands a role as big as Mason Freaking Scott?! He must have pulled in some serious favours.
It suddenly dawns on me, then, that he would probably be thinking the same thing about Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter getting the lead – that it wasn’t my skill that got me this part. I quickly brush it off.
“Blue or beige?” I hold up two identical blouses, trying to decide which one to wear to the audition.
“Definitely the beige. Wear the brown skirt with it.” My mother comments from her spot on my bed.
My mother and I had a tiff about this role earlier, since it’s gonna have a fair bit of nudity in, but I’m happy to tell you that I was able to finally get through to her about how big this role is for my career. Everybody’s excited to see a reboot.
My dad helped as well, explaining the whole situation to my earlier apprehensive mother and now she’s supporting me whole-heartedly. Or she’s pretending to, but either way, I’m glad she’s accepted that I’m going to do this and that she’s really cool about it.
I, on the other hand, am a sack full of nerves right now. I might appear to be confident and, quoting my own self ‘raring to go’, but on the inside I’m. Freaking. Out. It’s like a dream role and I do not want to mess this up in any way. I don’t want the makers to have second thoughts about casting me; I don’t want to give them any reason to so much as even think about someone else. And obviously, that leaves zero room for error on my part. None. Nada.
So, clearly, there’s no pressure!
My head is pounding as I walk into the studio, script in hand. The audition is the part when Mason first takes Ali to his apartment and tells her about his lifestyle and what he does for a living, letting her know what she’s in for if she agrees to be with him. I know all my lines by heart and my dear friend, Tyler, and I have been through them almost a hundred times but it’s still a rather difficult scene if you consider the acting side of it because it really shows Ali’s innocence and her willingness to step into the dark with Mason.
Speaking of, where the hell is this overrated hero?! I’d really like it if I could just run through these lines with him at least once before the main audition.
I’m walking around the studio with an expression that says I own the place because people keep stepping out of my way, when, really, all I’m doing is being annoyed as I try to find my arrogant co-auditioner.
Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a bit premature calling him arrogant. Seriously though? Who on earth would just waltz in there and read their lines with an unknown person, for the first time, to audition for the role of a lifetime? An arrogant person, that’s who, because even I am willing to swallow my pride and look for this brat for a little practice.
I somehow end up walking to the kitchen, well not somehow because I could murder a coffee right now, and surprise, surprise, Mr. Centineo is sitting right there with his posse. I stop dead in my tracks as soon as our eyes meet and he stares at me for several seconds, not blinking. And then, slowly, he raises a brow as he gives me a relaxed, deliberate once-over.
And it pisses me off.
Like, I know I’m looking nice right now but seriously dude, I’m about to be your goddamned co-star! Show a little respect, for god’s sake!
To be honest though, I don’t even know why I’m so offended. Maybe it’s his gorgeous hair. I notice that there are three other guys sat next to him and I assume those are his ‘buddies’; they look the type – all dude bro-ish in their stupid hoodies and ripped, skinny jeans. Not that I have anything personal against hoodies or ripped, skinny jeans. Or dude-bros, for that matter. But I wasn’t told I could bring my friends.
Ass.
Finally regaining my ability to walk, I make a bored face as if I audition for huge shows every day, and then head straight to the counter off the side of the room, ignoring him completely. Behind me, I hear snickers and hushed voices as I’m pouring my coffee in a paper cup. I roll my eyes.
Grow up, boys.
I dump two packets of sugar and stir it vigorously. Putting on the lid, I turn around and my coffee is knocked out of my hand.
“ARGH!! The fudge!” I growl.
I’m surprised at my ability to control myself. I had a whole variety of choice expletives I could’ve used in this situation. I look up and standing in front of me is the newest bane of my existence. And he’s smirking.
I reward him with the stoniest face I can manage.
“Hey, I’m Noah.” He says and okay, I’ll admit it, his voice is So. Hot.
No! I’m furious right now, I can’t think about that. What the hell is he playing at? I need an apology.
“You spilled my coffee.” I mutter in quiet fury as I point out his first misdemeanour.
“Whoa woah, not the friendly type, are you?”
“I suppose I wouldn’t be either if my dad was Iron Man.” He adds with a snigger. My jaw pops open.
How dare he?!
Strike Two. I’m overwhelmed by how much I want to break his pretty little jaw.
“What the hell?! You have no right to say that.” I yell.
Further to my irritation, he grins – teeth and all. Perfectly straight, white teeth and all. But, anyway.
“What?” I snap.
“You’re fiery.” He remarks in amusement and the next thing I know is a sharp, stinging feeling in the palm of my hand and Centineo’s shocked expression.
Okay, so I might’ve slapped him.
Before I can react or try to apologise – not that I was going to, he clearly had three strikes, but it’s the thought that counts – I get a call from Joanna.
“Y/N, they’re calling you in now. Stage 36.”
“I’m coming.”
“If you see Noah on the way, let him know they want him too.”
“I haven’t seen him.” I bark as I hang up.
I walk around Noah Centineo in a huff and he stares after me, dumbstruck, as I walk out the door, still holding the cheek that holds proof of my assault.
Now how’s that for ‘fiery’?
Part 2
#this idea is so stupid#why did i decide to write this#noah centineo#noah centineo x reader#noah centineo fanfic#noah centineo x you#jamey sbial#sbial#peter kavinsky#peter kavinsky x reader#tatbilb#noah centineo edit#to all the boys i’ve loved before#tyler posey#teen wolf
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My hand slipped, fix it 3x18
Alex threw her keys on the couch after she closed the door to her apartment. She made her way to the fridge, pulled out a beer and a bottle of water.
“Hey Google, play CrushCrushCrush by Paramore.”
Alex’s home device responded as she took her drinks to her bedroom. She pulled the guitar off the stand near her bed, plugged in the amp, and flicked it on in time to hit the opening notes along with the song flooding the speakers in her apartment.
She played along loudly, stomping on the floor to the beat, allowing the music to consume her like it did when she learned to play the song ten years ago. The song ended and Decode followed it. Alex shook her head fiercely as she played the hook; she screamed along to the words that seemed to have new meaning for her all over again.
She stayed like this for hours, playing every song that came up next. She moved from Paramore’s albums to My Chemical Romance’s Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.
She didn’t hear the knock on the door, and didn’t hear when her visitor came into her apartment since the door was left unlocked. Lena made her way through Alex’s incredibly loud living space. She smirked when she saw the older Danvers sister playing the solo to her favorite song from middle school.
Alex spun on the spot, still playing her guitar oblivious to Lena’s presence.
“Jesus Christ!” Alex yelled when she caught sight of the CEO standing in her living room with a bemused expression on her face. She immediately shut off the amp and song system, embarrassment spreading through her like poison.
“Sorry, Alex,” Lena said, a half smile still on her lips. “You said I could come over when I needed, and the door was unlocked…”
“Yeah, no, no, it’s fine,” Alex shook her head. “I just can’t believe you caught me playing along to MCR, no less. It’s kind of--”
“Hot,” Lena supplied, her cheeks tinged slightly pink at her own admission.
“I was going to say embarrassing,” Alex replied, curling the right side of her mouth upwards with confidence. “Didn’t think you were into pop punk.”
“I was a rebelliously angsty teenager at some point, Agent Danvers.” Lena quirked her right eyebrow up, enjoying the reaction she was getting from the older woman. “And who can resist a woman who can play guitar?”
It was Alex’s turn for her cheeks to redden. She coughed to loosen the tension she felt in her chest. “What brings you to my place, Lena? Can’t just be my above average musical skill.”
Lena smiled at this. “As much as I wish that were true, I did come to talk to you about what’s been going on, if that’s okay?” Lena fidgeted suddenly unsure of herself. “I know you said I could come by whenever I needed, and now I’ve invaded your space, so I hope this is acceptable.”
“Lena,” Alex breathed. The Luthor’s eyes shot up to meet her own. “You want a beer?”
“Uh, yeah, a beer would be great.”
The pair moved to the couch, talking about nothing in particular while they drank what Alex claimed to be the best I.P.A. that exists. Alex realized, that while she was friends with Lena, she didn’t know her that well. Kara usually monopolized Lena’s time when they would all hang out. But that was pre-break up. That was pre-Reign, too.
“I had no idea you’ve been out this long. I feel like an idiot for assuming you came out as recently as me.”
Lena smiled, liking that she was able to see a softer side of Alex. “Oh yeah, I’ve been out as queer since I was fourteen. I fell in love with my best friend and roommate at boarding school. Such a cliche, right?” Lena was talking animatedly as Alex listened amused. “We were together on and off for about two years.”
“What broke you up?” Alex asked as she sipped her beer.
“I graduated early and started my first doctorate at MIT.”
“Wow.”
“I didn’t want to do a long distance thing, especially when our relationship was kind of a secret on campus. And well, I was very interested in getting to know college girls at the time.” Lena winked at Alex, which made her chuckle.
“How’d that work out?” Alex asked with a grin.
“Oh, it was absolutely awful!” Lena laughed with Alex at her past. “I don’t know why I thought any adult women would be interested in me a sixteen. Once I turned eighteen, finished a BS/MS degree in Nuclear Science and Engineering at MIT, moving to be full time in my Biological Engineering doctorate, it all changed.”
“Really?” Alex questioned, her eyebrows raised.
“No, of course not.” Lena laughed at Alex’s reaction. “I was still younger than my contemporaries by at least ten years, and seen as a spoiled rich kid to boot.”
“I would think the ladies would be lined up around the block for you,” Alex said smoothly.
Lena smiled, watching Alex take a swig of her beer. “I’m sure that’s the case for you.”
Alex made a noise like a cough mixed with a laugh. “Me? No way. I’m far too nervous for any of that. No ladies want me.”
It was Lena’s turn to laugh. “No ladies want you? A strong woman who works for a secret government agency kicking ass and protecting the world, rides a motorcycle, plays guitar, and is incredibly gorgeous?” Lena raised her eyebrow as if to say Really? “Eighteen year old me would have been first in line.”
“Would have been?” Alex repeated before she could stop herself.
“Maybe I still would be in that line, even if you just saw me as your sister’s best friend,” Lena shared daringly, playing with the label on her beer bottle. Crime As Forgiven by Against Me! poured from the speakers, surrounding Alex and Lena in their own world.
Alex blushed, and looked past Lena through the sliding glass doors that led to her small porch. “We should go outside, it’s beautiful out.”
Without waiting for a response from Lena, she took the beer from Lena’s hand, put it on the coffee table, then spun to take both her hands in her own. Lena revelled in the feeling Alex’s fingers wrapped around her own.
Alex kept her one hand held loosely in Lena’s once they were outside. They looked up at the stars that were splattered across the night’s sky like someone flicked the end of a paint brush against a black canvas.
“I sort of had a crush on you, before I even knew it was a crush,” Alex conceded, not looking at Lena, but at the sky.
“Oh, really?” Lena replied, squeezing Alex’s hand that still hung in her own. “Had?”
“Maybe I still do, but am nervous you’re into your best friend again?” Alex’s heart thudded in her chest in time with the kick drum.
“I’ve been more amorous of her sapphic sister,” Lena admitted, leaning her shoulder into Alex’s.
They turned to meet each other’s gaze, Alex with hazy eyes while Lena’s sparkled. Alex nodded, as if to say that she understood what Lena meant, even if the information was still making its way to her brain.
While Alex still was formulating what to say back, Lena closed her eyes and brought her lips to meet the slightly older woman’s. They kissed slowly on the porch, each careful not to move too quickly. Just as Alex moved to slide her hands from Lena’s waist up her back, deepening the kiss in a way that made Lena moan, they heard someone clear their throat.
They pulled apart, Alex adopting a defensive stance slightly in front of Lena in anticipation of a fight from this intruder. She was met with Supergirl’s furrowed brow.
“Sorry, to, uh, interrupt,” Supergirl cleared her throat again, putting on a stoic grimace. “But we are needed at the DEO. It’s Reign.”
“Okay, we’ll meet you there,” Alex said, already turning to retrieve her jacket and keys in her apartment.
“Uh, ‘we’?”
“Yes,” Alex met Supergirl’s uncomfortable gaze. “Lena is helping us with Reign. She’s the only one who’s learned anything about how to subdue her.” Alex ended with a glare to her younger sister We’ve been through this, Kara.
“Right,” Supergirl cleared her throat, processing everything she’d just experienced in the two miutes she’d been near her sister and best friend. “I can carry you both, if--”
“Thanks, but we’ll meet you at the DEO,” Alex interjected. “Lena can come with me on my motorcycle.” Alex looked to Lena, who raised her eyebrow suggestively.
Supergirl nodded and took off into the sky.
After putting on her jacket, Alex grabbed the spare helmet she had and handed it to Lena.
“Sorry about that,” Alex offered.
“It’s not like you did it.” Lena inspected the helmet in her hands. “Maybe you can make it up to me? Take me riding?” She quirked her eyebrow in a way that made Alex melt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Alex laughed wholeheartedly, taking a step closer to Lena so their bodies were nearly pressed together. “I can’t wait.” She leaned in to place a small kiss on Lena’s lips. Before either realized, they were pressed together again, Lena’s hands wrapped in Alex’s hair. She adored the feeling of the Alex’s buzzed undercut as she deepened the kiss.
Lena pulled back, breathing heavily. “Let’s go save the world.” She placed a quick kiss on Alex’s lips before taking a step back and following Alex out the door.
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A Guy With A Secret
/Part One/ /Part Two/ /Part Three/ /Part Four/ /Part Five/ /Part Six/ /Part Seven/ /Part Eight/ /Part Nine/ /Part Ten/ /Part Eleven/ /Part Twelve/ /Part Thirteen/ /Part Fourteen/ /Part Fifteen/ /Part Sixteen//Part Seventeen/ /Part Eighteen/ /Part Nineteen/ /Part Twenty/ /Part Twenty-One/ /Part Twenty-Two / /Part Twenty-Three/ /Part Twenty-Four/ /Part Twenty-Five/ /Part Twenty-Six/ /Part Twenty-Seven/
(Ao3 story link)
Part Twenty-Eight.
A/N: Y’all forgive me for this thing having so many chapters. Here’s a chapter where nobody leaves the bed. Oh yeah, adult content ahead yada yada. Enjoy!
“What about this one?” He wonders. Noble leans closer and traces fingertips just above my right eyebrow.
Propping my head up where I lay in bed beside him, I ponder what the scar could be. “I was pushed down a flight of stairs. On a bogus 911 call.”
“Damn. You and your head injuries.”
I smirk. “Does that explain a lot?”
“Must have a pretty thick head.”
“You're not the first person to accuse me of that.”
“What happened here?” He moves on to another remnant of an injury, this one on my left cheek.
“Oh.” I swipe my thumb over the spot to remember. “That was your boy Tesla. My face caught his watch.”
Noble’s brows pull together, a shiny flicker in his gaze before he mutters, “Bastard.”
Managing an almost sad smile, I exhale a soft laugh. “Yeah, well.”
“I'm sorry.” He blames himself for introducing me to Johnny, for weaving all of us together too tightly which ultimately wound up getting the man killed.
We've talked about it before. We've discussed what happened during that whole operation and I've had to remind him over and again that nothing was his fault. “Hey, if this scar is all that remains from that bullshit beat down, then I'm doing alright.”
“I've never noticed it until now,” he says. He reaches for my face and skates his thumb along my cheek. “You can't really see it unless you're this close.”
Ducking my face down, my forehead falls against the edge of his jaw and I smile there. “Is my face busted enough for you?”
“You look really good for someone who's been hit in the face so many times--”
He can barely finish the teasing insult before my grip digs into his side and he flinches against me. His surprised laughter cuts off his words and he rolls onto his back. “Wait,” he complains. “I was working my way down.”
“Mm yeah?” I mutter as I follow against his side before my lips fall on his. The way we move in an easy tangle of limbs keeps us tucked against one another.
I used to feel so lost when I kissed him. But this morning it’s like his lips ground me. His curvy mouth and the teasing stroke of his tongue lure me exactly where I’m supposed to be -- with him. Sustained by the spark that feels so good, the way it knocks around like a pinball inside my chest.
Idle hands spend the morning telling secrets across heated skin. Fingertips trace the lines, the slopes, the scars on my body like a map he wants to commit to memory. Favorite places to visit. The ones he’ll return to.
It’s probably late morning by this point, but the day’s expectations, its routine doesn’t exist for us in this bedroom. It could be the middle of the night, it could be lunch time, I wouldn’t know. A day’s never seemed like such an abstract concept for me.
But there’s always that squared off reserve of good judgment that would never leave my brain even if I wanted it to. It pricks me at the base of my neck to keep me from wandering too far.
Slowly, my kiss eases away and I blink my eyes open, my gaze finding his. I can feel my heart beat in my lower lip, reminding me of how much it's been used.
A slow exhale leaves his nose and I admire the glow that catches in thick, flitting eyelashes. “God,” he breathes. “You’re such a dreamy little fuck.”
I can’t help the laugh that thuds in my chest and I shake my head, glancing down to hide my smile. “I thought you already worked your way down on me this morning.”
A grin lights up his face as he arches his neck back on his pillow. “What do you expect me to do when you come out of the shower looking the way that you do? You knew what you were doing.”
“I always know what I’m doing.” I mumble the words onto his chest before I tilt my face against the firm plane there to glance up at him.
“Yeah?” He wonders, a smiley twitch at his lips. “Alright, how much longer until you need to be at the airport?”
With a shake of my head, I turn back to the golden path of sun-loved skin between his pectorals. “Hell if I know.”
His body jerks with a laugh. “You’re fucked, Jamie.” He says it as if it’s a medical diagnosis. A debilitating condition. But he does nothing to remedy it when his grip closes in my hair.
I press wet kisses on his stomach, smiling there. “I am. It’s all your fault.”
This needy groan rattles slowly in his throat. I can feel it vibrate inside him. “Ugh. Don’t leave,” he manages.
“Okay,” I murmur. My palm coasts across his hip, then my mouth finds the ridge there before my hand dips beneath the sheet and closes around him.
His shaft twitches in my loose grip and I hear the way he presses his lips together to suppress a overeager moan.
“By the way,” I tell him as I drag the tip of my nose across his low abdomen. “I need to be at the airport in an hour and half.”
Softly, he chuckles, smoothing a hand through my hair. “Okay so you're not that fucked.”
“I’m fucked, but I’m always aware.”
“Yeah, you’ve got good instincts like that.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
Moving down, I twist my fist up the length of his arousal and follow it with the graze of my bottom lip, with my tongue. “I’m glad you appreciate them.”
“Ah, god.” His sigh floats into the air above him. “I definitely do.”
I have to have him once more -- before I leave, unsure of the next time I’ll see him. Of course we can make time to visit each other. It’s not that difficult. But it’s not exactly easy either.
We haven’t left this bed other than to part ways at separate bathrooms after we woke up for a shower and general upkeep of ourselves. A moment alone to dissolve the dull thud of hangovers with shower steam and mint toothpaste. Hydration and a new day.
Otherwise, we’re in bed. I don’t intend to get dressed until I absolutely have to. We’d just take our clothes off again anyway in this insatiable loop we keep giving into.
I don’t care. I’ll be gone too soon and he feels too perfect.
I take my time with him. His low, broken moans give away his slow unraveling as he disappears into the heat of my mouth.
His core seizes when another gravelly note escapes him. He arches hips toward me and strokes a heavy hand down the back of my head, between my shoulderblades.
The pure need makes me shift, gaining more leverage over him on my knees, my lungs filling with air before I take him further to the back of my throat.
Whatever intentions I had of a slow tease -- I’ve ditched all that and now I only want to ruin him. I wonder if I already have. Some twisted part of me wishes he would never have it this good ever, with anybody else. Even if we said goodbye after this trip and decided not to go through with this -- which would kill me but it’s an easy possibility -- he’d never be able to shake me and the effect I have on every hiding place inside his heart. In his head. In the pulse that courses through him.
Because that’s what he’s done to me. It’s incredible now, but I’ll despise it tomorrow.
The urgency of his hard exhales, the throbbing bass in his voice with desperate swears, is so fucking hot. The ways we’ve found on each other to sear blinding white heat behind our eyes -- with skilled slick fingers and slippery mouths and attentive hands -- are like a new obsession.
And I prove to him that I know them all.
Surrender, I know you want to.
He chokes on a groan as he calls out, as if he’s not ready to let go but he can’t catch up. But he does, coming hard beneath me, the waves of release coursing unevenly through jerking muscles.
I ease my movements until I can feel him eventually fall slack, unwound. Through his panting breath, a loud, spent growl escapes and he reaches up to let heavy limbs fall over his eyes.
Shifting off of him, a smug pull at my cheek I won’t hide, I let him recover. I ease in beside him but I stay upright because if I lay back down this will never end.
He lets out a rush of breath between puffed cheeks and blinks hard. “How am I supposed to let you go now? You’re fucking brutal--” he mutters.
“I hope you remember that next time you want to ask some girl to send you a picture.”
“I will remember that any time I try to do anything. I’ll remember it and then keel over and die. Like, well at least I got the best possible head that ever existed. It was mine. Goodbye everyone.”
Amused, I clench my fist and pump it once, as if to give myself an atta’boy. “Awesome. Please don’t keel over and die, though. I need a ride to the airport.”
He manages to push himself up beside me, a soft chuckle humming in his throat. Then he dives toward me and sinks his mouth on the curve of my neck, just where it meets my collarbone. There, he leaves an affectionate little bite, a quiet growl rumbling there.
I tip my head back, dragging my teeth over my own bottom lip and laugh. “Are you trying to leave a mark?”
“I could,” he murmurs into my skin. “Give you something to remember me by.”
“I remember everything. Don’t question that.”
Instead of digging his teeth harder, he merely leaves a kiss at the base of my throat. “I won’t add to your collection of injuries, though. I’m nice like that.”
My head tips down and I touch my lips to the faint scar that’ll always be there on his shoulder. Then I rest my forehead on that spot for a beat and summon the will to acknowledge that it’s time to go.
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Insights – Etrian Odyssey 2 Fanfiction {A Guardians Guild x Mythica Guild crossover)
Summary: Lynus receives a surprise visit from a fellow medic and her brother, who of which happens to be suffering from a curse. A curse they would like information on. Information only Lynus could provide for them. But will he have good news? Or bad news?
AN: This is a oneshot with my Lynus interacting with @treeofsalvation characters Althea and Jonah. We’ve been finessing this one for a couple of days and probably would have been done sooner if it weren’t for migraines and stress. Please be sure to check out treeofsalvation’s lovely characters and fanfics to truly know/appreciate what is going on in this fic. It’s doesn’t impact too much on the CtS universe, so it’s not necessarily AU, and it’s a lovely fic that has the potential to occur in the CtS world. This was incredibly cute to write (also turned out longer than expected lol) as Jonah and Althea fit in well with Lynus’ personality, and I am somewhat fairly confident that Jonah and Althea are true to their characters.
I’m going to have to start another book of oneshots aren’t I???
~*~*~*~*~
Lynus was at his desk in his room flipping through one of his many encyclopaedias of magical and medical herbs when he heard a soft knock at his door. He instinctively lifted his head up and glanced in the door's direction, a little surprised. The knock was timid, almost hesitant.
Setting his book aside, Lynus focused his senses on who could be on the other side. One he recognised immediately, the other was new to him. The first aura belonged to a young, up-and-coming medic, one he had taken under his wing to train himself. The other he did not know, and yet there was a sense of...familiarity. Perhaps not towards him, exactly, but toward his companion. He could feel his protectiveness. And it was...reassuring.
And yet...there was something else. Something far darker hidden in his aura. Part of him, but not of him. If that made any sense.
Lynus shook his head as he pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to open the door. He smiled warmly at his fellow orange-haired medic, Althea, and couldn't help but feel a mild sense of amusement at her redheaded companion.
Althea looked much like him in appearance, though she was shorter and her hair was a slightly lighter shade of orange. But she held the same violet eyes. And others, especially when they see the two of them together, would comment that they look so alike they had to be twins. Or at least siblings.
But, in all honestly, they weren't related. And, though somewhat sadly, there was no possibility that they were long lost siblings.
Still, it did not matter. Lynus saw Althea as a little sister anyway. And he was fairly certain that all those who knew her well saw her the same way. She was...precious, after all.
Althea often volunteered at the hospital, but under supervision. Not because she was reckless or anything to that degree. Not at all. She was gentle and timid, and greatly afraid of conflict and other women. Though Lynus did not know the reason for her fears, he knew that they were very troubling for her. She didn't want to be afraid. She didn't want to be timid. But her fears were so strong that they were holding her back.
And they were also holding back her voice.
The poor thing was unable to talk. And it was due entirely from trauma. Though Lynus did not know to specifics, he knew that she had suffered greatly when she was young. He could see the scars - mental, physical, and spiritual - in her aura.
So, whenever she wanted to volunteer, she did so when either Dr Stiles was doing rounds for that day, or Lynus himself was. And her grandfather was the one to walk her to and from each shift. She was too meek and nervous around other medics.
It honestly made him feel humbled and honoured that she was comfortable around him. That he was the first person she would scurry to whenever she was at the hospital. And that he was the one person she would hide behind should he ever get anxious or afraid.
She had great potential to be an extraordinary healer. But, once more, her fears were holding her back. It...couldn't really be helped. And getting frustrated or angry with her (not that Lynus would or could) wouldn't help in the slightest. She would overcome her fears in her own time, with the reassurance and protection of her family and guild.
Althea's companion, however, was someone new to him. And, to be completely honest, he looked like a miniature version of Axel. Messy red hair, bluish-green eyes, and tanned skin. He was a fraction taller than Lynus was, but definitely shorter than Axel. And not as muscular.
However, it wasn't his height or similar appearance to Axel that had caught Lynus' attention. It was his left eye. He had it pinched shut, something that felt was due to habit and yet the habit was formed for a certain reason. And it was his eye, right behind it, where the nerves sent pulses of information to his brain, was the dark spot. Small, but potent. Very potent.
It was a curse. A powerful one at that.
Lynus managed to maintain his smile when his two guests turned away from each other to look at him. Althea smiled bashfully and waved her hand in greeting, while her companion furrowed his brow as though slightly stunned.
"You really do look alike," he mumbled in such a manner it gave the indication that he didn't actually mean to say those words aloud.
“Hm, we get that a lot, don’t we, Althea?” Lynus said, which earned him a smile from Althea and a slight squeak from Jonah, signalling that he indeed did not mean to talk aloud.
“Sorry,” the redheaded landsknecht said with a light dusting of red to his cheeks. “I talk aloud sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Lynus immediately replied. “You must be Althea’s guildmate, yes? What’s your name and how can I help the two of you today?”
The young man glanced over at Althea almost nervously as the younger medic nodded reassuringly at him as she made a ‘go on’ motion with her hand. He then nodded back at her before squaring his shoulders slightly.
“My name is Jonah,” he introduced as he fidgeted with the hem of his untuck shirt. “And I, we, want to, um ask for your advice on something…”
Lynus had the gut feeling he knew what they wanted to ask him. Thought he wasn’t a hundred percent certain, he had the strong intuition that they wanted to ask him for advice for the dark spot behind Jonah’s right eye. It wouldn’t be surprising, honestly; Lynus was becoming (unfortunately) popular for his innate ability to find and remove painful dark spots from his patients.
“Of course,” Lynus said gently as he motioned for the two to walk into his room as they really shouldn't and couldn't converse comfortably out in the hallway. Though, out of habit, he left the door slightly ajar after they stepped through.
"Axel isn't here at the moment, so we can talk freely if you like," Lynus said as he sat down at his chair while the two chose to stand a foot or so in front of him.
Jonah, however, perked his head up. "Wait, Axel? The Axel?" he asked with a sense of awe in his voice. "He stays here?"
Lynus smiled from both amusement and friendliness as he tilted his head to the side. "Hmm? Oh, you know Axel?"
Once more a dusting of red appeared on the bridge of his nose and he nodded his head while Althea giggled ever so softly next to him. “Y-yeah, everyone knows of him. T-they say he’s the strongest landsknecht in High Lagaard.”
“He’s also a skilled and valued member of the Guardians,” Lynus said before he smiled warmly with a glint of mirth in his eyes. “He’s also quite adept at settling bar fights.”
That seemed to both amuse and impress Jonah.
“I’ll be happy to introduce you,” Lynus added, which Jonah promptly nodded his head to. “But until he returns, why don’t we talk about what brings you here to me today.”
Jonah instantly looked nervous again and glanced over at Althea before he sighed rather shakily and turned back toward Lynus. “It’s…my left eye. There’s something…cursing it,” he admitted before quickly clamping his mouth shut, seemingly waiting for a reaction.
Lynus, however, probably didn’t react in the way he was expecting. “Ah, I see,” he said simply, calmly, as he took to his feet once more in front of an obviously startled Jonah. “I will need to have a look at your eye. Do you mind?”
But Jonah took a slight step back. He proceeded to fidgeted as he shuffled nervously on his feet. "I...know things," he said as he refused to look Lynus in the eyes. "I mean, factual information. About objects. And people. P-probably things they don’t want me to know."
Oh? That was something similar to Lynus’ own ability to read auras. Fascinating.
Lynus tilted his head out of curiosity. "You mean information like weight, height, and ailments?"
"Yes to the first two," Jonah replied with a jerky shrug of his shoulder. "But not statuses. I mean, not completely. I know if someone or something is poisoned, but not how or why, or where. Just...facts."
There was a pause in Jonah’s words, but Lynus felt it wasn’t from reluctance to admit anything more to him. He just couldn’t find the right words. He was unsure of how to describe it. He didn’t know what to describe. He didn’t know what was wrong with his eye. He accepted that something was indeed cursing his eye; he just didn’t know anything more than that.
And from the slow, unfairly guilty nod from Althea, he wasn’t the only one who was left without answers.
“I see,” Lynus said in understanding, though did not move to take a step back. Instead he reached out to place a gentle and reassuring hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “Well, Jonah, I just want you to know that I understand your reluctance to open your eye. I have the ability to read auras, and I, too, often learn information and facts about others that they either wanted to keep hidden or don’t necessarily know about themselves.”
Jonah snapped his head up to look at Lynus in surprise, though his kept his left eye pinched shut. He opened his mouth but nothing came out at first. He appeared both stunned and yet…relieved. Lynus was certain that he had kept his insecurities about his abilities granted to him by his curse, but it was fairly obvious that he thought himself to be alone in his plight. That no one else truly understood what he was going through.
So to find someone else with a similar trait was reassuring.
“And I know finding information about someone can be daunting,” Lynus continued as gave Jonah’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “But if you focus in on me, the factual information you’ll learn about me at present is information I’m already aware of. No hidden little secrets here.”
To lighten the mood somewhat, Lynus gave him a playfully stern, motherly look. “Mention my weight to anyone, though, and I will be incredibly disappointed.”
The corner of Jonah’s mouth twitched in a half smile and he gave a slight nod of his head. The smile soon slipped from his lips, though, and he glanced down at the floor before tilting his head to peek at Althea. They seemed to share a silent conversation with their eyes before, finally, Jonah turned his attention back to Lynus and nodded his head firmly.
He was willing to give this a try.
Lynus gave him a warm smile and gave Jonah’s shoulder another squeeze before he dropped his arm to his side.
“Open your eye when you’re ready and comfortable,” Lynus instructed. “I won’t do anything at first. I’ll just stand here. If you think it would help, I can give you something to hold. A medicine bottle, perhaps. Maybe you could list off the ingredients?”
Jonah pressed his lips together in thought. “I’ve honestly never tried to read a medicine bottle before,” he admitted. “It…sounds plausible, though. And…useful?”
“Hm, very useful,” Lynus quickly agreed. “But don’t push yourself. But let’s try without the medicine bottle for the start. Let’s see how much my aura and presence may affect you.”
Jonah nodded his head again before drawing in a deep breath through his nose. He held his breath for a moment before slowly, somewhat shakily releasing it. And then…
He slowly peeled open his left eye.
And as his did so, his eye immediately flickered toward Lynus, slowly focusing in on him. And unexpectedly, Jonah drew in a sharp intake of air. He didn’t snap his eye shut, though, and though Lynus could sense nervousness in Jonah’s aura, he didn’t sense any pain or discomfort.
Jonah furrowed his brow as he stared unblinkingly at Lynus. Almost as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. Or perhaps learning.
It was a little unnerving, but at least Lynus now understood how his patients felt when he gave them the once over!
“You’re…different,” Jonah mumbled as he kept both eyes trained on Lynus. He didn’t appear to be in any distress, but he did feel confused. Or perhaps puzzled was a better word. “Your presence is far stronger than any I’ve encountered before, but…not overwhelming.”
“It’s most likely due to the fact that I’m a healer,” Lynus answered with a smile. “My aura is meant to sooth and comfort. Not overwhelm. Will it be alright for me to inspect your eye now?”
“Yeah,” Jonah surprisingly replied without hesitation.
In fact, now that Jonah had peeled open his left eye; he was far more comfortable and relaxed with the situation. Had he found Lynus’ aura soothing in some what?
Deciding to push that thought aside, Lynus lifted his hand and placed his fingertips on Jonah’s left temple.
It took all he had in him not to immediately pull his hand back in shock the second his fingertips brushed against the skin.
His left eye was curse. Cursed by someone else. Someone who wanted the skills and abilities that the dark spell offered, but did not want to deal with the side effects. So they forced it upon someone else. Someone they thought they could control and manipulate. Someone they were fine with suffering in their place.
It was…the intention of the curse upon Jonah was that of sheer selfishness and violence. They did not care for Jonah, nor where they concerned that he was suffering. They certainly didn’t care that he didn’t want anything to do with the curse, or the one who had placed it upon him.
And…he got all that information with a single touch.
That was…disturbing.
Lynus nibbled on his bottom lip thoughtfully as he pulled his hand back. There was...a possibility that he could remove the curse. Despite not knowing who cast the curse or where the sentential being was that created it, there could be a way to remove it without causing too much of a backlash. And yet...that curse was also holding something back. A memory. A dark one. A painful one. Perhaps many painful memories.
It might...do more damage to Jonah’s psyche if he removed it without first ensuring a more...controlled method of revealing the memories. To have them all rush out at once might destroy him mentally.
And Lynus just couldn't allow himself to be responsible for someone else's pain.
He just couldn't.
But...what should he tell them? He couldn't hide it from them, though. He was and has never been a good liar. Even in the best interest of others.
“I did find out some information,” Lynus admitted, which caused Jonah and Althea to perk up in interest. However, they deflated slightly when Lynus shook his head slowly. “But I’m not sure it’s what you want or need.”
With a sigh, Lynus told them of the information he had learnt. About how he could potentially remove the curse from Jonah, freeing him of it, but to do so now or in the near future without further study might result in Jonah regaining his memories while simultaneously losing his mind.
After he was finished, Althea looked nervously over at Jonah while Jonah stared at the floor in front of him silently. His left eye was pinched shut again as his hands curled into fists by his sides.
"I want to keep it," Jonah unexpectedly said as he lifted his head up. "I mean, it's like useful, you know? If I can get the smallest bit of information, if I can give my guild the slightest advantage, I want to."
A part of Lynus wasn’t thrilled with this. The curse was laid upon him by the greed of another. The intention of the curse bearer just wanted to use Jonah as a tool. The spell, the curse, wasn’t in Jonah’s best interests. So there could be future complications. It could start to affect his health, his mental state. His very spirit.
Still, for the time being, that was their best course of action. He would continue to research this curse, though. For Jonah and Althea’s peace of mind. For the peace of mind for his guild and family.
"You're conducting consultations in our room now?" Came Axel's voice with a hint of amusement.
Both Althea and Jonah jumped slightly, startled by Axel's appearance and spun around to find him lounging casually in the doorway. He, however, soon arched an eyebrow when he gaze fell upon Jonah. And, somewhat unexpectedly, Jonah flushed lightly and dropped his gaze to the floor.
"Axel, don't startle our guests," Lynus chided but with not bite to his words. "Anyway, this is Althea and Jonah. They are members of the Mythica Guild. Althea volunteers with me at the hospital and Jonah is her brother. He is also training to be a landsknecht."
“Oh yeah?” Axel said as he pushed away from the door frame and stepped into the room. He stepped in front of Jonah and leaned forward to try to catch his gaze, but Jonah kept his head down as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.
A little confused by Jonah’s reaction, Axel glanced over at Lynus and gave him a questioning look. Lynus folded his arms lightly over his torso as he mouthed the words ‘a fan’ to him. And that caused Axel to look bemused and amused.
“I see,” Axel said as he placed his hand atop of Jonah’s head and tilted his head back so that Jonah had to look up at him. “Which is your preferred weapon? Sword or axe?”
“S-sword,” Jonah stuttered in response as he stared wide-eyed up at Axel who had to be a good foot taller than him.
“Ah, I know a few swords skills,” Axel said with a half-smile as he peered back at him through one eye. “I could give you a tip or two, if you want.”
“R-really?!” Jonah responded, his expression and posture cutely excited.
The grin on Axel’s grew more sincere as he looped an arm around Jonah’s neck and pulled the shorter man toward him, earning himself an even deeper blush from the other landsknecht. “But are you looking for battle experience or bar fighting experience?” he asked with a teasing tone.
“Axel, be good,” Lynus chided with a click of his tongue.
Axel shot him a cheeky grin as he ruffled Jonah’s hair, the other redheaded landsknecht all but beaming under his, well, idol’s touch.
Lynus rolled his eyes before he glanced over at Althea, find the orange-haired medic watching Axel and Jonah carefully. She had a small smile on her lips, and yet there was a small sense of trepidation in her eyes. She was worried. Not about Axel. No, she was worried for Jonah.
It was no surprise, really. The information Lynus had discovered was unsettling, to say the least.
“Don’t worry,” he said to her softly as she looked up at him. “He will be fine. We’ll work something out for him. We’ll do whatever we can to help him.”
Relieved, Althea nodded her head.
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An Autistic Person's Perspective on Building a Healthy Body Image After Trauma
By Shawna Hinkle--In the beginning of April, I participated in a NEDA chat about eating disorders, body image issues, and how they affect me as an autistic woman. After the chat, I had so many thoughts swirling around in my brain. The questions and answers brought forth memories long forgotten.
Trigger warning: Mentions of eating disordered behavior.
As a young child, I do recall not having a very positive relationship with food. How much this contributed to my body image issues, I don't know, but I know it didn't help. I was always a very thin, underweight kid. There were always more interesting things for me to do than eat. I don't think I find the same enjoyment out of eating as other people do. Most of the time, I would eat just enough to make the annoying hungry feeling go away, but not enough to be very full.
I had a certain way I would eat as well. Foods on my plate could not be touching, and certain textures were not okay with me. I would eat only one thing on my plate at a time. I don't think I can stress this enough to any and all parents of "picky eaters:” do not force them to eat foods they don't want to eat. Eating is a very intense experience with all of the flavors and textures, and no one has the right to force this experience onto others.
There needs to be a sacred understanding that a person (young or old) has the absolute right to decide what goes into their body. Trying to override that personal right is so damaging that there are few things I can think of that are worse. When we take away a child's right to navigate their sensory world safely, it can sometimes cause serious anxiety problems later on. I know this from experience.
As I grew older, I became aware that looks seem to matter quite a lot in the world. As a matter of fact, I became quite convinced that if I looked perfect, I'd be better liked. Maybe this came from the bullying in school or the emotional abuse from my family. There is no one thing that I can pinpoint that caused me to begin to hate myself and all that I was from the inside out. All I know is that I recall feeling very disliked. I felt like nothing I did was right, and that I was a huge misfit.
This was the beginning of my lifelong battle with depression. As the gap between me and my peers grew, I became more unsure of myself. I had no self-confidence. I didn't like myself, and it often seemed like others didn't, either. I began to turn all of my pain inward. My self-image is a mystery to me. I don't really know what I look like to others. In the same way that I am face blind with other people, I find that I am to myself, as well. This unstable self-image causes me great anxiety, but not in the way of personality. I find that who I am, what I like, and my code of ethics have always been very strong, even in the face of adversity. This part of my self-image has, and still is unshakeable.
My appearance is a whole different story. Distortions of my size and shape often influenced my eating behaviors. They would rise and fall in severity, popping up in response to anxiety. Or, if I failed to do something correctly, I often felt like I didn’t deserve to eat, because I was a bad person.
When I was a in my late teens, I learned a technique in therapy that changed the way I dealt with my emotions. Of course, it took me years to become proficient at it, but it pushed me along in my journey toward a better life, one that is more emotionally sound. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't easy. It was actually very, very hard. At first, I found it impossible. I didn't feel anything! Or, I'd say I felt angry, because the counselors obviously made me angry, and I was. I had meltdowns, and I even knocked over a chair and swore at them. Trying to learn how to identify my emotional state was incredibly difficult for me.
But with practice, it did get better.
Then, inevitably, I'd find myself in another rut or another therapist’s office a few years later. I'd grab a few new techniques to build onto the old ones. I'd get books about mindfulness and CBT. I'd learn about psychology, because it is one of my special interests, anyway. I'd try different things, and toss what didn't work.
One thing in particular that did not work was any kind of group therapy. I loathe group therapy. I don't like talking in front of a lot of people, and I especially don't like making my private life public like that. I am not terribly social, so I don't need a lot of the fluff that happens in group therapy sessions. Some people do, and that's okay. I just don't.
On the same token, I really don't find talk therapy very helpful, either. I always found that I had different views on what to do, and that I knew myself better than anyone. What worked best for me was learning some new techniques and coping skills, and applying them on my own. I adapted each technique to meet my needs. I found that long therapy sessions just annoyed me as the therapists always had an agenda that didn't work for me. I am just someone who does best with some direction, but I’m not in need of someone else to set the structure for things. I'm very independent.
This is not to say that today I am free of all of my disordered thinking. I think that for me, this road to recovery is never-ending. I don't mean that to sound discouraging. I am so much happier now than I used to be when I was young. I just mean that I still have to remember to apply the self-help techniques when my anxiety is raised, or negative self-talk comes around. When my triggers are pushed, I still fall backward at times. This could last for five minutes or even five days.
There has been quite a lot of trauma in my life. I used to think that I would be able to fully recover from it all. I thought that I could find a place for it, and put it away for good, and that is what healing is. Recently, however, I have realized that healing is learning to successfully manage your demons while accepting that they exist.
So, that is my story. Demons and all.
Shawna Hinkle is a stay-at-home mom diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome, depression, and generalized anxiety disorder. She loves being a mom to her three children and blogs about her adventures in parenting in an atypical household here.
#autism#autism acceptance#autism acceptance month#autism awareness#autism awareness month#eating disorder#eating disorders#eating disorder recovery#ed recovey#recovery#anorexia#bulimia#binge eating disorder#ARFID#trauma#emotional abuse#autistic#aspergers#red instead#disability rights
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